Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, obviously, but I DO own Phantom, Livewire, the rest of the Six, Joey, Professor Grimm, Python and Icharus and all the other characters you don't see on the show, so—ahem—MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.

Special shoutouts to AyamiLee, xoRuthox (of course I'll read your story—I'm just observing Lent right now and I'm kind of on a fiction-fast, so I'm not actively reading anything, so after Easter I'll drop by), acosta perez jose ramiro, Tefnut Talvi, Sunset15, and FireDitto. You guys are AMAZING, and I can't thank you enough.

So…. Last night I had a weird dream in which someone said they hated Joey and that I should take him out. I really hope you guys like him; I'm extraordinarily fond of the little guy. Ah, whatever, I'll let you meet him yourself. Heeeeeeeeere's Joey!

One other note: Stephen's name is pronounced "Steffen," not "Steven." Now you can read it.

Chapter 7:

Joey

Dick and Gar couldn't get out of Spanish fast enough. As soon as the bell rang, they were out the door and gone, trying to find the cafeteria.

"Any idea where it is?" Dick asked his friend.

"I can find out," Gar grinned, and lifted his nose into the air. He took a few thoughtful sniffs, and then jerked his head to the left. "This way."

"How'd you do that?"

"I'm part animal, remember?" Gar told him quietly.

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"I do not seem to be able to find our friends," said Kori, resisting the urge to hover above the heads of the students for a better look.

"Well, how hard can it be?" shrugged Victor. "A short green kid and a spiky-haired little twerp. They can't be that hard to spot."

"Except Gar isn't green, and Dick didn't put spikes in his hair today," snapped Raven.

"Oh, yeah. What do they look like again?"

"Look for a boy with black hair that sticks up in the back a little, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, and for a tan kid with short, spiked brown hair, wearing dark green cargo shorts and a blue shirt with a shark logo on it."

"I see the Ashley and Logan. They are most strange, are they not?"

"Yep, total weirdo's," said Victor "Do you see our weirdo's?"

"Oh, so now we're weirdo's, are we?" asked a voice behind him. Vic turned around and looked down—there were Dick and Gar, smirking.

"Nah, I'm just playing. Y'all aren't weirdoes."

"No," grinned Dick. "Apparently, I'm a spiky-haired little twerp."

"And you've been standing there for how long?"

"Long enough. Come on, I could eat a cow."

"I resent that!" Gar declared. The five of them scrambled into line.

The lunch line couldn't have moved slower if it was going backwards. And once they had their trays, they weren't certain if it was even worth the wait. There was some sort of pinkish orange goop on their plates, with applesauce and what could possibly be carrots in similar piles. Dick, Kori, Gar, Raven and Vic all headed to an empty table and plopped down.

"Whatever this is," Gar grunted, "I'm positive it isn't vegetarian."

"I don't think it's meat, either. Maybe somewhere in between." Victor gave his tray a shake. The unidentified substance jiggled like Jell-O.

"I think I'll just starve," Raven muttered, pushing her tray away.

"The applesauce isn't that bad," Dick told her, spooning some into his mouth. Very soon afterward, he gagged and spat it out into his napkin. "Never mind."

"I think it is most wonderful!" exclaimed Kori. "It tastes like the gor'man'dur of my home world. I wonder how to go about preparing it at home?"

"If you fix this at home, I'm moving out," said Raven in a deadly serious voice.

Everyone except Kori stared at their plates moodily, wondering whether it would be safer to skip lunch or to eat the food. For a few minutes there was silence. Then suddenly Dick made a noise of revulsion somewhere in his throat.

"What is it?" asked Raven.

"It moved," he said through gritted teeth.

"What moved?" Gar leaned over to take a closer look.

"The glob. I poked it, and it moved."

"Ew! Do it again!"

"What? Why?"

"Because I want to see it!" Everyone clustered around Dick's plate as he gave his lunch another tentative poke. It wiggled.

"Oh, man, that's the nastiest thing I've ever seen. It makes Plasmus look like…. well, it's uglier than Plasmus, and that's pretty dang ugly."

"Moving cafeteria food. This place just continues to amaze me," Raven muttered, sitting back and folding her arms.

"O-kay, I've totally lost my appetite." Dick pushed the tray away.

The bell rang.

