Misfit
Chapter Six
Disclaimer: Uh-uh.
Part Two:
To Love Again
Dick blinked. Where was he? It was Monday. Shouldn't he be in school, doing history or geography or something right now...?
"Feeling better?"
Dick jumped at the sound of the voice. He looked around and finally spotted Bruce Wayne sitting on the bed next to him, staring intently at him.
Dick couldn't answer. He just sat up and stared back, too upset and too embarrassed at being caught to say anything.
"Care to talk about it?"
"It's nothing," Dick said shakily. Taking a deep breath, he said, more confidently, "It's nothing. My social life just ended, that's all—at least it would have if I had ever had a social life."
"That sounds like a lot of nothing," Bruce replied. After a minute, he said, "What happened?"
Dick would have liked nothing more than to throw his arms around Bruce's neck and cry his heart out, like he had done with Dad whenever something had bothered him.
But he knew he couldn't do that. He'd never be able to do that again.
Dick gulped. "Well..." he said uncomfortably. An instant later, it all came tumbling out: "This idiot at school announced over the Intercom that I used to be a trapeze artist! And he called me and my parents' freaks and then he started laughing and singing and everyone joined him!" Quietly, he added, "I couldn't stay there anymore, so I left."
Bruce was silent for a minute, thinking all this over. How could anybody be low enough to humiliate a new student in front of the entire school? And how could he just throw the unfortunate murder of his parents' right back into his face only two months later? That was just plain cruel, and he wasn't going to sit back and let Dick suffer because of some boy's vindictiveness!
"Bruce?" Dick's voice cut into his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Can I skip school for a few days—like maybe for the rest of my life? I don't think I can face those kids again."
"You'll have to face them eventually, Dick."
"PLEASE!"
"You can stay home for the rest of the day, but you go back tomorrow."
"But—"
"No buts! The sooner you face them, the better. Besides, it's my turn to make the phone calls!"
Bruce stood up and left the room, almost slamming the door behind him. Dick jumped. He had never seen Bruce this angry. But what was he angry at? The fact that Dick had been relentlessly ridiculed in front of the whole school or that Dick had come home when he wasn't supposed to? Maybe both?
There has got to be some way to figure this guy out, Dick thought as he followed Bruce downstairs.
Dick finally caught up with Bruce and had to jog just to keep up with the man's long strides. The duo had almost reached the living room when they nearly bumped into Alfred.
"Sir—" Alfred stopped short and stared at Dick, whose face was covered in tearstains. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't supposed to be home for another two hours. And where was that boy's uniform? Not ruined again, he hoped.
"I'll explain later," Bruce said. "What is it, Alfred?"
"I was just coming to tell you that you have a phone call, sir," said Alfred.
"Thank you."
Bruce walked into the living room with Dick not far behind.
Dick watched silently with his hands behind his back as Bruce picked up the phone. He could just make out a voice on the other end that sounded like Principal McNeilson.
"I was just calling to tell you about something that happened in school today," the principal was saying.
"Dick's already told me," Bruce answered.
"Dick is there?! Thank goodness! From what Ms. Whitman told me, he was pretty upset when he ran out of class this morning."
Dick turned a little red and pushed his glasses up, embarrassed.
"Did you expect him not to be upset?" said Bruce coldly.
"Er... no, not really. But Dick seems like such a friendly little boy and I never would have forgiven myself if anything had happened to him."
"Neither would I."
Dick was stunned. What did Bruce mean by that? Did he mean that he never would have forgiven the principal or that he never would have forgiven himself?
Either way, it means he must like me at least a teensy-weensy bit, Dick thought hopefully.
"Thank you for calling, Miss McNeilson. You saved me the trouble. I was going to call to discuss this and the behavior of your students," Bruce was saying.
"I assure you, Billy's parents have heard of this and he will be punished severely for his actions. And I do apologize, Mr. Wayne. Um... if you'll excuse me, I must talk with Billy's parents now."
"Of course. Good-bye."
Bruce hung up and turned back to Dick, who was still staring at him intently.
"And I think you and I have some talking to do as well," Bruce told Dick.
Dick knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, but he was practically floating just the same. Imagine: he and Bruce were going to have their first real conversation together!
