The rest of the day followed suit. Lunch was quiet. Robin sat silently at a table along with the pale boy from her first class, while they both read. The questions she received from anybody who even bothered to talk to her were usually along the lines of "Is that your real accent" and "how are you so tall". Then when she wouldn't bother responding to them, they would call her a bitch, frigid, and weirdo. However, Robin didn't really mind too much; she was used to it and always had a good book to read.

Then, finally, two days into life at her new school, Robin was approached by an older blonde haired girl about what book she was reading. Robin smiled and showed her: A Clockwork Orange. The girl thanked her said she would have to check it out. The girl never spoke to Robin again after that. Robin tried to spark up another conversation with her, but, every time she even got close in proximity, the girl shot her a horrified look and hid her face.

Everyday Robin ate lunch at the same table with the quiet pale kid. She considered asking him about the medical books he was constantly pouring over, but the glare that he occasionally shot her whenever she sat down, kept her from doing so. Then, one day, that glare finally turned into a statement.

"Get up," the boy glowered.

Robin was startled to hear how deep his voice was for a kid so small. "What?"

"Get up," he repeated. "I have enough problems without the 'vampire girl' sitting with me everyday."

Robin bit her lower lip to keep it from shaking and obliged the boy. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was burden someone else with her stigma. Once she had found a secluded spot outside, she put her stuff down and hugged her knees.

"Oi!"

A voice startled her into becoming aware of her surroundings. She quickly wiped her eyes and looked up, to a tall blue-haired boy staring wide-eyed down at her. It was that Franklin guy! Clutched in his hand was a pair of brown lunch sacks.

"You're that girl..." She heard him whisper.

Then suddenly the boy pointed at her with a tanned arm, so that his fingertip was mere centimeters from her face.

"What are you doing in my spot?" He demanded. Robin let out a sniffle, causing the young man to leap back. "Hey, stop that! Are you crying?"

In an instant the taller guy was crouched beside her studying her face; panic clearly plastered across his own.

"L-Look it's not that big a deal; you can sit here if you want," he stammered. "I mean, I don't know why you'd want to. I'm sure it would be much nicer to eat in there with your friends or something, right?"

Tears began streaming down Robin's face once more. Why was this guy being so nice to her? She was that "vampire girl." Maybe he just hadn't realized it yet because of his suspension, but as soon as he talked to his friends he would find out about her and things would be just like all the others.

"I said 'stop', please," the young man began pleading, a hand gently patting her shoulder. "Did you have a fight with them or something?"

Robin shook her head, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Why was he still bothering her? She lifted a hand to wipe her face, but it was caught in a large callused palm before she could. The warm hand pulled her to her feet and began to drag her down the hall. She tried to pull away, but it's grip was too strong. She looked up at the young man and spoke.

"Where are you taking me," she asked.

"To the Shop," he said simply, not even looking back at her.

"What- Why?" She said, dumbfounded.

"You can't let them know they get to you," he stated.

After that Robin followed him in silence to the second floor shop. For being a woodworking room, it was a lot cleaner than Robin had imagined it would be. Once they arrived, Franklin let go of her hand and sat at a table to eat his lunch. Robin silently followed, sitting in a stool across from him. The older boy pulled out a second peanut butter jelly sandwich and handed it to her. Robin hesitated for a moment but took it after he insisted.

"So what's your name," he asked her through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Robin," she answered, quietly. When her "savior" took another large bite of his meal she decided it was her turn to continue the conversation. "Your name is Franklin right?"

The boy suddenly began choking on his sandwich. He beat his chest and took a large drink of cola, while Robin ran through all of her knowledge of the Heimlich Maneuver in her head. Eventually the fit settled down and he took a deep breath of air.

"Oi, Oi! Call me Franky, FRA-N-KY," the young man gasped. He was quite dramatic. "None of my friends call me Franklin."

"Is that what we are?" Robin asked, skeptically.

"Well, yeah," He replied matter-of-factly. "I gave you part of my lunch... You don't have any better offers do you? Now chill out and eat."

Robin was silent; she wasn't sure she liked how perceptive he was. She took a bite of her own sandwich. Creamy sweet, deliciousness filled her mouth. She had never tasted anything like it before. She took another bite and another, eliciting a chuckle from the other side of the table.

"So what grade are you in, Robin?" Franky asked, taking a large swig of soft-drink.

Robin stopped eating and covered her mouth. "I just entered ninth."

Another spit-take from Franky.

As soon as he had recovered, Robin gave him a confused look. "Is that surprising?"

The boy breathed deeply. "W-well yeah, I mean you're just so tall! Look at you! I could have sworn you were at least in eleventh."

Robin gave him a scowl. There it was: the inevitable statement about how she didn't look her age.

"What about you," she shot back. "You're still much taller than I am."

Franky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"Yeah," he muttered. "But I'm a senior, so it's to be expected. And you're..."

