September: The lazy beginning p.1

It was the first day of high school, and freshman Dick Grayson already had a plan.

The plan was simple: Make no friends. Keep his head down and focus on his studies. Spend his afternoons playing video games. And wait for it all to end. Before he knew it, he'd be getting out of this town—at college, he told himself, then life would truly begin.

The first hitch in the Plan came as soon as Dick got acquainted with his locker. A hyperactive blonde boy appeared at his side and started talking at a hundred miles per hour.

"Dick Grayson! You're Dick Grayson right? Just kidding, I'd recognize you everywhere! Hey, are you excited about starting the school year? I know I am! High school's gonna rock! All the wild parties, the girls, the dances, girls, did I mention girls…"

One moment, D's life was quiet, and the next one, there was this guy.

Dick knew what this was. He'd figured some of the kids at this school would remember him from middle school. Those who didn't know him would've heard about him from those who did. He'd prepared for it. He didn't need to look around for a group of giggling students who'd sent their most talkative member to try and make contact with the infamous Dick Grayson; he knew they were there.

He simply stared impassively through his sunglasses and waited for the boy to leave. He wouldn't give them what they wanted.

But then the boy's face dropped, and he said, "You don't remember me, do you?" He immediately lit back up. "You used to come to my house all the time! Purim parties, and birthdays… Remember!?"

And Dick was persuaded to take another look at the kid. He was shorter than Dick was, and scrawnier. Wispy blond hair fell over a tanned face splattered with freckles. Huge green eyes stared at him cheerfully, relentlessly. Dick noticed a bit of an underbite when he smiled.

He sported a backwards cap, and a purple hoodie with the hood pulled up, over ample grey Bermuda shorts. Dick thought he looked like he'd chosen his clothes based on an amalgamation of what other people thought was cool.

"I haven't gone to holiday parties since…" Dick struggled to think. Since primary school, really. "What did you say your last name was?"

"Logan! Gar Logan! Garfield, but don't call me that. I haven't gone by Garfield since I was eight, and I couldn't figure out why kids kept laughing when I told them my name, right? Because I'd never had a TV back then! And then I found out about this stupid cat…"

The name rang a bell, but Dick struggled placing it, as Gar went off on a tangent again. Logan, Logan

Dick thought he remembered a big house with an indoor garden, then a big backyard on top of that. He remembered end-of-year parties, with several of his parents' friends and their children, and a messy boy in a corner playing with animal cookies and never eating them. The image fit well enough with the boy in front of him that Dick was satisfied with the memory.

Only then did Dick look around the hallway. There was no group of students looking on and giggling. It seemed like Gar had really reached out to reconnect with an old acquaintance. Dick had been too paranoid.

"Yeah, I remember now," he said, interrupting Gar's rant. He clasped the boy's shoulder. "Well, great seeing you again, Garfield. See you around."

When Dick tried to walk away, Gar followed as if pulled by a magnet.

"Wait! What's your first class?" he asked.

"History."

Dick watched with relief as Gar grimaced.

But Gar asked, "What's your second class?"

"Biology."

"Ha! Me too!" And then, to Dick's dread, Gar slid an arm around his shoulder. "I got a feeling we're gonna be the best of friends, you and I."

Oooh no, Dick's mind screamed. Oh no no no no no.


Here's the thing. Dick had already done the Type A lifestyle.

He'd shown a talent for gymnastics early on -his parents had been acrobats, so that was a given-, so he'd done competitions. He'd won prizes. He'd gone to Nationals and been in newpapers. He'd also done karate, fencing, Eskrima, and a long etcetera, all before middle school. He was tired of all that.

Going into high school, Dick was on a firm plan to laze his way through it. He wanted to have a four-year hibernation, to finally wake up in the spring of being-able-to-get-out-of-the-city-for-good. That meant no extracurriculars, the bare minimum of studying, and no ties to fellow humans. That meant no friends—especially friends like Gar Logan.

Dick wasn't fretting at first. He assumed Gar was just a nervous freshman, who latched onto any kid who could be a friend. Soon he'd meet other people, see Dick wasn't friend material, and wander off to a better group. Dick gave it a week before his solid scowl and one-word responses turned the other boy away for good.

