Misfit
Chapter Five
Disclaimer: Eh, you get the picture.
Just as Dick sat down, there was a loud beep, some static and then a voice:"Good morning, people, this is Billy West..."
Everyone in the class started murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Even Ms. Whitman looked thoroughly confused and if she didn't know what was going on, nobody did.
"I'm just... filling in... for Principal McNeilson this morning since she's a little busy at the moment..."
"Why would the principal get one of the worst-behaved students in the school to give the Morning Announcements? Shouldn't she have gotten the Assistant Principal?" Nichelle asked a boy named Jesse, who just shrugged.
"Now, first thing on the agenda this dreary morning: I did some research—yes, research—the other day about... oh, what's his name... Dick, uh, Grayson, I believe?"
All head turned towards Dick, who flushed.
"Anyway, he's the new guy at our school, see. And most of us people don't know much about him cuz he never says nothin' to nobody. Well, like I said, I did some research... Have you ever heard of, ah..."
Papers rustling.
"...'Haly's Circus'?"
Dick could hear his heart pounding in his ears and was sure everyone else in the room could hear it as well.
"Yeah, I thought so. Well, as you will also note, Haly's Circus recently pulled out of Gotham City, but they left one member of their famous troupe behind. Yup, that member—or rather, EX-member is none other than Dick Grayson!"
The class's murmurings began again. Dick felt his heart leap into his throat. This couldn't be happening! Billy wasn't really announcing to the whole school that he had been in the circus! He couldn't be!
Billy's tone sounded light and easy as he continued: "Yessiree, Dickie was a circus star, third member of that well-known act the Flying Graysons. Trapeze artists, I think they were... well, no matter now. The other two-thirds were killed right before the eyes of hundreds of spectators just this September."
Dick's eyes filled with tears as he thought about that horrible afternoon two months ago, but he forbade himself to cry in front of the whole class. As it was, the murmurings were getting louder. A few of the kids snickered.
"Uh-huh. Everything I say is one-hundred percent true. Oh, another one-hundred percent true fact just came in: only freaks are in the circus and should stay there where they belong!"
More laughter and mutterings of agreement. Dick wanted to get up and shout to the world that neither he nor his parents nor any of his circus friends were freaks, and then go down to the principal's office and pound Billy to a pulp for humiliating him like this, not to mention insulting his lifelong friends. He was proud of being an ex-circus star, and would be prouder still if he had been able to remain a circus star!
Then it got worse.
The next thing Dick knew, Billy was singing "The Man on the Flying Trapeze" at the top of his lungs. Before he knew it, the whole class was singing along, with the exception of Ms. Whitman, who was trying to get the class to settle down. Although Dick didn't see them, Jesse and Grace weren't laughing either. The former didn't really care about Dick at the moment, but he thought that the other students were going just a bit too far in the teasing department, especially Billy. And Grace still owed Dick after he had put an end to Dylan and Peter's teasing and threats.
"Stop this right now—this very instant!" Ms. Whitman was shouting, but the class just continued to laugh and sing. It was so noisy in there that nobody noticed when Billy stopped singing and the Intercom was turned off, courtesy of Principal McNeilson. And even if they had heard, it wouldn't have mattered. Billy's false message had already gotten through to the students: loud and clear.
Dick looked around with wide, frightened eyes. Everyone was laughing at him, his parents and everything he had ever loved. They were teasing a way of life that he had been born in to, a career that he had worked so very hard to succeed at since day one. And they were laughing at it!
Unable to stand it any longer, he grabbed his backpack and his jacket, stood up and left the room, oblivious to everything except the taunts and jeers of his classmates.
During Dick's trek to the nearest exit, several students that were passing in the hallways started yelling 'Circus Boy' or singing that song at first sight of the ex-aerialist. Dick kept walking, trying to ignore the yells and the hot tears that stung in his eyes.
He finally made it out. It was still raining hard, but Dick couldn't have cared less if he caught pneumonia from standing out there. He was just glad to get away from the unfeeling taunts and cruel laughter.
Dick's insides twisted as Billy's words rang in his ears...
"Yessiree, Dickie was a circus star..."
"...killed right before hundreds of spectators just this September..."
"Only freaks are in the circus and should stay there where they belong..."
Dick covered his ears, willing the phrases away, but they just kept pounding away in his head, reminding him of the horror, the screams, the confusion of that terrible day in September.
"NO!" Dick yelled. He couldn't take it any more. He needed to get away from here. Dick began running towards the nearest bus stop. He wanted to go home. Not his new home; he wanted Pop Haly and the Circus—his real home.
Unfortunately, when Dick arrived at the stop, he read the travel route and discovered that it was only a local bus. It wouldn't go any farther than the Gotham City Museum of Art, which was a few miles outside of town. Dick would never be able to walk from the Museum all the way to Nashville, where Haly's Circus was now at! But he could make it to Stately Wayne Manor if he walked for four straight miles, and that's what Dick decided to do.
When the bus arrived, Dick did a quick check of his pockets to make sure he had the $2.50 required to ride. He had just enough, although it was mostly in small coins, and hopped on.
It took Dick a while to put all the money into the slot, much to the driver's chagrin. Dick figured he was lucky that everyone was at work or school at the moment, so that no one else was on to get mad at him too.
When Dick sat down in a front seat, the driver observed his newest passenger. He looked as if he had been crying. Or maybe it was just the rain? Well, it didn't matter. He was paid to drive buses, not to psychoanalyze the passengers.
Dick gazed out the window, the angry tears still falling. How could people be so cruel, so prejudiced? What was wrong with being a circus star anyway? Nothing! We're people with feelings, with lives, thought Dick, prodding the thick glasses. So what if we don't sit behind a desk for a living? Being a trapeze artist, a bareback rider or even a bearded lady is still a profession—and a very special one at that!
Before he knew it, the bus had stopped in front of the Museum. Dick got off and began his long walk home.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Dick could have made it there faster than the two hours it took him, but he had walked very slowly, still needing time to think on his own. But he eventually reached the Manor and it was a tired, wet, frustrated, muddy, confused and still angry Dick Grayson that opened the door, nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose and removed his sneakers in the entryway.
The boy sincerely hoped that nobody was home. He looked around. There were no signs of life, but there never had been as far as Dick could tell, so he wasn't sure.
"HELLO?!" he yelled.
No one answered. Unknown to Dick, both Bruce and Alfred were down underneath the grand house, in a secret room that Dick wouldn't be aware of for several months yet.
Dick trudged up to his room. He wiped his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. He didn't want to cry, and he didn't understand why the tears wouldn't stop. All he knew was that he was crying and couldn't do anything about it.
Almost instantly after reaching his room, Dick changed out of his grimy jacket and school clothes, tossed them in the hamper (knowing Alfred would not appreciate the fact that his school clothes were ruined—again) and changed. Finally he flung himself onto his bed and cried himself to sleep.
End of Part One
Reviewer Replies
Hmmmm... whether you would call this cruel, unrealistic or insane I'll never know.
Bumpkin--Well, here's the chapter you wanted. I hope it was merciless enough for you. ;-) Personally, I think it was TOO merciless... but that's just my opinion.
Whistling Fish--Thank you very much! We like your stories, too. "The Foe" was fantastic, but that "Aftermath"... ::snicker, snicker::
Jenn11--You're welcome. I like giving out sneak peeks. And I think you'll find 'the talk' very interesting. It might take a while to get to, though (another sneak peek there...)