Chapter Five

"Morning, young Master Drake." Alfred called, opening the red velvet curtains. The sunlight poured in and split the old man into half shadow and light. It was a bright Monday morning and the Wayne household was just brimming with energy. Tim groaned and turned over on his left side.

"You will be late for school if you sleep in."

"Good." Mumbled a voice from beneath the covers.

"Now, now. When I was your age I was delighted at going to school. You would be learning all day." Alfred frowned as his vision was shattered of Tim leaping from the bed and grabbing his books and rushing out the door, from another loud groan.

"Breakfast is in twenty minutes and I want to see you dressed and showered by then." The man closed the door and proceeded downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Of course Tim hadn't got up from the bed in twenty, not even in forty minutes. Eventually he was dragged out and headed into the shower like a zombie. After his shower he rushed about like crazy pulling on his jeans and stuffing toast into his mouth and finally brushing his teeth, squeezing the toothpaste all over the bathroom by accident.

"I'm going now and if you want a lift to school you better be down here in ten seconds." Dick called checking himself in the mirror and swallowing. He was taking Barbara shopping today and he was unusually nervous. After all it was their first time alone together in ages.

"I'm just coming!" Tim yelled and stuffed his feet into trainers and pulled his cap on. He raced outside and had the feeling he had forgotten something and dashed back to his room, grabbing his school bag and sliding downstairs on the balcony, and finally landing at Dick's feet.

"One." Dick smiled. "Just made it."

"Yup."

Tim waved Dick away at the front entrance and slung his bag over his shoulder, sauntering into school.

"Yo, Drake!" Jake Matthews, Tim's best friend, punched him on the shoulder playfully.

"Hey." Tim smiled. " Please tell me we don't have biology today."

"We have and it's first period too."

"Aren't you the bringer of good news." Tim grumbled and headed to his locker as the bell screamed through the hallway. By the time Tim had collected books and gazed at the pictures of girls he had stuck to his locker door, he was late for his first class and the teacher wasn't too happy.

"Timothy Drake! Explain yourself, right this minute." The teacher yelled, pushing her lips out so far, Tim was sure they would burst. He rolled his eyes and winked at Courtney Jacobs, a brunette girl who Tim dreamt about every night. She smiled back at him and flicked her hair over her shoulder. Tim watched the strands swirl round her perfect shoulders and fan around her perfectly shaped face. He snapped out of his slow moving dream as the teacher slammed her book on the desk.

"First you strut in here, eight minutes late for class and now you are completely ignoring me." The woman's square face was turning a shade of magenta. Tim screwed up his face and shook his head.

"I wasn't ignoring you."

"Lying now too, hmm? Well, we'll see about that. Just go to the Principal's office right this minute young man and you can explain your story to him."

"What story? I don't have anything to tell him." Tim was in disbelief – the woman was crazy.

"Refusing to go to the Principal's office now too, hmm? Well. . ." But before she could twist more of his words, he marched out the class and headed to the Head's room burning with rage.

It really wasn't a good day for Tim, he was sent to the Principal's office two times and a letter was being threatened to be sent home if his behaviour did not change dramatically. By lunch time Tim was in such a bad mood, not even seeing Courtney bend over in a skirt to pick up her fallen fork could bring a smile to his face.

Jake dropped down beside him at the table, his clump of mashed potatoes jumping up from his tray. They chatted for a while about different things until twenty minutes from the bell, Meathead John and his little (or rather massive) followers swaggered up beside Tim and Jake. The carton Tim was drinking out of was squashed in the big claw of John and he let out a few grunts to show his manliness. Tim looked up at him.

"Did you want something?" He sneered and watched the anger grow in John's eyes.

"I heard you got made captain of the basketball team, a position that should have went to me."

"Yeah, well, hard luck." Tim went back to scraping his fork through whatever heap of food he had been given. John grabbed Tim's shoulder and pulled him back, driving a knee into his spine. Tim winced and snatched his tray in two hands, whipping it backwards and hitting the bully on the forehead. He let out a growl of pain and swung at Tim, who ducked and rolled off his seat. By this time, groups of kids had gathered round, eager to get a piece of the action. Tim stood up and smirked at John.

"Come on then." He sniggered.

