The bell rings.
I yawn, pulling myself up from my uncomfortable pillow- the top of my desk. Another day of school over with. I walk out of the classroom, trying to avoid making eye contact with Dana, whose locker is only a couple feet away. It doesn't work, and I can feel her glare, half enraged and half hurt on the back of my head.
I didn't even have to try and tell her about my conflicting feelings. She pretty much guessed them on her own. Or drew them from her own suspicions.
I would have tried to work it out with her. I never wanted to hurt her.
But she stopped giving me second chances a long time ago, and she pretty much declared our relationship over with.
Just as well I guess. But it doesn't make things any less complicated. I'm on my way to see Lydia, who Wayne told me not to see any more. You don't ignore orders from Bruce Wayne. Hell, you don't even ignore requests from Bruce Wayne. But here I am, doing the complete opposite of what he told me to do. I climb the escape ladder leading up to the roof, and find her sitting there again, as she has been for the past 3 weeks.
"Hey Lyd." Lyd. We're on friendly enough terms now that I've given her a nickname. I almost feel like I've been doing this my whole life, climbing up to talk to her. It almost feels like I've known her forever.
"You could just fly over here in that suit of yours. It would be a bit more exciting than taking the stairs." She murmurs, opening her eyes and smiling softly at me.
"I like to mingle with the normal people now and again." I reply, taking my seat next to her. She's silent for almost 20 minutes. I don't pry, and I don't give her the mindless small talk that I know she won't answer. I just wait until she's ready. And she eventually always is.
"He was an alcoholic for two years," She murmurs, of course talking about her father, Angelo. "He wasn't abusive or mean or anything like that- It just hurt to watch him stumble around the house, not knowing anything that was going on, slurring my name whenever he said it." At first I wonder why she's choosing to tell me this particular piece of her history, and then I hear loud, operatic Italian floating out from the building below us, slurred and incomprehensible (even though it's in another language). Instead of offering her advice that won't help, I take the route she usually does and say nothing.
"Sometimes I wish I had your father." She adds.
"Mine's dead. I hope you don't wish that on yours." She glances at me. I doubt it's what she meant, but I miss mine. And whether he was like hers, or like the great dad that he was, I'd still miss him like I do every day.
"No. Sometimes I'd like to kill him, but I never wish he was dead." We sit in silence for a few moments more.
"It's a bird." She suddenly says, pointing at the sky. I've spent a couple of weeks with her, but I still can't decipher what she means by some of her crazy remarks.
"It's a plane, it's Superman?" I murmur. Lydia smirks.
"The stars, McGinnis. Don't you ever look at the stars? You're surrounded by them enough." She always did have a talent of making you see what you never had before. I follow her gaze.
"And you seem to think you're seeing them in the shape of a bird?"
"First of all, I don't think. I know. Second of all, it's not exactly a bird." She laughs to herself for a moment.
"It's more of a bat." How ironic. The Bat, exactly in the place where this Bat, myself, is supposed to be. But I'm not.
I'm here with her.
"I'm not seeing it." She lifts her arm, her tapered fingers slowly tracing the shape in the sky.
"Ears, wings." She says, so low that it seems like she's talking to herself.
She moves closer to me. Her head rests on my shoulder.
She's so close that I can feel her pulse through her skin.
It's a painfully romantic moment. Lydia lowers her arm, turning to look at me, as if she's just now realized how close we are to each other. The look she's giving me is so direct and fearless that I want to recoil. But I don't.
Instead I kiss her.
When I'm done, she smiles.
"I refuse to be your girlfriend, McGinnis." She says.
"And I'd have to be crazy to want to be your boyfriend."
I've got to be crazy.
I yawn, pulling myself up from my uncomfortable pillow- the top of my desk. Another day of school over with. I walk out of the classroom, trying to avoid making eye contact with Dana, whose locker is only a couple feet away. It doesn't work, and I can feel her glare, half enraged and half hurt on the back of my head.
I didn't even have to try and tell her about my conflicting feelings. She pretty much guessed them on her own. Or drew them from her own suspicions.
I would have tried to work it out with her. I never wanted to hurt her.
But she stopped giving me second chances a long time ago, and she pretty much declared our relationship over with.
Just as well I guess. But it doesn't make things any less complicated. I'm on my way to see Lydia, who Wayne told me not to see any more. You don't ignore orders from Bruce Wayne. Hell, you don't even ignore requests from Bruce Wayne. But here I am, doing the complete opposite of what he told me to do. I climb the escape ladder leading up to the roof, and find her sitting there again, as she has been for the past 3 weeks.
"Hey Lyd." Lyd. We're on friendly enough terms now that I've given her a nickname. I almost feel like I've been doing this my whole life, climbing up to talk to her. It almost feels like I've known her forever.
"You could just fly over here in that suit of yours. It would be a bit more exciting than taking the stairs." She murmurs, opening her eyes and smiling softly at me.
"I like to mingle with the normal people now and again." I reply, taking my seat next to her. She's silent for almost 20 minutes. I don't pry, and I don't give her the mindless small talk that I know she won't answer. I just wait until she's ready. And she eventually always is.
"He was an alcoholic for two years," She murmurs, of course talking about her father, Angelo. "He wasn't abusive or mean or anything like that- It just hurt to watch him stumble around the house, not knowing anything that was going on, slurring my name whenever he said it." At first I wonder why she's choosing to tell me this particular piece of her history, and then I hear loud, operatic Italian floating out from the building below us, slurred and incomprehensible (even though it's in another language). Instead of offering her advice that won't help, I take the route she usually does and say nothing.
"Sometimes I wish I had your father." She adds.
"Mine's dead. I hope you don't wish that on yours." She glances at me. I doubt it's what she meant, but I miss mine. And whether he was like hers, or like the great dad that he was, I'd still miss him like I do every day.
"No. Sometimes I'd like to kill him, but I never wish he was dead." We sit in silence for a few moments more.
"It's a bird." She suddenly says, pointing at the sky. I've spent a couple of weeks with her, but I still can't decipher what she means by some of her crazy remarks.
"It's a plane, it's Superman?" I murmur. Lydia smirks.
"The stars, McGinnis. Don't you ever look at the stars? You're surrounded by them enough." She always did have a talent of making you see what you never had before. I follow her gaze.
"And you seem to think you're seeing them in the shape of a bird?"
"First of all, I don't think. I know. Second of all, it's not exactly a bird." She laughs to herself for a moment.
"It's more of a bat." How ironic. The Bat, exactly in the place where this Bat, myself, is supposed to be. But I'm not.
I'm here with her.
"I'm not seeing it." She lifts her arm, her tapered fingers slowly tracing the shape in the sky.
"Ears, wings." She says, so low that it seems like she's talking to herself.
She moves closer to me. Her head rests on my shoulder.
She's so close that I can feel her pulse through her skin.
It's a painfully romantic moment. Lydia lowers her arm, turning to look at me, as if she's just now realized how close we are to each other. The look she's giving me is so direct and fearless that I want to recoil. But I don't.
Instead I kiss her.
When I'm done, she smiles.
"I refuse to be your girlfriend, McGinnis." She says.
"And I'd have to be crazy to want to be your boyfriend."
I've got to be crazy.