Jason promised himself he wasn't going to enjoy going back to school. He wasn't. He really, really wasn't.
At first, he stayed pretty true to that promise. He stomped to the back of the classroom and slouched as far down as possible at his stupid little desk. He grimaced at every kid who even looked like they were considering being nearby. He refused to answer when the teacher called on him.
Then it came time for what was apparently a "daily rotation" part of the classroom schedule.
"It's day three," the teacher, a lady named Miss Saito who was incredibly unruffled by Jason's anger so far, said cheerfully, pointing to a board at the front of the room that said the same thing. "Grab anything you have to return and let's get going."
Most of the class stood up quickly, chattering among themselves and grabbing things from their desks. A couple of the students dragged their feet, but pretty soon everyone was gathering in a line by the door, everyone except Jason and a blond boy who was rummaging through his desk's contents frantically.
Jason glanced at the frantic blond boy, shrugged, and headed toward the door, stopping only when the blond boy sat down and slammed his forehead into the top of his desk. Jason sighed and took a step closer to the desk. "What gives?"
"I lost it," the blond boy said into his desk. "I lost my book for the library, and I said I wasn't going to lose it, and I lost it, and now they're gonna get mad at me."
Despite himself, Jason perked up. "We're going to the library?"
The blond boy nodded miserably. "And I'm going to get in trouble."
Jason considered him for a moment. "You're what, ten?"
"Huh?" The blond boy asked.
"You're how old?" Jason asked.
"I'm nine and a half," the blond boy said slowly.
"So they can't get too mad at you," Jason said. "You're still a kid. Now let's go!"
Without waiting for a response, Jason headed for the line by the door. The blond boy came up behind him a moment later, and the line of students trailed out the door after Miss Saito.
The library wasn't huge, but it was pretty big for an elementary school library, probably, Jason thought. As soon as he stepped in, Jason raced for the nearest shelves, peering through the books eagerly. A lot of them were really kiddie books, which made sense, but eventually he found a triangular section of shelves that had some decent ones.
Jason pulled a couple of books out (a romance, two historical fiction novels, and the first book in that complicated science fiction series that Duke had mentioned liking a week or two before) and looked around.
All the kids from Miss Saito's class were milling around, some by the books, some by the computers, and some by a display of what proclaimed itself to be "Science Fair Project Finalists." He had plenty of time, he figured, and he didn't want to be bothered. So Jason looked around a little more, and he spotted a couple of squishy chairs by a corner made out of two different shelves.
Jason carried his books over there. He tugged the squishy chairs up against the corner, making a little nook between them. Then he settled in and began to read.
And read.
And read and read and read.
So maybe this school thing wasn't all bad.
It was nasty enough to be going to school. It was nastier to be going to elementary school. But to be going to elementary school on a day when the lunch was going to be, as Tim had heard the other students calling it, "mystery meatloaf?" That was about as nasty as it could get.
Tim followed the group of students to the cafeteria begrudgingly, dragging the toes of his new, shiny, stupid, tiny sneakers on the floor. His stomach gurgled unhappily as he went as slowly as possible, but whether that was the nerves from earlier in the morning or the knowledge of the not-so-appetizing entree on the menu, he couldn't tell. No matter how slowly he moved, though, he was still moving forward, and eventually he did make it to the cafeteria.
Squinting at the lunch line, Tim considered his options. Honestly, could he just skip lunch? Not eat? Maybe hide out in the bathroom? It probably wouldn't be any fun, but it would have to be better than actually having lunch. Tim thoughtfully edged back toward the hall, looking around with as innocent of an expression as he could manage. Maybe…
But the teacher, whose name Tim could probably remember if he wanted to try, but he didn't want to try, was watching Tim closely. In fact, the teacher was already starting to step toward him. So Tim sighed and trudged forward toward the lunch line with a frown.
Tim frowned at the lunch tray. He frowned at the packs of utensils. He frowned at the little cartons of milk with cartoon animals saying food-related puns on the backs. Most of all, Tim frowned at the food being plopped onto his tray. Mystery meatloaf didn't begin to describe the goop. This place had a real problem.
Then Tim exited the lunch line and found a bigger problem than mystery meatloaf.
Where was he supposed to sit?
Tim scanned the room. All of the kids from all of the classes in his current grade were filling up the tables. He would probably have the easiest time sitting with his new class, right? Like, they would know he was new and probably wouldn't tell him to sit somewhere else, because they knew he didn't know where to sit yet, right?
But then again, what if the kids in his class blamed him for being new? That was a thing, wasn't it? What if they wouldn't let him sit with them because he didn't belong to one of their cliques or groups or clubs yet? So he should sit with kids from a different class, because they might not even know he was new, right?
But on the other hand, would that make the teacher and the kids of his class mad at him? Would it be seen as a sign of disrespect or something to abandon them? So he should sit with the kids from his own class, right?
But back again, how did he pick where to sit? There were about four empty seats among the biggest group of kids from his class, so which one was he supposed to choose? Would the repercussions of choosing the first empty seat over the second be severe? Would the repercussions of choosing the third seat more than the first or second be less? Would it be best of all to pick the fourth seat, or would that be dooming himself?