Triumph number two: Mr. Doom-and-Gloom wants to talk to me!!
Bruce led Dick over to one of the couches in the living room and sat down. Dick took a seat on the arm of the sofa and put his feet on the cushions, something he wasn't supposed to do. Bruce noticed, but decided not to say anything at the moment. Dick didn't need criticism on top of everything else. And it wasn't like he was wearing shoes or anything.
Just as Bruce was about to begin talking, he noticed the chain around Dick's neck and the slight bump under his shirt near his throat.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing.
Dick looked down and sighed. So much for secrecy!
"Pop Haly gave this to me the... the last day I saw him," Dick explained, taking the chain off and handing it to Bruce for further examination.
"They're wedding rings," Bruce observed.
"My parents' wedding rings," Dick said quietly. "I've been wearing the chain every day since. It makes me feel a little better... pretty dumb, huh?"
"No. I don't think so."
"The kids at school do," Dick mumbled bitterly. "They found out about it during that fight the other day and now, they've started calling me sissy on top of everything else."
"Do you think it's dumb?"
"NO! It was a present from Pop Haly, and my parents wore those rings for almost eleven years! Why would I think it's dumb?!"
"If you don't think it's dumb, then does it really matter what anyone else thinks?"
Dick chewed his lip. He didn't like being the laughing stock of the entire school. But if fitting in meant giving up the special chain, then he'd rather stay the laughing stock.
"No. You're right, Bruce; it doesn't matter," said Dick, sounding happier than he had in days. He even smiled.
At the sight of Dick somewhat cheery again, Bruce couldn't help but give a little half-smile in return. Dick blinked. Had Bruce just smiled at him, or was it his imagination?
I hope not! Triumph number three: Mr. Dark-and-Dismal smiled at me!
"Now, back to the original subject," Bruce announced, handing back Dick's necklace. He watched as Dick replaced the chain around his neck.
"Yes?" said Dick once he was ready. Bruce noticed that the boy poked at his glasses again just before he spoke. He'd have to remember to tell Alfred to tell Dick not to do that any more. It was becoming an increasingly annoying bad habit.
"Do you have any idea why this... Billy would want to tease you? Did you do something to offend him or his friends?" Bruce asked.
"Of course not... well, I got his two best pals in detention..." Dick grinned sheepishly. "Think that had anything to do with it?"
"Probably."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Dick didn't want to get up. He didn't want to leave the comfort and security of his blankets or his room. And most of all, he didn't want to go to school. What would the other kids think and say when they saw him? They'd probably start teasing him all over again. Dick wasn't sure he could stand that.
But he had to. He knew that if he wasn't up in another minute or so, Alfred would knock on the door and make him get up.
Maybe Bruce will change his mind and let me stay here all day, Dick thought hopefully. As if. But maybe if I'm super, super lucky—
Somebody knocked on the door.
"Master Dick." Alfred. Of course. "Are you awake yet?"
Dick sighed. He was far from used to being called 'Master' all the time and didn't really want to go to school, either.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up," Dick grumbled.
"Then I suggest you hurry before you are late for school."
"All-RIGHT!"
Dick could hear Alfred's footsteps as he walked down the hall and back downstairs. Once the footsteps faded, Dick lay in bed for another minute. He really dreaded the thought of going back to the laughing faces and the uncaring jeers of his vindictive classmates. But he knew that Alfred would come back and physically rouse him if he wasn't down at the breakfast table in a matter of minutes, so Dick hurriedly fumbled for his glasses, dressed, ran down the hall and—to save time—slid down the banister. He had been told never to do that after being caught the first time, but it saved him a whole fifteen seconds!
&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Dick hesitated before rounding the corner of the school and making his presence known to the other students. He didn't really want to do this. Maybe he should just spend the day walking around Gotham City and then return to the front of the school when Alfred arrived to pick him up to make it look like he had been in school.
But the principal would call Bruce and ask him where I was. Then he'd say that he had sent me to school and that I was supposed to be there and I'd be in big trouble for playing hookie.
Dick sighed.
"Why can't I fit in?" Dick asked himself aloud. Hearing the fact that he was a misfit out loud caused tears to form. "Why is everyone so prejudiced?"
"Everyone, Dick?"