The boy ran at him and swung another punch, which Tim dodged easily. He kicked John's legs out from underneath him and watched the bully go flying across the floor. He quickly got to his feet and punched Tim in the stomach. He doubled over and the boy elbowed Tim on the back, making his knees bend to the floor. Then he punched him on the nose and a little blood trickled down to his upper lip. Tim wiped the blood away with his hand and snapped his hand back into a fist and brought it to John's left eye. Tim went to hit him again, but one of the teachers grabbed him and pulled him away from the circle. Another grabbed John and before they knew it they were sitting outside the Principal's office, third time around for Tim.

"What is the meaning of this, boy!" The Principal screamed in Tim's face. Tim stood with his hand balled into fist behind his back. Of course, John had practically got off scot-free. His father was heavily involved with the school after all and somehow John had twisted the story to make it look like Tim had attacked him and it had been all self-defence.

"Well!" He demanded. Tim sighed and answered.

"I was eating my lunch with Jake Matthews and from out of nowhere Mea. . I mean, John started yelling at me cause I had been given the place of captain on the basketball team and he hadn't and then he dug his knee into my back and started throwing punches at me."

The teacher frowned. "That is a completely different story to what John told."

"But mine is the truth." Tim stated firmly. The teacher raised a bushy eye-brow and looked at the boy for a long time.

"You have been in my office three times today and did I not explain clearly to you last time that I would be sending a letter home?"

"Yeah, but . ."

"I now know that isn't enough to stop this uncouth behaviour, so I would like to arrange a meeting with your parents or rather guardian." He remarked, reading Tim's file. "Mr Bruce Wayne. Well, that would explain it."

"What?" Tim asked suspiciously.

"It would explain your performance at school. I used to go to school with Mr Wayne and he was somewhat of a troublemaker himself. Maybe his bad attitude has rubbed off on you."

"Yeah right. Bruce was amazing in school, he got the top prize practically every year and he was popular."

Mr Lawson's face turned blue. "He was only popular because the girls felt sorry about his parents dying and because he was rich!" He spat.

"Sounds to me like you're jealous." Tim smiled and folded his arms over his chest.

"How dare you!" The Principal was speechless. "You little. . I . .Oh, the manners! I will expect to see you and Wayne tomorrow morning and give him this to read! Now, get out of my sight!"

Tim stormed out and slammed the door behind him. "Oh, great." He muttered and stuffed the letter into his bag.

"Tim, come here a minute!" Bruce yelled from downstairs.

"I can't. I'm just about to complete this level!" Tim replied, chewing his lip as he frantically pressed buttons on his game console controller.

"Pause it and come down here." Bruce shook his head and tapped his shirt pocket. "Pen. Why can't I find my pen?" He eyed Tim's school bag, which had been dumped at the door. "I'm just getting a pen out of your bag, ok?" Bruce yelled and reached down to pick up the bag.

"Sure. Whatever." Tim frowned, concentrating on the game. Then, it hit him. The letter! Oh God! No!

"Nooo!" Tim clamoured, throwing the controller down and racing downstairs. "Don't go in the bag!"

He reached the kitchen and saw Bruce's eyes scan from side to side, his brows furrowing deeper. He had found the letter. Tim's eyes widened and he started walking backwards, faster and faster.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, squirt." Dick announced as Tim rammed into him. Dick grabbed his shoulders and pushed him forward.

"Hey, Bruce. Look who I found sneaking away." Dick grinned.

Tim tried to pull away, but Dick held onto him. "Let me go." Tim hissed.

"Explain the meaning of this letter from your Principal young man." Bruce said firmly, shaking the piece of paper about in his hand. Tim gave Dick a seething look and Dick smiled sheepishly and mouthed sorry. Tim walked forward slowly as Dick whistled innocently and dashed into the TV room.

"The letter? From my Principal?" Tim smiled nervously. "Well, he wants you to meet with him tomorrow morning. He just wants to talk to you about some stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You know, the usual."

"No, I don't know. What is the 'usual'?"

"My grades and general behaviour."

"And what will I expect to hear."

"That my grades are slipping to a D and I got sent to him three times today."

Bruce shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Not this week, Tim. I don't need this, this week."

"Sorry." Tim offered. "Well, I'll just be going." He started to walk away.

"You're grounded. No phone or PlayStation for a week and you can forget about allowance until your grades reach a B at least."

Tim turned around to protest, but dropped his head at Bruce's look. "Fine." He muttered and walked away.