"Dude, we just sat down!" Gar pouted.

"It's not like we were eating anyway."

"Easy for you to say. You've got cooking next. You'll get to bake cookies and stuff." The five friends rose from their seats and carried their trays to the window that opened into the kitchen. A surly woman in a hairnet and protective gloves was dumping the trays into the sink.

"We're probably just getting the speech again. And we'll get it in the next class, and the next class, and the next class—oh, no." Dick suddenly went white. "Oh, crap. Hide me!" He ducked behind Victor, who looked just as bewildered as the other three.

"Um, did I miss something?" he asked.

"Look at the door," Dick muttered, peeking around Vic's shirt. "That crowd of girls coming in. Look at the blonde in the pink sweater."

"What, I still don't see—oh." He grinned wickedly, feeling only a little sorry for his friend.

"Who is it?" Gar demanded.

"Kitten."

"You mean that chick who forced you to go to the prom with her? She goes here?"

"Yep," smirked Raven. "Life stinks for you, Dick. I give you my sympathy."

"Shut up."

Dick made sure to keep Vic's side facing away from the oncoming students. Kitten flounced past with her group of preppies, tossing her blonde hair like she owned the place. Dick craned his neck to look at them.

"Come on, come on—yes! Thank you God! She's at least two grades up!"

"How do you figure?"

"The guys around her have varsity football jackets from last year and the year before. I have nothing to fear from that little—"

"Watch it," said Raven, her eyes flashing dangerously. "We don't need to give Kori a vocab lesson if you lose control of your mouth."

"I wonder if her boyfriend goes here," said Gar aloud.

"Yeah, like they're really going to let a guy with a spider fused to his head in a public high school."

"You mean Fang?" inquired a voice from behind them. The five friends spun around to see a very short and skinny redheaded boy standing behind them. He was even shorter than Gar, and that was tiny. "I think he's still in jail. Kitten got out of juvenile hall during May. Her dad bailed her out. But Fang's still in prison. My sister told me."

"And you would be…?"

"I'm Joey Harper!" he exclaimed, grinning widely. His brown eyes lit up and his freckles popped out. "I just wanted to talk to Garfield for a second."

"Um, okay." Dick felt awkward at leaving his friend alone, but seeing as he still needed to find the Home Ec. room, he said goodbye to Gar and he and the others went off to their classes.

"Hi, Joey." Gar studied this new individual for a moment. "Hey, aren't you in my History class?"

"Yep." The boy bobbed his head up and down rapidly. "I just wanted to say it was really cool the way you stood up to Tatum. I never would have had the guts to do it."

"Thanks…. although I really think it was more stupidity than guts." Joey giggled, his voice rather shrill for a fourteen-year-old boy.

"What class do you have next?" he asked, setting off down the hall. Gar walked beside him.

"Art."

"Wow, me too! I really like to draw. Do you?"

"I'm not really all that good—"

"Come on! We're going to be late!" The tiny boy grabbed Gar by the wrist and dragged him down the hallway much faster than he looked like he would be. Gar went willingly, bewildered and strangely pleased. He'd obviously found a friend.

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Home Ec. was every bit as disastrous as Dick thought it would be. A majority of the class were girls, which was enough to make any boy uncomfortable. The teacher was extremely cold to the boys, seeming to favor the girls. The start of term speech was short and sweet: "Do what I say and we'll get along fine." She then talked them through turning on the oven. Dick was exceedingly nervous—he was a horrible cook. He could fry eggs, make toast and pour cereal, and that was just about as far as his expertise went. He'd cooked a ham once, but Cyborg had coached him through it. Last Thanksgiving Dick had managed to blow up the microwave, which also blew out the entire wall. Vic still teased him about it mercilessly. Dick had a horrible feeling that something very bad was going to happen at some point during the year, and, undoubtedly, something very embarrassing.

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Gar and Joey sat in Art class, watching the teacher, Mrs. Rachel, sketch an outline of each teen in the room on the board.

"See?" she asked when she'd finished. "Anyone can draw! During this class, I will not be teaching you to create art. I will be helping you unleash the creative genius in your souls!"

Gar groaned inwardly. He'd met supervillains less nutty than this woman.