Dick turned swiftly at the sound of the voice from behind. Grace stood about three feet behind him, her arms across her chest, calmly watching his every move.
Dick swallowed and said nothing. He hated crying in front of other people, especially a girl. Well, he hadn't minded crying in front of Mom when he had been little, but that was different!
Grace came closer until she was only a few inches from Dick's face. The two were about the same height, and another short step from either party would have had them nuzzling noses.
"My mother is Shoshone," Grace said softly, looking at the ground. "My father's family wouldn't accept her, so he moved here. Then I was born. We've all met with prejudice at some time or other from people who either don't think whites should marry Native Americans, or from people who don't like the Shoshone altogether."
Grace met Dick's gaze once again. "Everyone, Dick?" she repeated.
The two stared at each other for a moment before Grace walked off to the playground, arms still crossed, head still down. Dick could only watch.
Dick decided not to make an appearance at recess. He'd just stay where he was until the bell rang, and then sneak in to school behind everybody else. Everything would have to be timed just right, though; if he came out too soon, people would see him. If he came out too late, the door the students usually came in by would be locked and he'd have to take the more commonly used path, which meant more teasing.
So, when the school bell rang, Dick made sure he was just a few steps behind the nearest student so he could get in. He made sure he was last in line as the students in Ms. Whitman's class filed into their room. Unfortunately, there was a pitfall: being the last into the classroom meant that everyone was already there by the time you walk in the door. And everyone—with the exception of Billy, who had been suspended while waiting to receive a more sever punishment—saw Dick.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Circus Boy," Dylan jeered. A few of the others giggled. Dick's face turned red—from anger or embarrassment he wasn't sure—and he sat down quietly. After prodding his glasses again, of course.
Grace wanted to say something. She wanted to make them stop hurting Dick the way they used to hurt her before he came along and became the newest object of ridicule. But she couldn't. She was too shy to say anything, and standing up for a boy could spell disaster; someone was bound to start singing that 'sitting in a tree' poem, and that would just hurt Dick more than help him.
But hadn't Dick stuck up for her that day when they were calling her 'savage' and 'tattle-tale'? He hadn't been afraid of any more teasing; all he knew was that he needed to help someone in trouble.
A boy saving a girl is different, she tried to convince herself as the yelling got a little louder. They're supposed to do that. They've been doing it for years... centuries even!
Grace still didn't feel much better.
By the time the teacher came in, the kids had already started another rousing round of "The Man on the Flying Trapeze". First sight of Ms. Whitman, however, and they all instantly shushed. The teacher never suspected a thing, although she thought that Dick's face was a little redder than usual.
"Good morning, class," said the teacher.
"Good morning, Ms. Whitman," the class said in unison.
"Now, today I would like to start with—"
"How about we have Dickie give us an oral presentation on the lives of circus freaks? That could be useful, since we have to have class with one every day..." Dylan suggested.
Several people laughed. Dick had had enough.
Standing up, he shouted, "You shut up, Dylan Anderson! My parents weren't freaks, neither are my friends and neither am I! So get your own life and stay out of mine!"
"One more word, Grayson, and I'll..." Dylan threatened, rising to his feet slowly.
"Boys!" yelled Ms. Whitman, quickly stepping in between Dylan and Dick, who looked ready to punch each other's lights out. "I've had quite enough of this! Dylan—and this goes for the rest of you, too—just stop teasing Dick." Turning to Dick, she added, "And Dick, you don't need to shout at people in the middle of class. Now, as I was saying..."
Dick sat back down hard, still glaring at Dylan. Dylan glared back. This was not going to be a good day.
Reviewer Replies:
You tell 'em, Ms. Whitman!! Well, except that last part...
Bumpkin--Billy is a big creep, isn't he? And uh... you DID exclude me from your 'nasty little so-and-so's' comment... didn't you? I don't think I'm nasty!
Jenn11--I agree with you on the heart-breaking part. Whole-heartedly. ;-)
Laurel-Anne Romm--'Great'?! Wow. Panamint has never written anything great before. Stupid, yes. Hysterical, yes. But never great. Thank you!
immortal squeaker--'Evil little brat'... yup, that sums Billy up wonderfully! Thank you for putting the words in my mouth. :)