Demetria's P.O.V.:
"Okay," Tim says. "So what you're telling me is that nothing interesting has happened in any of your classes?" He takes a bite of his tuna sandwich in which Alfred had taken the liberty of making. "And that's all. Nothing else? You guys didn't kill someone or anything?"
I take a bit of the chocolate-chip muffin that Tim had bought me from the serving area of the room. And might I say, it's not bad.
"A lot has happened," Damian says, taking a bite of the sandwich that Aldred had made us.
"Elaborate!" he complains. "I'm your older brother. I wanna know how your first day of school went!"
"Oh! I know, something interesting that happened! We got offered to participate in some art competition!" I exclaim with a smile. "We also learned all about the fundamentals behind the art! It was interesting!"
"Really?" Tim says, chuckling. "Looks like you had fun."
"And Dami and I have a project for our English class."
"What's it about?"
"Uh. Something about writing a story. We got pairs and Damian and I are working together on it."
"Okay. Anything else?"
"Dee had an argument with a teacher," Dami answers nonchalantly, taking another bite of his sandwich.
"A fight?" he asks, putting his sandwich down and staring at me wide-eyed. "Like a fistfight?"
"Tch. No. That was in Gym with the sorry excuses of homo sapiens," I correct, grabbing my sandwich from the bag that Alfred had stuffed into our bags, and retrieving the sandwich.
"You fought someone?!" he exclaims.
"Not me," I answer with a mouth full of tuna. I point to Damian who currently faces deep into his sandwich. "It was him."
"How did you get into the fight?!" he exclaims.
"I thought you wanted to know about the teacher argument first?" I ask him.
"I—Fine. Tell me about you arguing with some teacher."
"Well," I say. "It was actually multiple teachers, but not all of them are teachers."
"What do you mean that not all of them are teachers?" he asks, confusion written on his face.
"Shhh," I tell him. "We shall explain. What period was it that it had started, Dami?"
"Math class. The second period," he answers, taking a sip of water from his bottle.
"Second period?" Tim asks. "That early?"
"At least it wasn't first," Damian says, pointing out the positives.
"Sure. And then what happened in, second period, math?"
"Idiots don't know how to do simple math," I growl. "I just showed him how to properly do it, he kept denying my answer until I had to guide him step by step, like an infant."
"We told you that some of these teachers don't know what they're doing."
"Tch. We didn't believe that they would be this stupid," Damian comments.
"These people have a bigger ego than you, Damian," he says, pointing to him. "And they like to show it off."
"There isn't enough room in this world for multiple egotistical people," he says.
"Are you implying that you're going to kill them off one by one?" I ask him.
"Will you help me?"
"What do I get out of it?"
Damian shrugs his shoulders, not answering my question.
"Then I see no use in doing so," I say, going back to my sandwich.
"Tch."
"Okay," Tim says. "Anything else happened?"
"We had gym last period," I tell him.
"And then?"
"Apparently, there is such thing as 'gym attire'," Damian says, taking a bit of his muffin.
"And?" Tim asks, not following along.
"We didn't have that," I add.
"Then why didn't you guys call me or text me?" he says. "I have extra clothes in my bag."
"Tim. You're like three sizes bigger than us," I point out.
"True," he agrees, taking a bite of his sandwich. A mouth full of tune, he asks, "So, what did you guys do."
"The lady had forced us to participate shirtless," Damian deadpans.
Just then, out of nowhere, Tim begins to choke on his tuna sandwich. He begins to cough, hitting his chest, banging on the table, reaching for his bottle of water to help him.
Damian and I freeze in our spots, our sandwiches handing an inch away from our mouth. We watch in silence as Tim struggles to get the food and words out of his mouth.
Tim reaches for the bottle of water, and begins to chug it down, helping the food go down his throat with ease. He takes a deep breath, slamming the bottle of water down onto the table. "Thanks for the help guys," he hoarsely says, glaring at us.
"You're welcome," I say with a smile, resuming back to my sandwich.
"So, Ms. Ganala made you guys run around shirtless?" he asks, trying to compose himself.
"Who?" Damian asks.
"Ms. Ganala."
"Don't know who that is."
"The female gym teacher," he deadpans.
"The blond one?" I ask.
"There is no other female gym teacher."
