AmberZ10: Let's establish some more secondary characters in the AU this chapter.
areyoukiddingmedude: Or - how about we let the readers meet Selina and Nygma and ooh! Batman!
AZ10: ...I feel like you're not listening.
aykmd: 333
Harley quickly walked up to the door of the principal's office, trying to ignore the raised eyebrows and curious stares of the Abercrombie models around her. You can do this, Harley, she told herself, then knocked three times in rapid succession, more loudly than she'd meant to.
"Come in!" said a commanding voice, and Harley pushed the door open – again, harder than she'd intended, and she winced as it banged against the wall inside.
She stood nervously in the doorway as an imposing woman looked at her dispassionately from behind a large mahogany desk, her fingers tented. "Do you have something against walls?" she said, and Harley giggled before she could help herself.
"No, ma'am," she said. "I'm firmly in support of walls. Doors, on the other hand . . ."
"Good," said the woman, and Harley thought she could detect a sparkle of amusement behind the impassive façade. "I'm Principal Waller." She stood and extended her hand. Harley walked in and shook it, closing the door behind her.
"Nice to meet you," Harley said. "I'm –"
"Harleen Quinzel, I know," said the principal, sitting back down. "Dr. Leland speaks very highly of you, although your transcript speaks for itself." Harley blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment.
The principal didn't invite her to sit. She just watched Harley, who shifted a bit under her gaze. "You'll need a uniform," she said abruptly. "See my secretary on the way out for that and your class schedule." Harley nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh – and one more thing," Principal Waller added. "Judging by your transcript, science is your weakest subject. If you're going to excel here at Gotham Preparatory Academy, you'll need to work on that. I've asked Professor Woodrue to assign you a peer tutor."
"Yes, ma'am," Harley said, recognizing that it was time to leave when Principal Waller turned to her computer. She opened and closed the door much more gingerly this time.
The secretary's desk was right outside in the main office, but Harley didn't see anyone sitting there. She leaned against the counter to wait.
"Feed me and I live, give me a drink and I die," said a voice, and Harley jumped. A boy with reddish brown hair, thick glasses, and the trademark green blazer of Gotham Prep had just popped up from behind the counter she'd been leaning on.
"Wh-what?" Harley stammered, trying to catch her breath.
"It's a riddle," he said incredulously. "Haven't you ever heard a riddle before? They're the highest form of intelligence."
"I thought that was sarcasm," Harley said.
The boy blinked at her, then barked out a quick laugh. "I like you," he said, holding out his hand suddenly. "Edward Nygma."
Harley shook it a little cautiously. "Harley Quinzel." She let go of his hand. "So . . . do you know where the secretary is?"
Edward shrugged. "She comes and goes. But I'm her student assistant this semester." He cocked his head, bird-like. "What can I help you with?"
"Well, the principal told me to get a uniform and my class schedule," said Harley.
"Ah!" said Edward, clapping his hands. "Right this way!" He led her to a closet with neatly packaged green blazers and skirts. "Let's see," he mused, looking her up and down, "you look like about a . . . here we go!" He grabbed two packages and quickly turned to Harley, thrusting them into her arms. Then he marched over to a computer. "She changes her password sometimes, so this might take me a minute . . . and we're in!" He pressed some keys, then grabbed the piece of paper that had just printed and presented it to Harley proudly. "And – you should be all set!"
"Thanks," said Harley uncertainly. "I'll just . . . go change in the bathroom."
"Pleasure to meet you!" said Edward, returning to whatever he had been doing behind the counter.
Harley paused on the way out the door. "By the way . . . the answer is fire."
She couldn't see it, but Edward smiled behind the counter.
/
"Pamela Isley, you ignorant slut!"
Pamela gritted her teeth, scrunching her eyes shut as she gathered her wits. After a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, she turned around, huge smile on her face in the direction of the assertive voice. "Selina Kyle," she regarded the smirking, stylish brunette with an unusual and entirely falsified friendliness. "What a change of pace, seeing your tongue in your own mouth rather than down your boyfriend's throat."
The dark haired boy to Selina's right chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with their usual deserved confidence. "Hey, Pam."
"Oh, Bruce." Pam's tone was cloyingly sweet, grin still plastered on her face. "I didn't see you there."
"Tell me, Pammy…" Selina slinked up beside her, smelling of expensive perfume, "Where would you like my tongue?"
The redhead rolled her eyes, giving her friend a small bump with her shoulder when she got too close. "Where's Diana?" She addressed Bruce instead.
"Lacrosse had a meeting before school." He explained.
"Which is exactly why I told her to quit that dumbassery and be your doubles partner, Pammy." Selina interjected, pushing the redhead out of the way of her own locker mirror to get a good look at herself.
"I don't play doubles." Pamela huffed. "Why didn't you recruit her for the gymnastics team?"
"A gymnast is born, not made." Selina answered matter-of-factly, pushing her dark bangs aside and ruffling up the back of her short hair.
"Where are you headed first?" Bruce asked.
"Gordon's English." Pamela did her best to hide her annoyance at the fact.
Selina slammed Pam's locker shut, evidently deciding her friend was done with it. "How the fuck did you get into AP Lit?"
"Why don't you ask my 4.1 GPA?" The redhead sneered. "Don't tell me you're in it too."
"Well of course I am, Pammy. I requested your exact schedule. I said, 'Principal Waller, Pamela Isley is my bestest BFF and I just can't stand the thought of being away from her for even a second!'
Pam's face was hot. "They don't let you request schedules like that." She mumbled.
Selina laughed. "Let's go write about our feelings, you fucking automaton."
/
Harley slipped into an empty seat just as the first bell rang. "Whew, that was close!" she whispered to herself.