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The first thing Raven noticed about her Drama class was that Ashley Thompson was in it. The blonde flashed Raven a smile before scampering away. The room was full of chattering teenagers, an equal mix of boys and girls.

The second thing that Raven noticed was that this class was going to be collapsing into laughter at random moments, because their unfortunate teacher's name was Mrs. Sir.

"Quiet, children, quiet!" Mrs. Sir called out over the din, after about three minutes of letting the teenagers laugh hysterically. "We must have order if we want to be professionals!" Once she got everyone quieted down, she cleared her throat and went on. "Welcome to the theatre! It is a little known fact that the theatre is actually an art, a fine and perfected art passed down since before the days of the Greek. To keep the spirit of art alive, you all will be participating in a performance this year. Whether by making sets, operating the lights, or doing the actual acting, every single one of you is an important asset to this department."

There is no possible way that you are getting me on stage, Raven thought darkly.

"This year, we will have two performances, the first of which will be the greatest of Shakespeare's tragedies, Hamlet."

Raven blinked. She'd expected a musical full of frilly dresses and cheesy songs. Well, then, maybe you will.

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The band teacher was a jerk. This became quite apparent to Kori during the very first lesson. After assigning instruments, he placed them in chairs like an orchestra. Kori found herself playing the flute and sitting directly next to Logan Marshall, who said nothing. Mr. Wess, the teacher, showed them the basic ways of operating each instrument, and ordered them to warm up. Bewildered, the students put their trumpets, flutes, and clarinets to their mouths and blew. The cacophony that erupted was stupendous.

"No, no, no!" Mr. Wess snapped, waving his wand to cut them off. "You must not play the instrument! Let it play you!"

"How are we—" Kori raised her hand to ask, but Logan grabbed her wrist and brought her arm back down.

"Don't ask anything," he muttered, his brown eyes glaring beneath his curls. "I've heard that Wess can get nasty."

"Oh," Kori whispered back. "Thank you very much, friend Logan." She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a smile break through the grim shell and flicker across his face for half a moment.

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The five Titans met up outside the gym right before the period was due to start.

"Computers was a breeze," smirked Victor. "I could've slept through it."

"Good for you," growled Dick. "I hate Home Ec. already. I'm going to make something explode, I just know it. Who was your new friend, Gar?"

"That's Joey. He's cool. I think he has ADHD or something; he's really hyperactive. He spent half of the last period bouncing up and down in his chair."

"That's…annoying," said Raven. "We're going to be doing Hamlet in Drama. Dark and depressing—my kind of stuff."

"The Logan Marshall is really quite nice," Kori admitted. "But the teacher is almost as horrible as Mr. Tatum."

"Nobody can be as horrible as Mr. Tatum," Gar growled. "It's genetically impossible."

A whistle blew, and all the students who happened to have Gym at the time ran together in a sort of mob in front of a very tall coach.

"OK. There's really not much any of you need to know about Gym class," he told them, twirling a basketball. "At the first of the period, you warm up—stretches, jumping jacks, sit-ups, the works. Then you run two laps around the football field, and then the rest of the period is yours to do whatever, as long as it's athletic. You will be expected to dress out, in T-shirts and shorts or sweatpants and appropriate shoes. Now, go outside and goof off for a little while."

"I'll catch you guys later," Vic told them. "I wanna ask this guy about football tryouts."

"See you," said Dick, and they followed the crowd. The students flocked to the football field, climbing down a steep incline to get to the smooth grassy surface.

The four of them walked around the football field, talking about normal stuff when there were other groups of walkers nearby, but once they were out of earshot, the talk turned to something else.

"Can you believe that the alarm hasn't gone off all day?" Gar moaned. "And it probably won't. We'll be stuck here--all day!"

"There's only three periods left, Gar."

"Big flippin' deal. I just don't get why somebody hasn't tried to rob a bank or just go on a mindless destruction trip. Mumbo, the H.I.V.E, Cinderblock, anyone! So far the only villain we've seen is your girlfriend, Dick."

"Call her my girlfriend one more time, and I will skin you and use your pelt as the living room rug."

"Ouch, that sounds like it would hurt!" said a familiar, chipper voice. The four whirled around and sure enough, there was Joey, pushing his floppy red hair out of his eyes.

