CHAPTER 10

I studied Dick's earnest face, then nodded. "All right, I'll give you some training. I'll have Alfred call the school and report that you have a cold. We'll spend the day on it and see how you do tomorrow."

For the first time, there was a sparkle in Dick's eye. "You mean it?"

"I never say anything I don't mean. I'll meet you in the cave in an hour and we'll begin. Wear your school uniform, including shoes."

I left his room and ran down to Alfred's pantry, where he was frying eggs. "Breakfast is almost complete, sir. I shall be serving in a few minutes."

"We'd better keep it light this morning. I'll be training with Dick most of the day," I said, reaching out for a piece of toast. I barely escaped getting my hand slapped.

"Is the boy staying home, then?" Alfred asked.

"For today, yes. Dick finally broke down and told me what happened. Six kids cornered him and beat him up," I know that my face grew stony and Alfred's matched it. "You should see his bruises. They called him 'gypsy circus trash.' "My face must have grown even darker, because Alfred looked concerned.

"Then you are going to call that headmaster?" Alfred asked with his own dark expression. "And ensure that Master Dick is unmolested in future?"

"No, Dick says he wants to handle this himself. I've agreed to help him. Would you call the school and report that Dick has a cold today? Dick and I will training today."

Alfred smiled. "Good show, sir. Then Master Dick will trounce those bullies when next they meet?"

"I certainly hope so," I replied. "In any case, I'll make sure he has an escape route if they're too much for him. So, would you bring a light breakfast down to the cave? We'll eat there, then get started."

My first concern for Dick was that he was facing superior numbers. Even I don't charge into that kind of situation without a plan and it's taken years of training to enable me to handle it. As a beginner and because he is so small, his best choice is usually either to avoid the situation entirely or to run away. I had to try to explain this to a small boy with the heart of a lion. He had implicit faith that the great Batman could make him invincible. Flattering as that is, I needed him grounded in reality.

"Dick, you're outnumbered and that makes it difficult. The fact that the boys are bigger than you are puts you at more of a disadvantage." On the whiteboard, I drew an 'R' for Dick and X's for his assailants.

"Now, if you can't run, for whatever reason you need to fight, you have to work to your strengths. First, you're fast and nimble. You can dance around these bigger boys. Second, get close to them to land your blows. They have longer arms and want to hit you at their outer extension. If you get in close, it's harder for them to get you." I drew a stick figure of a tall, gangly man with a small figure with short arms pummeling the man's torso.

"Because you're outnumbered, you face the danger of them all piling on you simultaneously," I said and drew the 'R' in a circle of 'X's'. "And surrounding you."

"Yeah, like yesterday," Dick sighed. He sat stiffly, so I knew that his bruises were bothering him.

"Choose your ground. Fight in a narrow alleyway or hallway so that they have to line up to fight you one at a time. Back to the wall so that nobody can come from behind."

Dick's eyes narrowed and I could see him focusing. "What do I do if somebody does come from behind?"

"Be aware. Use all your senses. Peripheral vision, hearing, even smell if one of the boys has an odor," I said to Dick's grin. "It does happen. Sometimes they have body odor or a particularly repulsive aftershave. In any case, stay aware of your surroundings."

"It's a lot to remember," Dick said. "How long did it take you to get really really good?"

I gave him a crooked smile. "I'm still working on that. I don't think you're ever done learning. But I think you could become competent in a year or so."

He was silent a moment, then said reluctantly, "So, you think they're gonna kill me?"

Not if I can help it! "This won't be easy," I answered. "But it's your fight and your decision. All right, let's try some practice."

"Another way to equalize things is to use a weapon," I said as we stood ready on the mat.

"But you hate guns," Dick protested. "And they'd never let me use one on campus anyway."

"No, not guns," I said. "A weapon can be anything that comes to hand. There's a reason I told you to wear your uniform. Take a look at your belt, for example."

Giving me a puzzled look, he slid it out of his pants and held it in both hands.

"The buckle is heavy and sharp and it's attached to the end of a long strip of leather, giving you reach. Used as a whip, you can do some damage without moving in close." I picked up the belt and snapped it at a fighting dummy. Dick's eyes widened at the gash I created in the dummy's ballistics gel face. "Or your shoe. How much do you think it weighs? You can throw it or use it as a club. Women have a greater advantage because spike heels can be vicious."

