Harvey opened his mouth to protest, but Dianne had already started dragging him off with her. Her family let out an enthusiastic round of greetings as Harvey reached them, then engulfed him in welcoming hugs. He blushed, but through his reddening face, his mood seemed to brighten.
“Go catch up with them,” Lucius said, nudging Bruce forward. “I can keep Alfred company here.”
Bruce thanked him, then started to head toward the others. He hadn’t gone far when Mayor Price stepped into his path, with Richard right behind him. “Bruce Wayne!” the man exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a warm smile that stretched the freckles on his pale face. “Been years since I’ve seen you. Look how you’ve grown! Congratulations, son—not that any of us ever doubted how well you’d turn out. Isn’t that right, Richard?” He shot his own son’s medal an uninterested, sidelong look, and Richard seemed to tighten like a corkscrew.
Bruce nodded stiffly. The mayor had always been kind to him. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, shaking the mayor’s hand. “Congratulations to you, too, and to Richard.”
At that, the mayor didn’t even smile. “You’re a kind boy, but I’ll accept congratulations for this one when they’re actually due.” The look on the mayor’s face was so dismissive that Bruce could hardly believe it was being leveled at his own son. Richard stood there awkwardly, unspeaking, as his father talked around him. “It’s a shame we don’t see you around our house that often anymore, Bruce.”
“I’ve been a bit too busy lately to come by, what with my summer work and my…time at Arkham….”
“Ah, that.” The mayor waved a hand in the air. “Showed initiative, what you did in stopping that Nightwalker. You’ve got all the makings of a leader. I remember when you were still small. Smartest kid I’d ever seen. Still are.” He slapped Richard once, hard, on the back. Richard lurched, his eyes downcast. “Could teach this one a thing or two.”
Bruce’s attention went back to Richard, who was actively avoiding the conversation now. A few memories clicked into place of when Bruce would do his homework at Richard’s home. The man would always praise Bruce, always within earshot of Richard. At the time, and even now, it’d seemed like nothing big enough to dwell on—Alfred was hard on Bruce sometimes, too, and often in front of his friends. But something about the mayor’s words, about Richard’s distant stance, made Bruce dwell on those memories. Maybe their rift was bigger than he’d thought.
“Heard you’re working with Lucius Fox this summer.”
“I am, sir.”
“Well!” The mayor’s smile broadened. “It’s to be expected from a tech whiz like yourself. You come by my office anytime, and I’ll walk you through the city’s work with your foundation. You’re going to do big things for this city, son. I know it.”
Son. Beside the mayor, Richard looked more miserable than ever, and Bruce felt discomfort knot in his own stomach. For the first time, he wondered if the way the mayor ignored Richard to heap esteem on Bruce was part of the reason behind their frayed friendship. “Thank you, sir,” he responded, unsure what else to say.
The mayor nodded at him, then paused to wave once at someone across the park. Without saying a word to Richard, he left his son’s side and walked away.
“Dad’s always had pretty low standards for you,” Richard said as he put his hands in his pockets. “You could steal his wallet and he’d praise you for it.”
Bruce thought of Richard’s desperate attempts to get ahead, his comfort with cheating all the time. “Is this why we don’t hang out anymore? Because of your dad?”
Richard shrugged, although his eyes revealed this had hit him harder than he’d let on. “Last night I showed him where my name was in the award lineup. Do you know what he said without even looking at me? He asked where you ranked.”
Bruce winced. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, you never did.” Richard’s scowl deepened. “But then again, you don’t have to listen to stuff like that day in and day out, do you? You’ve got Alfred.”
“You make it sound like Alfred never gets on my case.”
“He’s just your butler, not your—”
At that, Bruce’s momentary sympathy wavered. “Alfred’s my guardian. You know that. And if you were about to make a comment about my parents, I’m telling you to stop right here.”
The warning in Bruce’s voice only seemed to irritate Richard further. “What? I’m not saying it’s your fault.”
Bruce shook his head. “What’s really bothering you?”
Richard paused for a moment. Then he looked off to where his father now stood with a cluster of other parents. “I found out Dad locked me out of his trust fund.”
Suddenly, it clicked. Bruce’s trust funds had opened recently—his parents had handed over the keys to their empire to their son without a second thought, even as Bruce felt the weight of the responsibility more than the benefits. If Richard had recently learned, on the other hand, that his father had decided to lock his son out of his will, then Bruce’s recent fortune must have seemed like a personal insult.
“I’m sorry about your dad. Look, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Richard’s expression shifted to something cruel. “I don’t want your sympathy. At least you don’t have to be a backup son. Your dad isn’t even around anymore—”
A cut of anger rushed through Bruce. “Careful.”
“I’m just saying. You can do whatever the hell you want, and nobody’s going to stop you.”
“Are you saying my life’s easier because my parents are gone?” The anger was crowding in, blurring the edges of Bruce’s vision. “And you don’t think I wish, every day, that they were still here?”
“Stop being so precious, Bruce.” Richard’s scowl turned into a sneer, his own voice developing a harsh edge. “You know you like not having to work for your parents’ approval. Everyone loves poor Bruce Wayne, because his mom and dad are six feet und—”
Bruce didn’t know what happened next. One second, he was standing in front of Richard, posture tense, hands clenching and unclenching, trying to reason with his former friend; the next, they were both on the ground, and one of his knees was pressed against Richard’s chest. Blood gushed from the boy’s nose—Bruce must have hit him hard, because when he looked down at his fist, blood was smeared on his knuckles. Vaguely, he heard a couple of startled screams go up around them, but they sounded like an underwater hum. The space, the other onlookers—they blurred away, and for an instant, he was staring at the girl in the cell—at Madeleine—while she stared back at him with her dark eyes.
Don’t hold back, she had said to him.
Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun. Richard was holding his nose as blood oozed out of it. Hands were pulling Bruce up, dragging him away as his boots kicked up dirt. It took him another second to realize that the people holding him back were Dianne and Harvey, their faces stunned and wary.