At night, I decide to leave homework alone in lieu of complaining about my internship to my friends.
Gotham Academy is a school for kids that are either super advanced, or super rich. Mostly, the latter. The school offers programs through partnered businesses of various kinds in order to get kids work permits and internships as soon as seventh grade. There are four schools in Gotham Academy through which kids can receive internships and college credits: Business, Law, science, and Art. Rach is in the GA School of Law. Ollie and I are in School of Business. Barb doesn't go to GA, but she's practically locked in on doing an Associates in GCC and then joining the police academy… since her dad is the Commissioner or whatever, and she's actually happy about following in Daddy's footsteps. Actually, all of us are probably jealous of the relationship she has with her dad.
My Internship is going to be with WayneBiotech, and I'll be observing and participating in basic planting and harvest techniques and technology, and coming up with ideas to make both processes more efficient and/or potential problems in the processes. I'll be spending three plantings, three summers, and three harvests there.
I'm annoyed with it. Anyone who's ever studied basic agriculture will be able to do this without wasting three years of their life. That, and I'll miss two weeks out of every school year to deal with it.
I pull out my phone and type to my friends in our group text, which is called 'the trash can'… don't ask why. Rach named it.
Me: guys, I just got my new internship assignment and it's bullshit.
OQ: Uh oh. More WayneTech?
Me: I wish. It's a 3 year deal in a farm in fucking Kansas. Can you believe that shit? Summer Internships + spring and fall breaks until I graduate and a year after.
OQ: Seriously?
RD: UR ABANDONING ME HERE FOR THE NEXT THREE YEARS? WTF WAYNE?!
Me: Blame dear old mommy and daddy Wayne. They think sending me away is going to teach me a lesson.
BG: It probably is.
Me: Oh, hey there Barbie. Nice to talk to you too, darlin' how are you doing? Hows school? How's life? Is that guy still giving you shit?
BG: What'd you do to piss them off this time?
OQ: Aww, come on, Barbie Doll. We just… had some fun. Someone here missed his alarm though, so he didn't get to sneak back in without getting caught. Right Brucie?
Me: Fuck you, OQ. You aready know this, Barb, you're in the chat.
BG: so you actually went to an unfinished, abandoned park in the city just to get drunk? Gee, idk, what could POSSIBLY go wrong?
Me: Stop being such a Debbie Downer, Barb. You know as well as I do that you always have fun with us when we're drunk. I can't believe you skipped out.
I save the snapchat story into my phone and post it in the group chat. Immediately we start teasing eachother over our dumb shit. I feel infinitely better just talking to them.
Me: you guys are the best. I'm gonna miss you all. Even you, Barbie Doll.
BG: Gonna miss you too, Brucie. 3
Me: Stop calling me that.
RD: I'll miss you too
BG: You first.
OQ: Will you at least be around on some weekends?
Me: You act like my parents actually *want* to see me. I'll come around to say hey to you guys and the OG though
OQ: Honestly he's probably better at this than your folks.
Me: He really is.
RD: I honestly love Alfred.
Me: he loves you too, R.
BG: he makes the BEST cookies. Holy shit, I'm going to stay in your house this summer and fucking replace you.
Me: try, bitch
OQ: Me too. The 3 of us are going to replace you.
Me: fuck you all. Alfred is mine.
RD: nah, just me. Besides BG I've known him the longest, and I'm already his favorite out of all of Brucie's friends.
Me: Fucking L. STOP CALLING ME THAT.
OQ: shit, she's right, Barbie Doll. We can't compete. Issa wrap.
BG: pssh, speak for yourself. I'm the favorite out of all of BW's friends. Just ask him.
Me: you know what? I take it back. I'm not going to miss any of you.
OQ: don't worry, the girls won't miss you either, they'll be too busy fawning all over Alfred so he makes them cookies and shit.
Me: don't I know it.
AP: You are the most uncouth lot I have ever seen. None of you will be having any of my cookies if you keep using such filthy language.
OQ: my bad, OG.
