Chapter 12 - Dates
I stared at the pieces of medal, at the thing that would be a motorcycle for me.
"I'm getting a motorcycle!" I yelled. "A motorcycle - oh, Bruce."
I ran towards him and threw my arms around him in a hug. He looked surprised for a second, and then he smiled and tousled my hair.
"A motorcycle!" I kept yelling. "A real one, just for me. Oh, yay, yay!" I began dancing around the raw medal frame in total joy, so ecstatic that I would be getting a motorcycle.
Bruce didn't say anything - he just grinned at me.
"What's all this noise?" Alfred came down the stairs, concerned.
"I'm getting a motorcycle!" I shouted. "He's building me one with wheels and everything. My very own motorcycle - ha-ha!"
I did a cartwheel and then two back-handsprings, too excited to keep still.
"What did you do?" furious, Alfred turned on Bruce. "I said talk to him. I said listen to what he has to say. I did not tell you to build him a motorcycle."
"Oh, come on," Bruce looked a little shamefaced. "Look how happy he is."
"A motorcycle!" I jumped up and did a flip in mid-air.
"He's thirteen - he'll break his neck," Alfred crossed his arms, glaring at Bruce. I guess I should have felt bad that Alfred was upset, but I was too psyched to really care about anything else at the moment.
"I'm going to have it controlled from the Batmobile," Bruce protested. "I won't let him go too fast and if it gets dangerous, I have a kill switch to stop him."
"A motorcycle for a child! I've never seen such hyperactive, excitable, emotional, irresponsible, bipolar behavior -"
"Hey, Dick's not bipolar," Bruce objected.
"I wasn't talking about Dick," Alfred retorted.
"I'm not bipolar either," Bruce crossed his arms, mirroring Alfred's stance. "Yeah, I can get a little dark and brooding at times, but that's the way I operate. You were the one who told me I had to ease up on him."
"I meant don't yell at him so much and try to be a more loving father. I never suggested that you should build him a deathtrap."
"My own motorcycle," I cheered again. "Thank you, Bruce, thank you so much." I hugged him again, squeezing his tall body as hard as I could.
"You're welcome," Bruce put his hand on my shoulder. "See? He loves me now."
"I give up," Alfred put his hands up in the air. "No one listens to word I say anymore. You take Master Grayson out on that contraption all you like. You're responsible for his safety. But I warn you, when he breaks his arm or leg or neck, you and I are going to have a very serious talk." Alfred looked right at Bruce.
"Okay, calm down, Dick," Bruce told me as I started hopping up and down again. "I know you're excited, and that's great, but we're going to have rules about the motorcycle."
I wanted to get jumping around, but I forced myself to stand still and listen.
"One," Bruce held up a finger, "you never take this out without my permission. Two," another finger, "you have to use it responsibly. If I see you trying wheelies or jumping off rooftops –"
Alfred sucked in a tight, worried breath.
" - the bike gets put up," Bruce continued. "Two," a second finger, "your grades have to stay up. No more C's or D's. I want A's from you from here on out. I'll let high B's slide, but with any low B's, you're on probation, and if it ever dips into a C, the bike gets locked down here until the grade goes back up."
I nodded. "Yes, I'll study, I promise."
Bruce looked skeptically, but he held up a third finger. "Three, you've got to have a better attitude. I want you nice and polite. No more running off, throwing food at guests, mocking villains, doubting Alfred or me, complaining, whining, or backtalk."
That was a long list, but I kept nodding.
"It's going to take me a while to finish the bike," Bruce continued. "I'll work on it during the evenings after I get home from work and before we go patrolling. But I'm only working on it if I get a good report from Alfred that you came home from school, did your homework, and didn't give him any trouble."
Any other time, I would have gotten angry at him talking to me like I was a child, but I was so happy to be getting my very own motorcycle I think I would have agreed to anything he told me. Hell, if he had said I had to go kiss Selina Kyle, I would have agreed right then and there.
"Yeah, Bruce, whatever you want," I replied. "I'll be the best sidekick ever, I promise, and I'll be the best son, too."
A look came over Bruce's face, something that I had not seen before, and he seemed to be having trouble saying anything.
"There's no arguing after you told him that," Alfred sighed. "All right, young sir, let's go upstairs and take care of that homework and leave this delusional man to work on his new project which will leave you maimed or missing a leg."
Alfred kept talking about all the horrible things that would happen to me on the motorcycle, but I went along with him to the elevator. As we got in, I heard the rock music start again, loud and heavy, and I could not help grinning.
The next day was Monday, and I was very good at school. I paid attention in class, did not fight with Pamela, sat beside Barbara at lunch (she kept talking about costume ideas for the Halloween party and I nodded along), and was all ready to be picked up at 3:15 on the curb outside the school.
I stood there, looking down the street for the car, when Mr. Horton came out of the school, calling,
"Mr. Grayson – Mr. Grayson, you forgot your coat."
