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You didn’t want to complain, being that this was a privilege you’d never thought you would ever have, but you wondered why a school as big and prestigious as Gotham Academy was so shitty.
There was ten minutes until English class officially started—your final class of the day, and thankfully one you actually cared about. The others seemed to drag out forever, and you had decided you wanted to go home a long time ago.
You were able to recall being in school when you were younger, before everything happened, but for a long time in your life there wasn’t a lot of time for worrying about school (plus a lack of money) and so you didn’t go. Selina had you taking online lessons when she took you in—another part of your deal for living with her—and although they were very condensed and hard to balance among adapting to your new life, you managed to claw yourself up to the acceptable grade level for your age in all the core subjects within a year.
Back on the streets, you read a lot. Most of your time was spent at libraries anyway, since the place was always warm and the librarians didn’t ask questions. You’d probably gone through hundreds of titles if not thousands by now—more than most of the rest of your peers can say, you thought. The frequent consumption of books probably helped you retain information quicker.
You had also utilized the library to rent out movies, and the librarians often let you go in the basement to watch them. That meant you’ve seen movies about high school, and now that you were experiencing the real thing you could say what was shown in film wasn’t that far off. Still, you had expected a little bit more class from the prestigious Gotham Academy. It had been about ten minutes and you already saw people attempting to throw things in the garbage cans and then leaving their trash on the floor when they missed. People talked too loud in the halls, took up way more space than necessary, and said rude things with the sole intention of being an asshole.
It was almost ironic, the notions these kids had about street kids. You figured that you were leagues more civilized than they would ever wish to be.
For the most part, though, people left you alone. You guessed people already had friends from previous years. They formed groups in clumps of desks and chatted excitedly about the summer while you sat all by yourself. Walking through the halls wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, either. There were people who walked at a glacial pace in impassable groups, but that was an inconvenience at best. There always seemed to be space to breathe.
It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, being lonely. It might have been preferred, honestly. The less you had to speak, the better.
Your blissful silence was interrupted when a boy walked in—wearing one of the more casual crewneck uniforms with the school’s logo embroidered on the chest, a white shirt underneath, and a navy tie peeking through. His hair was combed back with a crude attempt to slick it, but it didn’t hide the waviness from his natural look.
He peered around the class, looking a little lost until he spotted the seat next to you. He exhaled what looked like a sigh of relief, before changing his path to head over.
The boy placed a sheet of paper on your desk. “Reading lists,” he smiled. “Did you get one yet?”
You had not realized they were up there in your keenness to get a good seat.
“No,” you mumbled, sliding the paper closer to you. There was a good balance of things; the typical short stories, one novel, and two plays.
“Hamlet!” The boy beside you exclaimed, pressing his finger to the page. He looked over, blue eyes meeting yours, oblivious to your apathy about his supposed regard for sixteenth century literature. “I’ve already read this a few summers ago. Makes my life soooo much easier. Shakespeare is stupid hard to learn in the—what—three weeks we dedicate to it in-class? If you read things before, then you practically have half the studying to do.”
You’ve also already read Hamlet (and other Shakespearian plays), once or twice during some quiet nights in the library, but you chose not to mention that.
“You read Shakespeare for fun?” You snorted, fully aware of your hypocrisy.
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “I read all kinds of things. I have a library back home, what else am I supposed to do?”
The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought it. Goddamn rich kids and their home libraries.
You tipped your head instead. “Gaming? Uhh—skateboarding? Something boyish?”
“Didn’t realize reading was gendered.”
The speed of his retort caught you off guard. Despite everything, you smiled. “Fair enough.”
He laughed a bit, before fidgeting with his clasped fingers. “I’m Jason, by the way. You?”
You narrowed your eyes. “The Wayne boy,” you murmured in lieu of introduction, flicking another look up and down his frame. You didn’t expect it, to be honest. His shoes were black, as per the dress code, but they were dirtier than the rest of the students’ shoes that you’ve seen. Not something you expected from Jason Todd, especially not after the billionaire went public about his new son and his name was popularized by articles gossiping about whether he was Bruce Wayne’s bastard or just some pity case.
You figured Bruce Wayne would at least get him a new pair of shoes.
“Yeah,” he murmured nervously. “That’s me. I’m new here. Haven’t really experienced the whole prestigious academy thing yet.”
“Me neither,” you offered. “I transferred in this year.”
“Oh? What school did you come from?”
You dropped your eyes. “It was in a different state.”
“Hmm. So you moved here recently?”
Nope. You were born and raised in Gotham. “Sure.”
Jason tipped his head, but didn’t call you out on your vague answers. Honestly, he seemed happy you were engaging in conversation at all. You were worried the conversation would continue, and he would start asking more invasive questions, but were saved by your teacher walking in and getting the class’s attention.
As the lesson began, you were mostly zoned out. Your teacher droned on about the class expectations and went over the reading list, all of which you thought was common sense or have already gone over.