"Tch. How are we supposed to know that?" Damian asks.
"Whatever," Tim says, rolling his eyes. "But she made you guys go shirtless and run around?"
"She tried," I say. "But we only went as far as going shirtless. Something wasn't sitting well with us when we left those locker rooms without shirts."
"It shouldn't have," Tim says. "Because that's not something that she's not supposed to do," he says with a little bit more anger in his voice.
"That's what she said when we confronted her about it and there was security behind her," Damian says. "She had called us liars and sent us to the principal's office."
"You two went to the principal's office on your first day?!" he exclaims. "We were joking when we were betting on you guys getting kicked out!"
"Tch. It's not like we wanted to go to the principal's office," Damian says, crossing his arms.
"So you guys were sent to the principal's office for being shirtless, which she had forced you two to do?" he concludes, rubbing his temples.
"Yes," we say.
"That and we may have also beaten up some kids in the process," I confess. "But it's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?!" Tim exclaims. "Not a big deal?!" Tim stares at us wide-eyed, unable to process the information. "Did you guys kill anyone?" he asks, leaning in across the table and whispering.
"Dee stopped me from doing so," Damian complains, leaning his head on the palm of his hand.
"Good," Tim says, nodding his head. "But why and who did you beat up?"
"Just three large spoiled buffoons who were picking on someone of lower status," Damian explains.
"Oh, that's why you were causing a fight? Because they were picking on someone smaller than them?" he asks, sighing in relief.
"No," Damian says. "That's just a small portion of why I did it."
"Then what made up the larger portion?"
Damian looks at Tim straight in the eyes. "I was protecting her," he says, crossing his arms.
I look between the two of them confused. I furrow my eyebrows, watching as Tim's expression changes from curiosity to shock and anger. "Is that some codeword that I don't know about?" I ask them. But they ignore me, filled with fury.
Tim's face contorts to anger. "Who were the bastards?" he growls, staring at Damian. "Who were the bastards sexualizing her?!"
"S-Sexualizing who?" I ask, full of confusion.
"Quiet Demetria," he commands.
My eyes widen in surprise and pure confusion. "Sexualize?" I whisper to myself.
"Some boys whose names I do not know," Damian says. "I believe that one of their names if Jay—"
"Hey, guys," an oddly familiar voice says.
All of our attention turns from our conversation, to behind us, finding the same three boys from the last period.
"I didn't know you guys had the same lunch period as us," the dark-haired boy says, taking a seat next to me. He sets his tray of food down, being followed by his goons. "Hope you guys don't mind if we sit here. I just had fun getting to know you guys that I already feel like we're the best of friends!"
"Hi, Tim!" Brewer exclaims, smiling and waving at Tim.
"Hello, Jayden," Tim responds with a small smile and nod.
"You know them?" Damian asks Tim.
"Yeah. Jayden Brewer, Darren Knight, and Aiden Scope," Tim says, introducing each of them. "They're all cousins whose fathers' have worked with ours."
"Yup," Knight says. "Pretty cool, right. It's like we're even closer," he says, sliding closer.
I turn to Tim and Damian in discomfort. Seeing this, Tim glares but quickly goes back to his innocent, friendly, character. "So, how did you meet my younger siblings?"
"We met them in gym class," Scope says, taking a bite of what seems to be spaghetti. It looks like spaghetti, but I've never seen spaghetti that comes in layers and is stacked in possibly three tiers.
"In gym class?" Tim asks. "Wow. We were just talking about their classes. How did the conversations occur?"
"Well," Knight says. "We saw them and decided to have a conversation with them. And we just hit off from there." He turns his head, looks down at me, and smiles. "Right, Dee?"
My eyes widen at the mention of the name. In response, I punch him in the gut in anger.
"Ah!" he yells, clenching his stomach. "What was that for?!"
"Don't call me that," I growl.
"Why not?" he grits out. "It's cute."
Before I could punch him one more time, I felt a hand go around my waist and pull me back. I feel myself being lifted, and before I had known it, Damian had switched seats with me.
"Away," Damian growls at Knight.
"Aw, come on, Damian," he complains, with a smile. "I'm just messing with her."
"You mess with her, you mess with me."
"Sorry, dude," he says, putting his hands up in defense. "But I don't swing that way."
"What?" Damian asks Tim.