I looked back and groaned inside as I saw him waving that horrid blue coat I hate. I had left it at school when I ran out and got kidnapped by the Joker. I was sure I had lost it for good and planned on not ever telling Bruce, but my fink of English teacher found it somehow.
"It's not mine," I called back as he came down the steps.
"It has your name on it."
Dang that Alfred, always sewing R. Grayson into the labels of my stuff. I wasn't a five-year-old who loses his stuff accidentally – I had lost that coat on purpose.
"I don't want it," I said as Mr. Horton offered it to me.
"What? Nonsense, it's your coat and a very nice one at that. Take it."
I wanted to refuse, but I saw our Roles-Royce coming up, and I knew I had to take the coat.
"Thank you," I muttered.
When I got into the car, I was surprised to see Bruce driving and not Alfred.
"Can we go home and get to work?" I asked eagerly. "I can start my homework in the car."
"No, we're going to the dentist," Bruce replied.
I sighed, but I clicked my seatbelt shut.
"You found your coat," Bruce commented as he pulled back into traffic.
"Yeah, Mr. Horton made me take it home. You know, Barbara says I look really dumb in this coat. I don't want to wear it anymore . . ." I trailed off, hoping he wouldn't think I was having a bad attitude.
"It's an expensive coat," Bruce insisted. "Come on, Dick, you don't care that much about what other people think, right?"
I looked up at him, and then he sighed.
"You're not supposed to cave to peer pressure," he said, though he did not sound convinced.
"Really? Just like that?"
"Yeah, it's not easy," Bruce admitted as he kept driving. "But the coat's not that bad. You should have seen some of the stuff that Alfred dressed me in when I was little."
Bruce looked so disgruntled I snickered.
"Like suits and stuff?"
"No, like English schoolboy uniforms and those short gray shorts that barely reach your knees and a little cap, too. I was in fifth grade and I refused."
"Yeah?" I asked, hoping he would keep talking. I loved hearing about Bruce as a kid, probably because it was hard to imagine him as ever being real small.
"Oh, yeah, when he told me I had to wear it the next morning to school, I refused. And then he said I was grounded until I learned to respect him. It was so unfair – I went into the dining room and broke a dish I was so mad."
"He told me about that," I realized. "But he didn't say it was because he picked out dumb clothes for you."
"Well, they were dumb, but that blue coat is perfectly fine," Bruce insisted.
I glanced over the awful thing on my lap. "If I wear it two more times, will that be enough?"
"Fine," he frowned, "but no begging for new clothes."
"When do I ever beg for new clothes?"
You're right – all you want are electronics and a motorcycle."
"And a better Robin suit," I added.
"That's coming, too," Bruce promised.
We made it to the dentist, and we went up to the office, this snazzy place on the twentieth floor with a big waiting room and a huge aquarium that had tons of colorful fish. When I was little, I used to like to stand in front of the aquarium and tap on the glass to scare the fish until Bruce would demand that I come sit beside him and read Highlights.
When I was a kid, whenever he would take me to the doctor's or dentist's office, he would find that stupid Highlights magazine and flip to the page where you have to find objects in the black and white drawing. We would try to see who could find the objects first, and I usually found most of them though I know he was letting me win. That was fine when I was little, but I wasn't going to be caught reading Highlights now.
I reach for an edition of Sports Illustrated that had a woman in a red bikini on the front.
"Not going to happen," Bruce took the magazine out of my hand. "Find something more appropriate."
"Didn't you date a model from Sport Illustrated once?"
"Yeah, but I was old enough to. You can read this magazine when you're twenty."
That wasn't fair, but before I could protest, they called us back to the rooms.
Okay, let me say once and forever, the dentist office? Not fun. Really scary, a lot of torture instruments, and creepy sounds. I had to get a cavity filled when I was nine, and they gave me a shot in my mouth and it hurt and I cried and Bruce had to come over and hold my hand, which was just embarrassing. When my mouth got numb, I tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let go and kept saying things like "It's okay, buddy, I'm not going anywhere. You're a brave boy, you know that."
Man, Bruce is either stone-cold or so mushy I can't stand him.
But this time I was going to be cool about everything so I got into the dentist chair and looked very casual as they lowered me back and put that stupid paper bib around my neck. The dentist was in Bruce's room across the hall, and I snickered at the thought of Bruce having to wear the bib, too.
The cleaning went pretty quickly though I got tired of keeping my mouth open wide and having the salt stuff sprayed all over my face. They made me swish with the nasty fluoride at the end, but then I got to put the sucky thing in my mouth and have it suck the gross stuff up. I was running the suction tip over my tongue when Bruce walked in.
"Are you done?" I asked around the plastic nozzle.
"Yeah, no cavities," he smiled, showing me his white teeth. "What about you?"
"Well," the dentist came in, looking all serious, "he has two cavities."
Bruce glared down at me.
I thought about shaking my head in denial, but I'm not really sure what cavities are, so I kept sucking out my mouth and stayed quiet.
"Are you brushing?" Bruce demanded.
"Most days," I mumbled.
