Fawkes

You Can Catch More Flies with Honey Than Vinegar

I sat in my Science class.

At the back.

Feet on the counter.

Watching my peers.

The same old routine.

I found Science class pretty boring. Most of the stuff that was taught were things I knew, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy the different labs and hands on things we did. That also didn't mean that there weren't new things I learned; it was just rare.

I also always sat alone, which, although it was better than sitting with some of the annoying kids in the class, was still boring.

To occupy my time until the room filled up, I recounted the events of last night. After Robin and I had won, we got to watch the other four contestants clean the entire training room. They weren't allowed to use their powers, which made it all the more enjoyable to see. Connor was extremely angry with Robin and me for tricking him, but by the way he and M'gann were looking at each other, I had no doubt that their little subway ride was more fun than they let on.

As for the training session that was to take place tomorrow, Robin and I were gonna make it hell on earth for everyone, but then we decided that considering we actually liked Artemis and M'gann (sorta) we began to consider doing a paintball battle. It was still something that was open for discussion.

If we were to do a paintball battle, I already knew we'd all end up teaming on Wally. It was a mutual agreement through the whole team that he was the number one target, no matter what the game was.

My eyes scanned every student that walked into the class. Alice Diesel and Derrick Smith, two members of Lauren Sing's little posse waltzed in holding hands. Reese Watson, the boy that sat at my table group in History class, walked in after them, and I found myself rolling my eyes at the annoying boy who had already told some loud and slightly racist joke to the entire class upon his entry. I moved on to the next girl, a blonde with a big nose who sat in the back. A boy with sideburns and a tie dye t-shirt who sat with his friends. A group of high pitched, chihuahua like brunettes that perched themselves right up front. A boy with black, gelled hair that sat next to me. A tan girl wearing too much perfu — wait a minute.

A boy with black, gelled hair that sat next to me.

My eyes snapped over to the boy, and just when I couldn't get any more surprised with him, I found myself scanning the features of the last person I'd expect to sit next to me.

Richard Grayson.

He said nothing, just began retrieving his binders and pencils from the depths of his backpack and setting them on the table. I eyed his seat in the middle of the class, thinking that the only reason for him to sit next to me would be because his seat was taken. Except it wasn't. There were plenty places to sit left in the class, including his usual spot.

I was at a loss for words, so I didn't say anything either, merely taking my feet off the counter and opening my binder as the final bell rang.

Twenty minutes into the class and the boy still hadn't looked my way. I found myself staring intently at the back of his head as he watched the documentary, clicking my pen every few seconds. I couldn't figure out why he would have such a sudden change of heart. The first time I sat next to him in this class led to an all out war, one that I had thought we were still fighting.

Thirty minutes in and I was still staring, at this point not even aware of what was going on in the film. I had memorized the way the back of his head looked. The way his ears were smaller than the usual teenage boy size and the way pieces of his slicked hair fell out of place and the way his jaw clenched and unclenched every couple minutes.