AN: I can't even describe my reaction to The Dark Knight Rises. There are no words.

Disclaimer: Famous things make people famous. I am not famous. Therefore, I do not own famous things.

Chapter 21

I sat at my desk, waiting for the first bell to ring. Mom had told me that I could skip school, considering all that had happened yesterday, but I'd declined the offer. Since Euro was a three marking period course, our final was on Friday, and I needed to be there for the review days. Besides, I didn't really know what good staying home would do—everything I needed to (ready to, Artemis, let's be honest here) say had already been said the night before. After the movie, I went home to find Mom making my favorite dinner, anxious to talk. And we did. It was hard, speaking about my feelings, what had happened, because my family was not exactly the "share your emotions" kind, but I felt good afterwards. Lighter. Freer.

Let's not get carried away, Artemis. Your shackles are loosened, not broken.

Still, it wasn't like everything had simply become lollipops and sunshine. I'd curled up in bed, more than ready to sleep, when an image of Terror flashed in my mind. Each attempt at blissful unconscious was interrupted in the same manner but with a different picture: him straddling me; him hitting me; him frozen to a wall, blood dripping from his skull. I called it quits after a while and radioed Cam, guilty because it was late and I'd obviously wakened him. He insisted that it was okay, but it wasn't, not really. I should have been able to sleep on my own, and he should have been able to do the same.

Don't worry about it. He's willing to do anything for you. We know that perfectly well. The question is, would you reciprocate?

And, of course, there was still that voice, just as annoying and bitter as before.

The start of the school day jolted me into focus. Taking out a blank sheet of paper, I turned my attention to the PowerPoint on the screen, writing down everything I saw, plus whatever Ms. Lydon was saying. Once class was over, I made sure I kept my notes out so I could skim them on the way to gym. Everything was understandable, completely and totally related to European history. I mentally chalked that up as a victory.

In the locker room, I glanced between my locker and the bathroom. Gathering my courage, I changed right where I was, just like all the other girls. Another victory.

"What's going on, Arty?" Max swaggered over to me as soon as I stepped through the gym doors, his goons close behind.

"Leave me alone," I told him, rolling my eyes. "You're so annoying."

"Annoying?" He placed his hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You insult me. I simply ask a question and you attack me in such a manner? Tsk, tsk."

"Just back off, alright?"

"I'm not hearing the magic word, am I?"

"Now?"

Another step closer, clear invasion of my personal bubble. "C'mon, you're not stupid. You know what it is."

"Please," I growled.

"Alright, alright. I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll see you around, when you're in a better mood, Arty."

He and his group walked to the other side of the gym, laughing like morons.

"Don't worry about them."

Dick Grayson was at my elbow, contemptuously watching the boys. "They're just stupid guys acting like they're cool when they're not."

"They just really get under my skin, though, you know?" I had no idea why that thought popped out of my mouth—it's not like I was really friends with this kid or anything.

The statement didn't seem to faze him. "Yeah, I get it. It's like they know all the right buttons to push."

"Exactly. How'd you know?"

"These guys, they have a pattern. Because they're built like jocks, they think they own gym class. The flirt with the girls, rag on the guys. They just cycle through everyone, then repeat."

My blank stare prompted an explanation: "I notice lots of things, stuff no one else really thinks about."

"So you're a people watcher?"

He grinned up at me. "Yeah, I guess you can call it that."

Ms. Enderson's shrill whistle cut off any more conversation. "Alright class, get into a circle for warm-ups. Kyle, Jenna, you're captains for today. Think over who you want on your dodge ball team."

Groans and applause greeted that announcement, the class being evenly split between those who saw dodge ball as a sport and those who realized it was a warped continuation of gladiator battles. We all, however, agreed to hate warm-ups, which is why every single one of us half-assed the stretches and dynamic movements. The second the last requirement was fulfilled, Kyle shouted, "Max, you with me!"

With an arrogant smile, the meat-head joined his lackey and exchanged a fist-pump. Looking my way, he gave a quick wink. I grimaced in response.

Once teams were squared away, Ms. Enderson lined the seven hard rubber balls on the mid-court line. "The rules are easy: if you catch the ball, the thrower is out. If you are hit with the ball, you are out. Head-shots are off-limits. Excessive force or unnecessary violence warrants a detention."

Stepping to the sidelines, she whistled for us to start. Kyle's team immediately got an advantage over ours, somehow snagging five of the balls. Right off the back and my team was down four players.

Grabbing one of the balls, I nailed an opponent in the leg. As he fell, I turned my attention to his friend, who was aiming for me. With ease, I caught it and returned it to their side, taking out Kyle.

"Ooooooh, Arty the Amazon," Max sneered. "Don't you think you ought to be tamed?"

Narrowing my eyes, I found another weapon and launched it at him. His gasped as the ball found his stomach.

"Very nice," Dick applauded, taking down his own man.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

The class only went uphill from there. Dick and I were basically the team, knocking down the others like flies. In the last game, the last man standing was Max. I took great pleasure in bringing him to the floor.

Red-faced, he hissed, loud enough so only us kids could hear, "Stupid bitch," and turned around, walking to his friends sitting against the wall.

Unexpectedly, one last dodge ball flew, hitting him right on the butt. He yelped as the rest of us cracked up.

"Circus freak," he spat, glaring at Dick, who just shrugged innocently. Ms. Enderson, so consumed with picking a good song on the radio, missed the whole thing and just dismissed us to get changed and then head to lunch. That was an order we all gratefully obeyed.