Except as the week wore on, that wasn't happening. Everywhere he looked, there Gar was. Day after day after day. Delivering uninterrupted monologues on anything under the sun. On Thursday, Dick broke. He pointed to another group at lunch and outright said, "Don't you wanna hang out with them?"

Gar said, "No. I'm hanging out with you!"

And Dick realized he had a big problem: Gar was loyal.

On Friday, in Biology class, they had to partner up for a project. D would have been lying if he said he wasn't slightly relieved he knew who he'd be teaming up with. Gar predictably turned to Dick and asked to be his partner, and Dick agreed. He guessed the Stockholm syndrome had begun to take its toll.


Gar reacted the way people usually did when they saw Dick's house.

"Whoa. You live here? This is your house?" he asked, staring at the grand Georgian-style manor. It was an impressive house out of an impressive block of expensive-looking houses.

"Yep," said Dick, used to the double-take. "Come on in."

As soon as they walked through the door, a voice called out, "Dick!"

Dick halted on his way up the stairs. "Shit," he muttered. "I thought he wasn't in."

"Who?" Gar asked, following as Dick changed his path to further into the house.

"My uncle. Bruce," Dick responded as they came to an office.

The voice had belonged to a broad-shouldered, imposing-looking man, with cropped black hair and sharp blue eyes. Even sitting down at the table, Gar could tell he was tall. And jacked. He wore a formal suit liked he was used to wearing one every day. Next to him was an actual butler. Gar realized when he laid eyes on him that he'd never thought he'd ever see a real-life butler in his life.

"I got a call from your principal today, Dick," said D's uncle. "He was concerned you weren't joining any extracurriculars."

"I've been thinking about it." Dick's tone was detachment itself.

"Have you?" retorted Bruce, not the least convinced. "We've been over this, Dick. I know you think-" The butler did an ever-so-slight cough, and the man got the hint. "Of course, I won't scold you in front of your friend."

"He's not my friend," said Dick.

Gar tried to keep from pouting. He followed Dick silently when he left the office, ignoring his uncle still talking to him, and they went upstairs.

Dick's room was about three times the size of Gar's own, but entirely emptier. There was a wardrobe, a dresser, and a neatly-made bed for furniture. No pictures on the walls, no decorations, not even curtains on the window. Gar thought Dick either had just moved or had seriously overdone his spring cleaning. The most interesting thing was a couple of boxes by the bed, and Gar leaned down to inspect them. They were full of trophies and medals.

Dick, who had kept arguing with Bruce on his way up the stairs, finally made it inside his room and shut the door.

Gar dropped his bag on the floor and dove into the boxes. There were awards for gymnastics, Kung Fu, Taekwondo, even some competitions Gar didn't know existed. What the hell was a Junior Detective?

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Old stuff," replied Dick. "I want to get rid of it, but Bruce isn't letting me."

Gar set the tokens back. "Okay, I'm gonna put it out there—your uncle totally reminds me of Blackwolf."

Dick shot him a funny look. "What about Bruce makes you think of an international superhero?"

"You know, it's just, the glower, the tall and dark persona… he gives off a Blackwolf vibe. Wouldn't it be cool if he were secretly a superhero?"

"He's just a boring old businessman. I promise."

"So you live with your uncle now?"

Dick had nearly forgotten Gar knew him from before. Of course—he remembered his parents. He must be wondering where they were. "Yep. Bruce raised me, sort of," he replied, and braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

But Gar kept looking around the room and said, "I get that. I'm adopted too." And then he changed the subject. "I can see why he wants you to keep doing clubs. Looks like you're really good at… well, a lot of stuff."

"It's dumb. With his money and connections I could go to any college, even with no extra credits and a bad GPA."

Gar looked a bit stunned. "Whoa. I've never heard someone admit that out-loud," he laughed. "So you're gonna ride through high school doing nothing?"

"Nah. I'll join something eventually. Just to get Bruce off my back. Something as boring as possible and not demanding."

"Hey. Why don't you make your own club? Dedicated to napping and playing video games."

Dick cracked a smile. Gar was way better company when he wasn't desperately clinging and chasing Dick through school. Physically being in Dick's house seemed to have calmed him down. Dick fished his Biology book out of his bag. "Let's get this assignment thing over with, okay?"

