Despise ⇢ Dick Grayson

one.

THE THIRD STEP of my house's staircase always creaks. I gently step over it, as silent as can be. It is a difficult task; leaving the house without making a noise. There is a discarded beer can at the bottom of the steps that would crunch horribly if I stepped on it and the hardwood floors always echo beneath my boots. For that reason, I carry my shoes in my left hand, my school bag slung over my right shoulder, and I creep through the house on my tiptoes.

Jim is asleep on his recliner in the living room, tv remote hanging from his fingertips.

I didn't iron his uniform for work today and I know he's going to be beyond pissed when he realises, so I'm hoping to avoid waking him at all. Maybe he'll sleep straight through his shift at the auto repair shop and won't even notice that his uniform is still crumpled on the bathroom floor.

When the lock on the door clicks open, I cringe at the sound, glancing over my shoulder. Luckily he's still snoring, fast asleep. Slipping out of the house and onto the front porch, I suck in the sweet taste of freedom. The school bus rounds the corner of the street and, quickly tugging my boots onto my feet, I jog down the driveway and wait for the bus doors to burst open.

The first thing I see when I enter the bus is Kyle breathing down Rachel's neck, taunting her about being a freak. I brush straight past the bus driver and stride down the aisle. The moment I'm close enough, I shove Kyle back into his seat roughly.

"I promised you the last time this happened that I was going to break your nose," I sneer down at him.

"Willow, leave it. Please," Rach requests, trying to get me to sit down next to her.

"Mommy's swooping in to save the day," Kyle taunts Rachel before his beady eyes turn to me. "I wouldn't get into a fight if I were you. They might send you back to the orphanage or wherever the hell you came from—"

I wind back my arm and punch him in the face, feeling the crunch of his nose beneath my knuckles. He grabs the collar of my plaid shirt and yanks me downward, fisting his other hand in my hair tightly. I knee him in the stomach and manage to avoid his elbow whilst the bus driver shouts at us to cut it out. Finally, Matt the Quarterback shoves us apart and I fall into the seat beside Rachel, glaring at Kyle like my eyes alone can kill him.

"Why did you do that?" Rachel asks, clearly annoyed. Her black hood is pulled down low over her forehead. I know what that means; she had a bad night, filled with night terrors and emphatic praying with her mom.

"He deserves that and more," I mutter, slumping back in my seat and inspecting my bloody knuckles. I wipe them on my jeans, leaving a red smear that I will surely be ridiculed for throughout the day.

"Whatever." Rachel shakes her head and turns away from me, resting her temple on the bus window.

I lean my shoulder into hers, silently asking for forgiveness. When her pinky finger gently curls around mine, I know she's given it to me.

✵

School is an insufferable affair. Rachel is the only person I can tolerate (certainly at school and possibly in the whole world) but she's a Freshman and I'm a Senior, so we're separated most of the day.

In the afternoon, we decide to walk back to her house. I don't want to face Jim and his inevitable rage quite yet. Arms brushing, breathing in the cool air, we ramble slowly down the sidewalk, not in a hurry to be anywhere quite yet.

"I had the dream again, last night," she tells me quietly, her voice as wispy as the wind.

"The circus?" I ask and she nods.