Dick just stared at his shoes, eyebrows raised. Then he looked back at me.

I flashed him a grin, my hands on my hips. "Okay, find me some weapons in the batcave and tell me how you might use them."

Dick proceeded to run through the cave, describing the havoc and mayhem he could wreak with simple items from a stapler to a desk chair to a trash can. Finally, he seemed to run out of steam.

"Very good, Dick," I said. "When you expect a fight, do a similar analysis on your surroundings in case you need it. Now, let's work on some moves."

We spent the rest of the day in the cave until Dick was exhausted and beyond exhausted. I can't fault his dedication; he truly did give me all he had and then some.

After Dick had gone to bed, Alfred approached me with a look of concern on his face. "Sir, is it really necessary that the lad fight these bullies?"

I rested aching muscles in my favorite easy chair. I had been asking myself the same question. "I don't know, Alfred. I respect Dick's choice. I don't want to hurt his spirit by benching him, especially now when he's just beginning to see himself as Robin."

"I don't suppose that you will...er...be in the neighborhood, as it were..." Alfred said delicately.

I smiled ruefully. "I've already looked the place over. I'll be in the neighborhood, but I can't be seen or I risk Dick's identity and mine. But if I see a danger to Dick's life, I'll jump in."

Alfred gave me a relieved smile. "Very good sir."

Dick slept better that night than I did. No nightmares for him that I was aware of, but I kept dreaming of Dick with head injuries, broken bones...Do all parents go through this? Or is it simply that I've seen so much violence on a daily basis that I can't escape the fear of it taking someone important to me?

I arrived at Gotham Junior Academy and hid myself long before the start of the school day. Alfred had instructions to tell Dick that I had an early meeting.

I watched Alfred drop Dick off that morning. The boy looked confident, if tense. The joke would surely be on us all if the bullies had found other prey and given up on Dick.

I followed my boy's day at a distance, watched him exchange a few words with other children. He seems to be picking up a friendship with Jim Gordon's girl, Barbara. It's good to see Dick settling in.

Gym class was set at the end of the day. As the children were coming in from the playing field, I heard loud voices.

"Yeah! This school will let just anybody in these days. Even stinkin' carnies!" A young voice called after Dick, who was moving swiftly for the building. A second young voice joined in.

"And how didja persuade old moneybags Wayne to adopt you, Dick? Was it because you're a dick, Dick?" Loud, braying laughter followed.

I could see a pack of boys following Dick now, each was taller and heavier than my boy. I saw Dick looking around and applauded his choice of a place to make his stand. He ducked toward a three-sided alcove with a large dumpster in it. There was a space, three feet by ten between the side of the dumpster and the school building's exterior wall. Open to the sky, it would allow Dick to use his climbing skills to advantage.

Dick moved in next to the dumpster and turned to face the boys. He didn't look afraid, just very focused.

The first boy, the tallest, approached him still shouting insults. "So, Dick, what does a carny have to do to get adopted, huh? Steal his wallet?"

"I'll give you one chance to leave me alone," Dick said solemnly. "Then you'll be sorry."

The boys started laughing. While the first one was half-turned away from him, sharing the laugh with his cronies, Dick attacked. He got in close and gave the boy a good jab in the solar plexus with a small fist and kept punching. All the air went out of Laughing Boy and he fell onto the boy behind him.

Two more boys, seeing what had happened to their leader, charged Dick but got tangled in the first two. They didn't land a hit before Dick had kicked the first one in the knee. He grabbed onto the side of the dumpster, lifted himself into the air and gave a flying kick to the collarbone of the second.

While the injured boys were yelping, my boy moved on the final two bullies. They just looked at the fierce expression on Dick's face, his fighting stance and balled fists. They both turned and ran for the teacher.

While Dick silently watched the two run away, the original bully had gotten his wind back. He and his friend stepped over the injured ones, ready to attack from behind. I was getting ready to move in, when I saw that Dick had an ally. Standing on top of the retaining wall, was Barbara Gordon.

She was still clad in her gym outfit but had gotten her book bag from her locker. Before Laughing Boy could jump my son, Barbara came off the wall in a flying tackle, book bag held in front of her for extra wallop. She had bowled the two attackers over and was thumping both of them in the back and shoulders with Dick's help by the time the teacher came out, led by the two runaways.

Twenty minutes later I received a telephone call from the school asking me to meet with the principal about my new son's propensity for fighting.