"How long have you been standing there?" snapped Raven. A tree branch overhead began to shake violently. Dick touched her arm in a warning gesture. The shaking stopped.

"Just long enough for the girlfriend quip. I've been looking all over for Gar."

"I'm kinda hanging with my friends right now, but you can join us, if that's okay." Gar looked to the others for answers. Dick shrugged, Kori smiled and nodded, and Raven just glared.

"Cool! I don't think I've met them." Joey bobbed up and down enthusiastically. He seemed totally incapable of standing still.

"Oh, right. This is Kori—"

"Greetings, Joey!" Kori beamed.

"Dick—"

"Hey." He treated the small boy to a welcome grin.

"And Raven."

Raven merely nodded.

The rest of the period was spent talking about classes and homework and other stuff, and watching the kids who had gotten together and were playing football and other sports. Dick was halfway tempted to go and join a game of football, but he decided against it. They stopped about halfway around the field to allow Vic to catch up with them, made the proper introductions, and then stood around watching a soccer game. It wasn't as much a game as organized chaos, but one player stood out.

Ashley Thompson was tearing her way across the field, chasing the ball. Her long blonde ponytail streamed out behind her like a banner. She side-tackled a kid on the other team and stole the ball, fighting her way to the front of the pack, and gave the ball a ferocious kick. The goalie leaped, arms outstretched, but the ball sailed straight into the upper left corner.

"Whoa," said Dick, impressed. "She's good."

"Yeah," Gar agreed, craning his neck to get a better look at her as her teammates clustered around her. "Does she look familiar to you?"

"You know, she sort of does," said Vic. "But I can't think of who."

"We've probably seen her around town before," shrugged Raven. "No big deal."

"I've never seen her before," piped Joey, hopping up and down for no apparent reason. "And I've seen most of the kids around here before. Most of them went to my middle school, Perry Middle. Like you guys. You're new, 'cause you didn't go to my school."

"No, we didn't—okay, you can stop that now." Dick couldn't fight back a smile at Joey's hyperactivity. Kori put a hand on top of Joey's head and pushed down. He stopped.

"Wow," he mumbled. "You're strong."

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When the bell rang and the students began the trek up the hill, Joey scrambled away, saying that his next class was on the other side of the school.

"I believe we have made friends with the Joey," smiled Kori.

"No," said Dick. "I think he made friends with us. He's not a can-I-be-your-friend person; he's an I'm-going-to-be-your-friend person. There's no fighting him."

"You know, I like the little guy," mused Vic.

"Me too," Gar agreed. Raven glowered.

"I'll tolerate him, but he's irritating. I don't like the way he just randomly pops up behind us like that. And he's so hyper—I can feel the energy he lets off."

A bell rang.

"Oh, crap, we'd better hurry!" exclaimed Dick, breaking into a run. "C'mon, Gar! See you guys later!" Together they sprinted toward the school and rushed off to Biology.

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Mr. Abbot seemed nice enough, but he was strict. Dick and Gar could tell that immediately as they slid into their seats. Ashley Thompson sat down a few seats away, and Dick noticed that every once in awhile Gar would glance over in her direction.

Dick pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and scribbled, Dude, you're staring. He passed the note discreetly to Gar, who read it and wrote back, I can't help it. She looks so familiar; it's driving me crazy.

And you think she's cute.

Dude, I know a hot girl when I see one.

"Ahem," said Mr. Abbot from the front of the room. "I will thank you boys not to pass notes in my class. Please put that away."

"Yes, sir," they mumbled, and the note was slipped into Gar's pocket. Ashley tossed her ponytail and glanced in their direction. She smiled at Gar, who smiled back in a stupid kind of way, and she took a quick look at Dick. Dick got an uncomfortable feeling from that look—the same quick, furtive glance that Logan had given him, as if they recognized Dick. He really, really didn't like that.

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Dick didn't get to talk to the others before he hurried off to History, but judging by the looks on their faces as they passed it had not been a fun period. He gave them a grin as the kid behind him shoved Dick to keep moving.

Because he'd had the warning from Gar and the others, Dick knew not to sit down. So, apparently, had many of the others, because very few people were sitting. There was one boy with crutches sitting down, and next to him was Logan Marshall, standing. Dick placed his books on the desk on the boy's other side and stood waiting.

