GOTHAM HIGH
1433 Sorkin Street, Gotham – Harleen Quinzel's new home. A cream painted, brick, semi – detached, reasonably old house, in a moderate part of East Gotham, with a white picked fence surrounding it and the small garden.
No matter how happy and friendly and bright Bensonhurst had been, Gotham had seemed wilder and brighter. Harleen had been glad to move there with her parents, regardless of the high crime rate.
The only down side was that both were fairly glum, with a lower chance of sunshine, and a higher chance of cold winds and rain. It didn't look as if she was going to get much tanning for her pale skin.
Jenny and Maria, her old friends back in Brooklyn, had whined when she had mentioned having to move away, but she found she hardly missed them, how cruel it may seem. She would make some new friends, anyway. She would just join a few clubs, especially science and cheerleading, she was good at those, and she would fit right in.
But was it really that easy?
She remembered the tough times she had trying to fit in before: not being comfortable with herself, being teased and forced to be alone, being laughed at, being made into a loner. Though she had dealt with it before, hadn't she? And Gotham High, what she had been told was her new school, was definitely going to be better than her old one.
Gotham High was a high school in the centre of North Gotham, which meant Harleen would have to take the public bus to get there, as some of the pupils had wrecked the school bus a few years back and the transport had stopped being provided. It was okay though, she was 15, she would survive a half-hour bus journey.
The house was great, in her opinion. It didn't matter that the doors all creaked or that the kitchen smelled of drugs, only that it was bigger than their apartment in Brooklyn, and their was more than one bedroom, so she didn't have to share with her annoying little brother. She really should have got her own bedroom sooner, with her being a girl and all, so she could change in peace.
Her bedroom was red of course, her favourite colour, and decorated with the many posters she had collected and brought over when she moved. It was mostly indie rock bands that no one had really heard of since 2005, but she loved then anyway. Her bed was wooden, and the mattress was covered by a white sheet and pink polka dot bed, and almost completely taken over with cushions and teddy bears. She mostly often wore a vanilla perfume, and applied it in her bedroom, so this one, and the one back in Bensonhurst, smelled strongly of sweet vanilla.
Her brother, Barry, was 13, and at the peak of his puberty age. He was an inch or so taller than her (which was an understatement as Harleen was stuck at 5" 5), covered in acne, with greasy brunette hair, and a voice like nails on a chalkboard.
She lifted the final box through the door and over to her parents. It contained lamps and wires for the lights, as they had been sitting in the dark for hours waiting for the rest of their furniture to deliver. Her mother kept rambling on that the delivery truck could have been robbed or hijacked, until her father assured her that no one would want to steal their crappy stuff.
"Thanks, Harley." Her mother said, sipping her herbal tea. Her dark brown hair was tied up messily, failing to hide the hideous white hairs coming through. Her face was bare from makeup, as it was raining outside and it was pointless putting it on, and showed the dark bags under her eyes from trying to set up the house all night, and her sore eyes, that were usually hidden behind glasses.
Her father was an average height, as was her mother, and was a beer bellied man with a happy smile. He was completely white haired, being in his 50s, but he held a hand to his creased forehead as he looked over the paperwork. He had been overworked, having to balance his new job and moving across these two days.
Harleen took the kettle off the boil and poured it onto her coffee grains in her mug. She stirred it and silently nodded to her parents, then heading past the stairs to the lounge. Everything was covered by a white sheet, which looked odd, but she simply moved one aside and sat down on the sofa.
The coffee was in her favourite mug – a Looney Tunes one, though she only used it when no one but her family were around, or they would think of her as more of a child. She was a little immature and childish at times, but she didn't want to give that impression as soon as she moved to Gotham. She was going to 'grow up'.
Putting her feet up and leaning back, Harleen sighed, snuggling into her special fluffy pink cushion. She liked to pretend it was her boyfriend and talk to it quietly. As if she would ever get a boyfriend – she was more interested in getting a good grade and earning a successful job. Lovey-dovey relationships didn't last anyway, and was more of a distraction, she thought. Her parents had been in relationships with other people and look at what they had ended up with: no degrees, minimum wage jobs that could only just pay for their monthly food, heating and bills.
Her brother was staying away at their grandparents nearby in Metropolis, until the house was fully finished. She had been sleeping on the cold floor in her bedroom while waiting for the mattress to arrive, and her mother had refused to make Barry do the same. Child cruelty, she thought.
She smirked at nothing in particular and ran a hand through her hair. Stretching out her toes, she cracked them and pointed her feet. She pulled her left leg up to point towards the ceiling; being predominantly left handed and legged as she was, and felt the pull in her hamstring. She exercised and stretched everyday so she wouldn't wake up one morning and find she could no longer do a split.
