Misfit

Part Eight

Disclaimer: I'd be typing on a brand-new laptop with a pair of silk PJs on if I did.

Grace sat, leaning against the tall oak tree in front of their school. She had "dirty blonde" hair and skin that matched the inconspicuous brown streaks that ran all through her shoulder-length cut. Her eyes were hazel—her mother's contribution—but her face was long and thin—her father's input.

Both she and Dick were sitting under the oak tree, waiting for their rides to come for them.

Dick was more than just a little nervous. He was absolutely petrified. This was the third time in one week that he had completely destroyed his school uniform. But none of the ruined uniforms had really been his fault!! Had they?

Dick unconsciously began fiddling around with the chain that he always wore. Next to the glasses, it was pretty much the only thing he had that had belonged to his parents, and he never wanted to let the special chain out of his sight.

Grace noticed her friends' preoccupied hands. "I've been meaning to ask you why you always wear that old chain," she said.

"Oh, this?" Dick was more than slightly abashed that yet another person was going to find out about his 'secret', but Grace was his friend now. His only friend.

"Well, just before I left the circus, Pop Haly—"

"Who?"

"He's the circus owner," Dick explained. "Anyway, Pop gave this to me just before he left town with the circus troupe. He put my parents' wedding rings on that old chain he always liked to wear."

"It must be very important to you," Grace said. She thought that Pop Haly had had a very good idea with the chain and rings.

"It is," Dick agreed emphatically. "Wanna see?"

"If you don't mind..."

"Everyone else has seen it. One more person won't hurt," Dick mumbled as he took off the chain again and handed it to Grace. She admired it for a few seconds before giving it back to Dick. He put the chain back around his neck.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Grace wanted to ask something, Dick could tell. She was just having a hard time phrasing it. He waited patiently while the girl figured out how to say what she wanted to say. Finally, Grace asked all in a rush, "Dick, were you really in the circus or did Billy make it up?"

"Why would a circus owner give something to me if I wasn't in the circus?" Dick asked.

"That's true, but were you really a trapeze artist?"

"Well, I wasn't the lion-tamer."

"I think that's fascinating!" Grace exclaimed truthfully. "I don't know why the other kids think it's weird. I mean, it's not the most common thing in the world, but I think it's wonderful!"

"For real?" Dick asked.

"We're friends. Why would I lie... oh, there's my mother. I want you to come meet her! She'll be so happy that I finally have a friend!" Grace said.

"Sure."

Dick felt a little sad that he would never be introducing friends to his mother, but right now, he knew he was just lucky to have a friend in the first place.

Grace stood up and waved to a brown-haired woman with dark skin in a Chevy. The woman waved back.

"Come on!" urged Grace, running full-pelt towards the car. Dick ran after her, leaving his back-pack by the tree.

Grace stopped just in front of the open car window. Actually, she almost slammed into the side-panel, but she remembered that this was her mother's new car just before she did.

"Mom," said Grace, beaming with pride. "This is Dick Grayson."

"A... friend of yours?" asked the woman hopefully. Grace was finally able to answer the nervous question with a joyful, confident "Uh-huh!"

The woman smiled broadly at them both, showing a set of slightly crooked, slightly yellowed teeth. Then she held out her hand to Dick, who shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Winslow," said Dick.

"The feeling's mutual, believe me," replied Mrs. Winslow. "Would you like to come over to our place for a little while? I made some cookies this morning."

"Oh, yes! Please come, Dick!" Grace agreed.

Dick was thrilled. Someone actually wanted him to come over to their house! But he knew he couldn't, not with the state his clothes were in. And he would have had to tell Bruce or Alfred where he was going anyway.

"Thanks, but I can't. My ride should be here soon, and I'm expected at home, but thanks for the offer. Maybe some other time," Dick told them.

"Alright then," said Mrs. Winslow, still smiling. "Come on, Grace."

"Okay. Bye, Dick!" Grace waved as she hopped into the back seat of the car. Dick stepped back onto the sidewalk so he wouldn't get run over and waved back. He watched sadly as the car drove away. However, the sound of the Winslow's car was quickly drowned out by the sound of another car pulling up: the Wayne limousine.

Dick quickly grabbed his backpack, opened the door and sat down, ignoring Alfred's look of complete shock and disapproval.

"Master Dick! Your clothes--!"

"Later, Alfred. Just take me back," Dick mumbled, forgetting all about his previous good mood. He had just remembered about the trunk in the attic, and how he still needed to tell Bruce that he knew his secret. It was just two days ago that Dick had discovered a secret staircase in his bedroom wall and had followed it up to the attic. He had tripped over the trunk, grown curious and opened it, only to find out that Bruce's parents had been murdered as well.

Dick sighed and looked out the window, trying to figure out how to phrase his confession and mentally gauge Bruce's reaction. Should he come straight out with it, or try to beat around the bush before Bruce finally just asked him to spill it? And Dick already knew his reaction—he'd be furious, as well he should be. After all, what gave a nine-year-old the right to snoop around in a billionaire's attic, even if that nine-year-old was his ward? Now more than ever, Dick wished that he had left well enough alone.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dick walked through the door, head down, backpack slung over his shoulder, looking very much guilty although it wasn't entirely his fault he looked like a disaster.