"You might want to get up," he said to the boy at his side. The kid looked up, peering at Dick through hazel eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"The teacher is going to come in here in a second and yell at us for sitting down."

"Huh," the boy mused. "First I've heard of it. Thanks." The boy grabbed his crutches and pulled himself to his feet. Dick noticed with a shock that when the kid stood up, there was a bump in his spine. "Yeah, I know, I'm a hunchback," he said, catching Dick's stare. "Go ahead and look; everyone else has."

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry," Dick stuttered. "I—I didn't know."

"It's okay. I was born with this degenerative disease, and this is kind of what happened."

"Man," breathed Dick. "That's terrible."

"Yeah, it stinks sometimes, but I'm used to it. You know what the worst part is? People treat me like I'm some sort of doll or something. They talk quietly and play nice because they think I'll break."

"Wow. That's pretty rough." Dick noticed that he had been talking quietly and raised his voice a little, wondering if the kid had pointed it out especially. "I'm Dick Grayson, by the way."

"Stephen Harrow." Stephen adjusted his weight on his crutches to shake Dick's hand. Just then, the teacher came in.

"Did I tell you maggots you could—" He stopped in mid-shout and looked around the room. A few kids sniggered at his surprise. No one was sitting down. "Oh, good. This class isn't as green as the others. That makes things easier." Mr. Tatum called roll and did the routine the other classes had received, but the wind seemed to have been taken out of his sails after finding no reason to yell at his students. He looked even more blustered when, after giving his ground rules, Dick immediately called out, "Permission to sit, sir?" Unfortunately, that made Tatum angry, and he stomped over to Dick.

"You think you're pretty smart, there, don't you, boy?" he growled. "What's your name?"

"Dick Grayson, sir."

"Grayson. I'll be keeping my eye on you." He turned to go to the front, but then he noticed Stephen leaning on his crutches. "Stand up straight, maggot! Soldiers don't slouch!"

"Excuse me for saying so, sir," said Stephen quietly, "but I am standing up as straight as I can, and the last time I checked, this was a high school, not a boot camp. We are not fly larvae or soldiers; we are students."

Dick's eyes widened in surprise and admiration for Stephen's guts. Logan, on Stephen's other side, seemed to be fighting back a triumphant grin. Mr. Tatum, however, didn't seem to find this admirable.

"I don't tolerate 'I can't's' in this classroom, maggot! Now stand up straight!"

"Sir," explained Stephen calmly, ignoring the fact that Mr. Tatum had gone beet red. "When I say that I can't do something, it is not because I am giving up because the task looks intimidating. I am telling you that what I can't do is a physical impossibility. Due to my present condition, I am not able to stand up straight. There has never been a time when I could stand up straight, and there will probably never be a time when I can stand up straight. Now that I have said my piece, may we please sit down?"

Dick seriously hoped that this was the end of the conversation, because Tatum's persistence on Stephen was really starting to tick him off. The kid has a physical disability. Surely Tatum could understand that?

"Maggot, you are going to stand straight like a military man or you are going to the office!"

"HE CAN'T!!!!!"

Dick blinked—he hadn't been the only one who shouted. Looking to Stephen's other side, he could see Logan Marshall, his normally pale face flushed in anger, glaring at Tatum through his mass of curly hair.

Mr. Tatum looked like he was about to explode.

"Front of the class! Both of you! Everyone else, sit!" He was obeyed at once, and Dick and Logan followed him to the front.

"Let me guess," said Dick.

"You want us to do fifty push-ups?" asked Logan, not trying to keep the scorn out of his voice. Dick blinked again—he had been about to say that.

"No," snarled Tatum, seeing that they were not intimidated. There was something about these boys, much like Garfield Logan, that defied his command and scorned his authority. It infuriated him. "I want you to do one hundred! Now!"

The boys finished at the exact same time, neither even breaking much of a sweat. Dick did a hundred push-ups everyday anyway. How Logan had managed to do it was beyond Dick. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, giving Tatum fearless glares.

"Well, since you two don't seem to be very impressed by the push-ups, you'll be attending detention tomorrow," Tatum snapped.