"Every morning and night," Bruce snapped. "That's the rule, and flossing every night."
"He's going to need braces soon," the dentist added.
"No, no braces," Bruce said. "Straighten his teeth with a retainer."
"That will take longer."
"Fine, but no braces."
I wanted to hug Bruce – I would hate having dumb braces.
"But you can fill the cavities today," Bruce added.
"Just a second," the dentist promised. "Ashley, can you numb him up?"
The hygienist nodded and then the needle came out as she set the tray on the swinging arm attached to my chair. Bruce looked concern and stepped towards me as Ashley went to the cabinets to get more supplies.
"Hold my hand and die," I hissed at Bruce.
His lips twitched into a smile, and he went to sit the seat in the corner.
The shot hurt in my mouth, and she had to do it on both sides because I had cavities on both sides, or so she said. My eyes watered when the needle went in each time, but I glared at Bruce across the room, warning him not to move an inch from his chair. He took the hint and pretended to study the painting on the wall. The painting was of a clown with balloons which I thought was bad to have in Gotham City with the Joker and his clowns running around, but maybe some kids like to look at it.
"Are you all right?" Bruce asked when the hygienist left me for a while so I could get good and numb.
"I'm fine. You don't have to stay back here."
Bruce did not move from his chair. I thought about the motorcycle frame in the Batcave and then I added, "Thanks for the no braces. I hate them."
"Too dangerous," Bruce said, keeping his voice low. "If you got hit in the mouth, metal braces would tear your lips up. You can take a retainer out when you're on patrol."
I nodded.
An hour later, we were back in the car and I had two fillings and could not feel any of my numb mouth. It's kind of a creepy feeling, reaching up to touch your own lips and not being able to feel your fingers with your mouth. I thought about being stoic about it, but then I decided to milk my pain for all it was worth.
I sniffed.
Bruce glanced at me, concerned. "What's wrong?"
"I hate feeling numb," I mumbled, my voice all garbled because I couldn't move my mouth much.
"It'll wear off in a few hours."
"It makes me feel all dizzy," I leaned back against the headrest. "Can I come down to the Cave to watch you work? I could do my homework down there."
"Sure, that would be fine," Bruce nodded.
I probably could have pushed back homework until late that night, but I didn't want to test my luck.
It took Bruce two weeks to finish the motorcycle, and those had to be the longest two weeks of my life. I have never been so angelical good as I was then, and I actually did pull my grades up some.
I loved watched the bike taking shape, and once Bruce added wheels, I got to sit on it and hold the handle bars. He was fitting the bike to my body, allowing a little room in case I grew a lot in the next few years.
"But," he shrugged as he fit the leather grips on the handles, "once you turn sixteen, I'm going to design you a car to drive."
I nearly knocked all the equipment off the table in my excitement.
By the Thursday before Halloween, Bruce put the finishing touches on the motorcycle, and we just had to wait for it to dry.
"Can I ride it tomorrow?" I asked as I helped him clean up the paint and tools.
He hesitated. "Uh, not tomorrow."
"It wouldn't be dry by then?"
"No, I'm going out to dinner tomorrow."
I straightened to look at him. "With me?"
"No, with a – a girl."
"Like a date?"
"Yeah, a date," Bruce seemed in a big hurry to put away all the stuff.
"Vicki Vale?" I asked, remembering the pretty blond that Bruce sometimes saw.
"No, um – Selina Kyle."
"What?" I yelled. "That slut?"
"Richard!"
"After what she said to me, you're going to see her again?" I protested.
"Selina's not good with children," Bruce began.
"I'm not a child – I'm a teenager," I interrupted.
"Then she's not good with teenagers."
"She's only good at one thing," I said snidely.
"Richard Grayson, do you want me to put this bike up permanently?"
"No, but I don't like her. She's mean and spiteful and hates me."
"That's why we're going out," Bruce sighed. "It's just for dinner and you can hang out here with Alfred and get pizza and a movie or something. And then Saturday, I'll teach you to drive the bike, okay?"
I couldn't argue with him because I knew he would put the bike up and I wanted to learn to ride it, so I did not say anything. But it was not fair for Bruce to get to go out and leave me at home. I only get to see him in the evenings and at night he's Batman, and I wanted to spend Friday night with him watching a movie.
Or if he went out and Alfred also went out, that would be fine because I would get to stay by myself. It would be super cool then because I could eat all the ice cream I wanted and watch PG-13 movies without having Bruce fast-forward through the bad parts and I could roller-skate inside because Alfred would not be there to tell me that it would scratch the wooden floors. But they both thought I wasn't old enough to stay by myself at the Manor, though I knew Barbara Gordon stayed by herself when the Commissioner went to work.
So I decided to make my own plans for Friday night.
When I got home from school the next day, I didn't say anything. Bruce got home by six and said hey and went upstairs to change into some nice suit.
Around seven-thirty, I was in the living room, finally getting to watch TV after weeks of being grounded, but I turned down the volume so I could hear him talking to Alfred.
