I sigh and clutch my backpack as I meander up the stairs to my class. The uniform I have on itches and my new shoes pinch my feet. The only reason I'm here is because my mom asked me to, otherwise I would have stayed in my public school. 206, 208, oh here it is. 210. My new class. I peer into the window with some difficulty because of it's height. A group of well fed, well-manicured, well dressed kids sit in perfect rows as someone who looks like the first lady blathers on about math in the front.

I'm going to fit in perfectly. I sigh to myself and check my reflection in the glass. Sunken eyes, stringy brown hair that's too long in some places and too short in others. I don't belong here; I belong back in Crime Alley with my drunken dad and crack addict mother. Shaking my head I open the door and stride in as if I don't feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Everyone looks up as the door bangs open louder than I meant it to and my grandeur melts under their stares. Sometimes I whish I could simply hide behind a mask. The teacher smiles at me.

"Hello there! You must be the new student here on scholarship!" Dam. She had to mention that. "You can have a seat in the empty desk right over there!"

I say nothing and plop down at the desk radiating a "Do not disturb" aura. Still, the moron next to me leans over and whispers,

"Hi. How are you?"

"Peachy." I mutter and he smiles. The idiot smiles at sarcasm.

"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." I had heard of this kid before. Son of the richest guy in Gotham. Perfect. My first day of elementary school and I'm already being picked up as a charity case by the Waynes.

"What's your name?" He prods when I don't reply.

"Jack." I answer. "Jack Napier."

His smiled widened, if that was even possible. "Nice to meet you Jack. Welcome to Gotham Prep!"

Our scintillating conversation is interrupted by the teacher saying it's arts and crafts time. Bruce pulls out a 24 pack of crayons and more markers than I can count. That's a lie, I counted, there were 29. He looks over to see me staring and hands me a pack of crayons. Where in gods name is he pulling these things out of?

"You can keep them. If you're on a scholarship program you need them."

"I'm surprised you know what scholarship means." I doodle a star on my paper. "You're smarter than you look." He absolutely beams. This kid is beginning to annoy me.

"Thanks!" He goes back to coloring and the white noise of the class talking soon washes over me. I'm drawing a tree when my hand slips and my crayon breaks. It was green, my second favorite color.

"Crap." I mutter and examine the pieces. Bruce's eyes widen.

"You said a bad word!" He whispers and looks around for the teacher. I look at him as if he's grown a third head.

"Crap isn't a bad word. If I wanted to swear I would've used the language my dad does when his team loses in football. You gonna tell?" I didn't much care, just curious what Mr. Perfect would do. He shakes his head furiously, mussing up his perfectly sculpted black hair.

"Nuh-uh. Friends don't tell." He looks serious. Geeze, this kid has weird rules.

"You're my friend?" I laugh.

"Yeah!" He chirps, suddenly happy again. So are you some sort of super genius? Is that why you're here?"

