On another rather gloomy morning, the cold wind whipped through the soft hem of Theresa Goode's skirt, making her look even more out of place within the admission line, for she alone, was the only one wearing a skirt.
Not a few girls showed up for enrolment, yet the majority of them sported heavy trousers and windbreakers, along with others bundling up with windproof scarves and hats.
Theresa Goode was distinct, donning a white blouse adorned with lace patterns and a woollen maxi skirt which paired with a thick knitted sock, albeit her shoes were open-heeled.
One could say that stepping out in the bitter cold of Gotham's spring in such an outfit requires tremendous courage, given not only the freezing cold, but also the flabbergasting glances from bystanders.
Gotham citizens wouldn't withhold their contemptuous looks simply because you appeared to be exceptionally wealthy. In their eyes, foolishness doesn't discriminate.
Theresa glared fiercely at a girl next to her, merely because the girl glanced an extra second at her skirt. Tracy figured that the girl was indeed envious of her; jealous of her outfit featuring the latest cutting-edge fabric adorned in color-blocking and ditsy floral patterns, carefully chosen by her.
This skirt was Theresa's pride and joy. Even Lady Goth commented that she could play the leading lady in Hollywood just by wearing this skirt.
With her head held high, Theresa showed off her round chin, one of her most proud features. It gave her face a remarkably soft silhouette, aligning closely with the traditional image of a virtuous wife, a caring mother.
Scanning the other girls, she noticed they either have sharp chin or so broad it could till the earth. Only she possessed such perfect jawlines, the result of expensive orthodontic treatments from her early age, something these slum-dwelling plebs would never comprehend.
Theresa tightly wrapped her arms, trying to get some warmth from her own skin. The wind at the school gate was just too chilly.
"Damn it, how much longer do I have to wait here? Why is no one providing me with private transportation to the VIP room? Why should I be stuck with these stinking beggars?" Theresa grumbled indignantly, her teeth grated and feet stamped.
All of a sudden, she noticed a car driving through the school gates, deducing from the license plate, the car seemed to be own by the Wayne Family.
Her eyes wide open, Theresa shoved her way through the crowd trying to rush towards the vehicle just when a man emerged from the gatekeeper's shack yelling, "Stand in position! Form a line based on your admission form, then enter one at a time!"
Tracy glared back at him and stamped her foot, disgruntled yet she stayed put. Now, finding a warm place to nestle in seemed better than chasing after Bruce Wayne.
The 150+ new students were enlisted into three different classes: Class 1 in plumbing and electricity repair techniques, Class 2 in the operation and management of cold storage, and Class 3 in mechanical repair - in which Theresa was allotted.
Originally, when Shiller gathered all the mob bosses, he explicitly explained what would be taught in the three classes.
However, Lady Goth wasn't included in the invitees, and the admissions form didn't state what each class entailed. Lady Goth assumed that the preparatory class was all just about reading, drawing, like those in an art salon. so she didn't pay attention to which classes Theresa was assigned.
Tracy started to suspect there was something wrong when she noticed the number of girls in her class was remarkably low. Weren't there supposed to be more girls if it was an artistic salon?
A majority of them were in line for Class 2. Most female members chose to learn about cold storage–a field with less physical labour and deeper emphasis on intellectual and technical skills.
A few have chosen plumbing and electricity repair, but those are women who have already gained some practical skills. Same goes for auto mechanics, those either had elders working in the garage, or were truck drivers themselves, hence were already familiar about the machinery.
As for Theresa, she had no skills to speak of. She couldn't even distinguish the parts of a truck, let alone assemble them together. She had never saw a truck up close in her life.
After another teeth-chattering ten minutes in the cold wind, Theresa was finally allowed inside. Upon entering, she saw in front of her, a professor seated behind his desk, a black suit on his back, and a black umbrella by his side.
Relieved, Theresa straightened her blouse and then took a seat opposite of Shiller in a ladylike manner. She started softly, "Hello professor, my name is Theresa Goode, a freshman in the preparatory department of Gotham University. The weather is rather harsh today, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Miss Goode." Shiller didn't look up as he registered Theresa's information. He continued, "Miss Goode, your dorm is located at 4012 on the 4th floor. You will have a roommate named..., Ah! Sharon, Sharon Weir."
"Oh, no. I don't do dorms. I don't like sharing a room with someone else!" Theresa shook her head, "Tonight, our car will come pick me up..."
This was when Shiller finally looked up at her, "Did the admissions handbook not mention that seminary classes are not allowed? You must live in the dormitory."
Theresa's eyes widened, "How could this be? How possibly could I live in a house that leaks wind on all sides? I could catch a cold! Moreover, I get to have a roommate, I can't stand the stench and live with someone else in one room!"
Knowing that Theresa hails from a wealthy family, Shiller was not angry at her remarks. After all, a girl who has been educated in a parochial all-girls school is unlikely to adapt to the collective life. It's normal for her to feel uncomfortable at first. Shiller replied,
"This academic building was financed by the Luthor family. I assume you wouldn't consider that the Luthor family would invest in a building that leaks wind on all sides, would you?"