She had always been flexible, and she aspired to be even more so. Her family had never been able to keep paying for gymnastics classes, so she taught herself. She wondered if Gotham High, unlike her last, would have a gymnastics club, so she could learn from a professional. Hearing her leg stretch further, she sighed in contempt and lowered it back onto the floor.
A knock came at the door. She put her mug down on a coaster and slumped over to answer the door, seen as no one else was going to.
Harleen must have looked a mess as she opened that door: dyed hay blonde hair done up in a bun, with most of it falling out of the tie, and smudged pastel pink lip-gloss on her blue pyjama shirt and shorts, and only one bunny slipper on her feet. "Mmm, hello?" she murmured, wiping her lids, but her eyes widened as she saw who stood on the doorstep.
It was a man, a woman and a boy, most likely a family. The man had a permanent glare on his face and she couldn't help looking at his mouth, where two long scars led from the corners of his mouth to his cheeks, in a ghastly Cheshire grin. The boy had his head down and his hands in his pockets, as he shielded his face from her view. The woman was trying her best to smile, and held a bundle of treats in a basket.
"Oh, hello there, you must be the new neighbours. We're the Napiers from next door." the woman greeted, beaming. She motioned to the bundle. "We brought you and your family something to welcome you to the neighbourhood."
"Oh, right." Harleen replied, scratching her neck. "I'll... err... get my parents. Please, come in."
She stood back inside and beckoned them in, awkwardly, and shut the door behind them. "Ma, Dad! The new neighbours are here!" she yelled, and they all gathered in the lounge.
"This is my daughter, Harleen, and I do have a 13 year old son, but he's currently out." Mrs Quinzel introduced, holding out a hand to point to Harleen.
Mrs Napier smiled. "You're very pretty, Harleen." she complimented and Harleen blushed.
Mrs Quinzel told her to go sit with the boy, who was probably a few years older that her, but nevertheless she was expected to talk to him. He was strangely attractive, extremely pale and sickly looking, with tufts of Manic Panic green dyed hair, which matched the colour of his lifeless green eyes.
Her mother chuckled and smiled. "Oh, thank you for the welcoming, Mrs Napier, moving to an entirely new city knowing no one can be a difficult experience, especially with children." she thanked, sitting down on the sofa.
Mrs Napier grinned and nodded. "No need, I try to be as friendly as I can with the newcomers. When the youngsters here were murdered, I hoped for a nicer family to live next to us. They were a pain, though my darling Jack didn't follow that route." she mentioned. She tried to pat the boy, Jack, on the head, but he flinched away.
She continued. "Jack, sweetie, why don't you take Harleen up to her room and talk, away from us adults?" she inquired, smiling at him.
He scowled back at her and stood up from the sofa, glancing at Harley and heading up the stairs. He almost stood a foot over her, which was slightly intimidating, and his lanky form towered over her lithe one. They sat down on her polka dot bed in silence.
He didn't seem to want to make contact with her, as he kept his eyes pointed towards the floor, while he cracked his knuckles violently. He had a strange aura, and she felt honestly very intimidated by it.
"So, Jack..." she started, but she cut off as he grasped her around the neck.
His voice was articulate and calming. "Don't call me that, no one is allowed to call me that." he growled into her ear, grinning. She nodded and he released her, before bursting out laughing. "Oh your face!" He chuckled and slapped his knee. "Your face was just classic!"
She held her sore neck in confusion. "Then what am I supposed to call you?" she asked, her voice thin and shaking.
He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. "The Joker, the Ace of Knaves, the Prince of Crime. Anyone is good." he replied, with a twitch as he licked the corners of his lips.
Harleen couldn't keep back a smirk, no matter how dangerous this boy was. "I am not calling you that, what are you some kind of clown?" she queried, tilting her head.
"Exactly." he purred, flicking out his knife. "And you will, or I'll carve a smile in your face."
She glared as his arm came about her shoulder and pinned the knife up against her cheek. "I ain't gonna." she replied.
He did nothing to reply but place the knife closer.
"I ain't gonna." she repeated.
"And why is that?" he asked.
She looked him in the eyes. "I'm willing to bet that I could permanently stop you having babies before that blade hits my flesh." she added, raising her knee a little.
He looked at her eyes back and they filled with a sort of adrenaline. Slowly, he took the knife from her face and replaced it in his pocket. "You're either crazy, or really stupid to taunt me, little girl." he laughed, baring his white teeth in a large smile.
"A little bit of both, most likely." she answered, breathing out in relief.
Mrs Napier called for Jack and he stood up from the bed, before grinning at her. "I like you, Harley." he chucked, before rushing downstairs after his parents.
She blushed after him and checked her cheek, where there was nothing but a tiny graze. "Bye, Mr Joker."