"That's not—" Dick started

"Detention, maggot! Now sit!" Both boys threw Tatum furious glances before stalking back to their seats. Logan caught Dick's eye, and he looked up to the ceiling, the expression on his face clearly saying, Jeez. Dick nodded in an exasperated kind of way: I know what you mean. The slid into their seats beside Stephen, who gave a thankful grin to them both. Dick was too ticked off to notice.

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Dick trudged off to his locker after the bell dismissed them from History. Gar was already there, apparently having difficulties opening it.

"Come on, come on already!" he muttered through gritted teeth. Finally he slammed his fist against it, frustrated, and shouted, "Fine! Be that way, you stupid hunk of metal!"

"Need any help?" asked Raven, coming up behind them.

"Please," Dick replied. Gar gave her the combination and she twiddled the knob, pretending to unlock the locker. But Dick saw for a brief moment that her hand glowed black, and there was a click.

"There," she said with a smirk.

"Thanks," Dick muttered, stowing his books inside and grabbing his backpack.

"How were your classes?"

"Kori was right," Gar said immediately. "That Burton woman is a troll. I think she and Mr. Tatum must be related—or married."

"Tatum was just as bad as you said he was," said Dick with a sigh. "He gave me a detention."

"You got a detention?" asked Gar, his mouth dropping open.

"Yeah—me and Logan Marshall. We talked back to him, so he made us do a hundred push-ups, and when we were done he gave us both detention."

"I'm sorry, but…. haha!" Gar pointed and laughed. "You got detention with the creepy kid!"

"He's weird, but he's not really all that creepy." Dick shouldered his backpack. "Oh," he added in an undertone to Raven, "normally I'm totally against this, but I'll make an exception this time. Next time you drop something on Tatum, make it the overhead."

"What makes you think it was me that dropped the ceiling tile on him?"

"Did I say you dropped a ceiling tile on him? No, but thank you for confirming my suspicions." Raven scowled, realizing her blunder.

"Come on," she growled. "The way today is going, it'll be just our luck if we miss the bus."

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They met up with Vic and Kori in the bus lane, but they really didn't have time to talk. Once they boarded, they all trudged off to their different seats. Dick threw his backpack moodily into the seat before sitting down, his knees up against the seat in front of him. The school year had already taken a horrible start. He was isolated from his friends on the bus. The cafeteria food had its own genus and species. Kitten went to this school, so he would be constantly ducking and dodging into classrooms to avoid her. The Spanish teacher was a witch, he hated Home Ec., and he would love nothing more than to stuff Mr. Tatum's head down the toilet—or give him a good round with his Bo staff. He'd gotten a detention the very first day, and with a kid he wasn't even sure he liked yet. Dick sank down farther in his seat, and his stomach let out a loud growl. He hadn't eaten a full meal all day. No, he realized. Longer than all day. He'd skipped dinner the night before. Dick scowled; it would be just his luck if he up and died of starvation before the day was over.

Logan Marshall sat down in the seat opposite him. He gave Dick a curt nod that the other boy did not return, then turned to stare moodily out the window. Over the next few minutes, Dick felt nothing but bubbling resentment toward the whole world in particular. Then the anger gave way to loneliness. He wished he had someone to talk to.

"Excuse me," said a quiet voice. Dick looked up. A girl with a

blonde ponytail and large blue eyes was standing rather shyly in the bus aisle. "Could you scoot over? I have to sit here, too."

"Oh, my bad." Dick sat up straight and scooted over, allowing Ashley Thompson to plop down beside him.

"I'm Ashley," she said, holding out a hand.

"Dick," he replied, shaking it. Ashley's eyes went wide.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"No," Dick added quickly, thinking she had taken it as an insult. "That's my name. I'm Dick Grayson."

"Oh, right." Ashley pulled her hand away, studying him intently. "You look very familiar."

"I could say the same about you," he said. Ashley cocked her head to one side. Dick recognized the motion as something he did every day. Neither said anything for a little while. The bus pulled out of the school parking lot and began the long drive home. Dick's stomach suddenly let out another loud growl, breaking the silence.

"Let me guess," said Ashley with a mischievous grin. "You planned on buying lunch, but then didn't eat it because the cafeteria food is still alive."

"Yep." His stomach growled again; suddenly it was very talkative. "Didn't you?"

