Cliques- A Damijon Story

Conflict

Ugh. This is the worst. Like the worst. 

Bart sat in front of the principals office, tapping his foot and staring at the clock like it had insulted him. His backpack slouched beside his chair, and he could hear talking through the office windows. 

Who might be talking? Well, obviously the principal, idiot. But who to; you ask? If you recall a certain tall hispanic boy that dragged Bart out of the cafeteria, then you know who. 

Bart grumbled swears under his breath as he tapped his foot faster. That stupid biker. He should know Bart didn't have time for this. 

Oh no, Bart thought as he analyzed the situation more, Grandma's going to be furious! He had just moved, a week ago. First day of school and BAM, principals office! All because of this stupid greaser.

I wonder if Jon's okay... I tried to help him... but all because of that STUPID--

Bart knew this 'Jaime' would be the centre of his problems from here on. I mean, it's only been a day and this flake has screwed me over THREE TIMES. 

Suddenly Bart heard the click of the doorknob in front of him. He looked up, quickly getting rid of any negative emotions brewing all over his freckled face. 

Jaime stepped out with a disappointed look on his face, scratching the back of his head. Just before he walked away him and Bart caught a glance of each other. Before Jaime could do anything Bart stuck his tongue out with knitted eyebrows, turning so the principal couldn't see. 

The redhead then proceeded to walk into the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Bart Allen," A stern voice read out loud, "have a seat." 

The redhead turned to see a tall black haired woman woman sitting behind the desk. The office was quite small considering the size of the school. The lights buzzed just enough that the human ear could hear them, but quiet enough that they took your focus. Bart sat in one of two seats across the desk and twiddled his thumbs nervously. 

The principal looked through some papers on her desk, taking one and placing it in the middle. She scanned it over with focus, then looking up at Bart. 

"I don't think we've been formally introduced, Mr. Allen," the woman said, "I am Ms. Prince. Ms. Diana Prince." She reached over and shook Bart's hand. "You missed your 'new student' tour yesterday, how come?"

"Oh, err, yeah," Bart scratched the back of his head. "I sorta kinda forgot about that." Bart was expecting her to be angry. Yell at him maybe. Tell him that he was wasting her time. Or maybe that he was irresponsible. Useless, maybe. 

Then the memories flooded back. 

Bart shuffling and scrambling backwards to avoid the fists nearly missing him. His grandpa Thawne yelling at the top of his lungs, drunk. 

"YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF MY TRUST, BOY."

"I-- I'm sor--sorry grandpa!" Tears began to flood down Bart's face as he tried to get away faster. 

"YOU BETTER BE! YER A USELESS ALLEN BOY IS WHAT YOU ARE!" 

Bart yelled in pain as the Thawne hacked him across the face with an empty bottle of beer. His cheek stung as he could feel warm liquid begin to ooze down his face. He could hear his brother, Tad, laugh somewhere in the room. Bart didn't even know he was there before. 

Nor did he care. He needed to get away from them both. 

You're probably curious as to why Bart was being attacked. How he took advantage of Thawne's trust.