Thanks for the reviews guys! Please feel free to leave any suggestions or point out any errors! :D Onwards to chapter 2! Sorry for the weird paragraphs in chapter one, but my Word didn't indent for some reason. I tried to fix that with weird double spacing and…yeah it just got ugly… Hope this one is better in format! Don't worry "Wallace" will be Kid Flash soon ;) Get ready for a long and descriptive chapter…
Chapter 2: First Day of School: Part 1
"Good Job, Wally," a certain Scarlet Speedster grinned. There was genuineness in his tone as he ruffled Wallace's wind-blown ginger hair lightly in affection.
A similar smile spread across Wallace's face and he felt his cheeks warm up to the compliment. He was finally back in Central City, alongside the Flash, but not as a by-stander, but a sidekick. On Wallace's body was a foreign skin-hugging yellow Spandex suit, similar to the one of the older speedster. The sun shone brightly over-head, and birds chirped merrily as a soft breeze blew through the air, sending a shiver down Wallace's spine. He had just assisted the Flash in taking down some burglars with newly obtained super speed. In this reverie, Wallace's mind had not bothered to explain that the super-speed was not real, but the reality of the illusion was enough to trick Wallace's unconscious that it was.
Reporters swarmed the two heroes like ants to sugar, inquiring about the situation. Not far behind were teary-eyed young girls waving their arms in Wallace's direction to catch his attention. Wallace grinned cheekily in their direction, causing them to swoon and squeal in delight. To the flame-headed teenager, it felt like the Halcyon days…
The tender moment was interrupted by a loud, deafening noise that caused the Flash to wither in pain and fall to his knees. The reporters around them vanished, and the sun was eclipsed instantly by the moon. Air felt thick with ominous tension, making it difficult to breathe.
"No! A-are you o-ok Flash?" Wallace rushed frantically to the fallen speedster's side. The blare that echoed around them was increasing in intensity; clouding his thoughts and judgment, making him stumbles as well. Despite the difficulties, Wallace kept his eyes trained on the withering superhero. His own ears started to bleed profusely, blemishing his bright yellow costume with carmine blood…
Wallace's olive green eyes fluttered open in alarm and urgency. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, louder than it ever had in his life. His ears deafened with the loud throbbing, and echos of his heartbeat. Fiery red hair was plastered to his forehead in a cold sweat. His linen Flash nightie was wet with perspiration, and sticking to his skin uncomfortably.
An incessant beeping sound droned the still air around his bedroom, causing Wallace's eyes to fixate blankly in fear. He waited motionless for minutes, in anticipation for some monstrous goblin; or worse, Batman to snatch him from his slumber, before realizing that there was no threat. The haunting murderous noise in his dream was merely the augmented translation of his Flash alarm clock.
The dream. Wallace swallowed, eased his breathing and closed his eyes. He had dreamt that he was running at supersonic speeds alongside the Flash. Fighting crime… Saving the day…. And getting the ladies… If only his life was really that simple. But the conclusion of such a dream had ended so tragically… Could the Flash be in danger?
Of course not, silly! Wallace thought frantically, attempting to ease his nerves of the horrid thought. He's the Flash!
When he had finally returned his heart beat to normal through deep breaths, Wallace focused on the present.
Today was the day; the day where life of Wallace Rudolph West would start on a tableau-rasa (blank slate). It had been a week since the Wests have moved into the mansion, and already it was decorated with new furniture that Mrs. West had spent hunting on the internet. The neighbors had done their best to be the cliché "friendly" neighbors, bringing over gourmet sweets and other delicious delectable in the form of house-warming presents (much to Wallace's delight). His mother had fit in perfectly with the other women, throwing lavish pot-lucks and kitty parties on a regular basis. Meanwhile, his father loved his new position, as well as "bringing home the bacon". Life was running quite smoothly for the Wests in Gotham, their new home. Wallace finally had his personal lab in his home with brand new Bunsen burners and fume hood, which allowed for him to execute a large scope of experiments. It definitely beat the dingy tool shed in their old backyard with a small hole in the roof to eliminate hazardous vapors. He had conducted many dehydrations, and acid-base neutralization reactions to brush up on his organic chemistry skills, anticipating the bio-chemistry classes that would be offered in the "prestigious" Gotham Academy. Soon enough, Mrs. West had discovered Wallace spending too much time in the "chem-cave" and forced him into his red and yellow flash swimming trunks and spf 50 Banana Boat sunscreen. So begrudgingly, he marched to their pool by lazily, blew up a floatie (which was quite difficult) and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on an inflatable device whilst re-reading his favorites like The Universe in a Nutshell, and Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with Applications to Chemistry. He had also unintentionally acquired a golden tan and extra freckles on his nose as a bonus.
Shaking his thoughts away, Wallace rose out of his bed and quickly tidied the red and yellow sheets the best way he could—ignoring the wrinkles and creases—and hobbled sleepily to his bathroom.
