After returning to Wayne Manor, Bruce struggled to adjust his emotions. He called Dick over and said, "What assignments did the teacher give today? We could do them together."
Dick wore a surprised expression but within a split second, Bruce saw the panic that flashed through his eyes.
Soon after, Dick seemed to remember something, relaxed his breath and replied, "There's not much homework today, I can finish quickly by myself, so I'll go do my work now."
"Where exactly are you going to do your assignments?" Bruce asked, sitting on the couch, turning to watch Dick moving away. "The study is over there."
"I am going back to my room." Dick replied without turning his head.
Bruce frowned. He stood up, followed Dick and said, "The desk in the study has better lighting, your bedroom desk is too small, it can't even fit the textbooks, let alone the inkwell…"
Dick stopped. Bruce heard him sigh. Again, Bruce suppressed his rising anger. He came up to Dick, lightly held his shoulder and said, "Didn't you always want a uniform of your own? I've found a good material. We just need a tailor now. Let's finish the homework quickly then go to the Batcave to customize your uniform."
Dick widened his eyes as if pleasantly surprised, but then, his eyebrows dropped, and he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile, saying, "Better not."
Bruce looked surprised, his eyebrows lowering to almost obscure his eyes. He stared at Dick and questioned, "You used to watch me help Jason and Tim with their homework, didn't you? Weren't you jealous and wanted me to help you? Why don't you want to do it with me now?"
"I never wanted your help!" Dick instantly turned his head away.
Bruce was genuinely confused by Dick's reactions. It seemed like whatever he said, Dick always had to oppose it.
Previously, when he read in parenting books about the symptoms of teenage rebellion, he didn't take them seriously. Now though, he found such rebelliousness to be completely irrational, as if whatever parents did was wrong.
Bruce felt his patience wearing thin or rather, he had already shown extraordinary patience. Batman was never a particularly patient man, especially in interpersonal situations.
Bruce felt wronged inside. He absolutely disliked having to attend the school meetings and listen to the principal's empty praises, trying to guess what the counselor was hinting at beneath her tactful remarks. It was all exhausting for him.
Moreover, having to play the part of a failing father in front of the counselor was deeply humiliating. He felt he had already done more than enough.
So Bruce resolutely stared into Dick's eyes and spoke,
"I went to your school today, your teacher told me that your grades are not satisfactory, suggesting I spend more time with you. So, can we please finish the homework together tonight, Dick?"
Dick's eyes widened in shock, he raised his voice and exclaimed, "What did you say? You went to see my teacher? And you asked about my grades?"
Before Bruce could even explain, Dick shook off his hand in anger and shouted, "How could you do that? You clearly don't trust me!! Am I annoying you with my stupidity?"
Bruce was just about to comfort him when Dick exploded with anger. He threw his bag onto the sofa nearby, blurting out, "I know, Jason and Tim are great students. They love reading, they are obedient, so you like helping them with their homework!"
"You wanting to help me with homework has nothing to do with caring about me. You just want to see if I'm really stupider than them. Well, I am! Is that what you want to hear?"
Having said that, Dick, eyes red, was about to run back to his room. Bruce quickly stepped forward to block him. He summoned the last of his patience to explain "I don't think you're any less intelligent than them. I just hope you can make progress."
"Hope I make progress? Your way of doing that is going behind my back, rushing off to my school and interrogating people, just like you barged into my room?!... I don't want to talk to you, let me go!"
Bruce stretched out his arm to stop Dick. To move forward, he would have to push Bruce away.
Even though Dick was quite fit for his age, he stood no chance against Bruce. With a light push, Bruce had him stepping back.
Bruce merely wanted him to calm down. But a flicker of fear passed over Dick's face. His breathing quickened and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
He turned awkwardly, picked up his backpack from the sofa and facing Bruce, retorted, "Will you move, I need to do my homework."
Bruce hesitated a bit, then said, "Can't we have a good talk? If there's anything you don't understand, I can explain it to you."
"There's nothing I don't understand."
"Do you really understand everything?"
Dick stood quietly, looking hurt and lost in silence.
Bruce's heart pounded faster, feeling like he messed up again. But he had no idea what he did wrong.
What was worse, he was despairing over the reality he knew so well. Because the books said, this rebellious phase may last for 3 to 4 years.
