Part 4: Stacked Against Him

Dick's eyes narrowed. Now he knew something was going on. Checking the book out of the library, he headed back to what was to be his private detention room in the middle of the school day. Detention usually occurred after school, but his case was being treated differently. He wondered why.

'Why didn't they just suspend me, or even expel me?' Dick thought.

He could not get his mind off of why he was being treated differently than the rest of the kids who committed similar offences. 'I did not steal those papers or cheated. I need to talk to someone.' He wasn't going to get that chance. When he returned to the meeting room, just as Schoolfield had said, there was a teacher waiting for him. It was Mr. Axman.

"Sit over there, at the end of the table," Mr. Axman instructed.

As he moved to the end of the table, Dick watched as the teacher pulled from a box a large stack of papers.

"I understand you continue to be a straight A student in Math, Mr. Grayson."

"Yes, Mr. Axman," Dick responded. Mr. Axman taught Freshman math. In fact, he was Dick's former math teacher when he first came to Woodrow Roosevelt High School at the age of 12, a young gifted student. Dick excelled in many of his classes, especially those that focused on Math and Science. Every teacher doted on him, including the Principal; proud that he would be attending their school. It was a different story from the student body. He eventually proved himself and the kids forgot just how young he was.

"I understand that Mr. Schoolfield doesn't want you to do any class work, but I am of the opinion that you can at least help me grade some papers."

Mr. Axman gave Dick half the stack of papers, a red pencil, and a tablet of paper. "For those equations that aren't clear," Mr. Axman said.

The morning went by quickly and so did the stack of papers. It actually gave Dick a chance to focus on something other than his problems. Lunchtime came and Dick was escorted to the lunchroom. It was the first time in 72 hours that he would get an opportunity to eat. He looked over to his usual table to see some of his friends, but when they spotted him, they turned their heads in disgust. In fact, he could hear the whole lunchroom crowd whispering as they spotted him heading to the counter.

"He's the one who stole the test answers."

"I bet he's been cheating the whole time he's been here."

"Schoolfield's golden boy ain't so golden after all."

Dick decided he didn't want any lunch after that. Once again, he lost his appetite.

"Aren't you hungry?" Mr. Axman asked, unaware of the reaction that Dick Grayson was having in the lunchroom.

"No," Dick replied. He knew he should eat something, but he just could not muster enough enthusiasm to eat. Food would probably feel like a lead weight in his stomach right now.

Dick went back to his detention room and pulled out his notebook. There wasn't much else to do except maybe write everyone a note of apology, but at the same time, he felt like he had no reason to apologize for something he hadn't done. He opened it to a clean page when he noticed the envelope he had slipped inside it from that morning. He opened the envelope and the single sheet of paper he found inside. What he read chilled him to the bone.

Liked the test results?

I'm sure your guardian was thrilled.

Don't try that again since no will believe you.

This is only the beginning Dick Grayson.

Before I am done, I will destroy you.

Dick looked for the envelope that came with the note. His name was typed on the front. His fingerprints marred any chance of finding out who might have sent the note. He did have two clues that he wrote in his notebook.

The person had to be someone here at the school.

The note was taped to his locker.

And thinking about the exam papers, that person not only had access to his locker, but to the safe in Principal Schoolfield's office. The papers had been planted in his locker to discredit him. And even if he showed this note to someone, they might think he wrote it. There was no signature.

"Mr. Grayson," Principal Schoolfield was standing in the doorway. "My office, now."

'Uh oh.' What now? The look on Schoolfield's face told Dick that things were going to get really bad.

Dick Grayson entered Principal Schoolfield's office to find Bruce once again standing there, his eyes hard as flint and his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth had to hurt. Neither said a word as his eyes were drawn to what was resting on Schoolfield's desk.

There was a small automatic handgun, a wad of cash, and what looked like several small packets of marijuana.

Dick knew for a fact that had not been in his locker earlier. He would have seen it, and even reported it if it had.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Schoolfield asked.

Dick didn't know what to say. If he argued that the items weren't his, which was the truth, they would think he was lying. "Nothing, Sir," Dick said, his voice low and meek.

"You aren't even going to try to deny that this is yours?"

"What's the point," Dick said, his voice sounding bitter. "You won't believe me anyhow."

"Dick! Show some respect," Bruce said forcefully.

Dick turned away, and pushed his right fist into his mouth, biting back the retort that he wanted to say to Bruce.

"Should we call the police on this?" Schoolfield asked.

"No," Bruce said. "I'll deal with it. Place everything in a paper bag. I'll take it with me. I know someone who can handle this. Come Dick. Get your things. We're going home."

"Before you leave Mr. Wayne, I'm afraid we'll have to expel Mr. Grayson for this. We will send his transcripts to you so they can be sent to wherever you choose to send Mr. Grayson. Of course all of this will go on his permanent record."

"Thank you, Mr. Schoolfield."

Expelled, disgraced. A sick feeling came over Dick Grayson as he walked back to the meeting room to pick up his notebook along with the envelope and letter. He went to his locker and cleaned it out discovering another note on the bottom. It must have been placed there after the discovery of the gun and other items. Bruce had stuck by his side the whole time, not as a concerned guardian, but as the caped crusader sans the cape and cowl from his rigid posture. Whatever concern there might have been there had vanished. Dick could sense the barely controlled anger coming off of his guardian. Fear knotted Dick's stomach and he wondered just what was Bruce going to do with him once they returned to Wayne Manor. All he knew for now was that things had gone from bad to worse.

Continues with Part 5: See Dick Plan See Dick Run