I balk, my eyes shooting up to the top of my screen, and I frown. After 'the trash can' there are three dots, signaling that the title continues. The full title reads, 'the trash can and Alfred' which they normally use to ask him for rides when they can't use their own cars, or when we're all together and Alfred wants to speak to all of us at the same time.
Me: shit, sorry OG.
Me: I mean…
BG: rofl sorry gramps. We thought this was our chat.
RD: That's supposed to make it better? Sorry Gramps, please make us cookies we love you.
AP: Master Bruce, I know you'll have a wonderful summer. I will miss you as well. In fact, I will gladly send photos of the cookies that I bake, if you like.
The chat is silent for a whole minute. Then,
OQ: omfg this is great
BG: owned.
RD: do you need a model for your photos, Gramps?
BG: I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!
Me: I hate you all. Except you, OG. I'll take your cookie photos and raise you photos of homemade pie that I will be eating in the country side like a boss.
AP: It couldn't possibly be better than mine.
I laugh out loud.
Me: I know Alfred. But at the very least, you're going to wonder now.
AP: …perhaps I'll ask you for their recipe, just to be sure. Will you all require me tonight?
BG: nah, Brucie has homework to do and packing to finish before his trip in two weeks.
Me: stop calling me that.
AP: it would seem that your attempts are futile, Master Bruce.
Me: help me out, OG. Please?
AP: No. This chat has been quite revelatory, if I may say so. Your videos of your evening out are quite unamusing. I don't believe any of your parents would find them amusing either.
OQ: Oh God. Alfred, name your price. I'm your eternal slave.
BG: Ha!
RD: Gramps… please don't tell Daddy. I'm literally begging.
BG: DM me, Gramps, we'll decide how to blackmail them!
AP: A fine idea, Miss Gordon.
Me: Good luck you guys. You're on your own.
OQ: you're leaving us in our time of need!
Me: I have homework to do, Oliver. And I'm already paying for this.
RD: HTIS WAS YOUR IDEA!
Me: Spell check saves lives, RD. You better do your homework too.
RD: Fuck you, Wayne.
RD: Ack! Sorry Gramps!
AP: Incredible.
After that delightful chat, Alfred actually knocks on my door and slips inside. "Master Bruce?"
I sigh. "Come in, Alfred."
"Not 'OG'?"
"That's your chat name. Besides, Ollie named you that. I just happen to like it because it's true. There's nobody like you, Gramps. You really are an OG."
"Why thank you, Master Bruce. It is much appreciated."
"I wish I could just be myself like you, you know? My parents…"
"Forgive me, Master Bruce, but what you did last night was dangerous and irresponsible. Believe it or not, they care for your safety, and you cannot blame them for your own actions."
"They only care because it would look terrible if something bad happened to me."
Alfred sighs. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't believe that is true. You're wonderfully smart, with a mind of your own full of ideas and a heart that is kind and strong. You're bloody terrible at showing any of those qualities, if I'm quite frank. But I've known you since you were an infant, and I saw how your mother watched you grow. I promise you that they do love you."
"They're terrible at showing it."
Alfred shoots me a sharp look. "Some apples don't fall off the tree, Master Wayne. I will help you pack your necessary items tomorrow, so that we can make a list of what you still need or want to buy."
"Thanks, Gramps."
Alfred pats my cheek. Then he grins. "I have a feeling this summer will be very enlightening for you, my dear boy. I can't wait to hear all about it."
Suddenly, my throat hurts and my eyes burn. "I'm glad I have you to tell," I whisper.
Alfred doesn't say anything, he just wraps me in his arms and lets me cry. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry, and probably new car or something like that, since he's always driving. I make sure to inhale it lots so I don't forget over the summer.
As I break down, he sits up against the headboard of my bed, letting me lean against him. When I was little, I didn't used to go to my parents when I had bad dreams or pissed my bed or any of that. I always went to Alfred. He'd help me and then he'd make me warm milk and I'd fall asleep on his bed while he read poems to me from a book that he had on his nightstand. When my parents were out schmoozing, he'd sit with me all night and read to me or watch old movies with me. In the morning, I'd always be tucked in on one corner of his bed.