"All right, we'll be at the Chamberlé," Bruce said. "I have my cellphone and my suit in case there's trouble. I should be back around midnight. In case I'm later than that, make Dick go to bed at eleven."
"Of course, sir."
I rolled my eyes. So Bruce wanted to have sex with Selina tonight – big surprise there. It wasn't the first time I had to go to bed before Bruce got home from a date, and a lot of times he wasn't there in the morning and Alfred said he had gone into the office before I woke up. Yeah right – I knew Bruce spent the night at whoever-he-was-dating's house. I don't know why he and Alfred want to keep it a big secret – Bruce has to pretend to be a playboy so people don't get suspicious that he's Batman, but he's not fooling anyone here at Wayne Manor.
I watched him drive off in the Ferrari and then I turned up the TV and put my written note down in the den, where Alfred would see it when he came to look for me later. Then I crept upstairs to get my stuff. I had a glass piggy bank that Bruce made me put some of my allowance to "save for the future." Screw the future – I'll make more money then.
I broke the piggy bank and grabbed a few of the five dollar bills and some coins to stick in my pocket. It was pretty cold out there, and I looked for a coat. Just my luck, none of my coats were upstairs in my room save for the – you guessed it – stupid blue coat. Snarling, I pulled it on and buttoned the awful brass buttons. I could not risk getting my coat out of the downstairs coat closet for fear that Alfred would hear me.
I wanted to ride my new motorcycle into Gotham. I wanted to ride it so bad, but I knew Alfred would hear if I went down to the Cave and once Bruce learned that I rode the bike without permission and before really knowing how to, he would give me the spanking of my life and melt the bike into a solid cube of medal.
So I decided to take the bus.
I snuck out the side door of the Manor and ducked against the bushes as I ran towards the gate. It was closed, but I knew the combination to the small barred door on the side. I closed it behind me softly and then started walking down the dark road. It was about half a mile to the bus-stop, and once I got there, I hid behind a tree, afraid Alfred would be coming after me.
The note I had left was kind of brief: Went out. Be back by eleven. Dick. Yeah, I was going to get in trouble once I got back, but no one ever said I couldn't go out by myself on Friday night, so that was my story and I'm sticking to it.
The bus took forever to get there, but once it came, I walked up the three steps, dropped three quarters in the box, and went to the back to sit down. I figured that if I looked like I knew what I was doing no one would bother me, and sure enough, the few people on the bus ignored me as we rode into Gotham City.
It was eight o'clock by the time I got off at the ninth stop and headed up the street towards the Gordons' home. It was really dark, but the street lights were out. The Commissioner's car was gone, and I hurried up the steps to ring the doorbell.
I could hear the TV on, but as soon as the doorbell rang, the TV went quiet. I bet the Commissioner told Barbara not to open the door when he was gone and to be quiet if anyone came. Not bad advice in Gotham City.
"Hey, Barbara, it's me, Dick," I called out.
The door opened, and Barbara looked out. "Hey, Dick," she smiled before glancing behind me. "Where's Bruce?"
"He went on a date," I rolled my eyes. "I came to see if you wanted to come out with me."
Her eyes widened and she looked very pretty. "Just you and me?"
"Yeah, I was thinking we could go to the Chamberlé for dinner."
"Gosh, that's a nice place. Yeah, I can go. Let me change into a dress. I guess they'll let you in that coat."
I hadn't thought about the restaurant having a dress code; I was glad I had put on the dumb blue coat.
She held the door open for me. "Where's Alfred? Isn't he driving us?"
"No, I came by myself," I tried to look very cool and casual as I stood in their living room. "On the bus."
"Gosh," Barbara shook her head, "Bruce is going to tear you apart."
"No, he isn't," I felt annoyed. "If he gets to go out and date dumb women, I think I should get to, too."
"Smooth, Grayson," Barbara retorted.
"Oh, come on, you're not dumb," I assured her. "You're the smartest girl I know. Heck, next to Bruce, you're the smartest person I know."
"Okay, I'll let the 'dumb' comment slide. But this is a date?"
"I guess," I shrugged, my cheeks slightly pink. "Do you want it to be?"
"You're such an idiot, Dick," she declared. "Stay here while I go change."
It took her a long time to change, but when she came out, she was wearing a dark blue dress and all her red hair was pulled back with a clip and her eyes were darker and her lips were all shiny. She carried a small black purse with her.
"I'm ready. The restaurant is just five blocks away. We could walk."
"Sure."
"Let me leave a note for Dad. Of course, I'll be back long before he comes in. And I have my cell phone in my purse if he gets worried."
"Cool," I nodded. It was a good thing I was all concentrated on sticking it to Bruce or I might have been really nervous at the thought of going on my first date.
"I'm ready," Barbara pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Ready, Mr. Grayson?"
"Uh, sure, Miss Gordon," I swallowed as she stepped forward.
We went out of the house and started walking to the restaurant. After one block, Barbara moved close to me and slipped her hand into mine. I didn't know what to do so I held her hand and kept walking, wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.