They worked on the assignment for the next hour, got tired, agreed to split the rest of the work, and went back to talking about superheroes.

"Blackwolf is overrated," said Gar.

"No way! He's the best thing that happened to the Justice Union," returned Dick.

"He's fine if you like supers who stay on the sidelines and don't do much."

"He seems like he's not doing much. He's really the brains behind the team. It's just he doesn't have flashy powers like the other members."

"I'm a Transmuto fan myself," said Gar.

"Sure, if you like supers who care more about showing off than defending anyone. I prefer Lodestar."

"Lodestar rocks. All the Titans rock," said G. "I just like both of their powers. Imagine controlling all elements. But yeah, you can tell something's wrong with a super if his own son rolls his eyes at him when he's giving a speech."

"Are you talking about the mayor's Fourth of July act? That was a misleading video. Lodestar was just looking up at the sky."

"He was laughing in the background with Lux Piper all the time his dad was talking. I found a website that broke down the scene in slowed-down gifs and it really shows."

"Nerd."

Gar took the label with a good-natured grin. "Who's your favorite Titan? Mine's Chameleon."

Dick smirked. "'Course she is."

"It's not just 'cause she's hot!" Gar protested. "She's got a great sense of humor. You can tell. Like when she turned up at that news segment wearing a Starmaker hoodie. I mean a hero who wears supervillain merch, really. What's not to love?"

"Mine's Kismet."

Gar furrowed his nose. "Really? She's hard to like. But I'd trust her with my life, though."

"Exactly," smiled Dick. "She was in a league of mercenaries like two years ago. She was raised by the bad guys, to be a bad guy, and now she's the leader of the Titans. And no one in the superhero world questions her loyalties. No one doubts she was forced to do evil before, and now she's one of the good guys. That's huge."

"You're right. Sometimes I forget what she used to do."

"Sure, she's blunt. But the media doesn't let her catch a break. And that's just this country being mad a Black girl is the leader of a superhero team."

Gar was throwing his pencil case in the air and catching it. "No one ever has Fimm as their favorite Titan," he mused.

"Yeah, he's just weird."

"Do you really believe he used to be a fairy?"

Dick chuckled. "I don't know, man. The world we live in is really weird."


That night, long after he had gone home, Dick brought Gar up to his uncle over dinner. "Bruce? You know the kid that came over today?"

"Vaguely."

"Garfield Logan. He says he knew me when we were younger. That I used to go to his house for the holidays. Why would I have gone to his house?"

Bruce paused. "Logan of the scientist Logans? Mark and Marie?"

Dick shrugged. "Maybe."

"Your parents were friends with them." Dick wondered why Bruce seemed suddenly somber.

He tried to remember. Back when his parents were alive…. That whole era seemed like a sleuth of people and colors, different towns, the lights of the circus nights. But he could set apart the Jump City memories. It was the only time he saw Bruce back then. He remembered parties at different adults' houses, and being dumped with the other children. "I think I remember the Logans. But Gar said he's adopted."

"Yes. Mark and Marie Logan are dead." Bruce took a few moments to eat before he continued. "They were doing research in Africa and they had a boating accident. For years people thought the boy had died with them, but then he cropped up two years later. He'd been taken in by some embezzlers who were trying to take control of his inheritance. Eventually he was rescued, and brought over here. Last I heard of him, he was going from foster home to foster home in Star City. You say he got adopted? I'm glad." He paused. "That kid's had a hard life, Dick."

"Yeah…" The air was suddenly poignant, and Dick was starting to regret the way he'd mercilessly tried to shake off the boy all week.

"You're better off finding more well-adjusted friends," Bruce finished.

"What?" Dick stared at his uncle in shock. "That's cold even for you, Bruce."

"I'm just being tactical. I want you to have the best connections available."

"More well-adjusted people," Dick repeated. "What, like you and me?"

His uncle stopped eating to glare at him. "Fine. Do what you want."


What you just read is the first chapter of a 4-volume monstrosity I've been actively writing over the last three (!) years, but which has ideas and concepts I've been developing since I was thirteen years old. This work is the catharsis of all my failed unfinished stories that never saw the light of day. I'm vibrating in my seat as I post this.

This series is gonna be fun, sweet, frequently weird, and hopefully poignant, so stick around! Thank you so much for reading!