Tim just stares at us and the three boys, analyzing the situation. "You guys met the twins during Gym?" he asks.
"Yeah," Scope says, taking a bite of his apple. "What of it?"
"What did you guys do in the class?"
"Just talk, we even played some sport together," Scope says.
"What happened to your nose, Darren?"
"My nose?" Knight asks, touching his nose. His eyes widen in realization, feeling the bandages on his nose. "Oh. We were playing basketball and I got hit in the face with the ball."
"Basketball," Tim repeats, cocking an eyebrow at the boy.
"Yeah," he says. "It was fun. We were laughing to the point where we began crying and everything. Built a whole friendship!"
"I believe you," he says, "Which is something I would say if I didn't know jack shit about my younger siblings."
"W-What?" Knight asks.
Tim glares at the three boys, his jaw clenching in anger. "I'm not stupid. They don't even know what the hell a basketball is, let alone how to play. That, and they're not stupid enough to play around with studs like you three."
"What the hell, Tim," Brewer complains. "Why such a sour mood. We're buds!" He slides his way around the table and over next to Tim, putting his arm around his shoulder. "The best of buds."
Tim turns his head to Brewer and glares, causing the younger boy to flinch back in fear. "You're the three who hit on my little sister in gym class. Aren't you?"
"Us?" Scope says. "Not us. I mean, I won't lie, Tim, you're sister's cute, but we would never hit on her without getting to know her first. And it wasn't us, we saw who did it."
"Really now?" Tim says, cocking his eyebrow. "Enlighten me. Who's the culprit?"
Brewer looks around, making sure that no one is listening. "It's that orphan kid. Ya know—Cobin Wiles," he whispers.
"It's Colin Wilkes, you half-brained twat," I correct.
"It's not like it matters," he says. "He's just a nobody who just happens to get into this school by luck. As if an orphan can get into this prestigious school, right Tim," he says, elbowing Tim playfully.
Tim looks down at the area that he had just been nudged and slowly raises his gaze towards Brewer, glaring at him. "Do you know who I am?"
"T-Tim W-Wayne?" he squeaks.
"Tim Drake-Wayne," he corrects. "An orphan."
"O-oh yeah," Brewer says. "You're one of Bruce's charity cases."
"Out," Tim growls.
"S-Sorry," Brewer squeaks, running across the table to get back to his friends.
"Sorry, Tim," Knight says. "Sometimes, Jayden here doesn't think."
"Neither do the rest of you," Tim says. "You're the three that sexualized my little sister. Probably provoked Damian into beating the crap out of the both of you."
"What nonsense are you talking about, Timothy?" Scope asks. "You know we would never do that. Real men don't just walk around, hitting on girls."
"Only 'real men' would go around saying that and do the total opposite. And I would know, my family is full of, used to be 'real men'."
"Either way, Tim," Knight says. "We would never do that to your little sister."
"Tch. You lying scoundrel," Damian says. "You called my mother a prostitute and had implied sexual activity with my younger sister!"
"I did not!" Knight argues.
Damian grips Knight by the collar in anger but is then stopped by Tim.
"Damian, don't," Tim says.
Damian scoffs, and releases Knight, scooching closer to me, keeping a distance between them.
"So," Tim says. "You claim that you didn't do anything to my sister?"
"We're telling the truth!" Scope insists. "Why don't you believe us?!"
"Because you guys fought with my younger brother," he points out.
"What makes you say that?" Knight asks.
"You tilted your head away in fear that Damian would punch you in the face," he says, "again."
His eyes widen but then go back to normal in realization, that he had lost. "So what," he says. "What are you gonna do about it, Charity Case?"
Tim stares at Knight with a blank expression.
"No one's going to believe you," Knight says. "Just because you got adopted by one of the richest men alive, doesn't mean that we're going to treat you like a king."
"And neither will we," Tim says.
"You don't even have evidence that we did any of that shit," he says. "So do us both a favor. Shut your mouth, or we'll make your life a living hell."
"Get in line, kid," Tim says. "As if a tail-riding brat like you could even make a dent in my life."
"Watch yourself, Wayne. We got a bunch of people on our side who can easily take you down."
"Cry me a river."
"Asshole," Knight says, walking away.