Covering her mouth with her hand, Theresa replied, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know... But why would the Luthor family invest in an academic building?"
"Because Lex Luther, the current decision maker of the Luthor Family, is currently a freshman here... Oh, right, if you are enrolled now, you would be in the same grade as him, you might even see him around campus."
Tracy's eyes twirled a bit and she nodded, saying, "Fine, but who will make my bed for me? Where will I shower? What's more, I don't want my bathroom to have any unpleasant smell."
"You will have to make your own bed, take your showers in the individual bathrooms of Gotham University Dormitory, and there are public toilets in the teaching building." Shiller patiently answered, but Tracy's face grew darker and darker.
"Alright, Miss Tracy, if you have no further questions, please take this piece of paper to register at the dormitory. Classes will start at nine o'clock and I hope you won't be late."
Shiller handed the paper to Tracy. Tracy had more questions to ask, but the person behind her was already impatient. Turning around, Tracy found a burly man with tattoos all over, not someone she would want to mess with.
Knowing she didn't bring her bodyguards, Tracy could only grit her teeth, stomp her foot, and leave with her small suitcase.
Upon arriving at the single building serving as both the teaching block and the dormitory, Tracy felt even worse. She didn't realize she would be boarding, so she only brought the most basic luggage. Half of her suitcase was filled with books, and the rest were collectibles that exhibited her taste.
She would later need to use a public phone to ask her mother to have her luggage sent. But now, her biggest problem was figuring out how to carry her luggage upstairs.
Her dorm was on the fourth floor, but there were no butlers to help with her luggage. Every student was overloaded with luggage, so nobody could spare a hand to help her. With gritted teeth, Tracy had to carry her luggage up one floor at a time.
Tracy had never been one for physical exertion. The most strenuous activities she used to do were playing polo or walking in the park. Carrying a suitcase to the fourth floor felt like it was killing her.
When she arrived at the dorm, she fell into deeper despair. These were temporary dorms converted from classrooms. A classroom wasn't big and had two beds placed inside with no partitions in between, no private bathroom, or even a shower room. Besides the beds, there was only a table and two chairs in the room. Even the curtains hadn't been put up yet.
After managing to drag her suitcase into the dorm, Tracy tried to sit on the bed for a break only to find that the bed was even harder than the floor of their house. The hard bed hurt her back.
Unable to even sit, Tracy had to stand. But then, her roommate arrived, and the room felt even more cramped.
Tracy had no interest in making conversation with this girl who looked like she came from a slum. She gave her new roommate a fierce glare, crossed her arms, and left the room, deciding to use this time to look for Bruce.
There was still more than an hour before classes started. Tracy wondered aimlessly through Gotham University. She found the student center, the cafeteria, and the gymnasium. She felt that these were the places where she was most likely to run into Bruce. But actually, Bruce had been in the library writing a paper for three hours.
After a fruitless search, Tracy felt very frustrated. Seeing that it was almost time for her class, she casually walked back, thinking that being a few minutes late wouldn't matter.
It was 9:16 when she finally arrived in the classroom. By then, the classroom had been fully occupied and the professor had already started teaching
Tracy entered the room with a swagger, found an empty seat and sat down. The professor teaching on the stage said nothing, but the professor listening from the back tapped his pencil on the table.
Suddenly, the classroom quieted down. Tracy glanced around, noticing that everybody was looking at her. Clearing her throat, she turned her head sideways, not wanting to interact with them. However, at this point, she heard a voice coming from the back of the seat:
"Miss Tracy, you are late."
Tracy's eyes widened as she turned to look at Shiller, "Oh, I'm sorry, I was busy praying and I lost track of time."
Tracy knew this excuse worked well, as she had successfully avoided undesired classes at her previous church school by claiming she was praying, and the teachers couldn't do anything about it.
To her surprise, Shiller stood up and pointed at the door saying, "Lying isn't a good habit, God didn't receive your prayers. Now, go stand outside the classroom. If you are late again, you will be expelled."
Tracy's eyes widened, she stared at Shiller, seemingly unable to believe what she just heard. But Shiller was not joking, he simply pointed to the door. Everyone else was watching Tracy.
Having never experienced anything like this, Tracy's face turned crimson. Tears welled up in her eyes, she stomped her foot and ran out.
Instead of standing outside the classroom as punishment, Tracy ran straight to the public phone she saw earlier, intending to call her mother and complain about the rude professor.
Lady Goode comforted her daughter but urged her to be patient. After all, her mission was to attract the attention of Bruce Wayne. She could not give up before accomplishing that.
After hanging up the phone, Tracy broke down in tears, leaning against the wall and sobbing uncontrollably. But at that moment she heard a series of footsteps coming from the stairwell nearby.
Turning her head, Tracy found herself looking at the face of Bruce Wayne.