Gotham High 1

Morning, the sun was just starting to shine on Wayne manor, its rays barely lighting up a messy room filled with crumpled papers of schematics and calculations, clothes thrown all over the place including the bed where a young man with dark hair was sleeping. The door opened and an elderly man dressed in a neat suit walked in with a tray. He took one look at the room and frowned then walked over to the table and placed the tray on an empty corner then went to the window and threw the curtains open, waking up the teenager in an instant who groaned and turned his back on the sun.

“Rise and shine, young master,” the old man said going back to get the tray.

“The sun is rising and shining enough for the both of us,” the boy moaned.

“Come, come now, Master Bruce. You can’t be late for your first day of high school now can you?”

“Oh right… that was today…” Bruce said sitting up.

“Yes, it was indeed today the day we discussed you would return to public school,” the man said placing the tray in front of him then crossed his arms over his chest. “And what else did we discuss?”

“Um… stop staying up late with Lucius?” Bruce answered starting on his breakfast.

“Granted we did discuss that, although I’m starting to think that is a lost cause. But I was referring to something else.”

“Stop experimenting in the living room?”

“We agreed that as long as I do not clean your room and throw out what you claim may be important papers, despite them being crumpled, that you would clean your room yourself,” the butler said accusingly.

“Oh… right,” Bruce said with a mouthful of toast, looking at the mess in his room.

Fifteen minutes later he was downstairs, dressed in a grey shirt, black pants with white sneakers, his schoolbag on his left shoulder.

“I’m ready to go Alfred!” he called.

“I’m afraid I won’t be taking you to school today, Master Bruce. But your ride has just arrived.”

“Oh, thanks Alfred, see you after school!”

“Master Bruce!” Alfred called after him. “Your lunch, sir,” he said handing him a brown paper bag at which Bruce looked amused. “You wouldn’t want to stand out, would you?”

“I’m a teenage millionaire, Alfred, there’s no way I won’t stand out.”

Outside, Bruce saw a familiar police car parked right in front of the house. Standing next to it was a man with grey hair and eye glasses wearing a brown suit and light brown overcoat, a detective badge sat on his belt. A teenage girl stood beside him, dressed in a pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt, her brown hair worn in a pony tail, was staring at him from her own pair of eye-glasses, smiling.

“Alfred finally managed to get you out of bed?” the man said smiling.

“I had a late night, detective Gordon.”

“Now, Bruce, you don’t have to be so formal with me when we’re at your place.”

“Sorry, uncle James. Hey, Barbara.”

“Hi, Bruce,” the girl answered smiling then got in the car.

Thirty minutes and six shortcuts later, the car stopped in front of Gotham High. Bruce was the first to step out and held the door open for Barbara.

“You two have fun today and, Bruce, try not to go overboard on your first day,” the detective instructed them.

“You got it, Uncle James.”

“See you later, dad.”

After the detective drove off, the two teens turned to see the entire school yard was staring at them. They had only arrived and yet they had the attention of the whole schoolyard.

“Don’t worry, it’s just that it was a police car that they’re looking,” Barbara assured him as they walked inside.

“Are you sure?”

But as they made their way through the yard, fewer and fewer looks followed them until, eventually, all turned away. Few people seemed to notice them going down the hallways as well. Though it was a new face, it did not stir a lot stir a lot of interest, to Bruce’s relief.

“I told you, Bruce, you’ve got nothing to worry…”

“Bruce?!” someone yelled and a skinny teenage boy with long, dark hair rushed his way. “It is you, I don’t believe it!”

“Do I know… wait… Jay-Jay?” Bruce said sceptically.

“My ol’ buddy’s back in town!” the new boy said punching him in the arm.

“Keep it down, will you, Kerr?” a blonde boy said sternly. “You’re disturbing the peace again.”

“Oh, go write a speech, Harv,” Jay retorted and put an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Now that my ol’ pal Brucey’s back, this high school is going to enter a whole new era.”

“Bruce? As in Bruce Wayne?” the blonde boy repeated and heads within earshot turned their way.

“Welcome to Gotham High, Bruce,” the other boy said and ceremoniously extended a hand.

“Uh… thanks,” Bruce said taking his hand with a hint of reluctance.

After that ‘announcement’ the whole school started buzzing about the new arrival to the school so, by lunchtime, almost everyone’s eyes were on him when he entered the cafeteria.

‘Just what I needed…’ he said to himself and bumped into a portly young man whose head barely reached his waist. But what was odd about him was not his stature or pointy nose but the three fingered hand he extended.

“Oswald Coblepot,” he introduced himself. “Call me Ozzy.”

“Hi,” Bruce said shaking his hand, doing his best to act natural. “I’m Bruce…”

“Wayne, yes, I know. Everyone knows actually. My condolences.”

“Thanks, I…”

“Allow me to introduce you to someone,” Ozzy continued pulling him away to a table where four other boys were sitting. “Meet, Edward Nygma,” he continued gesturing at a frail looking boy with red hair and eye-glasses.

“Pleased to meet you,” the boy said but was apparently too busy reading his book to do anything but glance at him.

“Matt Hagen,” Ozzy added and a boy with dreadlocks and what looked like dried blotches of clay on his hands nodded. “Johnny Crane,” was a boy with spiky brown hair, a noose loosely tied around his neck, “And Victor Fries,” he indicated at a bald boy who was also reading a heavy book on human anatomy.

“Nice to meet you all,” Bruce said sitting down.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I think we should…”

Ozzy’s sentence was cut short when two boys walked up behind Bruce, one of them pushing the portly boy out of the way so hard he knocked him down. The two boys were taller than Bruce by a few inches and quite bulky for their age. While one of them had a football jersey with the number ten on it, the other had a hat on that was a little torn up.

“So, you’re the new big-shot, eh?” the football player stated.

“And you are?” Bruce asked calmly.

“We’re the ones you should be sitting with, not with the Freak Show,” the boy answered grinning at the others sitting at the table.

“Thanks, but I’m fine right here…”

“Not for long you won’t be. These losers will…”

Before he could finish his idea, a cream puff collided with the side of his head and the whole room started laughing. Bruce turned and saw that it was none other than his old friend who had thrown it. Fact proven when he threw a second one, aimed at the other boy who managed to duck just in time.

“Catch me if you can, raging bulls! Ha, ha, ha!” Jay yelled and ran off with the two large boys on his tail.

Bruce was about to stand and go after him but Ozzy stopped him.

“Don’t worry about that clown, he has an elevated ability to avoid capture when threatened by the self-appointed kings of the high-school.”