My name is Jacob Conrad Hood.

But I hate my name, so call me J. Everyone else does.

I'm not the most popular student at Vickers. You couldn't call me the smartest, either. No, both of those distinctions go to Bruce. With his movie-star looks and perfect grades, he's a catch no matter what type of guy you're looking for.

Me? Well, I'm his best friend.

I guess you could say this makes me popular by association. And while others might find shame in "riding someone else's coattails," I simply take what I can get. I'm smart enough to know that you don't shun any sort of accolade at Vickers, no matter how trivial it may seem from the outside. Especially when you look like I do.

Don't worry. I can laugh about it now. Everyone else used to.

Let's just say I'm the fat one, and growing up that way wasn't easy. My nose didn't help things, either. Long and a bit crooked, it earned me the nickname "Pinocchio."

Who doesn't love that story, that wooden puppet who longed to be a real boy? Ironically, when Vickers held their production of Pinocchio in my first year, I didn't get the part. Because I was "too portly" for the role. This coming from Mr. Valentin, the teacher everyone had dubbed "Professor Pig." Funny, isn't it?

But now, Bruce is my friend. People don't call me Pinocchio anymore. I even have the lead role in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Okay, maybe not the lead, but Mercutio is absolutely essential to the story, wouldn't you say?

Of course he is.

I know I have Bruce to thank for this. He would never admit that, but it's true. He would make a fine actor himself, by the way, but he says he has no interest in the subject despite having memorized all of the play's lines and rehearsing with me for endless hours. I truly don't know what I'd do without a friend like him, puzzling as he may be.

I still remember the day we met, you know. It was my second year. By then I was used to being bullied by the others, so I almost couldn't feel their punches anymore. But Bruce made them stop. I'm not sure what he did—I couldn't see very well because my eyes were a bit puffy—but he had them scrambling away. When I smiled up at him from the ground, he held out his hand to me and said, "Come on."

That moment is still so vivid in my mind. It was like The Creation of Adam. You know, the fresco by Michelangelo? The one where God's hand reaches out and touches the first man? That's what it felt like. Naturally, my life changed after that. After so many years alone, I finally had a brother. Someone to watch out for me, to protect me. I never had that before...

I think that's something we have in common, Bruce and I. He's not very close with his family, either. At least I never hear him talk about them. And when his ride came for Christmas break, the only person I saw waiting for him was his butler. No mother to hug him. No father to tussle his hair. But at least they wanted him home for the holidays. Nobody came for me.

All winter long, I've missed him. He doesn't laugh often, but when he does, it's so rewarding. And when he comes back—just another week now—I have a real doozy for him. When the cat's away, the mice will play, and I've uncovered something. Maybe the biggest scandal in Vickers history.

And Bruce Wayne is going to help me blow it wide open, for all the world to see.

I can't help but smile.