This means that in the next 3-4 years, he must pay attention to every detail, always using the best solutions to deal with any issues that may arise from Dick. Only then can he ensure that Dick stays on the right path.
Just thinking about this situation, Bruce would rather go back to Hell and fight another total war.
Eventually, the two fall silent as they enter the study. Dick takes a seat at the desk, Bruce sits next to him, the two sit close together, but seem as if they are miles apart.
Dick sluggishly takes out his homework. Watching his movements, Bruce begins to feel agitated. It's evident that Dick is buying time. His movements are not that slow that it would take him three whole minutes to fetch a workbook from his bag.
Bruce was about to speak, but he swallowed his words at the last moment. The feeling was far from pleasant. It felt as if he was swallowing a bitter pill, he could feel an ache in his lungs.
Finally, when Dick laid down his homework and spent an additional 5 minutes filling up his pen with ink, by the time Dick began to write, Bruce felt his vision blur, he had never felt this angry.
Dick eventually started working on the first problem and Bruce finally breathed a sigh of relief. He felt like he could now focus on imparting knowledge, however, he noticed that Dick read the problem for hardly three seconds and immediately started writing down the answer.
Bruce cleared his throat. Dick glanced at him but kept calculating. Not left with many options, Bruce had to raise his voice, "Aren't you planning on reading the problem carefully? Are you sure you have noted all the values correctly?"
Dick pursed his lips, "I did take it all in, and I remember it too."
Bruce sighed, extended One Hand and pointed at Dick's calculations, "You have substituted a wrong value from the problem here, this should be 88, not 86."
Dick remained silent. After a while, he crossed out the number 86 in a burst of irritation and changed it to 88. Though Bruce was not happy with this attitude, at least he corrected it.
Bruce tried to console himself in his mind, telling himself that admitting and correcting a mistake is a mark of a good boy. But in the next instant, when he saw Dick use 86 again in the next calculation, Bruce felt fire rise in his chest.
He attempted to find the little remaining patience and emotional control within himself, suppress the fiery surge, but couldn't help feeling a pang of sorrow and indignation.
Bruce Wayne was a constistant, although his life had been much bumpier than average, most people in the world greeted him with a smile and a warm welcome.
They would remember every word he said, act according to his will, immediately apologize if they made a mistake, fearing his wrath.
Even after making a mistake, Dick neither corrected it nor apologized. Bruce had to convince himself, had to dig deep to calm himself and control his emotions. When had he ever been so belittled?
But Bruce truly embodied persistence. He gulped down hard, and said in a voice that sounded disarmingly soft and almost deceptive, "You have made another calculation error, it should be 88, not 86."
But what shocked him was, Dick aggressively jabbed at the page with his pen, producing a resonant "thud", leaving a huge blob of ink on the wrong number, ruining the page of the notebook.
Bruce felt as if his throat was being squeezed.
He really wanted to choke himself so that the flames of his anger wouldn't erupt. He reached out and touched his Adam's apple, swallowed the metallic taste, and looked at Dick sternly, asking
"Do you truly think you're right? Don't you think your attitude is a bit excessive?"
"I didn't ask you to watch over me!" Dick threw his pen, looked at Bruce and said, "I said I wanted to write in my room, and you insisted on bringing me here!"
Bruce sighed slightly dazedly, then looked Dick in the eye and said, "Alright, we can go to your room. But you need to rewrite all these calculations. Your notebook is all dirty."
"What's the big deal, as long as the results are right." Dick quickly packed up his books and pens into his bag and rushed out of the room.
Bruce, who was still seated and hadn't come back to his senses, looked like a forlorn old man. He didn't understand what was happening, his mind was full of questions.
Was Dick the stupid one, or was he?
Was it that Dick had no patience, or was he the one lacking patience?
Was it that Dick was too irritable, or was his teaching method flawed?
Whose fault was this?
While pondering over these questions, Bruce followed Dick to his bedroom. There, he saw Dick wasn't sitting at the desk, but instead, sat on the floor with his homework on the bed, writing while kneeling on the floor.
Now, Bruce knew where all the creases on the first page of the workbook came from.
Also, Bruce knew, if Dick didn't get a beating that day, he wouldn't be able to survive to see another day.
"Dick Grayson!!!"