Actual conversation between actual authors #2 AmberZ10: ...did you use "Harl" in the place of "hell"? Did you seriously just say "Harl yeah!"? areyoukiddingmedude: I REGRET NOTHING AmberZ10: I'm...I think the feeling is...pride? I'm impressed? areyoukiddingmedude: Go with that.

Harley packed up after her last class of the day (the other students continued to ignore her) and headed down to the locker room so she could change for gymnastics tryouts, the only thing she'd truly been looking forward to all day. Harley had been the star of the gymnastics team at her old gym in Central Gotham, and she loved it more than anything – most of the events made her feel like she was weightless, flying, free. More than that, Harley was good at gymnastics. Excellent, even. Rated one of the top 10 gymnasts to watch when she was in only 7th grade. She'd been invited to train at a gym in National City…but membership was expensive and in many ways, Harley was her siblings' third parent. She couldn't just leave her family behind…

She'd gotten through her afternoon classes without incident, managing not to be late or to attract too much attention – either from gorgeous red-haired biology tutors or from creepy green-haired boys.

Harley frowned a little, recalling how he'd sat too close to her in the cafeteria, how he'd made Edward and Jonathan visibly uncomfortable. When he figured out that Edward was explaining the various groups to her, he crowed, "Oh, don't listen to Eddie! I'll teach you everything you need to know!" Then he pointed around the room seemingly at random, loudly announcing, "Bitch. Whore. Asshole. Even bigger asshole. Weakling. Simpleton. Fucking moron."

Edward and Jonathan both hid their heads in their hands, trying to make themselves invisible – a trick Harley knew well. "Hey," she said to the loud intruder, "what's your name, anyway?"

It was a transparent distraction ploy, but it worked. "Ooh, my favorite subject – me!" he said, putting his chin on his hands and batting his eyes up at her. "You can call me J, sweet little girl."

"Okay, J-sweet-little-girl," Harley said, and Edward tittered in surprise. A brief flash of anger crossed the other boy's angular features before he settled them back into a smirk.

He leaned close to her ear – Harley did her best not to recoil, trying to stand firm – and said in a stage whisper, "You're a smart girl, right? Smart girls like you should realize that it's better to stay on my good side."

Then he sniffed her hair loudly, smacked his lips, and set off for the "burnout" table, just as suddenly as he'd appeared.

Back in the present, Harley shuddered at the memory. What a sleazeball. Then she realized that as her mind had been wandering, so had her feet, and now she was completely turned around.

She finally found the locker room and changed quickly, then knocked at the coach's office. "Coach Kane?" Harley said, reading the name on the door.

"That's me," said a trim woman with a long red ponytail from behind the desk. "Oh! You must be Quinzel. Your old coach thinks you hung the moon, pretty sure we talked about you over a beer one night." She grinned as she held out a hand for Harley to shake.

"Um, do you have a tryout uniform you'd like me to wear? Or is this OK?" Harley asked, indicating her tank top and spandex shorts.

Coach Kane shrugged. "If you're half the athlete Central says you are, we'll get you all tricked out in Gotham Prep green before you know it. But that will work for now." She checked her watch. "Oh! We'd better get out there."

They entered the gym together, and Harley suppressed a gasp. Everything was shinier, fancier, better lit than at her old gym. And this wasn't even a dedicated Gymnastics institution! It was just a high school! Harley couldn't believe the facilities. Her fingers flexed unconsciously when she saw the uneven bars, and she jiggled one leg at the sight of the vault.

"Well, everyone, I think most of you know the drill," Coach Kane said to the group of 5 girls in mismatched leotards. "Our captain Selina here" – she indicated the girl with short dark hair who'd been sitting by Pamela in the cafeteria, and Selina inclined her head gracefully – "will walk you through warm-ups, and I trust you all have floor and bar routines prepared. After everyone's had a chance to show their stuff, you'll each perform a vault of your choice. Quinzel here is the only newbie, but evidently she knows what she's doing. Still, don't be afraid to help her out if she gets lost. We're a team here. Remember that."

The girls all nodded, Harley with a huge smile on her face. Her feet on the springboard carpet just felt so right, she couldn't help but show it.

Coach Kane gave a nod to Selina, then checked her watch again. "Shoot! I'm late for a faculty meeting. Selina – do you mind –"

"Of course not, Coach Kane," Selina purred. "It's my pleasure." She smiled benignly as Coach Kane left the gym, then turned to the girls with a look of what Harley could only describe as 'disappointment.' "Listen up, cream puffs. As all of you know, this school is the mecca of high school gymnastics. Our facilities, our recruiting, our routines…best of the best of the best– but last year…" she sighed, clicking her tongue. "What happened last year, Curly Sue?" She indicated the girl Harley had seen at lunch- the one violating the uniform code with the bomber jacket.

"I…" The girl started, her voice raspy. "I fell."

"Hello Kitty? Tell the new recruits where she fell," Selina prompted the leader of the "cool Asians"- Cassie? Cass? Cassandra?- who was dressed in a sleek black leotard, black sweats hanging loosely off her hips.

The girl's eye roll was barely noticeable behind her stoic expression. "She fell off the beam."

