The Last One (young justice/robin)

10. adjusting

Gotham City
September 20, 06:56 EDT

    "Ugh, just push your way to the front."

    "What if I hurt someone?"

    A crowd of students was gathered ahead of Fawn and I, trying to catch a glimpse of the list.

    "You weigh like ninety pounds," Fawn scoffed, before she started tapping on people's shoulders and stepping past them. "Excuse me? Hi, yeah, coming through."

    Slowly, Fawn had worked us up to the front where a small piece of paper was pinned to the bulletin board. Despite having fifteen spots available, only eight names were written—cutting my chances in half.

    At the top of the list, "Kylie Martin." The green-eyed girl who submitted photographs after painting me a message. I haven't spoken to her since the audition, and the only time I see her is when Adam and I pass the robotics club on our way to smoke.

I scanned the next four names.

A massive knot formed in my stomach because none of them were mine. Neither was the sixth or the seventh.

    "There," Fawn snapped me back to reality, pointing her sharp, red nail at the eighth name. "'Iris Alvis,' congratulations." She didn't sound that enthused for me, though. "Can we go to first period now? All these art dorks are sweating on me."

    I stared at the list for a moment more, taking in the sight of my name in black ink. "Sure."

As it had been for the past two weeks, I followed wherever Fawn led me. Even bathroom breaks meant holding her bag because the stalls weren't "clean enough to touch designer." The only time I broke away was during lunch.

Adam would guide me towards the back, sometimes wrapping an arm around me as we walked. Then, we'd pass the robotics club, huddled around dissembled parts and tools. Kylie would lock eyes with me, and I'd be swept away before I could think to say something.

    "I heard you got into the Arts Association." Adam passed the cigarette to me. "You must be really good."

    "I don't know."

    "Don't try to be humble about it now," he laughed. "You're gonna need a lot of confidence if you're trying to have your stuff auctioned off at the end of the year."

    I took my turn and passed the cigarette back. "Do you paint?"

    "Me? No, I can barely make my handwriting legible," he breathed out a cloud of smoke. "But my older sister was in that club before she graduated. She cried when they wouldn't let her in to that museum show."

    "Maybe I just shouldn't apply."

    He shrugged, taking the cigarette into his mouth again. "Up to you. No one really goes to those anymore."

"If I entered, you wouldn't go?"

"Not really my thing." He checked his phone for the time, and crushed the cigarette before I could take my turn. "But I mean I could, if you want me to."

My eyes were still fixed on the flattened cigarette, completely unfulfilled. "Iris?"

    Looking up, Adam had taken a few steps closer. Without warning, he grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine.