God, How I hate mornings. I though, sitting in the park by star bucks on the corner of Strewn and 21st street. I took a sip of my dark rich coffee and smiled slightly watching as the normal work crowd rushed around me trying to get to their dead end jobs. I leaned back further against the large oak tree that casted a shadow over me. Taking a bite of a blueberry bagel, I looked over at some of the familiar buildings that made me remember all of the things I constantly tried to forget. Thinking about going back to work made me feel sick to my stomach, it made me feel like there was no use and that I was better off working at Walmart. What could I possibly paint, and would anyone even buy them? I thought, taking another sip of my coffee trying to suppress the lump that had formed in the back of my throat.

I then sat up from where I sat and started walking, to where I had no clue. I was just walking trying to figure out what to paint or even sketch. I looked everywhere, searching and trying to find a gallery or something to sell my work. I finished off the last of my coffee only to pitch it in the nearest trash can. A little sad that the wonderful cup of bitterness was gone, I walked faster trying to find my way back to my apartment.

People dispersed from the streets as I found my way through a place I had long but forgotten. I stopped in front of the old rickety High school that a long time ago seemed like the only way I could get away from the horrors of what was my personal hell. I started to walk back into the court yard of Gotham High school and sat underneath my favorite tree thinking back to school and my four years there.

I was almost always alone. Not because I didn't have friends but because I wanted to be, and so there I sat. Alone, underneath my favorite tree reading one of my favorite books: The Bell Jar By Sylvia Plath. I kept my eyes low when people passed or even when people were talking about me, even though I could hear every word they said. They acted as if they cared, as if they knew how it felt to have a father and a mother who hated you and never wanted you because you were not the role model like Bruce Wayne or Jack Napier. But even still Bruce Wayne and Jack Napier were entire opposites. Bruce stood up for me, he treated me like a person, Jack, on the other hand, only cared about the pretty girls who would sleep with him at the snap of his fingers. Jack only cared about stupid girls who could easily bat their eye lashes and swing their hips to get him to notice them for just an hour of his time then he would move onto another girl. I was not one of toughs girls. I was the girl with the poor family that had gotten into Gotham High School out of scholarship because she worked her ass off trying to learn as much as she could and get people to talk to her by what she could do with art. She did not want to be seen by a boy like Jack Napier, she just wanted to get out of Gotham. She wanted to be someone.

And so you can imagine my surprise when one day I was reading under that same tree that I sat under every day, when I heard a voice that sounded familiar but also different. "Why do you never eat?" The shadow said, as his eyes flickered from my book to my big nerdy glasses that were perched on the bridge of my nose.

I flipped the page, not bothering to look up at the deviously handsome boy that had interrupted my train of thought. "Spare me your pity, Mr. Napier. I have other things to do besides listen to you trivial questions." I said still reading stoically.

"You know, it's kinda rude to not look at someone while your talking to them." He said glaring down at me.

I grinned and lowered my book slightly, only to peer up at him with a sly sneer. "And what would you know about manners? I don't think it was very polite to just waltz up to someone and ask them why they did not eat. Perhaps they are going on a diet or merely not eating lunch because it does not taste good, have you ever thought of that?"

His lips turned up slightly. "Yes, I have. But I don't think that is the case with you now is it?"

I merely shrugged, turning to my book again with a sigh. I watched from my peripheral vision as his face softened. "Leila, do you mind if I sit next to you?" He said cocking his head to the side.

I felt my jaw clench with furry. I closed my book and sat it down on my lap, only to glare up at him. "Jack, why would you want to sit next to me? Don't you have some slutty girl to ogle over instead of pester me?"

The boy sneered, and leaned over me so that our noses were close to touching. "No, I don't and for some reason you have caught my eye, so Ms. Wellington." He paused for a moment. "May I please sit next to you." His voice went a whole octave lower as his repeated his last words with ease.

I looked up into his dark eyes, a small chill running down my spin until it left an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Fine." I breathed, picking up my book again and scanning the page for where I had left off.

I felt him move away from me only to sit next to me so our thighs were touching. His eyes were intently fixed on me as he looked over my shoulder to read what I was reading. I grew annoyed, and so I scooted away from him a little and started to twirl my short dark curls nervously. He grinned and scooted next to me again only this time to put his shoe on mine. I moved my foot and glared at him. He smiled charmingly as I went back to my book folding my feet underneath me. I, once again started to twirl my hair again and read, the books words dancing in my head. I was amazed at what had happened next. Jack studied me only to cock an eyebrow. In one swift movement, Jack caught my hand with his large ruff one and looked it over like it was a molecule underneath a microscope. I looked at him awestruck, only to then clench my jaw and rip my hand from his. I looked at it like it had been burned or scared. Jack still watched me as I clenched my jaw and put my book in my bag, overall annoyed by this whole situation. He finally spoke up and smiled. "You hands are small, and... well, soft."

I looked at his with disbelief. "Yes, well, I am a female." I spat, my hands balling into fists.