"I'm getting a motorcycle!" I yelled. "A motorcycle - oh, Bruce."
I ran towards him and threw my arms around him in a hug. He looked surprised for a second, and then he smiled and tousled my hair.
"A motorcycle!" I kept yelling. "A real one, just for me. Oh, yay, yay!" I began dancing around the raw medal frame in total joy, so ecstatic that I would be getting a motorcycle.
Bruce didn't say anything - he just grinned at me.
"What's all this noise?" Alfred came down the stairs, concerned.
"I'm getting a motorcycle!" I shouted. "He's building me one with wheels and everything. My very own motorcycle - ha-ha!"
I did a cartwheel and then two back-handsprings, too excited to keep still.
"What did you do?" furious, Alfred turned on Bruce. "I said talk to him. I said listen to what he has to say. I did not tell you to build him a motorcycle."
"Oh, come on," Bruce looked a little shamefaced. "Look how happy he is."
"A motorcycle!" I jumped up and did a flip in mid-air.
"He's thirteen - he'll break his neck," Alfred crossed his arms, glaring at Bruce. I guess I should have felt bad that Alfred was upset, but I was too psyched to really care about anything else at the moment.
"I'm going to have it controlled from the Batmobile," Bruce protested. "I won't let him go too fast and if it gets dangerous, I have a kill switch to stop him."
"A motorcycle for a child! I've never seen such hyperactive, excitable, emotional, irresponsible, bipolar behavior -"
"Hey, Dick's not bipolar," Bruce objected.
"I wasn't talking about Dick," Alfred retorted.
"I'm not bipolar either," Bruce crossed his arms, mirroring Alfred's stance. "Yeah, I can get a little dark and brooding at times, but that's the way I operate. You were the one who told me I had to ease up on him."
"I meant don't yell at him so much and try to be a more loving father. I never suggested that you should build him a deathtrap."
"My own motorcycle," I cheered again. "Thank you, Bruce, thank you so much." I hugged him again, squeezing his tall body as hard as I could.
"You're welcome," Bruce put his hand on my shoulder. "See? He loves me now."
"I give up," Alfred put his hands up in the air. "No one listens to word I say anymore. You take Master Grayson out on that contraption all you like. You're responsible for his safety. But I warn you, when he breaks his arm or leg or neck, you and I are going to have a very serious talk." Alfred looked right at Bruce.
"Okay, calm down, Dick," Bruce told me as I started hopping up and down again. "I know you're excited, and that's great, but we're going to have rules about the motorcycle."
I wanted to get jumping around, but I forced myself to stand still and listen.
"One," Bruce held up a finger, "you never take this out without my permission. Two," another finger, "you have to use it responsibly. If I see you trying wheelies or jumping off rooftops –"
Alfred sucked in a tight, worried breath.
" - the bike gets put up," Bruce continued. "Two," a second finger, "your grades have to stay up. No more C's or D's. I want A's from you from here on out. I'll let high B's slide, but with any low B's, you're on probation, and if it ever dips into a C, the bike gets locked down here until the grade goes back up."
I nodded. "Yes, I'll study, I promise."
Bruce looked skeptically, but he held up a third finger. "Three, you've got to have a better attitude. I want you nice and polite. No more running off, throwing food at guests, mocking villains, doubting Alfred or me, complaining, whining, or backtalk."
That was a long list, but I kept nodding.
"It's going to take me a while to finish the bike," Bruce continued. "I'll work on it during the evenings after I get home from work and before we go patrolling. But I'm only working on it if I get a good report from Alfred that you came home from school, did your homework, and didn't give him any trouble."
Any other time, I would have gotten angry at him talking to me like I was a child, but I was so happy to be getting my very own motorcycle I think I would have agreed to anything he told me. Hell, if he had said I had to go kiss Selina Kyle, I would have agreed right then and there.
"Yeah, Bruce, whatever you want," I replied. "I'll be the best sidekick ever, I promise, and I'll be the best son, too."
A look came over Bruce's face, something that I had not seen before, and he seemed to be having trouble saying anything.
"There's no arguing after you told him that," Alfred sighed. "All right, young sir, let's go upstairs and take care of that homework and leave this delusional man to work on his new project which will leave you maimed or missing a leg."
Alfred kept talking about all the horrible things that would happen to me on the motorcycle, but I went along with him to the elevator. As we got in, I heard the rock music start again, loud and heavy, and I could not help grinning.
The next day was Monday, and I was very good at school. I paid attention in class, did not fight with Pamela, sat beside Barbara at lunch (she kept talking about costume ideas for the Halloween party and I nodded along), and was all ready to be picked up at 3:15 on the curb outside the school.
I stood there, looking down the street for the car, when Mr. Horton came out of the school, calling,
"Mr. Grayson – Mr. Grayson, you forgot your coat."
I looked back and groaned inside as I saw him waving that horrid blue coat I hate. I had left it at school when I ran out and got kidnapped by the Joker. I was sure I had lost it for good and planned on not ever telling Bruce, but my fink of English teacher found it somehow.