Tim's stomach gurgled again, then grumbled, then flipped, then flopped…
Then promptly and loudly emptied itself all over his lunch tray.
Nearby kids erupted in a mixed chorus of groans and shouts, and one of the watching teachers quickly caught sight of what had happened and began to come over in a real hurry, calling for assistance.
Tim gave a pained little burp and wrinkled his nose. Well, at least he didn't have to eat the mystery meatloaf.
In Duke's opinion, elementary school wasn't the worst place they could've ended up because of a villain. The sewers, Arkham Asylum, and an alien planet were definitely worse places to be, and they'd all been options previously, so Duke figured it wouldn't be too bad. And granted, it wasn't like they were likely to be able to do much against Baby Doll or any other bad guys until they were older again anyway, as much as that stunk to admit. Knowing that wouldn't stop him from still trying to get into the Cave and trying to do vigilante work, but he wasn't going to get anywhere close to the Cave from an elementary school, so Duke decided to relax for the school day.
Or, well, at least try to relax for the school day.
The kids in his new class weren't too bad, which helped. It was only a little after lunchtime and Duke had already had three sort-of friends. Amie and Carlie were twin girls with matching bright red hair held in matching high-up ponytails who invited Duke to sit with them right away, which was nice. Plus, there was Booker, Amie and Carlie's friend, and he loaned Duke a pen for a spelling quiz then gave him a high-five when they both got fifteen out of fifteen right, which was also nice. The three of them had even enthusiastically shown Duke around the playground during recess.
All in all, it wasn't going too poorly.
Then, just as the whole class were pulling out workbooks and pencils for the next subject, a shrill beeping split the air.
"Rogue alert, level two," the teacher reported calmly. "Everybody, drop and cover."
Most of the students sighed and started clambering down onto the floor.
Duke sat there, frozen. Rogue alert?
"Duke, c'mon," Carlie said, patting his shoulder as she stood from her chair and did a brief stretch. "Get down."
"Yeah, it's alert time," Booker added. He was already curled under his desk, his hands over the back of his head and neck.
"Alert time?" Duke repeated. Huh. His voice was shakier than it should've been.
"Alert time, but it's just a drill. C'mon," Amie said too. "We've got to drop and cover anyway."
Duke knew what that meant. Well, he knew what that meant usually. Rogue alert, level two, meant it was time to get low and get under something sturdy. They had the same alerts at his high school, both for drills and for real, and sometimes he snuck out to put on his vigilante uniform, and sometimes he followed the instructions, depending on the situation and what he knew.
But this wasn't his high school.
And he couldn't sneak out.
And he couldn't put on his Signal suit.
And he couldn't follow instructions, because all of a sudden he couldn't move.
Duke wheezed, breathing going all funny.
Amie poked his knee from under her desk. "Duke? Hey, Duke?"
"Uh-oh," Carlie said thoughtfully.
Booker started calling the teacher over.
Duke only barely noticed the knee poke, or the thoughtful tone, or the call to the teacher. He was focusing too hard on not flying apart. What if it wasn't a drill? What if it was real? What if Bruce was out there as Batman fighting someone with barely any backup because most of his backup were too little to do anything? What if Bruce lost?
Between the heaving of his chest and the pulsing in his ears, Duke didn't know much of what happened next. Soon enough, the alert beeping was gone, and all the kids were sitting at their desks again, and the teacher was kneeling in front of him.
Duke blinked.
"How are you doing?" The teacher asked gently.
Duke shook his head. "I'm done."
It took a good bit of convincing to get the teacher to call Duke out for the afternoon, but once a call to the front office was made, the convincing was made a lot quicker. Apparently Duke wasn't the only one who was having difficulties.
When Duke made it to the front office's waiting seats, he was greeted by a sulky Jason.
"It's not my fault they couldn't find me," Jason said immediately. "I wasn't really that hidden."
Duke laughed. It came out a little breathlessly. "The secretary said it took them like half an hour to find you, including calling your name over and over."
Jason shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh. I had my nose in a book."
"And your ears too, apparently. How's Tim?" Duke asked.
Jason shrugged again, much less nonchalantly and with much more concern, although probably Duke was one of the few people who could tell that. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward a bathroom door down the hall. "He hasn't puked again, at least not yet. And he just finally agreed to change into different, non-puked-on clothes."
"He didn't want to change out of the clothes he was in?" Duke asked. "Even though they had puke on them?"
"Guess why," Jason said with a smirk.
Duke thought for a moment, then he smiled. "Are the school's emergency clothes scratchy?"
Jason clicked his tongue. "Exactly."
Duke laughed again, and it came out normal this time.
"B should be here in like five more minutes," Jason said.
"Good," Duke said. "Will Tim be out of the bathroom and into new clothes by then?"
"If not, we'll leave him," Jason said primly.
"Nah, we won't," Duke said.
Jason gave a sigh. "You're right. We won't. But as soon as Bruce is here and Tim is out? We're out of here."
"Until tomorrow," Duke said.
Jason groaned.
