I wake up the next day alone. The house is quiet since Mom and Dad aren't home, nor is Ms. Mac. Without them, the house is cold and empty - just what I'm used to.
Sleep lingers heavily on me. Homework the night before took way too long for me to finish. I got my eight hours, but there wasn't enough time to ease my mind. Normally I'd play a game or two to relax a little bit. Unfortunately for me, thoughts of Bruce, Dick, and Alfred stayed with me longer than I wanted.
Those thoughts linger throughout my shower, breakfast, and getting dressed. I wonder about their night and how bad it got. When I say that, it's not Dick or Bruce that I'm worried for.
I walk to the bus stop down the street from my house. It's a quiet morning in Gotham. The sun is shining above me, and the clouds are few and far between. Spring is definitely coming strong today. Hopefully, it's a good omen.
Other kids are waiting at the bus stop. I don't know them well, only first names. They're friendly enough that I smile to them, but that's it. None of them invite me over their houses and I never bothered either. Greetings are head nods, not conversations. It's fine that way; I only need one or two good friends.
As I wait for the bus I pull out my phone. News stories come up here and there. Not a single one has a detail about the Bat or Nightwing. They usually don't, and when they do it's in a biased light. That's why I resort to my own methods of searching for Gotham's two protectors.
My phone connects to cameras throughout Gotham. They're motion activated like hunting cameras. Each one is placed in a high-crime area mapped by yours truly. I tracked crime rates in Gotham for the past couple years and took into account historical data. Follow crime, follow Batman.
I take my seat on the school bus. I'm in the far back to prevent anyone from seeing what I'm watching and what I can do. The solo seat in the back ensures I'm alone for the entirety of the ride.
Out of the one-hundred plus cameras in the city, twelve show up on my custom app. The videos range in length from a few seconds to nearly forty-minutes. If Batman is going to continue his pattern of reckless and violent behavior, it'll be the longer video. The beatdowns are long and harsh.
A flash of movement goes across the screen. It's hard to tell who it is, but I know the man's a thug. He's reaching for a gun, dressed in all black, and his face is tattooed in...Latin symbols I think. He's just aiming his gun when something knocks it out of his hand: a batarang.
I can't help looking on in terror as Bruce pounds the man against the brick walls of the alley. I'm thankful I have headphones on because the man pleads for Bruce to stop. He rambles on about information relating to whatever case they're on. Bruce - Batman cares little if at all about that. His fists continue to fly, pounding every inch of flesh on the criminal. The beating goes on for nearly fifteen minutes. It's one of the most grotesque things I've ever seen. By the time Bruce is done, I feel sick.
"Hey, Tim."
I jump and nearly drop my phone. I snatch it off the floor, then stuff it into my jeans pocket. Ives sits across from me looking curious.
"Hey, Ives."
"You're a little jumpy this morning. What were you watching? Porn?"
"What? Ives, cut that out." Anger and irritation are building. I still haven't forgotten about his comment yesterday. I look to see if anyone heard him.
"I'm just joking, man, relax. What were you watching, though? Is it a secret?"
"No, you just scared me. It's for my job," I lie.
"Right. The job. What is this mysterious employer having you do?"
"Tech stuff."
"Super vague. Gimme more detail than that, Timbo. What company is it? Who's your boss?"
"It's, uh, WayneTech."
"Bull! How did you get a job there?"
"My parents know Mr. Wayne," I tell him. "When they're around, they go to his galas and events. My dad mentioned that I'm around a lot and Mr. Wayne offered to give me an internship."
"That's so damn cool! I thought you were going to work at Batburger or McDonald's."
"So what if I was? It's still a job. It teaches responsibility."
"Tim, you're the most responsible kid in the world. You don't need a job to instill that in you."
"Doesn't matter," I shoot back. "I have a job and I'm proud of it."
Truth is, it isn't a job. Hell, I don't know if anyone is going to ask me to come back. Why would they, really? I said my piece to them. I know that I can help them, but I can't see why they would ask for it. Dick has the Titans and Bruce has the Justice League. That should be enough.
I say that, but I know there's an intangible that all of those superheroes don't have. At least for Bruce.
The bus drops me off at the roundabout in front of the school. Kids are walking out of their parents' cars and joining the massive herd of students that funnel into the mouth of the school. Ives is lost in the crowd and so am I. I'm trying to jostle my way up the front steps when I lose my footing and trip. A mess of limbs follows me down to the tile floor.
Notebooks, papers, and a phone are all around me. I scramble to pick them up quickly, My face is hot with embarrassment. I can hear the person gathering themselves behind me. God does this suck.
With the papers in my hand I turn around to give them to the person I ran into. She stands up and looks flustered. I can see it in her red cheeks and tousled long blond hair. She runs her hands over her green sun dress. It takes a second but her ocean blue eyes finally found me.
"I'm sorry about that," I say immediately. I hold out her things for her which she graciously takes. "I lost my footing and tripped on the stairs."
