School Time

855 29 1
                                    

When he entered Fawcett Elementary the next day Bruce was well aware that he got more than a few stares.  He ignored them, however, and doled out a few smiles as he looked for Billy’s classroom.  It was easy enough to find and he entered after knocking on the door.  Billy was slouched over in the front row, scowling at a piece of paper on his desk.

“Can I help you?” the teacher looked bored and glared at Billy when he looked up.

Bruce disliked him instantly but still smiled as he said, “I’m Bruce, Billy’s foster father.  I was told you wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah, yes,” the teacher smiled.  “I’m Gerald Crane and I teach English.  Your…son is having a lot of trouble paying attention in class and his homework is rarely done.  Plus there’s the matter of his unpaid lunches.”

“I’ve got some of the money,” Billy protested, one hand going to his pocket where Bruce was certain, he had a wad of crumpled dollar bills and change.

“I’ll take care of his lunches for the year,” Bruce promised.  “How about we discuss his schoolwork first?”

Mr. Crane looked slightly mollified as he said, “Of course.  Honestly, I’m not sure how he managed to get into this grade but if he doesn’t show some major improvement he will fail this class and be held back a year and I for one don’t want to be stuck with him again.”

Bruce bit his tongue and forced himself not to snap at the teacher although the dejected look on Billy’s face nearly sealed the teacher’s fate.  “Are you sure that it’s not your teaching method?”

Mr. Crane gaped at him, outrage on his face.  “How dare you!  I am a first-rate teacher, thank you very much.  It’s not my fault your foster son is stupid.”

Bruce had heard more than enough and stalked over to the teacher’s desk.  “The person who is stupid is you,” he growled.  “Any idiot can tell you that he needs to be tested for autism and moved to a special needs class.  I’ll stop by the office and pay for his lunches but we’re leaving now.  Come on, Billy.”

Mr. Crane could only watch in disbelief as Billy gathered his things and the two left.  “Well I never,” he sniffed then went back to grading tests.

After a quick stop to pay for Billy’s lunches Bruce guided Billy to his shiny black Lexus.  Once they were both situated Bruce turned to Billy and was about to ask him if he wanted a snack but the words died on his lips when he realized that Billy was on the verge of a panic attack.  He was pale and hyperventilating, one hand clutching at his chest as he struggled to breathe.

“Hey, Billy, it’s ok,” while Bruce wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Billy he knew that it would only make things worse.  “Calm down.  Deep breaths, Billy, deep breaths.”

Billy nodded to show that he understood and tried, albeit unsuccessfully.  “I – I can’t,” he gasped.

Bruce sighed heavily.  He only had a few options, none of which he liked.  “Billy, if you don’t calm down soon you’re going to pass out.  I’m going to give you a mild relaxing agent, okay?  It’ll help you calm down.”

Billy looked like he wanted to argue but instead he nodded.  Bruce reached out with his left hand and activated the mini needle hidden in his sapphire ring.  Almost instantly Billy’s breathing even out and his tears slowed.  Bruce sighed in relief and started the car.

“It’s okay, Billy, you’ll feel better soon,” Bruce promised.  “How about we get ice cream and then I’ll look at your English?” he suggested.

Billy didn’t say anything but gave him a weak thumbs up.  The nearest ice cream shop was only a fifteen minute drive from the school.  Bruce practically carried Billy inside, dropping his schoolbooks into a booth then escorted the boy to the counter.

“You can get whatever you want,” Bruce said.  “I think I’m going to get a hot fudge sundae.  What about you?”

Billy frowned at the menu then hesitantly asked, “Can I get a butterscotch one?”

“Of course,” Bruce smiled.  “Why don’t you get seated and I’ll place our orders.”

“Okay,” Billy nodded then headed to the booth.  By the time Bruce sat down Billy had his English book open and was already scowling at it.

“So what’re you having trouble with?” Bruce slid into the seat next to Billy.

“Everything,” Billy sighed.  “I just don’t understand what he’s explaining and it’s not just him – it’s a lot of the teachers.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bruce said gently.  “Children with autism usually have more trouble in school.  Honestly, the fact that you’ve made it so far in school is very impressive.”

“You mean it?” Billy’s cheeks were red as he peered up at Bruce.

“Of course.  You’re a very impressive kid – you’ve managed to be a superhero and go to school at the same time while making friends with Klarion.  It couldn’t have been easy.”

Billy’s eyes watered and he smiled tremulously.  “That means a lot to me, thanks.”

“Not a problem.  Would you be willing to go and be tested for autism?”

Billy frowned.  “What kind of test?” his tone was suspicious again.

Bruce chuckled.  “It doesn’t involve needles, Billy.  You would just talk to a psychiatrist.  Clark and I could go with you if you wanted.  You don’t have to make up your mind right now but think about it.  You would be able to go to a different class, one more suited to your needs or even a different school if you wanted.”

“I’ll think about,” Billy promised just as their sundaes arrived.  “But only after I eat.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bruce said as the two of them dug in with gusto.

The Marvelous Adventures of the Superbat FamilyWhere stories live. Discover now