Bruce, who had been in the living room when he heard Dick and Alfred come in, had just walked into the entrance hall to greet the pair but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Dick. He looked as if he had been mauled by a tiger or run over by a herd of stampeding cattle, or maybe both.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"Fight," Dick mumbled. "I told Dylan Anderson and Peter Adams to shut up and they tried to murder me."

"Judging by your appearance, I daresay they almost succeeded," commented Alfred, taking Dick's backpack and leaving the room so that Master Bruce and Master Dick could work things out privately.

"Why did you tell them to 'shut up'?" asked Bruce once Alfred had left.

"Because they started calling me Circus Boy again, and then they called my parents..." Dick couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence with that terrible word, but Bruce got the idea.

"And in my own defense, Dylan hit me first!" Dick quickly added. "I hardly managed to get a punch in edgewise with those two jackasses ganging up on me!"

Bruce sighed. He hadn't anticipated this much trouble when he had decided to adopt the ex-circus star.

"Oh, and I kinda wanted to talk to you about something... that is, unless you're busy..." Dick said nervously, pushing his glasses in that oh-so-irritating way. He added on that last bit as quickly as possible.

"I'm not busy. We'll talk in the living room," Bruce replied. Dick tried to stifle a groan. Any other time and Bruce would have jumped at the chance not to talk with Dick. But the one time when Dick wanted to get the brush-off, he didn't.

This is turning out to be a really rotten day, Dick thought as he followed his guardian into the unusually spacious living room.

Bruce sat down on one of the sofas and Dick sat on the coffee table, with his feet just barely touching the ground.

"Well..." Dick started reluctantly. He cleared his throat, jabbed at the glasses and tried again. "You see..."

I don't think I'm going to like this, Bruce thought, eyeing Dick.

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

"The other day... I... I think I did something I wasn't supposed to," said Dick.

"And that was...?"

"I found a staircase in my wall and I followed it up to the attic," Dick blurted out. He watched Bruce's face closely for his reaction. Much to Dick's surprise, Bruce was half-smiling at him again.

"I should have known you'd find the attic eventually," Bruce said. Maybe Dick imagined it, but he could have sworn that there was a touch of pride in Bruce's voice as he said this.

Please oh please oh please don't let that be my imagination! he mentally begged. It had been so long since anybody had been proud of him...

"Exactly how much did you see?" Bruce asked.

"A little too much," Dick answered.

"You know, huh?"

"Gosh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to find out. It just happened!"

Dick felt a pang of sorrow as he realized that that was almost exactly what he had said to Pop Haly that day when he had overheard him talking with Zucco about money and accidents and the like.

"Was it supposed to be a secret?" Dick asked after a pause.

Bruce shook his head 'no'.

"Then why didn't you just tell me instead of avoiding me?" Dick cried, suddenly furious. "Up until I found out I thought you hated me!"

Bruce was startled, but didn't let it show. "Why would I take you in if I hated you?"

"I don't know! Maybe you felt sorry for me or something!"

"Well, I did..."

"See?! I was right!"

"Not entirely. I did feel sorry for you, like anybody with any decency would. But I also took you in because I understood what you were going through and I wanted to help."

Dick eyed him suspiciously. "But that doesn't answer the question," he said in a much quieter voice. "Why didn't you just say something?"

Bruce thought a minute. There was no good answer and he knew it. He should have told Dick why he wasn't paying any attention to him. He deserved to know; he was a good kid, if not a bit on the homely side. Come to think of it, he also deserved a lot more attention than he had been getting, but that was another matter altogether.

When Bruce didn't answer, Dick jumped in, "You don't know, do you? And here's another thing: don't you think it's better to remember the good times you had with the people you love rather than to forget them altogether? Do you really think you should go hiding the past in a dusty old attic and just forget them—or rather, try to forget them?" In a low voice, he added, "Do you really think that's what your parents would have wanted you to do?"

Dick stood up and left the room as his vision got blurry. He knew he had said too much already and that he'd probably be on his way to the orphanage by tonight.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Dick, his guardian had no intentions of sending him anywhere. On the contrary, Bruce thought that Dick had made several good points, although he hated to admit it. But when you were wrong, you were wrong. And he had been wrong.

How was it that, after all these years, one frightened, lonely, black-haired boy had finally wormed his way into his heart without even trying to? Sure, there had been a lot of people in his life, but he had never expected to love again, especially not so suddenly.

It was a frightening prospect: the last time he had dared to love, the woman of his dreams had turned out to be the infamous Catwoman, and before that had been his parents. After these three had left his life forever, Bruce had promised himself never to love again, to protect himself and others. But that promise was meant to be broken. And, he just realized with a start, it had been.

Bruce got up and headed for the stairs. He knew he had to say something unless he wanted to lose someone else he loved.

Before he left the room, he picked something up from a nearby table. After taking a glance at the object, he took it upstairs with him.

Reviewer Replies

Oooh, suspense... hey, wait a sec... I'm homely?! Okay, somebody review and start a petition against this so-called author!!

Bumpkin--:) Thank you very much, and thank you for reviewing all the chapters so far. Panamint has always wanted a fan club. ;-)

Neoinean--The next chapter should be it. Awww. :( BTW, Panamint asked me to ask you where you got the pen name.

Jenn11--Another fan club member!! Yay! ;-) And--not only are we too young--that stuff is just plain mushy! Holy mush! (Batman, Episode #64, guest-starring Julie Newmar ;))