Behind him, the other two follow, but before leaving, Scope turns around and stares at me. "See you soon, babe!" he says, winking at me.
I stay seated staring at their disappearing figure, confused as to what 'babe' is. But seeing Tim's infuriated reaction, I can only assume that it's a city term that's not pleasant.
"I say we jump them," Damian growls.
"No need for violence," Tim says. "Not yet, at least."
"Then what the hell do you plan to do, Drake? Go to the principal and tell her all about the incident?! Guess what Drake?! It's not going to work! We had tried to explain to her that we were being forced to run around shirtless, along with the bullying incidents going around! She won't believe a word we say, without evidence."
"She will," Tim insists. "Because I have evidence. But I won't report it to her."
"You won't?" I ask. "Then who?"
"I'll tell you two after I gather all of the evidence. But for now, you two should get ready to get to your next class. I know I promised you two to show you the whole school, but we can do that another time. That whole thing that had just happened is going to make me strangle someone if I don't calm down."
"That's something I wouldn't mind seeing," Damian says. "Drake strangling someone rather than just standing on the sidelines? Sounds interesting."
"Shut-up, Damian," Tim says, rubbing the sides of his head. "What class do you two have next?"
"Music," we answer.
"Oh really? Me too."
Damian and I stare at him in confusion. "Are we not in different grades?" I ask him.
"We are," he says. "But there are multiple classes of the same subject, Demetria."
"Oh," I say. "I knew that."
"What's the class number?"
Damian reaches into his bag and pulls out the schedule. "310C. Isn't that the same building as where we had art?"
"Yeah," Tim says, taking a sip of his water. "The A building is for anything related to English and sports, B is for sciences and languages, C is for the arts, D is for mathematics and history."
"Why?" I ask.
"I don't know," Tim says, shrugging his shoulders. "It just is."
Just then, the bell rings, indicating the end of our sixth period.
"Alright," Tim says. "Let's get going." Tim gets up from his seat and grabs his garbage.
Damian and I do the same, grabbing our garbage and heading towards the exit. As we walk towards the exit, we pass by a trash can and throw our garbage in. Walking through the metal door, we can't help but feel and notice the looks we're getting. Different looks with different emotions emitting form each of them.
In response to these looks, Tim looks at each of them, waving, smiling, and nodding. Mostly smiling, but yes, greeting them. As he greets them and acknowledges them with simple gestures, the people around us begin to smile back, some even emitting high-pitch responses that can reach the frequencies made by dolphins.
"Tch. Drake," Damian says. "I don't know what you're doing, but make it stop. The human hearing ranges from 20 hertz to 20 kilohertz."
"And those high-pitched noises they're emitting are nearing or possibly exceeding those 20 kilohertz," I say, grimacing at the noises.
"I'm pretty sure they're making those noises because of your overall cuteness," he says, pinching my cheeks.
As he does this, the high-pitched screams become louder, along with a series of 'Aww's' and compliments of appearances.
"I'm pretty sure you're the cause of this Drake," Damian says, crossing his arms.
Tim releases my cheek and turns towards Damian. I take advantage of this time and begin to rub my cheek, trying to soothe it from the pain that he had just created. "You're lucky there's a crowd, Tim," I whisper in anger. "If there wasn't, you'd be in a body cast right now for that."
"Denying your cuteness, little bro?" Tim asks, ignoring my threat, and putting Damian in a headlock and ruffling his hair.
Series of 'aww's', squeals, and other noises that I cannot decipher amongst all of the noise, arises from the numerous students.
A few seconds later, Tim put his hand on Damian and I's back, guiding us through the halls to make our way to the C building. He bends down, reaching our height as we walk, whispering into our ears. "Whether you like it or not, you two need to be a little different here."
"We are different," I point out. "We don't know anything about the city life. So I'm pretty sure everything just goes over our heads."
"That's not what I meant," he says. "No 'I am a born-to-be assassin and will kill you with no hesitation' act her in school. Act like rich kids. Not too rich where you begin to lose brain cells, but rich enough to the point where they won't suspect a thing."
"So act like a whole different person?" I ask.
"You don't have to," he says. "Just don't give too much away that you guys are different."
"They already suspect that we're different, Drake," Damian says. "It would be suspicious if we had suddenly changed our attitudes."
"He's got a point, Tim," I say.