"Nope!" she said cheerfully. "I had the sense and experience to know that cafeteria food isn't edible, so I brought my lunch." Ashley thought for a moment. "You know, the lunch period is so short, I didn't get to finish mine. I've still got some brownies that my mother baked for me. Want one?"

"Please and thank you," Dick grinned gratefully. He accepted the brownie and bit into it. Chocolate never tasted so good. "My compliments to the chef."

"Yeah," Ashley smiled. "My mom makes the best brownies in the world. Then again, I guess all of us think our mothers are the best cooks, right?" Dick swallowed and looked out the window.

"My mom doesn't cook much," he said quietly. It was true enough; after all, how could Mary Grayson cook if she was dead?

"Takeout kind of person, huh?" Ashley prattled on. "That's cool too. At least your mom doesn't go through the experimental stuff. One time, she and my dad had this crazy idea about starting a pizza business, and they kept trying new recipes. It got so bad that I could hardly look at a pizza for a month."

"How can you begin to dislike pizza?" Dick inquired incredulously—he and the others practically lived off it.

"By eating it for lunch and dinner for three weeks solid." Dick stopped himself from replying that he did that every so often anyway. Ashley wasn't paying attention. She had turned around in her seat and was talking to Logan.

"You need to get over here, Logan," she said. "I can't talk to you over there."

"I can't, Ash," Logan replied. His voice was actually quite friendly. "The bus driver looks like she'd fling me out the emergency exit if I moved."

"Nah," Ashley grinned. "She'll stop caring after the first few days. This is just to keep the troublemakers away from each other. Next week, we'll be able to sit wherever we want."

"That's a relief," Dick sighed. He'd be able to rescue his friends from their horrible bus mates, and they could all sit together. Suddenly he remembered something. "Why didn't you ride the bus this morning, Ashley?"

The blonde flicked her long ponytail off of her shoulder.

"Like I said earlier, I ran into trouble on the way to school."

"What kind of trouble?"

"None of your business," Logan snapped. Dick was taken aback, and Ashley scowled.

"Aw, Lo, leave him alone." Logan pulled a face at her and turned back out the window. "Don't mind him. He can be a bit of a butt hole sometimes." Logan snorted, but Dick couldn't help but smile. He still wasn't sure if he and Logan would get along any time soon, but he liked Ashley. Yet there was something bizarrely familiar about her, and he just couldn't put his finger on it.

They talked all during the bus trip. As it turned out, Ashley got on at Dick's stop, and they were the last stop of the day. Dick told Ashley about his friends and Ashley told Dick about Logan and her home life and her sports interests. By the time it was time to get off the bus, Dick was feeling considerably more cheerful. Maybe this school year wouldn't be so bad after all.

"It was cool talking to you," Dick told her as they got off.

"You too," she smiled. But there was still that look in her eyes, as though she recognized him from somewhere. Dick could see it lurking in their dark blue depths.

"Hey," Ashley said suddenly. "Where do you live?"

Suddenly, an alarm went off, and the communicator in Dick's pocket began to vibrate.

Crap! Dick thought to himself, cringing. I thought I put that thing on vibrate. Dick expected Ashley to look at him in a puzzled way, but instead she looked at the watch on her wrist. The alarm was coming from it.

"Dammit," she swore. "I've got to go; I'm late for something."

"Come on, Ashley!" Logan yelled from across the street. "We've got to go!"

"I need to go too. See you tomorrow," Dick said hurriedly.

"Bye." Ashley took off, and she and Logan ran together to the end of the street. Dick, however, ran in the opposite direction, following his four friends. Together they ducked into a dark, deserted alley.

"Oh, so the alarm goes off after school ends!" Gar complained.

"Shut up a second." Dick flipped open his communicator and studied the screen. Slowly a smile crept over his face—the first real smile he'd given since the disastrous History incident.

"Who've we got?" asked Victor, removing his ring and becoming Cyborg once more. Kori and Gar did the same. It was very odd to see Starfire and Beastboy in anything other than their uniforms.

"Overload just decided to attack the bank."

"The bank—why is it always the bank? It's either that or the state prison," grouched Beastboy.

"You know what this means…." said Raven, pulling a dark blue cloak from her backpack. Dick grinned, and reached into his backpack for his mask, which he had had the good sense to bring along.

"Yep," he said, putting it on. "Titans, go!"