Central City
August 7, 20:09 CDT
Artemis tucks a box of poptarts in her bag and waves goodbye to the only other person in the market.
Her first few days in Central City had passed by quickly, and school was about to start, meaning ceremonial strawberry poptarts were necessary. Her walk to the local grocery store hadn't taken too long, but somehow she'd been roped into a long conversation with one of the boys that worked there. He also went to Keystone High, and once he found out she was new(which wasn't too hard to deduce, considering he apparently knew everyone), he went on a rant about how the music department had, on more than one occasion, been slandered in the daily announcements. They'd ended up talking- well, he talked and she nodded at the appropriate times- until the store was supposed to be closed. After sheepishly ringing her poptarts up and apologizing for taking up so much of her time, he returned to restocking the shelves.
"Guess I'll see you at school, Chase," she calls out, pushing the door open. Her new friend waves goodbye from his precarious position on a stepladder in Aisle Seven.
Artemis walks out the door of Grover's Grocers with a much lighter heart than the one she had walked in with that evening- at least, until she gets bowled over by some ginger who's trying to get into the store after closing.
"Aww man," he groans on the ground beside her, rubbing at a red spot on his chin.
The contents of her bag are all over the ground, and she watches a tube of chapstick roll all the way into the gutter before she takes a closer look at her (harmless) attacker.
He's actually kind of cute, in a weird, wholesome mid-western kind of way. But he'd be cuter if he hadn't just run her over. He's up on his feet before she can start pushing her stuff back into her bag. The poptarts are probably crushed, and it reminds her that good things just don't happen to her without great sacrifice. This boy is lucky she doesn't have her bow with her- but then again, she doesn't really need it to do damage.
"Aww man," he repeats, this time in a less self-piteous tone. "I'm so sorry. My bad- Let me-"
They reach for her worn-down, scratched up cell phone at the same time and if she snatches it away from him with more force than necessary, he doesn't comment. Instead, he holds out a hand.
"Sorry about that," he repeats, and the earnest expression on his face is the only reason she lets him help her off the ground.
"Watch where you're going next time," she growls, like the true Gothamite she is, and shrugs her bag back over her shoulder. She sighs inwardly, quietly accepting the loss of her nearly-finished chapstick. Damn... Those poptarts better be salvageable.
She starts to walk towards the new apartment- a fourth story two-bedroom, not unlike her old home in Gotham, except this new place has no rats, no empty bed across the room, the shower doesn't get ice cold after two minutes, and she hasn't run into any creeps lurking in the entryway, yet. Central City is charming, not entirely bursting at the seams with unlawful activity, and Artemis couldn't be less bored if she tried. The pace of the blue-collar town doesn't suit her. She gets why her mom tried so hard to get out of Gotham, and fast, but seriously, did they have to move to a place where everyone knows everyone?
A chill sweeps over her before a warm hand taps her shoulder. She swings her elbow back without a second thought.
"Woah!" He steps back just before her elbow can make contact with his gut.
"What's your problem?" She growls, spinning around and taking hold of his shirt collar with a tight fist. "Why are you following me?"
He raises his hands in surrender. When he speaks she has to listen hard because he talks way too fast, "Look- I talked to Chase really fast and he told me you're new around here so I thought I'd offer to walk you home cause it's dark but then you were already down the street so I started to catch up to you but then I thought that you might not want me to walk you home so I was going to leave but then I remembered I didn't introduce myself and then I thought maybe you'd want to know more than one person at school, but judging by the look on your face you want nothing to do with me so I'll just-"
"Oh my god, shut up. Ugh-" Artemis releases her grip on his shirt and wipes her hand on her side to get rid of his cooties. "You're weird."
"Actually, I'm Wally. Wally West." He grins at her and holds out his hand as if she hadn't just insulted him.
Maybe he needs a better hint.
She ignores his outstretched hand and raises a brow. "Your name's really Wally?"
His grin disappears and his hand falls to his side. He plays the part of kicked puppy very well. Maybe she's being a little too Gotham for this kid. She stops glaring at him like he's one of the punks that used to skate around the alley by her old home, and starts looking at him like the possibly cute, really strange, kind of charming, pretty annoying guy he is.
"I'm Artemis." She sends a hand through her drooping ponytail and tugs at the end. "And thanks, but I don't need you to walk me home. I can take care of myself."
He doesn't say anything for a few moments, choosing to study her face for so long that she begins to wonder if there's something there that shouldn't be.
Then he grins, and in the well-lit street (nothing like Gotham's dark corners), Artemis can see a row of bright-as-his-personality teeth.
"Alright," he says plainly. "Guess I'll head home then. Hope I see you at school, Arty."
She's seconds away from smiling at him, which is unacceptable, so she puts on a frown for good measure before she quips, "Call me Arty one more time and you'll find yourself on the ground again."
He shrugs as he starts walking, unfortunately (fortunately?), in the same direction she has to go to get home, "You'd have to catch me first."
For a moment, she stands there, watching him walk away with his hands in his pockets. Then she moves. She walks slow so as to not catch up with him. And then she starts to think that maybe, just maybe, Central City is having a bigger effect on her than she thought it would. Because right now, she doesn't feel like herself at all- like Artemis Crock, daughter of villains slash abandoned little sister slash late night vigilante.
She feels normal. She's just a 'normal' fifteen year old here- free from the looming shadow of the family business that tends to ruin everything good she ever gets, free from the East End of Gotham, free from all the people trying to make her into something she's not. It hits her that her mom's plan for their new lives is doing exactly what it was supposed to do: set her free. Meaning, she realizes with a growing smirk, that she's free to flirt with the freckled Boy Next Door walking a few paces in front of her.
She walks faster.
"You're really slow, you know that?"