October
"Today we're going to be discussing your feelings," announced Stephanie, gliding into the dining room. She set down a presentation easel. "Or lack thereof."
Bruce sipped his coffee.
"One," she said, striking one of the fancy candle tapers against the board. A hastily drawn picture of a stage with musical symbols was scribbled across the front. "Studies show that social stimulus encourages character growth in adolescents."
"What studies?" he queried. She ignored him.
"Two!" Another strike against the board. "Music is known to be an alternative medicine. Three! You are sick of me."
"I wouldn't necessarily say—"
Stephanie interrupted him. "This is not a Q and A!" She struck the board again "Four! Devil's Cub is an objectively great band, though they are going through a synth pop phase."
"Devil's Cub is not—"
"I'm not finished!" she protested. She moved to strike the board once more, but Bruce held up a hand.
"Alfred would likely appreciate his candles in one piece."
She set the abused candle on the table, then clasped her hands, eyes twinkling (or, at least, attempting to make her eyes twinkle). "Five," she finished, "I deserve a reward."
Bruce raised his eyebrows, lips quirking. "You want a reward for upholding your end of the deal?"
"Au contraire, mon père," she quipped. "The deal was that I would do things your way for a month. I one-upped you by not going out at night at all, you miserable, isolated husk of a man."
Bruce sipped his coffee again. "You want to go the Devil's Cub concert."
Stephanie rolled her eyes heavenward, as if asking for strength. "Yes."
"Hmmm."
Stephanie walked over to his chair, crossing her arms. "What does 'hmmm' mean?" she demanded.
He sent her a look. "It means I'm thinking about it," he told her.
She brightened. "Thinking about it isn't 'no.'"
Bruce raised a brow, gazing at her. She had been exceptionally cooperative lately, not to mention courteous. When she had suggested the deal of one month his way versus one month her way, he had had some doubts. But she stuck to her word and did what he had asked, with little to no complaining. It reflected well on her, and she likely would have asked to go the concert regardless of the deal.
"And, not to guilt you or anything, but Tim says he'll come with. He's been so bummed since the report card grades, which," she waved her hands, "we are not discussing. But I really think this could cheer him up, so please say yes because if not I need to think of something else to make him happy, and this plan took me weeks, so."
Bruce laced his hands beneath his chin. She was trying to do something nice for Tim.
"I mean, I guess I could try to build a skateboard park in the backyard but I really could only build one ramp and I'd need so much lumber from the hardware store."
"Yes."
"And of course it'd be pitiful, just one tiny ramp, that's not exactly—yes?! Really?!"
Bruce's lips upturned. "Yes," he said simply.
"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you, this is the best day ever!"
"Remember to stay safe," he instructed her.
She grabbed the candle from the table, waving it animatedly. "Me? Unsafe? I would never!"
"And," Bruce added, "you're not going in the mosh pit."
"Why not?"
"You being fourteen ring a bell?"
"Yes, but a very small one," she said. "More like a triangle, like a 'ting!'" She grabbed her presentation easel, board nearly slipping off. "I have to go tell Tim!"
"No mosh pit," he called after her.
"We'll see!" she shouted over her shoulder.
"Stephanie!"
"Bruce expects you to go with me."
"Why?" Tim asked. They were in the backyard, sharing the hammock. He attempted to blow on a blade of grass.
"I told you, they're too dry," Stephanie told him, pushing the grass out of his hands. "He expects you to go with me because I told him you would."
Tim sighed. "I don't even like Devil's Cub."
She gasped. "Blasphemy! You are banished from this hammock!" She wiggled in an attempt to push him out, but he held on. "Besides," she said, flopping back, "he told me I could go if you came with, and I'll be really sad if I can't go. So, so sad Timothy." She sent him a pout.
He snorted. "Why don't you take Dick with you?"
"Because that's stupid. Besides, I want to go with you. And I'll have a horrible time if you don't come, even if Dick goes with me. Even if Alfred goes with me."
He sent a half-smile, but with some effort. He sighed tiredly, guilt twisting up his insides. "Okay," he said. "I'll go with you."
She sat up, squishing his cheeks together. "You are a sweet baby, a prince of charm, the hero of Devil's Cub fans, the petite hummingbird of my—"
He pulled out of her grasp, laughing at her shriek when they both fell out of the hammock.
"What's the backpack for?"
"Water," Stephanie said dismissively. "Alfred, you can drop us off at the front."
"Thank you for your permission to do just what I intended, Miss Stephanie."
Stephanie giggled. Tim peered out the window. People thronged in and out of the amphitheater, each unique yet as indiscriminate as ants. Tim rolled back his shoulders. Devil's Cub wasn't his favorite, but a rock concert was a rock concert. Even if they were going through a synth pop phase.
The car stopped. Stephanie scrambled out. "Thanks, Alfred! We won't be too long! Maybe four or five hours."
Tim slid out of the car. "Thanks, Alf," he muttered. The man reached out, clasping Tim's forearm. He met his eyes.
"Do endeavor to have a good time, my boy," he said warmly.
Tim froze. Had his morose state been obvious? His throat went dry.
"I'll try," he told Alfred, lowering his eyes. The door clipped shut behind him.
"See you later, Alfred!" Stephanie shouted from the curb. Her thousand-watt smile could light up Wayne Tower. Alfred smiled back and pulled away from the curb. Tim jogged over to Steph, relaxing his shoulders. Just tonight. Just get through tonight, maybe have a good time, maybe not, and then he could go home.
'And wallow,' his conscious chided him. He ignored it.
Stephanie waved and waved, bouncing on her toes as Alfred drove out of sight. She exhaled, satisfied, and swiveled on her heel. "Okay then," she told Tim, smiling. "Let's go."
And walked in the opposite direction of the amphitheater.