All of the sudden the bell rang for us to start getting to class, I jumped to my feet and grabbed my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. "Leila!" He rasped.

I walked faster so that the swarm of students would engulf me and he would not know where I was going. I was happy that he didn't follow. But still as I got my civics book from my locker I started to feel a little more happy that he hadn't followed. I looked around the hallway nervously and waltzed into class. The one thing I had forgotten was probably the most important detail. I took my seat, and started reading again waiting for class to start. But as I started to become engulfed in the words of Sylvia Plath, I felt hot breath on my neck. I felt the red velvet rush up to my cheeks, as I tried to ignore the urge to slap him. I turned around to face him. "Do you mind?" I spat watching Jack's eyes linger on my face.

That was when I realized just what he was looking at; my lips. I glared at him, my eyes daring him to make a move. "What are you reading?" He sneered, taking my book from my limp hands.

I tried reaching for it again but he hid it behind his back and turned away from me. "Hmmm, The Bell Jar, By Sylvia Plack?" He said mockingly as he looked over the cover and started reading the back.

I groaned as I tried to reach for it again but he held it higher. "It's Plath." I said, my teeth clenched.

He chuckled darkly and sneered. "I know, I've read some of her books before, but not this one..."

I glared, "You can read? Hmm, gee and I thought you were a brainless rich boy who hasn't worked a day in his life."

Jack turned to me infuriated. He glared, his nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and his eyes like daggers. "I'm not stupid, Leila. I can read, and to tell you the truth I like things like this." He gestured towards the book. "And just because my parents have money does not mean that I have life easy." Jack slammed the book on my desk and got close to my face so that our noses were close to touching.

I was not scared, I held my ground and glared back at him. "You don't have a ruff life! You are a selfish little boy who cries when he doesn't get what he wants! YOU can afford the lunches here, I can hardly afford food to feed my whole family and so I have to scavenge! Scavenge, Jack! Do you know what that means? Hmm, Jack?" I went on, not leaving room for him to talk. "It means that sometimes I have to eat things that others did not want! It means that sometimes I go hungry, sometimes for days! So, Don't talk to me like YOU have it ruff."

I stopped talking all together, my chest heaving, my eyes starting to well up with tears, because of what I almost said next. About the scars.

I picked up my things, sprinting out of the room, only to hear someone gaining fast behind me. I started to run faster, trying to loose him. He ran faster, and that was when I came to the front door. I slammed into it trying to pry it open. Balling my hands into fists, I smacked the door with a loud thump. "God damn it!" I screamed, my breath heavy, I let out another frustrated groan and gave up defeated.

Jack stopped behind me, he was close enough to touch and I could tell that he was more angry than before. His anger was radiating off of him it was so bad. My eyes started to well up with tears and I became more frustrated by the moment. Jack's iron grip locked upon my wrist and he turned me around to face him, catching my flying fist in the process. That when he stopped, and looked at my face awestruck. I knew what he was looking at, the tears that had started to roll down my cheeks. I sobbed pitifully, and wrenched my wrists from his grip. Taking off my glasses again, I whipped my cheeks irritably. His eyes grew wider as his jaw dropped and his shoulders slouched slightly. "What? Haven't you ever seen a girl cry?" I said, trying to turn away from him.

He grabbed my shoulders gently and put and hand under my neck. "No, I, uh, I wanna see something."He said trying to turn my face so that he could see what ever it was that had caught his attention.

I fraught and struggled against his grip. It was until his raised his voice and made it go an octave lower that I listened. "Leila, look at me." He said, his hands trying to make my head turn. He huffed irritably. "Look at me."He said in that voice that made me squeamish.

I looked at him, surely but slowly, but at first it was only his nose and cheeks. "In the eyes." He rasped, taking my chin in between his long pale fingers.

I shivered, but obeyed looking into his deep dark eyes, that had a hint of gold to them. I watched as he raised one of his eye brows, only to cock his head to the side a second later. He licked his lips, and I watched as his lips parted. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it soon after, finding loss of words.

"Blue... your eyes are blue..." He said finally, as he took in my features as if for the first time.

My eye brows furrowed, as his thumb traced my high cheek bones and then went over my long dark lashes. I closed my eyes, slightly at ease, but also nervous at what he was rambling about. "And long lashes... you know... they're quite stunning..."

I opened my eyes to glare at him again. "Save it for someone else, Jack. I'm not the kind of person that will fall for a guy of the likes of you."

Jack Napier grinned, his hand that was still gripping the back of my neck rubbing slightly. I swallowed nervously, trying to suppress the fact that where his hand was and how he was rubbing it felt good. "Oh, really?" He said mockingly. "We will see about that. By the way, what about a guy like Ol' Brucey?" Jack tilted his head and his hand trailed down slightly and made me shiver again, which in turn made him grin wider.

"Bruce Wayne?"I said, confused. "I'm not interested, and besides I don't want a boyfriend I want a scholarship and a one way ticket out of Gotham."

He processed this, and thought. "We will see." Was all he said, because the principle had found us and acted like we were the worst kids at that school.