"Someone's in a good mood," Bette said. "What made you so happy, Artemis?"

I related my gym story to her and the rest of my table. Some of the girls were slightly amused, but Bette only shook her head. "You shouldn't encourage him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's thirteen, first of all. He shouldn't even be in high school. And second, he's weird. I mean, just look at him." She gestured to the back of the cafeteria, where Dick was sitting with the other mathletes, crazily punching stuff onto his calculator and showing it off. "You really should just, you know, avoid him."

"Because he's a little young and eccentric?"

Tiffany snorted. "That's putting it nicely."

"Besides, he is such a nerd," Amber added.

"Because he's smart?"

"He's not normal smart," Bette objected. "He's skipped-two-grades, does-math-for-fun smart."

"My boyfriend is in the Science Olympiad for his school," I retorted hotly. "You're saying I shouldn't date him?"

"That's so different," Kendra assured me. "I mean, from the pictures you showed us, Wally's really cute."

"Right, I forgot, Dick Grayson is the hunchback of Notre Dame."

"Why are you getting so defensive, Artemis?" Bette asked. "You barely even know him."

"Maybe it's because I know what it's like to be judged before people get to even know you. Scholarship girl, remember? Half of these kids think I'm trash because of where I live."

There was a collective "Oh," and the conversation drifted to safer topics, like shopping and afterschool sports. I remained quiet for the rest of lunch, wondering the real reason I got so angry over how they talked about Dick. There was just something about him, something I couldn't place.

When lunch was over, I stood and distanced myself from the others, not wanting to have to fake a conversation on the way to class. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me, hands on my inner things.

"Surprise!"

I chocked on air and spun around. Max laughed hysterically, his buddies following suite. Others who had witnessed this shook their heads or rolled their eyes, completely unconcerned. Until I started panicking.

I sank to the floor, trying to breathe and failing, digging my nails into my legs, shaking uncontrollably. I knew I wasn't getting raped again; Terror and Max were not the same person, weren't even close, and Max wasn't that much of a monster, but it didn't matter because it felt all the same to my body.

"Arty?" He wasn't laughing anymore. "Artemis? Oh, Christ. Oh, Christ, I didn't mean to scare you this bad. I'm sorry. Artemis?"

"What did you do to her?" Bette's voice, angry and protective.

"He grabbed her legs!" some girl said.

"You bastard!"

"He didn't mean to do this to her!" his friend insisted.

"He shouldn't have touched her!" Amber shouted.

By now, traffic had almost come to a stand-still, all the kids wanting to know what the Hell was happening, and I couldn't blame them—a group of girls screaming at a group of guys while one girl was having a panic attack was something you didn't see every day.

"It's okay, Artemis." Dick was in front of me—God, he just comes out of nowhere—hands on my shoulders. "It's okay. You're okay. No one's going to hurt you. It's all okay. Just take a deep breath. You're going to be fine, alright? Deep breaths."

My brain regaining control over my body, I did as he told, managing to look a little less crazy when a cafeteria helped finally noticed what was going on. With a threat of detention to send the others scattering, she gently pulled me to my feet and gave me a pass to the guidance counselor. After a moment, she handed one to Dick, saying, "In case you need your friend with you."

The only sound on the way to the office was the pounding of our feet. We took a seat outside the door, listening to hysterical sobbing from the other side. It was going to be a long wait.

I stared straight ahead, trying not to gag at all the motivation posters splattered across the room. Dick kicked his legs like a little kid before glancing at me. "Pretty whelming day, huh?"

"You don't even know the half—" I stopped dead. Whelming wasn't a word, not a real one, anyway. And there was only one person I knew who would use it.

I turned to the freshman, mouth agape, and he just smirked. Before he could say or do anything else, I threw my arms around him, practically squishing him. "You little brat! I can't believe…this whole time…"

"Told you we'd laugh about this someday," he mumbled. "Now can you loosen your grip so I don't die?"

I did so, but just barely. "You are such a troll, you know that?"

"What can I say? It's one of my many, many talents."

"My God. You're…you."

"Very descriptive."

"You know what I mean." I gave him the once-over and frowned a little. "You look better this way." I ran my fingers through his hair, messing it up.

"Hey," he whined, trying to fix it, "I gotta wear it nice in school."

I ignored that comment, still so fascinated with this new information. "I can't believe you told me."

"You figured it out."

"After you gave me a dead giveaway."

"I just thought it might be easier if you knew you had someone on your side in school. Someone who has your back."

The lightheartedness had disappeared. "Ro—Dick, what's wrong?"

He kept his eyes on the floor. "I knew something had happened. The way you reacted when Max acted like a pervert—not that he didn't deserve it, but it was still pretty extreme. And Cam just instantly joining the Team didn't seem to fit, not when he'd spent so much time under his dad's control. I mean, he's a good guy, but completely breaking all ties like that isn't easy. And what when down between you and Wally, when, um—"

"He told you about that?"

"We're bros! And he was freaking out because he thought he'd done something wrong." His eyes went wide. "You can't tell him that he told me."

"Trust me, I plan on never bringing this up."

"So I knew something must've happened the night of the break, and when both you and Cam cut the link after you faced Terror, I figured he was involved. And I should have talked to you, or something, and I didn't and I'm sorry."

His sapphire eyes—God, he had the prettiest eyes—had a pleading kind of look in them, a look I couldn't bear. I squeezed him again—I never realized how small he really was—whispering, "You didn't know. You had no idea and it's not your responsibility to take care of me."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

The earnestness, the childishness, struck me.

"I'm gonna be just fine."