Fawkes

A Poor Man's Bet

The weekend passed quietly, although training was vigorous, and we got a lead on the Bots just north of Gotham. By the end of Tuesday, we'd planted motion sensors in all the abandoned warehouses up there and were waiting for the signal. That's why being in school Wednesday was so stressful; I was waiting for an alarm from my phone telling me I had to get to Mount Justice stat.

All morning I had trouble paying attention to my classes. I kept checking my device to see if I had missed something. I was fidgety and jumpy; I almost punched a kid when he snuck up behind me to hand out a worksheet.

I calmed down a bit more after break, realizing that I had gotten to MJ in less than five minutes before so I could do it again. Although, the last class before lunch being History, and me having to deal with Lauren attempting to make me sit on her plate of nachos, I was more than a little distracted.

The girl still hadn't gotten to me, no matter how many times she tried to make a fool of me or ruin my day. I always managed to turn it around on her. The more attempts she made to dampen my pride the more times she'd end up in the gutter.

It had become the best part of my day in a sense. Every class I had with her either ended up with a backfired prank or a battle of the wits that she would lose.

I had just finished telling Lauren where she could stick her nachos when the bell rang and I headed to the cafeteria for lunch. I skipped breakfast this morning, so I had made a sandwich knowing that I would be hungry come noon. I still had yet to eat from the cafeteria, and I wasn't planning on doing so any time soon for one reason: I didn't trust anything that hadn't been made and prepared in front of my eyes.

Rule #17 of Being a Criminal: always assume your food is poisoned.

I was sort of at a crossroads between sitting with Mindy, Sam, Justin, and Sandy and sitting with Dick, Artemis, and Barbara. Neither group minded me sitting with the other, except for Sam and Dick. I was starting to get the sense that they did not like each other, based off the fact that every time I sat with Sam's group, Dick would glare at him. And every time I sat at Dick's table, Sam would glare at him. It was odd, but not really my business, so I stayed quiet about it.

That was pretty much the only reason I hadn't invited both groups to sit with one another. I was honestly fine with alternating between the tables, as it always varied based on the kind of mood I was in, and based on whether or not Lauren, Alice, Jasmine, Lukas, and Derrick were sitting with the rest of the group. In which case, the only reason I'd go near them was to pick a fight with Lauren.

My decision was made easy today, as the strawberry blonde waves of my petty competitor — com-petty-tor, if you will — could be seen sitting next to Sandy. I immediately made a beeline for where Artemis was placing her tray next to Barbara's, and plopped down next to Dick.

Coming back from the weekend, the whole situation with Grayson seeing my scars had been completely forgotten. What with the shooters and all the drama that followed that, Dick and I had put everything else behind us and were back to normal. I also still had yet to see him look at me differently, for which I was eternally grateful. Maybe he was one of few that understood that pity didn't get anyone anywhere.

Once I sat down, he immediately struck up a conversation, and I grinned. He never failed to entertain me, and he was one of few. Most of the people at Gotham Academy were plain and annoying, but Dick somehow always knew what I'd want to hear. He was telling me a story about the unlikely comparison between our Science teacher and a sloth on cocaine, and I was right away indulged in the theory. I ate my sandwich and even stole some of the boy's fries, making comments here and there.

It was times like this where I realized I had Batman to thank for my happiness. Times where I could just sit and relax and feel like a teenager with no worries other than the inevitability of growing up and getting acne. Times where I could push the thought of being on call for an emergency Bot mission and just listen to the useless but amusing stories that my classmates had to share. Batman was at large for this joy. Of all people. Despite my burning hatred for the caped crusader and the undying fire of animosity that he stoked my way, I hoped that he knew I was grateful. Grateful that at times like this, when I listened to Grayson imitate Señor Bruno with surprising accuracy, I could feel like a part of the bigger picture.