"Why was it never them?" I whisper.
"What ever do you mean, Master Bruce?"
"You were always the one that helped me when I couldn't sleep. And you are always the one that sits with me when I need help with my homework. You make fun of my friends, for christ sakes. Why? Why not mom or dad?" I wipe at my face. "Not that I'm complaining about you, I just… sometimes I just want my mom and dad to be my mom and dad. Why is that too much to ask?"
Alfred heaves a long sigh. "Young Master Thomas was much the same as you, you know? He married so young, and he didn't quite know your mother very well. It was a difficult few years for them at first, because he was still so determined to go his own way I'm not sure… I can't know why he gave up on whatever dream he had.
"I am afraid that their inexperience has made them… overlook things. Young Master Thomas didn't come to me the way that you do, since I was hired on when he was your age. To be honest, I can say is that right now, your father and mother are very satisfied with the life they've built and with their family. They've worked very hard to make it so."
Is that what I have to look forward to? A life that is simply 'satisfying'? "I don't… I wish they could see that I don't want to live like them. How many more times do I need to get in trouble or sneak out or blow off one of their fancy parties for them to see that I just want all this stupid money and lifestyle to be useful to someone other than me? I just want them to give a fuck about anything other than money."
Alfred pulls me tight against his chest. "Your future is up to you, my dear boy. How you want to live is up to you to decide. An occupation is merely that, and you're fortunate enough to have one gifted to you so that you can focus on things you truly love."
"I don't want Wayne Industries. I want the Foundation. Dad knows this. He just… doesn't care."
"Master Bruce, I…"
"No, Alfred, you can't defend him, not on this. I'm not even asking to do something completely different than the family legacy! I just want the part of it that I know I'll do great in, the part that I'm passionate about. Why can't I have at least that?! Instead I'm being shipped off to some farm in the middle of nowhere. It's like they want me to fail!"
"No, Master Bruce. And even if that were true, and even if your parents did not love you, I swear to you on my life that I do, and that I want you to soar."
I lean on Alfred until my eyes stop burning.
Alfred, long suffering as ever, watches me leave through the front door with a sigh and an exasperated expression. "Please be safe, Master Bruce. I will retrieve you if you need me to."
I think about it and say, "We'll text you. I promise we won't get too wasted or anything, okay? For you, we won't. And we promise to text if we need picking up."
Alfred nods, smiling. "Very well, then. Please enjoy your evening. Where are you going?"
I just wink at him and duck out of the door.
Ollie's waiting for me at the end of the drive just past the gate, and Barb and Rach are already in the back seat, looking spectacular. I make sure to leer appreciatively at both of them, causing each of them to flip me off. Barb's gorgeous in a girl-next-door kind of way, all soft and bright red hair, freckles on her nose and dimples in her cheeks. She has a piercing in her left nostril that is decorated with a tiny blue stud tonight, to match the ladder of rings crawling down her left ear and ending in little tear-drop shaped dangly blue things that set off her red hair and blue eyes. She's wearing a one-shouldered black dress that shows off her shoulders and tits in a way I think Commish would hate to see, and pink lipstick and eyeshadow that make her look more mature.
Rachel is wearing something red and dangerous looking, and honestly too short. I really don't want to have to kill some poor bastard for putting his hands where she doesn't want them to go. Some people would say that's sexist, but I just want to have a good time with my friends. Rach and Barb our my best girls, and we have to make sure they have fun tonight, not get roofied by some dirty old guy that thinks they're actually 21.
"Seriously, Rach? Do you want us to have to choke someone out tonight?"
"Aww, come on. Can't a girl have some fun?"
"Sure, babe. But if anybody tries too hard, you're with him." I point at Ollie, who dutifully waves his hand near his face in a half-assed salute.
"I ship it," Barb decided.
"I don't!" Ollie and Rach said at the same time.
I just laugh.
