Actual conversation between actual authors #3 areyoukiddingmedude: They're loving Crotch Rocket #YourLegacy AmberZ10: On my tombstone. "Here lies Amber. Gone before her time. Once referred to Harley Quinn as 'Crotch Rocket'. This is her legacy." areyoukiddingmedude: Pretty much perfect.

Harley was pulling her backpack out of her locker when Selina came in. There was just something so glamorous about the girl with her short black hair, perfect makeup and impeccable style…she'd already changed into a pair of darkly washed jeans and a black leather jacket, but even just in her school uniform…she was so…chic. Harley, on the other hand, was still in her gym clothes. Un-showered. Saying Harley felt inadequate would be an understatement. No, knock it off, Harl. She sorta liked it when you talked back.

"So…" Selina began, leaning casually against the lockers. "As captain, I wanted to officially welcome you to the team."

"You mean I made it?" Harley squeaked.

"Yeah, no shit you made it." Selina laughed. "Jesus, Crotch Rocket, don't you have any self-esteem?"

Harley grinned broadly, not even caring about the slightly demeaning nickname. "I'm so happy."

"I can see that." The brunette was clearly amused, possibly even charmed for how she smirked. "In any case, you're a Gotham Prep Rogue now, so…welcome."

"Thank you!" Harley thought her smile might tear her face in two. "Seriously, this means so much to me."

Selina nodded and pushed off the lockers, twirling her keys around her finger. "Well if you were shit you wouldn't have made it, so if you continue to impress me rather than disappoint, we won't have a problem."

"Yes, Ma'am." Harley said like she would address a teacher. Ma'am? Ma'am?! She's your age, Harley!

The brunette seemed to enjoy that very much. With a sly smile she said, "I'm having a party on Friday. You're coming. Cool?"

"Coolio!" Harley said enthusiastically. Coolio? Just go jump off a bridge, Harley. Please.

Selina couldn't help but laugh at that, and Harley guessed it was only about 70% at her expense and 30% actual enjoyment. "The theme's Noir, by the way. So figure it out." She told her as she walked out, backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

"Bye!" Harley called after her. But the sound of a shutting door was her only response. Harley was giddy as she laced her shoes up. Selina Kyle, that sexy dictator, just invited me to a party. I think this is a big deal! I mean, if she and the redhead- Pamela- are really the best people I'll ever meet…

She skipped out of the locker room absolutely oblivious to her surroundings until—ow! Harley collided with someone on her way out the door and was thrown off kilter, she grabbed for anything to keep her upright and that just happened to be…some girl's ass. Really? No…not just 'some girl,' it was her…Red- Pamela, and she smelled like flowers and…

"Oh, umm…Hi." The words were coming out of Harley's mouth before her mind could catch up because the girls were face to face and even though Pamela wasn't as made-up as the last time they'd seen each other, she was somehow just as beautiful. The modeliest model of this school full of modely models. HANDS, HARLEY! YOUR HANDS! The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the situation, because OF COURSE this would happen to her. Harley knew the party thing had been too good to be true. She knew she'd find a way to mess it up, and what better way than to accidently grope the ass of the school's other queen bee? Harley (finally) pulled her hands away, but judging by the look on the redhead's face, she needed proof, so Harley wiggled her fingers, trying to silently communicate to the redhead that she meant no harm, she was just an alien not deserving of residence on this planet.

Harley watched as Pamela took a deep breath, clearly attempting to recover from the unique sensation that was being molested by the idiot new girl, before greeting her with a very mature sounding, "Hello, Harley."

/

After "Hello, Harley" (a decent if rather dull opening statement), Pam said the next thing that popped into her head: "I was looking for Selina."

"Oh – she left already – if you hurry, you can probably still catch her," Harley said.

"No! I mean – I was looking for you," Pam hastened to correct her.

Harley looked up at her, and a hint of mischief sparkled in her blue eyes. She patted Pam's shoulder in a friendly way, and the redhead barely managed to keep herself from jumping at the contact. "Pamela . . . this might be hard for you to believe, but Selina and I are actually two different people." She whispered the last three words, and Pam's answering laugh caught both of them by surprise.

Pam shook her head a little to clear it, feeling a bit dazed – probably from the collision. "I'll clarify. I was looking for Selina because I thought she might be able to get your contact information. I didn't realize you were trying out for gymnastics."

"Yep!" said Harley. "It's my favorite!" She did a little dance, and honestly who was this person? Pam had never met anyone like her. Then Harley looked at her quizzically. "Why did you need my contact infor – oh, for bio tutoring, right." Her shoulders drooped a little, and Pam wondered why (then hissed at herself to stop wondering why).

