Soooo the reason this chapter and the previous one are literally coming out back to back is becauseeee I already had a good chunk of this one written because I had to edit something for it, which I'll explain at the end of this thing, so yeah, there's that.
THIS CHAPTER WAS UPDATED AND PROOFREAD FOR TYPOS, GRAMMAR, AND PLOT/TIMELINE ISSUES AS OF 7/18/2020
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The day after Harvey's death, Bruce did his best to keep the news off. He more so did it for Anslee's sake. God knew she needed a break from all the craziness that was going on. That, and she really needed to take the next day to get caught up on her school work. She hadn't been back to school since that day Rachel picked her up after the fiasco at Loeb's memorial. She hadn't been back since Joker had named both her and Rachel as his next victims. Bruce had gotten an email from the school that she was missing way too much school and she had to be back the next day, otherwise she was going to have to put up a fight so she could walk at her graduation.
She had been up in her room most of the day and came down every so often to get a snack or just to take a break from all the work. In her opinion, it seemed like there was a never ending wave of it just coming at her.
Bruce had been sitting in his normal spot in the living room when he had noticed that it had been awhile since she'd come down to take a break. He wondered if she'd maybe fallen asleep while working on her stuff. The father got up from his seat and made it way up the stairs and then towards Ans's room. When he was there, he pushed the door open a bit and saw she was in fact awake. The familiar image of her typing away on her laptop was in front of him.
Bruce knocked on her door with the back of his knuckles to get her attention. Anslee looked up from her laptop and at Bruce.
"What's up?" she raised an eyebrow.
Bruce shook his head, "Nothing, I just came up here to check on you. What are you working on?"
Anslee looked back down at her laptop screen and then at Bruce, "This thing for my English class, it's basically a timed speech about how things you've seen or that have happened to you and how these experiences changed your life."
"Well, you've got plenty to write about, hm?" Bruce smirked.
"Yeah," Anslee shrugged, "But I think I have a better idea of what to use for it other than stuff that has happened over the past few weeks."
"Can I hear what you have so far?"
She shook her head, "No...but if you really want to hear it...it's dumb, but parents are allowed to come in an observe and listen I guess. To see how their kids have "grown" and "matured" since they were kids. It sounds dumb, and I'm not going to be upset if you don't show. It sounds lame."
"Not lame," Bruce shook his head, "I do want to hear it. Let me know what time."
"If you're absolutely sure," Anslee smirked, "I'll let you know."
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Anslee's return to school hadn't been anything special. But she had gotten a lot more people staring at her than she had anticipated. She tried to ignore them, but it was kinda hard when she knew that everyone had seen her face and name all over the news recently. Jenni had done her best to make people stop, but you can't really boss around the entire senior class.
Anslee and Jenni walked into their English class after lunch. There were already a few parents there, including a very smug looking Bruce Wayne in a suit that looked like it could be worth more than her college tuition. Extra as always. While Jenni went and took her seat, Anslee approached Bruce with an amused smirk on her face.
"You had to show up in the most expensive thing you owned didn't you?"
Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, "Second most, I'm offended you think this is my most," he joked back with her.
"I told you that you really didn't have to come."
"And I told you that I wanted to hear how my daughter has grown and matured since she was a kid," Bruce retorted with a chuckle.
"You're just here to milk the experience aren't you?" Ans raised an eyebrow.
"Every minute of it," Bruce whispered back, making Anslee laugh.
"Just try not to draw too much attention to yourself, I'm already doing a terrible job of that," she rolled her eyes.
Anslee turned and headed back to her seat just as the bell rang, signifying that passing period was over, and class was starting. Her teacher, a tall redheaded man named Mr. Houston, gave a lengthy lecture to the class about paying attention and about how he'd hand out detentions if he saw people dozing or being on their phones. He was that uptight teacher.
After that, the speeches began. Some of them were very informative and you could tell that the kids took their time to really make the last real assignment in that class count. Others sped through theirs and stumbled over their words, adding "ums" and losing their trains of thought every thirty seconds.
Jenni had just finished her speech, and the class lazily clapped.
"Next up, we have Anslee."
Ans looked up at her teacher and then down at the paper she had all of her speech written down on. She got up from her seat and made her way to the front of the class. Once she was up there, she stared out at all her peers and then at the parents that had shown up. The teen glanced over at her teacher, who gave her a nod, signalling he started the timer on her speech.
She took a deep breath and began to speak.
"When I was a kid, I used to love surprises.I thought they were fun and exciting. And because my mother thought it was cute, and because they were my favorite, she always had surprises. Not really a big deal. One day when I was nine, before I realized not all surprises were fun and exciting, I got one that changed the rest of my life."
"When I got it, I didn't know how to tell my mother how I felt about it because I was afraid I'd get in trouble for having the wrong opinion. A few days later I was pulled out of school and I was taken to a big house. From there I was introduced to an old butler, who was a really nice man. Who asked me all sorts of questions about my life and me. I saw no reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. I told him, "I like to go to dance class and hang out with my best friend!"."
Ans glanced over at Jenni, who was smiling back at her and gave her a nod, letting Anslee know she was doing great.
"This led to a new moment. And I was introduced to a man I call father. For nine years that word hadn't been in my vocabulary. News of this silly little story quickly spread through school and I earned my first nickname. Clueless."
She glanced back at Bruce, who looked intrigued by her words.
"To this day, I hate surprises."
"I'm not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones. As if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to metastasize. It does."
Ans looked up from her paper and out at her peers.
"She was eight years old. Our first day of grade three, when she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a battleground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse. Outside she'd have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like a statue giving no clues that she was there. In grade five they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read beware of dog."
A girl sitting in the front row named Sam grasped onto Anslee's words. Then again, Anslee was telling Sam's story about growing up with her birthmark on her face.
"And to this day, no one knows someday she'll have a loving husband who'll think she's beautiful despite a birthmark that takes up a little less than half of her face. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done. And they'll never understand that she'll be raising kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word mom. Because they'll see her heart before they see her skin. Because she's only ever always been amazing."
Anslee paused before she went on to the next part. She took another deep breath before she continued.
"He was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. An Orphan. Not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy. Started therapy in 8th grade, had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs, four fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of antidepressants, and an adolescence of being called "popper". One part because of the pills, ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who could still go home to mom and dad had the audacity to tell him "get over it". As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit."
A dark haired boy named John Blake was sitting in the third row of desks. He listened contently to the story Anslee told about this boy. The details about his childhood. They were John's after all. Where Anslee had heard his life story, he had a good idea, but he wasn't even mad she was telling it.
"To this day he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. Could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it's about to fall. And despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction, and more to do with sanity."
"We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were, "Hey stupid!", "Hey spaz!". Seems like each school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like Kids can be cruel? Every school is a big top circus tent. And the pecking order goes from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who we were, we were freaks. Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice, and yes, some of us fell."
"But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong". Because maybe you don't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it. You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong."
"Why else would we still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway, and if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of Screw Off We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me."
Anslee paused again.
"Of course they did."
"But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain, and more to do with beauty."
The room was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Jenni was the first to clap, and then Sam joined in. John too. Slowly, the entire class began to clap, including some of the parents.
Anslee smiled and took a sigh of relief before she began to walk back to her seat.
Bruce looked at his daughter, and he'd never been filled with more pride in his entire life. He didn't regret his decision to show up. Hearing that gave him assurance that Anslee had a bright future. She was a sign of hope for Gotham.
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BIG HUGE DISCLAIMER that Anslee's speech was NOT written by me. It is an edited version of a spoken word called To This Day by Shane Koyzcan. I don't own any of the speech that she said minus the very beginning part that I edited.