"It's not mine," I called back as he came down the steps.
"It has your name on it."
Dang that Alfred, always sewing R. Grayson into the labels of my stuff. I wasn't a five-year-old who loses his stuff accidentally – I had lost that coat on purpose.
"I don't want it," I said as Mr. Horton offered it to me.
"What? Nonsense, it's your coat and a very nice one at that. Take it."
I wanted to refuse, but I saw our Roles-Royce coming up, and I knew I had to take the coat.
"Thank you," I muttered.
When I got into the car, I was surprised to see Bruce driving and not Alfred.
"Can we go home and get to work?" I asked eagerly. "I can start my homework in the car."
"No, we're going to the dentist," Bruce replied.
I sighed, but I clicked my seatbelt shut.
"You found your coat," Bruce commented as he pulled back into traffic.
"Yeah, Mr. Horton made me take it home. You know, Barbara says I look really dumb in this coat. I don't want to wear it anymore . . ." I trailed off, hoping he wouldn't think I was having a bad attitude.
"It's an expensive coat," Bruce insisted. "Come on, Dick, you don't care that much about what other people think, right?"
I looked up at him, and then he sighed.
"You're not supposed to cave to peer pressure," he said, though he did not sound convinced.
"Really? Just like that?"
"Yeah, it's not easy," Bruce admitted as he kept driving. "But the coat's not that bad. You should have seen some of the stuff that Alfred dressed me in when I was little."
Bruce looked so disgruntled I snickered.
"Like suits and stuff?"
"No, like English schoolboy uniforms and those short gray shorts that barely reach your knees and a little cap, too. I was in fifth grade and I refused."
"Yeah?" I asked, hoping he would keep talking. I loved hearing about Bruce as a kid, probably because it was hard to imagine him as ever being real small.
"Oh, yeah, when he told me I had to wear it the next morning to school, I refused. And then he said I was grounded until I learned to respect him. It was so unfair – I went into the dining room and broke a dish I was so mad."
"He told me about that," I realized. "But he didn't say it was because he picked out dumb clothes for you."
"Well, they were dumb, but that blue coat is perfectly fine," Bruce insisted.
I glanced over the awful thing on my lap. "If I wear it two more times, will that be enough?"
"Fine," he frowned, "but no begging for new clothes."
"When do I ever beg for new clothes?"
You're right – all you want are electronics and a motorcycle."
"And a better Robin suit," I added.
"That's coming, too," Bruce promised.
We made it to the dentist, and we went up to the office, this snazzy place on the twentieth floor with a big waiting room and a huge aquarium that had tons of colorful fish. When I was little, I used to like to stand in front of the aquarium and tap on the glass to scare the fish until Bruce would demand that I come sit beside him and read Highlights.
When I was a kid, whenever he would take me to the doctor's or dentist's office, he would find that stupid Highlights magazine and flip to the page where you have to find objects in the black and white drawing. We would try to see who could find the objects first, and I usually found most of them though I know he was letting me win. That was fine when I was little, but I wasn't going to be caught reading Highlights now.
I reach for an edition of Sports Illustrated that had a woman in a red bikini on the front.
"Not going to happen," Bruce took the magazine out of my hand. "Find something more appropriate."
"Didn't you date a model from Sport Illustrated once?"
"Yeah, but I was old enough to. You can read this magazine when you're twenty."
That wasn't fair, but before I could protest, they called us back to the rooms.
Okay, let me say once and forever, the dentist office? Not fun. Really scary, a lot of torture instruments, and creepy sounds. I had to get a cavity filled when I was nine, and they gave me a shot in my mouth and it hurt and I cried and Bruce had to come over and hold my hand, which was just embarrassing. When my mouth got numb, I tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let go and kept saying things like "It's okay, buddy, I'm not going anywhere. You're a brave boy, you know that."
Man, Bruce is either stone-cold or so mushy I can't stand him.
But this time I was going to be cool about everything so I got into the dentist chair and looked very casual as they lowered me back and put that stupid paper bib around my neck. The dentist was in Bruce's room across the hall, and I snickered at the thought of Bruce having to wear the bib, too.
The cleaning went pretty quickly though I got tired of keeping my mouth open wide and having the salt stuff sprayed all over my face. They made me swish with the nasty fluoride at the end, but then I got to put the sucky thing in my mouth and have it suck the gross stuff up. I was running the suction tip over my tongue when Bruce walked in.
"Are you done?" I asked around the plastic nozzle.
"Yeah, no cavities," he smiled, showing me his white teeth. "What about you?"
"Well," the dentist came in, looking all serious, "he has two cavities."
Bruce glared down at me.
I thought about shaking my head in denial, but I'm not really sure what cavities are, so I kept sucking out my mouth and stayed quiet.
"Are you brushing?" Bruce demanded.
"Most days," I mumbled.
"Every morning and night," Bruce snapped. "That's the rule, and flossing every night."