"Fine. Be a little less blunt than usual. Or don't. Just don't give too much away," he says. "And when we're in school, you refer to me as Tim, not Drake."
"That will not happen," Damian says.
"How about, only when necessary?"
"And that necessary will never happen," he says. "But yes, when necessary."
"Okay," Tim says, nodding his head.
We walk through the glass halls, making our way into the C building. Once in the building, we make our way to the third floor, searching for our room. "Here," Tim says. "310. That's your room, right?"
"Yeah," I answer. "Where's your room?"
Tim points to the class next to ours. 311. "Looks like we're neighbors."
"Great," Damian says, rolling his eyes.
"You two have fun, okay?" Tim asks.
"Will it be fun?" I ask.
"I think it's pretty fun. You get to test out different instruments and stuff."
"I'll take your word for it."
"If I end up wanting to jump out of the window, Drake," Damian says. "I'm gauging your eyes out in your sleep."
"Funny of you to assume I'm sleeping tonight," Tim says, making his way to his class. "Have fun."
We watch as Tim enters his classroom without hesitation.
Damian and I sigh, glancing at the door. "At least we'll know someone once we walk through that door," I say, trying to look on the positive side.
"Not really something I'm looking forward to," Damian replies.
I open the door and step into the class. The room is large, filled with instruments that I have never seen before. Black stands are scattered across the room along with chairs, lines up next to each other, creating rows. Each chair receives their own stand, everything sitting in the middle of the room. The yellowish-beige floor covers the whole area, strangely going well with the light blue walls. Along the sides of the room are cabinets and instruments of all sizes, just waiting to be played.
At the front of the class is a metal gray desk and a whiteboard with what seems to be lines and lowercase d's, upside-down lowercase b's, dots, and other shapes that I have never seen before.
We look around the room, finding Wilkes. He looks at us with a smile on his face, waving us over. Damian and I walk over to him without hesitation. All eyes are attached to us, following us as we make our way to Wilkes.
"Those are the twins."
"They're better looking in person."
"She's cute."
"Look at her brother though!"
"Okay, but the girl!"
"Go talk to them!"
"What are they doing with that orphan?"
"I heard that they're mother didn't want them and forced Bruce Wayne to take care of them."
"Really?! Where'd—"
"Sorry," Wilkes says, gaining our attention.
We take a seat next to Wilkes and look at him in confusion. "For what?" I ask him.
"They're making fun of you guys because you're hanging out with me."
"They're just jealous," Damian says.
"Anyone would be jealous of you guys," Wilkes says, his head going down. "At least, you guys have something that they can be jealous of."
I look at Wilkes, feeling sorry for him. "You know Wilkes," I say, trying to switch the mood. "Do you ever think about why they pick on you?"
"Because I'm poor and an orphan," he answers.
"That and you let them pick on you," Damian says.
I roll my eyes at Damian. "It's true that you let them pick on you, but you being poor and an orphan doesn't mean anything. People pick on others or belittle them because of three things," I say. "One. They're jealous of what you have, so they take any small mistake and make a big deal out of it. Two. They find it as a coping mechanism, to make up for their losses. And three. They don't understand you, so they pick on you to make you look and feel different from what you really are."
"Of course they don't understand me!" he argues. "Everyone here had a family and money!"
"Pretty sure that not everyone here does," I point out. "It just so happens to be the majority. It's not possible for there to only be one of you in this huge school."
"Great," Wilkes says. "I now know all of that, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm the easiest target."
"Then don't become an easy target," Damian bluntly advises.
"That's not helpful, Damian," he says.
"I mean, he's not wrong," I tell him.
"And how do I not become an easy target?"
"No one seems to be bothering you here," I point out. "Maybe it's because these people are nicer-ish. You can hide behind the nicer people's backs."
"No one would be willing to do that. And that they're only nice now because they haven't arrived yet," he mutters.
"Who hasn't arrived?" Damian and I ask.
"Hey, babe!"
——————————
QOD: What is one show/anime/movie series/etc. that you've binged with little to no break?
Naruto. Watched Naruto and Naruto Shippuden non-stop for possibly 12 hours straight each day. I think I finished all 500+ episodes in like 3-4 months. And once I finished that shit, I went straight to the movies that we're available on Netflix.