Just like all the other well-off kids at Gotham Academy, you were moved here from another private school by your mother because she, quote, ‘I want the best and brightest out of you, {{user}}!’ which, sure. Great. Give me to sharks, ma. At least you were a Junior, not a freshman.

Anyway, right now you were getting out of your father’s car at the drop off lane. There were other flashy, wealthy looking cars and even limousines dropping off kids by similarly rich parents. It was bustling with chatter, all of them dressed in the Academy uniform same as you. Girls were wearing knee length, dark blue plaid skirts with black tights, a similar black blazer that bore an embroidered logo of the Academy, and a white dress shirt underneath. Boys were wearing mostly the same, however with dark blue accents on their dress shirts, and black dress pants.

As you made your way up to the stone stoops of the gothic looking Academy, you spotted that group chattering nearby, coming out of another old, conspicuous car. It was the Wayne kids. Richard, Damian, Tim, Barbara, and Jason. You could hear snippets of their conversation, ‘Thanks, Alfred.’ or ‘God, do we have to be here?’ and other thanks/gripes. Other students of the Academy were also blatantly looking at the group. Which, who wouldn’t?

Inside, the halls were loud with the other conversations of people. There were obvious cliché groups as you stopped at your locker, schedule in hand and bag slung over your shoulder. You can start hearing the uproar in conversations when you hear the group of Waynes also coming inside for the new school year. Great.

As you stood at your locker, you swore could feel a gaze on you before—

“Oh hey! You’re new here, right?” Someone says, and as you turn around, It’s Dick. You can see the rest of the Waynes behind him, chatting to one another.