I shrug. "I don't know why I'm here. My mom took me to some interviews and the next thing I know I'm wearing this ridiculous uniform standing on the steps of what looks like the white house."
Bruce giggles and goes back to drawing. I draw a car and then work on a bat until I notice Bruce staring.
"What?" I snap. I'm still getting used to the whole friendship thing.
"Nothing. I just..." He leans over the isle and whispers. "I don't like bats."
My god this kid is crazy. I shrug and turn back to coloring. What kind of boy is afraid of bats? I'm relived when the teacher says its time for lunch. So far I've colored and already the day is half over. This school might not suck as much as I thought. We file into the cafeteria and get lunch. I stare down at my tray. There's enough food here to feed two of me! I sit down and of course, Bruce sits next to me. He starts in on his food and I pick at mine while he chatters on and on about how much I'm going to like it here. The rest of the cafeteria stares at us and I can't decide whether it's because of my looks or his parents. Even for this school he's rich.
"-and Alfred can pick us both up just wait till you see the mansion-" I freeze at this. Was he inviting me over to his house?
"I don't know if your parents would want you hanging out with me..." I trail off and Bruce frowns.
"Why not?"
I scoff. "I'm not exactly high society."
Bruce laughs. Loudly. That's the only thing that's not perfect about this boy. His laugh is to loud and high pitched. I think I like it.
"My parents don't care about that!" He says in between chuckles. "In fact," his eyes light up, "how about today? Will your parents be ok with that?"
Now it's my turn to laugh. "My parents don't care." That's a lie. My mom cares but most of the time she's so out of it she doesn't even know my name. Bruce doesn't read the subtext however and begins to nearly vibrate with excitement. He doesn't stop talking all throughout lunch and as we clear out tray.
"You don't eat very much." He comments as I dump the majority of my tray into the garbage. I shrug and he drops it. People always comment on how skinny I am. They have since I was born. I just don't find food that appealing. I start to head back to class but Bruce catches my sleeve and I jump at the touch.
"Grab your coat, we're going outside." He smiles. "It's recess time!"
Oh yeah. I forgot about that. They had recess in Gotham Elementary but I was in the kindergarten program so I didn't got to go outside. I wait for Bruce to pull his coat on and then head outside. It's a pretty nice fall day so I don't need a coat, even if I did my old tattered one is at home. Outside there's an enormous playground and field surrounding it. Kids are screaming and launching themselves off things as far as the eye can see. I meander over to the swings and halfheartedly kick my feet propelling me in a semicircle back to where I started. Bruce in the meantime is putting together teams for capture the flag. He waves me over and I roll my eyes but join him.
"You're on my team." He claps his hand on my shoulder and the other kids stare. I know what they're thinking. 'Why is Bruce friends with the freak?'
I scowl at them and they look away. Meanwhile Bruce explains the rules and sets up lines.
"- and beyond that tree is your team's side and over here is my side. Alright, let's go!" Everyone scurries off to their places and the flag, some kids coat, is hidden on their side. Bruce uses his own coat for our flag and sets up a guard. After a brief shouting match over what is and is not puppy dog guarding the game begins. This game is not like any other I've seen. This school IS meant for smart, rich kids so the strategy behind every move is hilariously over complicated. No one is fast enough however and the game appears to be a draw. I had been by Bruce's side for the majority as he directed the troops so I hadn't seen much action but I grow bored and wander off. I spot a white moth and go over to investigate. I was snapped out of my observation by the sound of running feet and I look up to see another kid zooming towards me like a freight train.
I was in enemy territory. They were coming for me. My eyes widen and I took a step back.
"RUN, JACK!" I look up to see Bruce violently waving at me and jumping up and down. "DON'T GET CAUGHT!" My feet finally catch up with my brain and I take off running. More kids run towards me but I dodge them going off of pure adrenaline. This is... Fun! I laugh as I run and jump over the rough terrain. Finally I make my way to the flag and scoop it up without slowing. The kids seem to go into a Hail Mary play and form sort of a line to stop me. I smile and speed up as I run towards them, continuing to laugh. The looks of terror on their faces are hilarious and they scatter. With a finally burst of speed I clear the border and immediately I am greeted by a pile of congratulations. Bruce is yelling and pounding me on the back as I smile and hold up the coat. The other team stares as if they can't believe what just happened. At that moment the bell rings and I head back inside, now surrounded by my new so called friends. In some corner of my mind I know this wasn't going to last. Thy only like me because I helped them win. The rest of the day is uneventful with easy math and some reading. The