"He's going to need braces soon," the dentist added.
"No, no braces," Bruce said. "Straighten his teeth with a retainer."
"That will take longer."
"Fine, but no braces."
I wanted to hug Bruce – I would hate having dumb braces.
"But you can fill the cavities today," Bruce added.
"Just a second," the dentist promised. "Ashley, can you numb him up?"
The hygienist nodded and then the needle came out as she set the tray on the swinging arm attached to my chair. Bruce looked concern and stepped towards me as Ashley went to the cabinets to get more supplies.
"Hold my hand and die," I hissed at Bruce.
His lips twitched into a smile, and he went to sit the seat in the corner.
The shot hurt in my mouth, and she had to do it on both sides because I had cavities on both sides, or so she said. My eyes watered when the needle went in each time, but I glared at Bruce across the room, warning him not to move an inch from his chair. He took the hint and pretended to study the painting on the wall. The painting was of a clown with balloons which I thought was bad to have in Gotham City with the Joker and his clowns running around, but maybe some kids like to look at it.
"Are you all right?" Bruce asked when the hygienist left me for a while so I could get good and numb.
"I'm fine. You don't have to stay back here."
Bruce did not move from his chair. I thought about the motorcycle frame in the Batcave and then I added, "Thanks for the no braces. I hate them."
"Too dangerous," Bruce said, keeping his voice low. "If you got hit in the mouth, metal braces would tear your lips up. You can take a retainer out when you're on patrol."
I nodded.
An hour later, we were back in the car and I had two fillings and could not feel any of my numb mouth. It's kind of a creepy feeling, reaching up to touch your own lips and not being able to feel your fingers with your mouth. I thought about being stoic about it, but then I decided to milk my pain for all it was worth.
I sniffed.
Bruce glanced at me, concerned. "What's wrong?"
"I hate feeling numb," I mumbled, my voice all garbled because I couldn't move my mouth much.
"It'll wear off in a few hours."
"It makes me feel all dizzy," I leaned back against the headrest. "Can I come down to the Cave to watch you work? I could do my homework down there."
"Sure, that would be fine," Bruce nodded.
I probably could have pushed back homework until late that night, but I didn't want to test my luck.
It took Bruce two weeks to finish the motorcycle, and those had to be the longest two weeks of my life. I have never been so angelical good as I was then, and I actually did pull my grades up some.
I loved watched the bike taking shape, and once Bruce added wheels, I got to sit on it and hold the handle bars. He was fitting the bike to my body, allowing a little room in case I grew a lot in the next few years.
"But," he shrugged as he fit the leather grips on the handles, "once you turn sixteen, I'm going to design you a car to drive."
I nearly knocked all the equipment off the table in my excitement.
By the Thursday before Halloween, Bruce put the finishing touches on the motorcycle, and we just had to wait for it to dry.
"Can I ride it tomorrow?" I asked as I helped him clean up the paint and tools.
He hesitated. "Uh, not tomorrow."
"It wouldn't be dry by then?"
"No, I'm going out to dinner tomorrow."
I straightened to look at him. "With me?"
"No, with a – a girl."
"Like a date?"
"Yeah, a date," Bruce seemed in a big hurry to put away all the stuff.
"Vicki Vale?" I asked, remembering the pretty blond that Bruce sometimes saw.
"No, um – Selina Kyle."
"What?" I yelled. "That slut?"
"Richard!"
"After what she said to me, you're going to see her again?" I protested.
"Selina's not good with children," Bruce began.
"I'm not a child – I'm a teenager," I interrupted.
"Then she's not good with teenagers."
"She's only good at one thing," I said snidely.
"Richard Grayson, do you want me to put this bike up permanently?"
"No, but I don't like her. She's mean and spiteful and hates me."
"That's why we're going out," Bruce sighed. "It's just for dinner and you can hang out here with Alfred and get pizza and a movie or something. And then Saturday, I'll teach you to drive the bike, okay?"
I couldn't argue with him because I knew he would put the bike up and I wanted to learn to ride it, so I did not say anything. But it was not fair for Bruce to get to go out and leave me at home. I only get to see him in the evenings and at night he's Batman, and I wanted to spend Friday night with him watching a movie.
Or if he went out and Alfred also went out, that would be fine because I would get to stay by myself. It would be super cool then because I could eat all the ice cream I wanted and watch PG-13 movies without having Bruce fast-forward through the bad parts and I could roller-skate inside because Alfred would not be there to tell me that it would scratch the wooden floors. But they both thought I wasn't old enough to stay by myself at the Manor, though I knew Barbara Gordon stayed by herself when the Commissioner went to work.
So I decided to make my own plans for Friday night.
When I got home from school the next day, I didn't say anything. Bruce got home by six and said hey and went upstairs to change into some nice suit.
Around seven-thirty, I was in the living room, finally getting to watch TV after weeks of being grounded, but I turned down the volume so I could hear him talking to Alfred.