The club is fun. We use fake IDs to get in (I know the bouncer probably recognizes us and knows we aren't of age, but the fact that he knows who we are makes him keep his trap shut). I take way too many snaps of Barbie attempting to twerk, Rach's drunken toasts to my becoming a farmer, and way too many middle fingers from Ollie. I dance with Rach, and some girl that wanted to dance with me tries to humiliate her. Ollie cuts in after that, but I keep my Barbie close too. It's a good night with nothing major happening, and I'm happy to dance the night away with my friends.
The last day of class was yesterday, and we celebrated because we'll be upperclassmen next year. Ollie says he's going to try out for Lacrosse again, even though he got a concussion at the beginning of the year on the first day of tryouts. Rach and Barb study up like the goodie two shoes they pretend to be, and I just… well, I just try to convince myself that tomorrow will be the start of something good.
I can't quite do it, though.
"You alright, Broski?"
I look at Ollie and try to figure out where the second head is going to grow from. "Are you?" I ask incredulously.
Ollie shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Just tipsy."
"We promised Alfred," I tell him.
"Yeah, I know. I won't get worse than this I promise. Besides, I'm here to ask why you're moping."
I sigh. "Just… trying to look forward to tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's not here yet. Tomorrow's not here for another… twenty minutes. Let loose, man. Come on, let's not leave the girls on the dance floor alone."
That turns out to be wise. The girls are lighting up the dance floor, people watching them grind on each other and giggle. I make sure to glare at every guy that stares too long at Rach's skirt, which rides up the more she grinds. Eventually we cut in, and I try to pull that fucker down as discreetly as I can. "You're a piece of work, Rach," I say in her ear.
"Can I come home with you tonight?"
I pull away. "No. You're drunk, and I've told you that you're like my sister. There isn't any universe in which I'd fuck my sister. Literally none."
"But you… think I'm hot."
"Objectively, yes. You're perfect. You could get any motherfucker you wanted."
"'Cept for you," she says mournfully.
"Yeah. Except for me." Clearly, I'm the Des tonight. I decide to stick to water for a while.
Sometimes I wish I could be with Rachel. It would be easy, like breathing. But as I look at her face, sweaty and pink from alcohol, and eyes glassy, I know that the way I feel about her isn't going to change.
I always have to do things the complicated way, I guess. My mood is staying down like the kicked puppy it is, and I try to round up everyone to go home. They cooperate eventually, and I let Alfred know that I'm driving back and will probably stay with Ollie, who is still packing up his room to go home for the summer.
He answers with a 'thank God' and an "I will have your suitcases with me when I come to get you. I hope you all had a wonderful time."
Rach hugs me for a long time when I drop her off. I have to get out of the car because I'm not sure she's sober enough to climb up on to her balcony, and I don't want her to break something. Once she's up, she says, "Don't forget us out there, Brucie. Take care of yourself."
I smile up at her. "Don't worry, Rach. I'll be on snap and in our chat. You won't even notice I'm gone."
Next I drop off Barbara, who's sound asleep. I carry her inside—thankfully Uncle Commish is out working all night on some massive case that happened in the city—and tuck her in. I write her a note and sign it 'Bruce, not Brucie goddammit!' and then I start back to the academy.
Ollie watches idly as the night zooms by, probably too dizzy to even try to focus. "You ready to go?"
"As I'll ever be, I guess."
"You'll do fine. You're gonna make a bunch of new friends and forget us."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?!"
"Cos it's true."
"Just to prove that that's not true, I'm going to add the first friend I make to our chat so you guys can talk to them."
"You're on."
"Be ready to wait like half the summer."
"Pssh. You're gonna add some poor bastard within a day. They won't know what hit em."
"A thousand dollars says it'll take me a week or more," I counter. I pull out my phone and open up the group chat, recording an audio chat. "Ollie Here thinks I'll make friends and forget everyone in this group. I'm here to tell you that he's drunk so I want this recorded in the annals of trashcan history. I'm going to add the first friend I make to this group, and I've just bet him that it will take me a week or more to add someone to the chat."
"Pssh. My thousand says it takes two days."
"You're drunk Ollie. Are you sure?"
"Bitch it's on like donkey kong."
I can't help but laugh. "Alright you fuckers. It's on. Anybody else wanna make bets?"