By the end of it, your teacher assigned some readings for tonight and you got up and left right after the bell before Jason decided to start another conversation. Selina lived close enough to be about a fifteen minute walk or an even shorter bus ride if you felt lazy, but you figured some fresh air would be fine today to ground you. Days spent indoors and only talking to Selina and cats didn’t do much to help your social battery, even if the most you’d done at school was one brief conversation.
You had to swing by your locker to put away the textbooks you didn’t need, thankful for relieving the weight of them from your arms. You closed and locked your locker, turning to finally head out the doors, when you heard a thud of a body hitting the ground somewhere behind you.
“You came back!” One laughed, voice grating, like a hyena’s. “You would think someone like you would have learned by now. What, you’re too good to go to that shithole Gotham High? Fuckin’ nerd.”
If you left now, you could easily walk away scotch-free. You wouldn’t put a target on your head and your life will continue to be easy. Turning around would only cause trouble. There was no reason to turn around.
You turned around.
The scene was clear in front of you: a boy was shoved to the ground (that skinny boy from math?) clutching his bag as he tried to scoot away from a pair of bullies who were slowly advancing. A small crowd of bystanders had paused and built around them, turning this situation into fucked-up entertainment.
You grumbled and pushed your way forwards, getting a better view.
“After all you did over the summer, too. Got me fired from my job, keyed my car…”
“I didn’t do any of that!” The boy on the ground protested. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was framed!”
“Were you?” The other laughed. “I had the police sent to my house. You had nothing to do with that, Danny?”
He was the boy from your math class—Daniel Lawrence. Or Danny, it seemed.
Danny shook his head vigorously. “Do you need money? I have money.”
“Maybe. Depending on how much you give me, I’ll decide how nice I’ll be.”
The boy scrabbled for his pocket, drawing his wallet out and opening it with shaky fingers. He looked into the crowd for help that wasn’t coming. The bullies loomed over him, grabbing his things and tossing them carelessly into the crowd the longer he took, pulling whimpers from Danny’s throat. His box of pencils opened, sending them flying down the hall. His water bottle broke, leaking on the vinyl floor. His binder was tossed in your direction, and by pure reflex, you caught it.
“Oh?”
Shit.
One of the bullies turned to look at you where you were still holding the binder. Your eye twitched when he started to approach you.
“What are you?” His grin widened into something ugly. “I’ve never seen a girl play high-and-mighty like this. What, you think picking up this idiot’s things is gonna paint you like a hero?”
You hastily tried to hand it back. “Nope. Just standing in the wrong spot.”
He didn’t want to hear any of your de-escalation tactics. Instead, he snatched the binder out of your hands and threw it at your feet, making papers fly everywhere. You kept your eyes on him.
“Mhm. Wrong spot. You don’t go here, do you? I don’t recognize you.”
“And I guess you’ve been to every school in the city?”
This only ticked him off. “Yeah. I have. Every single one in the damn city. They’re all scared of me.”
No wonder, you thought to yourself. Not a big surprise you got kicked out of all of them.
Things weren’t looking up for you, anyway. By the way you were being eyed, whoever this delinquent was was obviously itching for a fight. If you turned, he’d probably just follow you until he got one. It was also hard to tell who you were exactly sizing up, since the suit uniform hid his real build.
So, you did what you do best: your worst attempt at self-preservation.
“And, what? This was the only one that you could pay off to let you in?”
The boy barked a non-humorous laugh and reached up to grab your collar, shoving you through a crowd of people and slamming you against the locker. You hold his wrist, eyes blazing. He clearly doesn’t appreciate that you’re fighting back.
“Keep running that smart mouth. See where it gets you.”
“You’re all talk,” you spat. “Clearly you’re a fucking coward if all you got going for you is targeting helpless boys and me.”
Your breath hitched when you felt the press of something solid against your stomach. You risked a look down, heart picking up when you caught a glimpse of the silver blade he held against you. He was close enough to hide it from the crowd. Nobody but you and the bully knew what kind of danger was looming over you right now.
This fucking city.
You swallowed, but would rather die than submit. “Fuck you. Coward.”
Your mind flicked through plans but only produced fuzzy, stupid ideas since his proximity and the blade was sending your heart to run a marathon. There was nothing you could do but stand and glare and realize you hadn’t really thought about last words if the situation was getting stabbed at school.
You felt the pressure of the blade increase, and your panic skyrocketed, until a fist connected with the bully’s jaw and sent him stumbling away from your body. You smoothed down your jacket, resting a hand over your heart to try to calm yourself enough to see.
Jason’s body moved between yours and the attacker’s, taking up most of your vision as his eyes searched yours. His hips were resting on your hips, guiding you out of the attacker’s line of sight, before dropping his hands without lingering.
An arm from Knife Boy’s friend wrapped around Jason’s throat, but Jason slammed an elbow back into his ribs to double him over. Jason promptly grabbed him by the collar and threw him—physically threw him—further down the hall, where he scrabbled and disappeared like a frightened dog, but not without slipping on the spilled water first.
You realize under that crewneck, you also had no idea what Jason’s build looked like. By what you’ve just seen, you were a little scared to find out.
Knife Boy had dropped his knife when Jason punched him, which Jason picked up as he strode over to him. “Ain’t nice to hit ladies,” Jason drawled, the knife hanging like a silent threat in his hand. “Thought you knew better, Eddy.”