"That's right." Selina nodded solemnly, stopping her pacing to stand in front of the girl she'd nicknamed 'Curly Sue'. "Now, I don't blame her. I can't blame her. Why? Because…"

"Everyone is susceptible to the pressure." Hello Kitty and Curly Sue repeated, while the other girl- with the long dark hair…from Biology and Literature…Talia?- remained silent.

"Except for…?" Selina prompted further.

"The captain," they finished.

"The captain." The stylish brunette repeated with a self-indulgent, Cheshire Cat smile. "In case you weren't aware, Little Miss Sunshine," she addressed Harley now, "I am the first captain in the history of the sport at this fine institution to be given the title as a sophomore. Now, I led a successful season…" she began to pace again. "We won State, we were ranked first going into Nationals but then…"

"Roxy fell." Talia filled in the blank.

"Curly Sue took a tumble, that's right, Tall Dark and Lonesome." Selina acknowledged her, clasping her hands behind her back. "Kimmy Schmidt over here looks like she thinks this is some happy-go-lucky bullshit." She was referring to Harley again. "Like I'm going to give everyone umbrellas and we're gonna go singing in the motherfucking rain."

The blonde's smile faded a bit, but she steeled her resolve, deciding probably too hastily what route she would take. "Is this Speech and Debate?" She asked.

Selina stopped in her tracks, now focusing all her attention on the blonde. "Excuse me?"

"I just…" Harley giggled, "With all the yappin' we're doin', I figured I musta had the wrong room. See, I thought this was gymnastics."

The other girls were dumbfounded, staring at her like she had a whole banana stuck to her face. But Selina just smirked, evidently steeling her resolve as well.

"Quinzel, right? Harleen?" she asked, coming closer. Close enough for Harley to smell her expensive perfume.

"Yeah." The blonde grinned- somewhat sheepishly now. "But you can call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Harley…" Selina tried out the taste of the name on her tongue. "Like the motorcycle?"

"Yep." She gave off another nervous laugh, but still less awkward than the one in Literature Class.

The brunette looked her up and down once more. "I think I'll call you Crotch Rocket. Whaddya say?" She mocked the girl's accent. "Ready to rev up your Harley?"

/

Pamela grunted, taking out her frustration on the next ball that came her way. She swung too early and sent it hurtling toward one of her teammates. "Hey!" the girl cried.

Pam didn't acknowledge the outburst – it was inconsequential compared to the turmoil in her head.

Focus, Pamela, she urged herself. She knew that athletics were a key component of a well-rounded transcript and that she couldn't afford to be distracted by –

The next ball flew at her and she hit this one perfectly, adding one to her mental tally of perfect shots. She was well off her target score and refused to allow herself the excuse that it was the first practice of the season.

What is wrong with you today? She had more important things to worry about than locking eyes with some – transfer student. Even if it was twice in one day. And even if she felt a strange sort of connection every time they –

"Shit!" She hadn't even heard the machine fire, and the next ball hit her hard in the hip. Pam heard a couple of her teammates laughing and shot them a glare that likely would have killed them had they not been wearing sunglasses. They stopped immediately, eyes focusing on their feet in what appeared to be a demonstration of shame. That's right, Pamela thought, holding her head high and smoothing her custom-stitched tennis skirt with the hand not holding her racquet.

Okay. It was time to prioritize. First – get through tennis practice with all limbs intact. Second – there was something she needed to make arrangements for . . . what was it?

"Shit!" Pam said again, but for a different reason as she returned the ball effortlessly this time. She'd just remembered that the thing she needed to arrange was biology tutoring sessions for, who else? Harleen Quinzel.

Throughout the duration of practice, Pam managed to focus enough not to get hit again, though not nearly enough to meet her own internal standards. By the time her instructor announced that it was 5pm, she was good and irritated with the other girl. Why should it fall to Pamela to schedule their tutoring sessions? She wasn't the one who needed the help.

And yet – she'd have to take care of this, like everything else. Pam sighed and went to find Selina. The brunette was sneaky and had mysterious ways of finding out information about people. She'd be able to get Harley's number.

As Pam made her way quickly and efficiently to the gymnasium where Selina should be wrapping up gymnastics tryouts, she pondered her options. Should she call Harley? Text her? What was appropriate in a strictly tutoring-only relationship? Maybe an email? Certainly not a hand-written letter…

The decision was made for her when she collided hard with someone coming out of the locker room. Someone who smelled like a hard run outside mixed with Jolly Ranchers, a combination that Pam wouldn't ever have imagined appealing to her before that moment.

Someone whose hand had somehow ended up on Pam's ass in their attempt to stay upright.

Someone with blonde pigtails and blue eyes and . . . damn it.

"Oh. Um…hi," Harley said, giggling and withdrawing her hand from where it rested on Pam's rear. She actually wiggled the fingers of that hand at Pam as if to say, See? All gone!

Pam took a deep breath, composed herself, and said, "Hello, Harley."

AmberZ10: Coming up with Selina's nicknames for people has been one of the greatest joys of my young life. Although I can't take credit for "Hello Kitty", that was AY's. Anyway, bonus points if you tell us your favorite so far. And do you think she has a nickname for Bruce? (besides "Babe", of course). Also, I took a crack at Harley this chapter while Dude did some fantastic Pammery. Can you tell the difference?