"Well, since I ran into you, I can just give you mine," Pamela said, recovering from – whatever it was. She pulled a card from the smallest pocket of her handbag and presented it to Harley. "My address and phone number are listed there. We will start this Wednesday evening at 7pm sharp. I'll expect you then."

And she marched away, before Harley could respond, before Pam could slip again and lose the modicum of control that was letting her walk away right now, before she could get swallowed up by thoughts of those spandex shorts, that warm hand on her –

Damn it, Pamela!

/

Harley didn't even lock up her bike when she got home, just left it in the yard and did a silent prayer it wouldn't be stolen. There was just too much to think about! She'd made the gymnastics team, she'd been invited to a party, a teenager- no, THE teenager- had slipped her a business card of all things. What 17-year-old has a business card?

Anyway…as per usual, the house was in the throes of utter chaos. Her mother was on the phone, trapping it between her shoulder and side of her face, her arms occupied with Harley's 4-year-old brother. The 8-year-old was now throwing his broccoli, rather than his cereal, so at least that was a change of pace.

Harley immediately came in to intervene. She grabbed her brother's hand, lowering it back onto the table with the crown of broccoli still in its clutches. "Food is for our tummies," she intoned.

He grinned and shoved it in his mouth, chewing proudly for his older sister. Harley's face drew up into a nearly identical expression and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking across the kitchen to her mother.

"You need help?" Harley mouthed.

Her mother shook her head. "You have homework?" she asked without sound, still juggling the phone and the toddler.

Harley nodded and her mother gestured towards the stairs to imply that Harley should get on it. She kissed her littlest brother on the head and bounded up to her room, roughly throwing her backpack on the bed once she'd made it.

Then she flopped down after it, laying on her stomach with her feet crossed behind her in the air. She bit her lip as she took the business card from her pocket, looking at the gold letters that spelled out "Pamela Lillian Isley." I know she's supposed to be cool, Harley thought, but what a dork. She flipped it over and programmed the number into her phone, deciding that a google search was in order.

Oh…that's why she was wearing a tennis skirt, Harley realized as she read over the article ranking the girl first in the state singles standings going into the club season. That's also why she was sitting at the "varsity jocks" table. She was, in fact, a varsity jock. She'd also evidently won the NOVA Labs Junior Scientist's national competition as well as the science portion of the Siemens Competition- heh, semen, Harley giggled. Well…at least Harley knew Pamela was qualified to tutor. So, this Isley girl was just your classic, hot, rich, genius over-achiever. Perfect, Harley groaned as she shut her laptop. I can't wait to disappoint her.

/

Alec was waiting patiently at the curb with the car, as well he should be. "Good evening, Ms. Isley," he said, tipping his cap and opening her door.

"Good evening, Alec," she said distantly as she climbed in.

Once inside the car, she put up the divider – she wasn't in the mood for idle chitchat after the day she'd had.

The house was empty, as expected – her parents wouldn't be back until the weekend from their important business engagements. Pam was used to the quiet. She fixed herself a cup of herbal tea and perused the list she'd made of homework assignments. It was a typically light courseload for the first evening of school, but she could work ahead in the classes that provided a full syllabus.

She put her teacup in the dishwasher and headed upstairs. Pam allowed herself a 5-minute shower in the evenings, with the aid of her trusty timer, to refresh herself for the evening. (She only washed her hair in the mornings, of course – water conservation was still paramount.)

Pam stepped out of the shower when the timer dinged and put on her robe. She washed her face, moisturized, and then ironed her school uniform for tomorrow.

Then she sat down at her desk, turned on the Tiffany lamp that sat on it, and prepared to do as much schoolwork as she could that evening.

Exactly one hour later, she was surprised to find that midway through her AP Biology reading (she'd started there so that she could be appropriately ahead for her first tutoring session), she had doodled an ornate 'HQ' in her biology notebook, covering the letters with a delicate ivy plant.

Pamela Isley did not doodle. She tore out the offending page, crumpled it up, and threw it away. (Two seconds later, she took it out of the garbage and placed it in her small recycling bin instead.)

She tapped her pencil against the desk and looked out the window, at the sun that was just setting.

She thought about how long it had been since she'd had a Jolly Rancher.

And when she went to bed later that night, at precisely 10:00 p.m., she had to kick off all of her covers because she felt hot all over.

AmberZ10: Yes, I attended the Areyoukiddingmedude School of Writing Harley Quinn. What do you guys think? Is her voice consistent? Is Pam's (after us switching for the last two chapters)? But the bonus question is...Pam's driver Alec. Who is he outside the AU? Can you tell me his superhero/villain name?