She contorts her face into a lost expression. I can't tell if she's scrutinizing me or if she disagrees with me.
"You sure? I'm a klutz at the best of times. I may have kicked your foot out from under you. Wouldn't be the first time I've done that either." She then mumbles, "not a great start to my first day."
I hand her things to her. It's none of my business, but I can't help asking, "today's your first day here?"
The girl looks up at me, her cheeks flushed. She holds her things close to her chest to make sure she doesn't drop them again.
"Yeah, I just moved here. My situation is complicated - lot of family drama, y'know. Dad isn't the greatest guy in the world. Sorry, that's probably too much information…"
"Don't worry about it. Really." I hold out my hand and introduce myself. "I'm Tim Drake."
"Stephanie Brown. Nice to meet you, Tim."
"Likewise," I tell her with a smile. I know what it's like to be new to a school. No friends, no comfortability, it blows. At the least, a friendly face can do something to ease her anxiety.
"Say, you don't know where Mrs. Santino's room is do you? I've got her first block and have no idea where to go."
"Actually, I do. It's my first class as a matter of fact." The first bell rings and I gather my own things. The herd has thinned considerably. "Want to walk there together?"
Stephanie sighs loudly. The relief is evident and I can't help feeling a little good about that. She adjusts her purple backpack on her shoulders.
"Aren't we going to be late?"
"Don't worry about it. You're new, so you won't get in trouble," I tell her.
"Yeah, but what about you, won't you get in trouble?"
"I doubt it. I've never caused trouble, never missed a class, and do well in general. Besides, I'm helping out the new kid."
"Subtle brag, huh?"
Immediately, I try to backtrack. That was a lot to say, and it probably came off way too arrogant. That's the last thing I want to be.
"No. No, that isn't how I meant it to sound," I try to explain. Stephanie quirks an eyebrow at me. "Really. I hate sounding arrogant. I don't like being, y'know, that guy."
She laughs at me. Not a cruel or sarcastic laugh, a real one. It's just quiet enough that no one else hears, but still genuine. Stephanie shakes her head, her ponytail swaying.
"I didn't think you were trying to be arrogant. I'm just poking fun at you, that's all. I think I'll probably need a friend who's smart."
"I'm sure you're plenty smart, and you'll have plenty of friends in no time."
"Nice of you to say," she says gloomy, "don't think that's true, though. Unlike you, I don't make friends easily. I'm a little loud, a little too bubbly at times, and I carry a lot of baggage."
I take another look at her. She hangs her head and looks at the tiles beneath our feet. I can see everything a girl like her might try to hide: anger; nervousness; shyness. I don't know her, but I already hate that she feels that way. Stephanie obviously wears her heart on her sleeve, so why make her feel bad about it?"
We're just reaching the door to the classroom. I can see Mrs. Santino moving about animatedly about some biology stuff. Stephanie gives a sorrowful smile and is trying to reach for the door when I stop her.
"Just before we go in, you should know that what you're saying doesn't mean much to a right friend - a good one. Everyone has something about them that they aren't proud to share. You're no different. Keep your head up, alright? Feel positive today."
She blinks once, then again. Her fingers grip the straps of her bag and taps on them. After a long, drawn-out breath Stephanie says, "thank you. Thanks...really nice of you to say. I'll keep that in mind."
"Yeah, no problem."
I open the door and the class stops what they're doing. I'm embarrassed by it, but I have a feeling Stephanie is feeling that more than I am. Mrs. Santino looks at us through her glasses, her brown eyes baring down on us.
"Sorry we're late, Mrs. Santino. I was helping a new student find the class."
"I see," she says looking at me and Stephanie. "You must be Stephanie. Welcome to biology. I trust that Tim can help you get accustomed to class."
I lead us both to the table where Ives is sitting. I sit next to him and she sits across from me. The last seat at the table is empty. Ives sends me a look, but I shake my head. The last thing I want is for her to hear some stupid comment that makes Ives or me sound like a bad choice of friends. She sounds lonely enough as it is. Thankfully, he turns around to face the whiteboard.
Class feels like it drags on, and I find myself drifting in and out of thoughts about the material and Bruce. I work on my worksheets and talk to Ives, but my mind is so far away. I can't get those thoughts and images out of my head. My hand stops writing as I slip further into my own world.
"Are you alright?"
Ives glances up at me from his worksheet, then looks to Stephanie. He snorts and leans over the table conspiratorially. "He's probably thinking about his job, Steph," he whispers and uses a nickname for her. "It's teaching him responsibility."
"You're worried about work?"
"Uh, yeah," I tell her, shaking myself out of my daze. "Just work related."
She doesn't buy it. Stephanie doesn't change her expression or say anything; she doesn't have to. The look she sends me, the blank stare says it all. Ives could care less, but somehow I know she's not going to be fooled so easily. My guess is it's because she is or was where I am. Hiding a secret from others.