"Girls go through puberty earlier than boys do," Robin replied flatly.

There was a moment of silence between them, as Franky rapidly finished up his lunch. Robin knew that finding a friend, even one like Franky was too good to be true.

"Do you want to ask me about my accent too," she asked.

Franky glanced at her, a look of poorly veiled guilt and curiosity painted all over his face.

Robin let out a sigh. He had at least been controlled enough not to ask and did kind of save her from the embarrassment of crying in front of the cafeteria for the rest of lunch.

"I was born in Russia," she said, calmly looking at her food. "My mom left when I was little, and my uncle defected from the Russian military when I was seven. The U.S. government decided that his secrets were worth something, so they let him bring me over here with him in exchange for intelligence."

When she looked up, Franky's face was inches from hers. His eyes were sparkling with excitement. Robin quickly leaned away.

"That's super cool!" He exclaimed. "So your uncle is like a spy?"

Robin was instantly regretting her decision to talk to this guy; he was way too loud. "Intelligence agent, but don't scream it-"

"We definitely have to be friends now!" Franky yelled, getting in her face again.

Robin felt like the chances of that happening were slim to none. As much as she enjoyed not having to eat lunch alone, Franky's personality was a little too much for her. The older boy ripped off a piece of his lunch bag and began scribbling on it. Robin tried to see but could not quite tell past his large hands. Then he grabbed her hand and placed the scrap in it. She looked down to see a number scrawled on it.

"What is this?" She said.

The boy beamed.

"It's my cell phone number," he said, holding up a large Nokia cell phone. Robin's jaw dropped. She had never been so close to one before. "Cool right? I saved up for months to get it. Do you have a number?"

Robin shook her head.

"That's fine," Franky continued. "If you ever need help just call me. Think of me as a big brother. This place is kind of like my sanctuary, but you can eat lunch here whenever, if you need to. And I'll be around too if you want to talk."

This guy was just not going to let her escape was he?

She looked around the shop again, now that she had calmed down. There were your typical wooden boxes and other small crafts on some of the benches, but if you looked up you could see model ships and blueprints of weapons lining the walls. Robin couldn't help but get up to take a closer look. Each model was detailed all the way down to the latches on the tiny windows and smelled of citrus.

"Pretty Super right," she heard Franky say behind her, she didn't have to look at him to tell he was smiling proudly.

Robin nodded. She quickly wandered over to another ship which caught her eye.

"This looks like an ancient Phoenician warship," she mused carefully reaching up a hand to trace the curve bow of the model. A hand stopped hers. She looked up to see Franky's expression suddenly serious. He let go of her hand and backed away.

"You like ships?" He asked, forcing himself to look pleasant. His eyes betrayed his nerves.

"No, I just like history," said shaking her head. She smiled at him as she wandered over to another model. "You can relax; I'm not going to break your hard work... They're beautiful."

The older boy looked startled but relaxed with a grin. "You really think so? I drew the blueprints myself. Someday I'm going to make ships that reach the farthest depths of the unknown."

"What does BF-26 mean?" She asked looking at the back of one of the ships.

The older boy came up next to her. "That's Battle-Franky twenty six. They all have names like that."

"If you wanted to make it accurate you should have put it in Greek characters," Robin told him. She watched as his face turned red. "You don't know them do you?... Not good for an engineer-"

"Shut-up! I know the important ones," he snapped.

Robin looked around the room until she eventually found a pencil and a blank sheet of paper and began writing. Franky watched from a distance for a minute, before finally coming over to look at what she was doing.

"Oi! Wait! Are you writing them all by memory?" He gasped. "That's insane. How do you remember all of them?"

"It's difficult to concentrate while you're yelling," she berated.

Once she had finished writing down the entire Greek alphabet in both modern, archaic, and classical Greek with their English equivalents and numerals, she handed the paper to Franky who seemed to be frozen in awe.

"I also know Sumerian, Babylonian, Latin, Old English, and Russian," Robin said. "So if you ever want help with those just let me know."

Franky nodded slowly and let out a long whistle. "Are you sure you're 14?"

"Is that weird?" Robin asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She had never opened up so much to someone this close to her age before.

Franky shook his head rapidly. "No- no! It's amazing... It's Super... Do you want to-?"

The sound of the school tone filled the room, drowning out the end of whatever the blue-haired boy said.

"What?" Robin yelled as the tone died away.

Franky's face was flushed, his breathing was deep and rapid, as if he was caught jogging in the summer sun.

"I-… uh," Robin could tell he was trying to come to a decision. "Do you want to hang out tomorrow?"

A light flutter filled Robin's chest as she looked up at him. Was this what it was like having a friend? Honestly it had been too long for her to remember what the sensation felt like. Her eyes were beginning to sting again as she felt herself smile. She nodded.

"Yes."