"New girl?" said the boy next to her, and Harley looked at him for the first time. He was the only person she'd seen here who wasn't wearing a green blazer, and the first person she'd ever seen with bright green hair. And he was smirking at her as if he ran the place.
"Yeah," she said.
"Heard about you," he said. "What brings you to our fine establishment?"
Harley started to reply, but just then the teacher walked in. "Haec est classis Latine," he said.
"What?" Harley whispered.
"This is Latin class," said the boy next to her, still wearing that infuriating smirk. "Are you in the wrong place?"
"Shit!" Harley hissed. She stood up, knocking her pen to the floor, and fumbled until she'd gathered all her things. "Sorry – wrong class," she mumbled, trying to ignore the snickers around her.
"Find me later," said the boy. "No, scratch that – I'll find you." Harley flushed and headed out the door.
She peeked her head into another classroom after several minutes of wandering the halls. An auburn-haired woman looked up from where she sat in the front of the room in a wheelchair, her eyes kind behind her glasses. "Are you looking for AP Literature?" she said, and Harley sighed in relief and nodded. "Well, you're in the right place. I'm Professor Gordon – Barbara," said the professor. "Come on in."
Harley heard a few whispers, but told herself she could handle it. There was only one empty desk, and of course it was in the front row, right beside a redhead who sneered at Harley as she passed her.
I'm sure we'll be besties one day, Harley thought sarcastically, and she flopped into her seat.
/
"Professor Gordon?" Pamela asked, approaching her teacher's desk a few minutes in advance of the bell.
The woman turned her wheelchair away from the smartboard to regard the pretty redhead in front of her. "Yes?"
"I just wanted to introduce myself." Pamela smiled charmingly. "I'm Pamela Lillian Isley."
Professor Gordon took the girl's hand, giving it a shake. "Did you enjoy the summer reading?"
"Oh, absolutely. Yes, Ma'am." Pamela lied. She'd completed the reading, of course, but hadn't enjoyed a single moment of it.
Professor Gordon had evidently noticed the girl's momentary hesitation because she regarded her critically, narrowing her eyes slightly behind her glasses. "Who was your favorite?"
"Emerson."
"Why?"
"His use of nature as a metaphor." That part was true.
Professor Gordon was still clearly unconvinced. "Hm. Well thank you for introducing yourself, Pamela. I look forward to knowing you better."
Pamela smiled once more and reached into her backpack, producing a wrapped vial of her mother's most successful perfume, the same kind that Selina was wearing. "A preemptive gift for your valuable tutelage."
"Thank you." Professor Gordon said plainly, taking the gift and dropping it in her desk drawer already nearly full with presents from other students hoping to buy a good grade in her class. "You can take a seat now, Pamela."
"O-of course." The girl's smile drooped slightly. Usually her charm was absolute, yet this teacher seemed absolutely immune. She offered a small nod before taking her seat in the front row. "Bitch."
"She doesn't seem so bad to me." Bruce shrugged.
Pamela was turning around to change his mind on the subject when the bell rang.
"Ms. Isley." Gordon addressed her. "Eyes to the front, please."
Selina snickered and Pamela turned- red faced- back to the smartboard where the teacher was sitting, ready to begin her presentation.
"Talia, will you do me a favor and hand out the syllabus?" Professor Gordon asked the long-haired brunette sitting in back.
"Ugh, of course they're on a first name basis." Selina grumbled only loud enough for Bruce and Pamela to hear.
"I honestly don't know what your problem is with her." Bruce whispered. "She's always nice to me."
"That's because she wants to fuck you." Selina informed him, but a bit too loudly.
"I'm sorry, do I need to separate you three?" Professor Gordon asked with a heated glare.
"No, Ma'am." Pamela said quickly, trying to save face. This was not how her first class of the year was supposed to go and it was all Selina's fault. Selina and Bruce and Professor Gordon. When a syllabus finally made its way to her, she read through it quickly, trying and failing to hide the look of complete and utter terror on her face. Pamela had assumed "AP Literature" meant that they would simply be studying great works of literature, not having to write creatively themselves. Pamela was a scientist. She was going to be a scientist, and this was so horribly…artistic. She unceremoniously shoved the syllabus aside on her desk and sat back in a huff, her arms crossed against her chest.
"Are you looking for AP Literature?" Professor Gordon was asking.
Pamela snapped her head up, confused, before she realized the woman was talking to a blonde girl she'd never seen before. She must have been new because she'd tied the ribbon wrong on her collar and her shirt wasn't tucked in. The girl was nodding.
"Well, you're in the right place. I'm Professor Gordon – Barbara. Come on in."
The girl looked around the room for an empty seat, and it wasn't until they accidently made eye contact that Pam realized the only one was right next to her. 'Typical.' Pam rolled her eyes as the girl sat down.
And Professor Gordon's glare was on the redhead once again. "Ms. Isley, I'm going to need you to share your syllabus with—I'm sorry, what's your name?"
"Harley." The blonde answered.
Professor Gordon smiled kindly. "How about your full name. For the chart?"
"Oh, right." Harley laughed nervously. "It's Harleen. Harleen Quinzel."
"Great." The teacher made a note. "Pamela, please share your syllabus with Ms. Quinzel."
The redhead took the paper from where it was teetering on the edge of her desk and roughly slid it over to the girl. But she misjudged, wasn't looking closely enough, and before she knew it their hands were touching and a jolt of what felt like electricity was running from Pamela's fingers into the pit of her stomach. She looked at the girl again, truly taking her in this time. Her bright blue eyes, pale skin and fair features. She looked like the girl-next-door on every television show and Pamela was suddenly having trouble looking away, or withdrawing her hand.
"Now that we're all here." Professor Gordon's voice jolted Pamela back to reality. "How about we get started?"
author(s) note: Bonus points if you can tell us whose version of Selina that is.