Around you, the crowd wasn’t even trying to hide how entertained they were. Now that the knife was revealed to be a factor, everyone was gasping in unison, some of them scrambling away while others seemed excited to see someone get stabbed.
Knife Boy—Eddy?—scrambled to his feet, lightly pressing around his tender jaw, and flicked his eyes between the knife and Jason to try to figure out the best course of action.
“Didn’t even hit her. She got in my damn way.”
“Way of what? Threatenin’ twenty bucks from Danny? You goddamn bum. Get lost.”
Eddy looked as if he wanted to lunge for the knife, but Jason’s knuckles clenched around it and he was smart enough to storm off instead.
You walked over to help Danny off the ground. Someone was picking up his pencils and his things gradually got returned.
“You’re okay?” You asked gruffly, crossing your arms as you helped him get up.
Danny nodded gratefully and turned away. You didn’t care to watch where he went.
Jason moved over to you, giving you a once-over. “He didn’t break skin?”
“Nope. I don’t think he would have on school property.”
“Hah,” Jason smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Edgar’s stupid as hell.”
You nod, and Jason tips his head at you. “Hey. What’s that on your face?” He gestured to the bandage on your cheek.
“Uh… slipped before school started. Scraped it on the sidewalk,” you lied. You weren’t keen on telling him about getting your ass beat on patrol, for more reasons than one. Instead, you turn on him, narrowing your eyes. “Nosy, ain’t you?”
His smile widened. “I prefer direct. Brevity is the soul of wit, no?”
You freeze.
Huh.
“Can’t have wit if you don’t have a brain,” you muttered, shaking your head slightly. “You shouldn’t have stepped in. I would have been fine, you know.”
“Weird way of saying thanks,” Jason murmured, fishing in his pocket before holding his phone out. “Tell you what—you can thank me proper by letting me get your number.”
You had no interest in being friends. You weren’t here for anything more than school. Your plan was to get a diploma, then get a nice quiet job where you could live with a cat or two and never need to worry about stupid people—especially stupid boys—ever again. This was pointless.
Is what you told yourself as you took his phone from his hands and typed in your number, then handed it back. Jason was all smiles as he sent you a message. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, feeling warm and heavy.
Down the hall, a cop was headed your way. Oh, now campus police were around? Jason made a face and patted his pockets, before pulling the stolen knife out his pocket to place in your palm and closing your fingers around it.. “Ohoh, shit. Best be off. You probably don’t wanna get caught with this.”
You gave him a look before turning down the hall, walking briskly and leaving Jason to deal with that.
Golden light streamed through your window as you laid on your bed, dressed in simple sleep clothes with Widget—that black-and-white cat that had taken an odd liking to you—curled up against your side. You scratched behind her ears, listening to the soft sound of her purr as you opened your phone to that message notification you’ve been stubbornly avoiding.
Jason: Hi :)
It had been a while since you had anyone to text besides Selina, and you realized you were a little rusty with it. You typed up various drafts—saying “hi” back sounded lame, ignoring him was unnecessary, and you didn’t really care to ask what he was doing right now. Eventually, you settled with:
You: What did the cop say?
He responded quickly.
Jason: Suspended :(
You: Seriously? It’s the first day.
Jason: Yeah, Bruce isn’t too happy. Was about to get expelled for possession of a weapon on school property or smth
Jason: Someone snitched, I guess cuz the camera’s didn’t catch it. But Danny vouched for me, told them that I didn’t have no weapon. Worth it lol
Selina’s voice rang out through the apartment before you could reply, calling you down for dinner. You sent him a boring thumbs up in reply, then with a loud, dramatic sigh, you swung yourself off your bed and padded down the stairs, pocketing your phone.
Selina crossed her arms after sliding a bowl of pasta your way.
“Hey, kit. What’s that look on your face about?”
“What?” You shoved some noodles into your mouth to avoid replying. Selina gave you a look, and you avoided her eyes.
“Was your first day fun?” She walked over to where you were, ruffling your hair gently. The feeling of her nails against your scalp was soothing.
“Mhm.”
“You like your teachers?”
“They’re okay. Someone pulled a knife on me today.”
Selina’s smile went tight-lipped, and her eyes darkened a little. “Do you want me to put you in a different school? There’s other options.”
You slowly shook your head. “No. It’s dealt with.”
Selina looked you up and down, gauging your sincerity, before letting her shoulders relax.
“Okay. But if you ever want to change something, let me know. You have to go to school but I’m not going to force you to be somewhere that’s unsafe.”
She left you alone to eat then, bringing her own bowl to the couch where she turned on the TV for background noise. Meanwhile at the table you swirled spaghetti around your fork, thinking about Jason. Thinking about the furrow of his brow when he made sure you were okay, and the gentle way he guided his body between you and the attacker’s.
And about the way his hands didn’t linger on your body—only touched to help you, nothing else.
You thought about how Jason’s contact sat in your phone, available for conversation whenever.
You thought about how for the first time in years, the thought of a boy didn’t make you feel sick.