After a long hot shower, and scrubbing himself until his skin felt raw, Wallace parted his wet red hair to the side and combed it neatly. When he was satisfied with the "good, innocent boy" look, he squirted a small pea-sized drop of gel in his palms and rubbed it well in to his hair, giving it a wet slick finish. Wallace did all of this blindly, since he hadn't bothered to put on his glasses since they would fog up instantly after the shower. But for the next task, he knew not wearing them was inevitable.
Squinting his olive green eyes he finally found his dark plastic-rimmed spectacles and carefully pushed them on his freckled nose. It was amazing how glasses could change one's whole perspective…
Bringing his face up to the large vanity, Wallace scrutinized his visage for pimples and blemishes. Luckily, thanks to his proper skin hygiene and the genes from his parents, Wallace did not have a terrible acne problem. But Wallace was a teen after all (shocker!), and like all teens, he was not exempt from puberty and its horrid side-effects in the form of breakouts. But that's what Proactive was for, wasn't it? Wallace let out a sigh of relief after rubbing his fingers over his smoothly shaven cheeks and not discovering a hint of a red bulbous monstrosity. In fact, his skin was always healthy and glowing, contrary to the popular belief that all nerds and geeks possessed horrid pimple-infested faces. Besides his sweater-vests, tucked shirt tails, pleated pants, bowties, glasses and hairstyle, Wallace did not exhibit any stereotypical nerd characteristics. He for one had perfect white teeth, without the help of braces, a nice build rather than a "pencil-neck" and hunched figure, and golden skin opposed to the pale, sun-burn susceptible one of the "typical nerd". But Wallace could care less about his social status. He enjoyed the benefits of being a nerd, for example, getting straight A's and not having to live up to the austere expectations of society and the high-school hierarchy. The downsides weren't that bad either. Yes, Wallace didn't always get the girl, but it wasn't like he was desperate. Linda was the only girl he ever liked; and no, it was not because her hair was long and smelled like flowers, or her almond eyes always warm and kind, but rather because she was always there for him. But since that importunate "friend-zoned" event, Wallace was distraught. Of course he flirted, (or attempted to) with any woman regardless of looks or age, but it felt superficial, since he didn't feel that inner-gut, cliché "twitter-patter" in his heart as much as he wanted.
After quickly slipping in his crisp white cotton shirt, and buttoning carefully (it would be inefficient to unbutton and re-button if one button was missed), Wallace hunted for the perfect "first-day-of-school" sweater vest he would sport. The first day of Gotham Academy was a dress-down day, which allowed for Wallace to dodge from wearing the mandatory prissy blazer uniform (he never had found himself to be the blazer-type) and dress-shoes (red converses were much better). After rummaging deeper, he came across a plain black sweater vest, and quickly rejected it, since he did not wish to dress so gloomily on the start of a new life. The next one he encountered was the viridian one that Aunt Iris had knitted herself. It was dull, and tight for Wallace's broader chest and shoulders, but he had still kept it for its sentimental value. After a couple more minutes, Wallace came across an orchid-yellow argyle sweater vest with crisscrossing blue stripes, and he knew his search had come to a close. That specific sweater vest was a sweet 16 birthday present from Linda, and Wallace had sworn the he would reserve it for a very special day, much like today. After slipping the valuable vest on, Wallace picked out the final accessory: a bowtie that matched his eyes, before heading down the large flight of stairs.
"Wallace, chew slowly, the bus-stop's just a block down!" Mrs. West scolded. She was dressed handsomely in a navy blazer and custom-fitted pencil skirt for her job-interview as an accountant at the Gotham City bank. She handed both Mr. West and Wallace their morning fresh-brew before busying herself with the preparation of a PB&J for Wallace's lunch.
"Don't worry, Mary," Mr. West chuckled, eyes still on the morning's newspaper. "They boy is just excited for his first day at Gotham Academy!"
"Yeah," Wallace responded, in between mouthfuls of waffles and cinnamon pop-tarts. He took the coffee mug and took two sips, face scrunching at its bitter, pungent taste. He had just recently convinced his mother that he was ready for coffee, since he was already sixteen and drinking coffee was a symbol of "being grown-up". With a heavy sigh and a look of adoration of her "not-so-little-boy", Mrs. West had agreed that a morning brew would suffice—no more, no less.
After washing down the bitter taste with a chug of orange juice, Wallace jumped out of his seat, grabbed his leather satchel (better known as man-purse) stocked with newly sharpened HB 2 pencils, fountain pens and a hardcover copy of Mockingjay (Linda had forced him to read the Hunger Games trilogy, and it wasn't half as bad as he thought it would be—after all, Team Peeta all the way!).
"Wallace, aren't you forgetting something?" his mother inquired, teasingly. Her smile was mischievous, and a manicured finger tapped her cheek.
Groaning, but obediently, Wallace ran back into the kitchen, pecked his mother on the cheek, and rushed out the door before his father decided to ask for one.