"All right, we'll be at the Chamberlé," Bruce said. "I have my cellphone and my suit in case there's trouble. I should be back around midnight. In case I'm later than that, make Dick go to bed at eleven."
"Of course, sir."
I rolled my eyes. So Bruce wanted to have sex with Selina tonight – big surprise there. It wasn't the first time I had to go to bed before Bruce got home from a date, and a lot of times he wasn't there in the morning and Alfred said he had gone into the office before I woke up. Yeah right – I knew Bruce spent the night at whoever-he-was-dating's house. I don't know why he and Alfred want to keep it a big secret – Bruce has to pretend to be a playboy so people don't get suspicious that he's Batman, but he's not fooling anyone here at Wayne Manor.
I watched him drive off in the Ferrari and then I turned up the TV and put my written note down in the den, where Alfred would see it when he came to look for me later. Then I crept upstairs to get my stuff. I had a glass piggy bank that Bruce made me put some of my allowance to "save for the future." Screw the future – I'll make more money then.
I broke the piggy bank and grabbed a few of the five dollar bills and some coins to stick in my pocket. It was pretty cold out there, and I looked for a coat. Just my luck, none of my coats were upstairs in my room save for the – you guessed it – stupid blue coat. Snarling, I pulled it on and buttoned the awful brass buttons. I could not risk getting my coat out of the downstairs coat closet for fear that Alfred would hear me.
I wanted to ride my new motorcycle into Gotham. I wanted to ride it so bad, but I knew Alfred would hear if I went down to the Cave and once Bruce learned that I rode the bike without permission and before really knowing how to, he would give me the spanking of my life and melt the bike into a solid cube of medal.
So I decided to take the bus.
I snuck out the side door of the Manor and ducked against the bushes as I ran towards the gate. It was closed, but I knew the combination to the small barred door on the side. I closed it behind me softly and then started walking down the dark road. It was about half a mile to the bus-stop, and once I got there, I hid behind a tree, afraid Alfred would be coming after me.
The note I had left was kind of brief: Went out. Be back by eleven. Dick. Yeah, I was going to get in trouble once I got back, but no one ever said I couldn't go out by myself on Friday night, so that was my story and I'm sticking to it.
The bus took forever to get there, but once it came, I walked up the three steps, dropped three quarters in the box, and went to the back to sit down. I figured that if I looked like I knew what I was doing no one would bother me, and sure enough, the few people on the bus ignored me as we rode into Gotham City.
It was eight o'clock by the time I got off at the ninth stop and headed up the street towards the Gordons' home. It was really dark, but the street lights were out. The Commissioner's car was gone, and I hurried up the steps to ring the doorbell.
I could hear the TV on, but as soon as the doorbell rang, the TV went quiet. I bet the Commissioner told Barbara not to open the door when he was gone and to be quiet if anyone came. Not bad advice in Gotham City.
"Hey, Barbara, it's me, Dick," I called out.
The door opened, and Barbara looked out. "Hey, Dick," she smiled before glancing behind me. "Where's Bruce?"
"He went on a date," I rolled my eyes. "I came to see if you wanted to come out with me."
Her eyes widened and she looked very pretty. "Just you and me?"
"Yeah, I was thinking we could go to the Chamberlé for dinner."
"Gosh, that's a nice place. Yeah, I can go. Let me change into a dress. I guess they'll let you in that coat."
I hadn't thought about the restaurant having a dress code; I was glad I had put on the dumb blue coat.
She held the door open for me. "Where's Alfred? Isn't he driving us?"
"No, I came by myself," I tried to look very cool and casual as I stood in their living room. "On the bus."
"Gosh," Barbara shook her head, "Bruce is going to tear you apart."
"No, he isn't," I felt annoyed. "If he gets to go out and date dumb women, I think I should get to, too."
"Smooth, Grayson," Barbara retorted.
"Oh, come on, you're not dumb," I assured her. "You're the smartest girl I know. Heck, next to Bruce, you're the smartest person I know."
"Okay, I'll let the 'dumb' comment slide. But this is a date?"
"I guess," I shrugged, my cheeks slightly pink. "Do you want it to be?"
"You're such an idiot, Dick," she declared. "Stay here while I go change."
It took her a long time to change, but when she came out, she was wearing a dark blue dress and all her red hair was pulled back with a clip and her eyes were darker and her lips were all shiny. She carried a small black purse with her.
"I'm ready. The restaurant is just five blocks away. We could walk."
"Sure."
"Let me leave a note for Dad. Of course, I'll be back long before he comes in. And I have my cell phone in my purse if he gets worried."
"Cool," I nodded. It was a good thing I was all concentrated on sticking it to Bruce or I might have been really nervous at the thought of going on my first date.
"I'm ready," Barbara pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Ready, Mr. Grayson?"
"Uh, sure, Miss Gordon," I swallowed as she stepped forward.
We went out of the house and started walking to the restaurant. After one block, Barbara moved close to me and slipped her hand into mine. I didn't know what to do so I held her hand and kept walking, wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.