only speed bump I hit is writing. The teacher clucks her tongue at my penmanship and informs me that it's "atrocious". I roll my eyes and Bruce snickers at the face I pull when her back is turned. Once again he laughs a little too loudly and that earns him a sharp reprimand. I don't know why but I like to make him laugh. When the dismissal bell rings I sigh with relief and disappointment. This means I don't have to put up with the idiocy of the teacher but it also means I have to deal with the tirades of my dad. I ponder that word as I walk down the hall. Tirade. I'm 6, most kids still need help with their shoes and I use words like tirade. Most people think I'm stupid because I don't talk much, but my mom always called me a genius. I suppose if I was smart enough to make it into this school-on-steroids then she's right. I just read a lot I think and wonder if I can sneak down to the library without my dad seeing me.
"Jack, hey, JACK!" Fast footsteps grown closer and I turn around on the steps to see Bruce hurtling towards me.
"Hi." I say as he catches his breath. When he looks up again his expression is a mixture of hurt and confused.
"Do you not like me?" He asked imploringly and I have to choke back a snort at his sincere expression.
"Of course I like you." I like him more than the other idiots in our class.
"But..." He looks more confused now "why don't you want to play?" His simple terms remind me how young his mind is compared to mine. It also reminds me of our talk at lunch. I clap my hand to my forehead and sigh.
"You invited me over. I'm sorry I forgot." I do my best to smile apologetically. This kid is currently the only tolerable person I know. It wouldn't do me any good to piss him off. His expression immediately brightens and he drags me down the front steps and towards a limo parked out front. Of course it's a limo. What else? An oldish man is waiting out front. I would put him in his late forties but I could be wrong. Bruce skips over to him and I warily follow.
"Hi Alfred! This is Jack, he's coming over to play." Alfred opens the door for him and nods to me as I clamber in. He shuts the door behind me and walks around to the front. As we pass through the streets of Gotham I can't help but notice how different it is from crime ally. There's no graffiti and very few homeless people. That coupled with the large houses and lack of swearing and rap music puts me out of my element. I shift uncomfortably on the leather seats and notice Alfred watching me in the rear view mirror. I catch his eye and he smiles at me. This simply puzzles me more and I scuff my shoes against the carpet avoiding his gaze.
Finally after passing through the woods and climbing a long driveway we pull up to a building that could easily cover my entire block. Bruce tumbles out of the car before it completely stops and races up the stairs pausing long enough to wave his arm at me to hurry up. I can barely keep up with him as he darts through the halls, although I'm already making a mental map of the place for further notice. We emerge in a large room with a roaring fire, which I thought was stupid because it wasn't that cold out. Two people sat on a large couch and a plasma screen TV on the wall was turned on the news as a chipper reporter droned on about a new animal shelter.
"Daddy I'm home!" The man turns around and Bruce leaps into his lap. "This is my friend, Jack. He's new." He beams at his parents as his mother comes over to me and places a hand on my shoulder.
"Nice to meet you Jack. Tell me, where are you from?"
Don't say Crime Alley. "Park Row, ma'm." I do my best to smile although I've been told I look creepy when I do. Her expression falters and the next moment she's hugging me. I'm uncertain of what to do so I just stand there until she stands and forces herself to smile. I think she pity's me.
"Well then, Bruce, why don't you and Jack go play in your room. I want to talk with your father." Bruce nods and we walk up the stairs. I sit down about halfway up and shoosh Bruce when he tries to ask what I'm doing. He quietly sits next to me and I strain my ears.
"-Crime Alley! Really, Thomas, the poor boy!"
"We barely know him and he still has parents. What are we supposed to do, adopt every child in the ghetto?"
"No, I suppose not."
"We can help him to the best of our abilities, but some of my best executives came from Park Row." He sighed
"Yes and some of your best gunshot wound patients came from there too. You're a doctor, you've seen firsthand what happens to people there!"
"I know." Another sigh, this one deeper. I turn and walk up the stairs before the conversation finished. Bruce doesn't mention anything we over heard, so I guess he's not a complete idiot. His room was huge, nearly the size of my house, and he had enough toys to fill a swimming pool. He pulls out some action figures and we mess around for a while until a bell rings.
"Time for dinner." He jumps up and smiles. "Can you stay?"
"Sure." A dinner bell. How many more stereotypes is this kid gonna fill? He tramples down the stairs and I pause and examine my surroundings. Bruce is rich. I am poor. These are facts of life, but I can't help but get a feeling something is going to change. I shake of the chill that had crept down my spine and follow my unlikely friend down the stairs.