The weather outside was chillier than Wallace had expected, but thankfully, his sweater vest was effective at keeping him warm. Rays of sunlight peeked from the east, giving the Gotham skyline a heavenly glow. The ground was still moist from last night's rain showers, and the smell created by the Actinomycetes gave the air its post-rain earthy scent. His neighbors were driving off to work nonchalantly, mugs of coffee at hand and keys jingling while and the birds sang merry tunes which would cease as winter crept upon them. Waving hello to Mrs. Benson across the street, Wallace continued walking his way, excitement making his whole body tingle.
I wonder what kinds of people I'll meet… Probably everyone would be a Batman fan… Maybe I could join the dork group there. But what if they don't have one? I wonder what the girls would be like—probably snobs… No one beats Linda Park. I hope they have extracurricular clubs, like Math club, and the academic decathlon! And who knows, maybe I can sign up for track to sprint like the Flash—wait, scratch that… I definitely don't want to stay every day after school 'till five exerting my muscles and risking shin-splints! Wallace thought frantically. Calm down, today's just the first day, reserved for making friends and showing smarts in all subjects!
Stopping under the red bus-stop sign, Wallace glanced at his Flash watch. It was just 6:45. According to his calculations (and the help of the Gotham Academy webpage), the bus would most likely be arriving in…now?
A faint humming sound of a motor was audible in the tranquility of the neighborhood. Before Wallace knew it, he saw a motorcyclist rush by him, with a large mane of wavy beach-blond hair trailing behind. A large splash had been created a large puddle, but due to Wallace's quick thinking and surprisingly good reflexes, a wardrobe catastrophe had been averted as he jumped out if the way in the nick of time. At this point, Wallace's heat was racing, and face was hot with anger and surprise at the quickly disappearing blonde ponytail. How dare that careless man in need of a haircut put his precious sweater in harm's way?
"Hey! You insolent thug! Watch what way you drive! By the way you need a haircut!" Wallace yelled shaking his fists in fury. The motorcyclists probably couldn't even hear him over the obnoxious hum of the motor, but when Wallace's favorite sweater vest was in harm's way, the ginger headed boy couldn't contain himself.
He was so immersed in his contempt for the careless biker that he did not even notice as a luxurious black limo pulled up beside the bus stop. Wallace was startles as the last door of the limo stopped in front of him. Surely, this wasn't the bus, right? The window was dark and lustrous, allowing Wallace to see his flushed visage. Lucking, his hair wasn't out of place, but his bowtie was a bit crooked. Before he could reach up to fix it, the glass rolled down slowly to reveal a pale young boy with cobalt blue eyes staring at Wallace with a playful sparkle. Like Wallace's hair, the boy's dark black hair was slick back handsomely. The face looked familiar…
"Good morning, I presume since you live in this neighborhood, you must be an enrollee of Gotham Academy, am I right?" the boy spoke. The articulateness of his words was ruined by the fact that he was going through puberty, and his voice cracked in a comical way after each phrase.
Wallace nodded slowly, mind still distracted as he attempted to decipher the boy's identity. He looks so familiar… Could he be a celebrity?
"Well, have a seat then! I am Richard Grayson by the way, sophomore at Gotham Academy. But many of my peers adore to call me by my pet-name, Dick," he chuckled.
"D-Dick Gra-Grayson? As in the ward of the richest man in the world, BRUCE WAYNE?" Wallace stuttered. Hello Wallace! This boy was a star!
The boy simply chucked at Wallace's awestruck reaction, unfazed as if he had dealt with many ogling commoners before. He opened the door, scooted over and beckoned Wallace with a pat of his hand on an adjacent leather seat.
Hesitantly, Wallace crept inside, and took the seat. His mother had always warned him to never jump inside a stranger's car, but this was Dick Grayson for heaven's sake! It was a privilege to sit in his limousine!
"So I presume you are new here?" Dick asked.
"Yes," Wallace replied enthusiastically in between a sip of the carbonated beverage Dick had offered him.
"You should join me and my friends then! I am the president of the Mathlete Team, and a member of the gymnastics team. You should join! But of course, there are other extracurricular activities as well, so please don't feel obliged to join."
"N-No! I simply love math! I would love to be part of it! As for gymnastics, let's just say I have two-left feet in all sports," Wallace joked.
"Ahh, I see," Dick replied.
Just as Wallace was about to take another sip, a yellow flash caught his eye. The limousine had stopped at a traffic light, and next to it was… no other than that obnoxious motorcyclist. Anger welling up inside him, Wallace peered secretly over the window to take a better look at the rude biker.
"Artemis Crock, a Wayne scholarship recipient, age 16, junior," Dick replied rather nonchalantly, which surprised Wallace since his "subtleness" wasn't so "subtle" after all. But what surprised him even more was the fact that that aggressive motorist was a girl and not a rough rowdy tattooed man as he had previously imagined. But as he looked closer, he realized that she was a girl, despite her visage hidden by a green helmet. Before Wallace could inspect her any further, the signal changed to green, and the mysterious blonde ponytail had already taken off.
Ok, so this first day chapter will be divided into two parts because in my opinion, it turned out longer than I anticipated. I think I got carried away with describing Wallace's dorkiness, but I think it's really adorable!~