One Week Ago
The phone rang in Wayne Manor; Alfred answered it.
"Principal Reynolds from Excelsior for you, sir," he said to Bruce, who was face-down on the floor doing pushups.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Put him on speakerphone."
Alfred pushed the speakerphone key. "Sir?" Bruce said, "what can I do for you?"
"Mister Wayne," Principal Reynolds said, "I regret to inform you that one of your class credits has fallen through. Apparently your freshman-year American history credit was never completed."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Sir, I can guarantee you that I completed that course in its entirety. Whatever records you're looking at must be incorrect."
"That may be the case, but unfortunately we have no record to confirm that you ever completed the course at all, regardless of grade. The school board has ruled that if you are to maintain an official diploma from the Academy, you must complete this course."
"...The school board made a decision on how to handle a clerical error affecting a single student? I mean no disrespect, but isn't that your job?"
"...Ordinarily, yes. But I do answer to them, and they insisted on making this decision themselves."
"Why?"
"The board has their reasons. They also asked me to inform you that, due to the long-standing relationship between the Wayne family and Excelsior, they are considering allowing you the option to gain back the credit for that course by taking the three required tests for the class rather than going through an entire semester again."
"That's... generous of them."
"They also wish to thank you in advance for continuing the Wayne family's annual donation to Excelsior."
"Of course they did."
"Lastly, school policy dictates that you must actually attend class on school grounds until you have successfully passed all three exams."
"...What."
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Mister Wayne—"
"This goes beyond inconvenience; I live halfway across the country now. You want me to move back for a week and sit in a classroom just because of policy?"
"It's out of my hands; the board has made their decision. They expect you here on Monday."
"...Fine."
Bruce clicked the end call button and resisted the urge to break the phone in half. He'd spent months learning acrobatics, martial arts, and criminology; he'd spent an entire year learning from the monks in Nanda Parbat—which in normal time only seemed to be a few days—and now he was being forced to go back to high school for a week.
"Sir," Alfred said, "you cancelled the Wayne family's annual donation to the Academy several months ago."
"Yes."
"Did you at all leave the impression that the donations would ever resume?"
"Not in the slightest, and they know it. They're extorting me."
Bruce stopped in the hall to open his locker. He'd only just realized that he'd never actually cleaned it out before he left last year, and apparently they hadn't reassigned it yet.
"I'd be careful with that if I were you."
Bruce looked to his left. A slim redhead stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with a slight mischievous grin on her face. Veronica Vreeland was one of the popular girls in school, complete with her own entourage—who Bruce saw giggling as they watched from further down the hall. Fortunately, Veronica was also reasonably smart. Bruce didn't hate her.
"Veronica," Bruce said. "Why, exactly?"
Bruce opened the locker. A torrent of pink and red paper poured onto the floor.
"Well, Bruce," Veronica said, mockingly imitating Bruce's serious tone, "because Valentine's Day was two months ago and all the idiot girls who didn't know you'd left put a note in your locker."
Bruce picked up one of the notes. "This one says 'Veronica Vreeland.'"
Veronica smirked and shrugged. "Hey, it couldn't hurt, right? I think most of the girls here consider it a good luck ritual or something. Like tossing a penny into a fountain and making a wish."
Bruce sorted through the pile. "Some of these envelopes are thick; what did they put in there?"
"Yeah, you may not want to open some of those in public. Especially mine."
Veronica slowly winked and sauntered off.
Bruce felt himself blush a little, and hurriedly stuck his face behind his locker door as if looking for something. His heart was pounding slightly; what was wrong with him?
After taking a few seconds to recompose himself, he scooped up the letters as best he could, stuffed them back in the locker, then shut it and walked toward his classroom.
As much as Bruce didn't want to admit it to himself, there was a part of him that wanted to flirt back with Veronica. For as much mental and physical training as Bruce had been through, he was still human. Lois had filled that void for a time last year, but he'd taken her for granted, shut her out, and then lost her completely last December. The monks at Nanda Parbat taught Bruce the path of removing desire from one's life, replacing it with pure focus, yet Bruce still felt unable to completely be at peace. He wanted to think he was above all the hormone-driven idiots in the school, but what if he wasn't?
Bruce shook the idea from his mind as he sat down at his desk. All he needed to do was make it through the week and he'd be back to work on his mission, where he could distract himself from anything and everything. One week shouldn't be too much of a problem, Bruce thought to himself.
Selina Kyle stepped into the room and took her seat.
