Real conversations between real authors #3:
AmberZ10: PAM IS HOPEFULLY A BRUNCH MANIAC
areyoukiddingmedude: You'll just have to see how I banshee this divisive issue
AmberZ10: ...with her Pam-cakes and her Pam-ergranite juice
aykmd: That was supposed to say "handle"
AZ10: I prefer banshee
aykmd: but banshee is so much better so I left it
aykmd: RIGHT?!
Harley strolled along the nicest street in Gotham, ogling the ornate mansions, hands in her pockets, having one of those moments where you're just happy to be alive. She smiled, remembering Pam's Just confirming your RSVP text, like this was some black-tie gala.
And did Pamela Isley text every person who was invited to confirm their attendance? Harley thought probably not.
She swallowed down a lump of nerves, pausing as she approached the busy Kyle mansion. The party was already in full swing, and it felt to Harley a bit like her first day at Gotham Prep all over again. If I leave now, I can still catch a bus home, she thought.
Then her mind drifted to Pam again, and she wondered absently what the redhead was wearing, and Harley wasn't all that surprised when her feet started moving again on their own.
She smoothed down the front of her white button-down shirt as she approached the house – the party's theme had stressed her out almost more than the party itself since it wasn't like she could just go out and buy something, but in the end Harley was happy with the outfit she'd been able to pull together. Her shirt was tucked into a pair of black dress pants that fit her pretty well, just grazing the tops of her shiny black shoes. The only pair of suspenders she could find in the house were black with little red diamonds on them – her dad had some odd taste in clothes, and Harley hoped they fit the theme okay.
Her hair provided another challenge. Harley had been toying with the question of biking vs busing it, right up until the time she left, so she'd decided that pants would be better than a dress, and to fit with the outfit and the time period she'd slicked her blonde hair back. It was a little Draco Malfoy, but once she'd given herself a makeover using the products Pam had snuck into her locker, Harley had to admit that with the suspenders and her red lips and slicked-back hair and darkly lined eyes, the contrast worked.
She was in front of the house now, and as she approached the open front gate someone suddenly dropped down off the stone wall and landed right behind her.
Harley whirled. "Jonathan!" she laughed in relief. "You scared the shit out of me!"
Her lunchtime companion looked at her oddly, said "Good," and ran off into the yard.
Guess some people started early tonight, Harley thought. Or maybe right on time, she amended – she'd been at the mercy of the bus schedule and couldn't be there right when the party started. Shaking off the weird encounter with Jonathan, she headed through the gate. She hadn't gone 10 feet when a voice said, "Hello, Harley" from the shadows.
Harley jumped straight into the air this time, coming down in a (completely fake) 'karate' pose. She relaxed as her classmate Talia Al Ghul materialized from the shadows. "Hey, Talia," she said. "Just . . . hanging out in the shadows?"
Talia nodded seriously. "It's cuz I'm an assassin," she said, slurring her words slightly.
Jesus, I need one of those drinks! Harley thought. "Of course you are," she said supportively.
"My dad is immortal," said Talia, and when Harley gave her a cheerful grin and a thumbs up (how else do you respond to that?), Talia looked satisfied and slunk back into the shadows.
Harley shook her head and walked up to the dauntingly huge front door, mentally debating whether to bang one of the giant knockers (heh) or to just try saying Open Sesame. But then a group of students ran right past her and threw the door wide open, so Harley followed them in.
She let out a low whistle as she scanned the cavernous front hallway. Selina's parents had more opulent taste than Pam's, whose home had been (for the tax bracket) relatively understated. "Wouldn't be surprised if we all played 'Spin the Suit of Armor' later," Harley muttered to herself.
"Not bad," said a dry voice from the parlor. Sitting room? Some room, anyway, Harley thought. She leaned through the doorway and saw a girl standing in the dimly lit room, her arms crossed. "But I think this crowd will jump right to 'Seven Minutes in Ibiza.'" Harley quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, who shrugged. "Couldn't think of a rich-people vacation destination that started with 'H.'"
Harley laughed at that. "Well, funny girl hanging out alone in the dark, what do they call you?" she said.
The girl came closer, and in the light from the hallway Harley could see that she had dark shoulder-length hair, blue-almost-violet eyes, and a knowing smirk. She was wearing a sleeveless sheath dress, gloves that went past the elbow, and a cloak draped over her shoulders – all in a rich purple shade that brought out her eyes. "They call me Rachel. Rachel Roth," she said. "But I prefer to go by Raven."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Harley," Harley said. "Do you go to Gotham Prep?"
Raven snorted. "No. I'm just a friend of Dick Grayson's. From way out of town. He drags me to these things in an effort to get me to 'socialize.'"
"Is he around?" said Harley, thinking that where Dick Grayson was, a certain redhead might also be.
"Last time I saw him, he was doing flips off a chandelier in the ballroom," Raven said with a half-shrug. "Don't ask. I swear that boy thinks he's a goddamn circus performer when he's had a few."
"Okay, well, I'm going to go find my . . . biology tutor," Harley said, biting her cheek for being so awkwardly precise in defining their relationship. "See ya." Raven retreated back into the dark room as Harley made her way down the cavernous hallway.
She smoothed the front of her shirt again, nervously anticipating seeing said biology tutor. Would Pam even want to hang out with Harley when her shiny rich friends were around? Or should Harley just hide on the fringes, like Raven and Talia and Jonathan? Being here at Selina's personal invitation, at Pam's urging, but not being a part of the main group put her in an uncomfortable state of purgatory.
Two girls passed her, heading the opposite direction. "Did you see Bruce Wayne tonight?" one of them giggled.
"Oh my god, I know! Wearing a cape and crying in the corner? He's still so hot, though."
Weirdest party ever, Harley thought, shaking her head.
There was a burst of noise to one side, and Harley followed it, finding herself near the back of a large open kitchen where a crowd of students had gathered. It was their cheering that Harley had heard from the hall.
The Kyles' kitchen featured a brick pizza oven, a refrigerator larger than her bedroom . . . and yet Harleen Quinzel registered none of its state-of-the-art features, because her attention was entirely captivated by the scene playing out near the kitchen island.
There was Selina, swaying a bit in a red suit that looked like something out of Dick Tracy.
There was J, his green hair oddly balanced by his garish purple zoot suit, holding a video camera on Selina and . . .
There was Pam. She wore an evening gown the exact color of her eyes, and her red hair was pinned back from one cheek, the curls cascading down the other side, leaving one shoulder bare. She was the most beautiful person Harley had ever seen, and while Harley hadn't felt many of the big romantic clichés in her short and not-that-romantic life . . . her fucking heart skipped a beat in her chest.
While she was recovering from that, she saw Selina's eyes dance over the crowd, and Harley knew the second she saw her because for some reason, those catlike eyes narrowed when they met Harley's and Selina smiled a feral, joyless grin.
And then – Selina said something Harley couldn't hear, and that couldn't be right because it looked all of a sudden like she and Pam were – oh.
They were kissing. With the whole school watching, with J's video camera pointed right at them, his bony shoulders shaking with glee.
It's . . . just one of those drunken party things, Harley thought to herself, desperately. See? Not a real kiss. And Pam's pushing her away!
But then their lips came together again, and that was a real kiss, and Selina's hands were twining in Pam's glorious hair, and Harley could tell that Pam was kissing her back, and she could tell they'd done this before, and she didn't know why that made her guts twist so hard that she had to put a hand to her stomach – but it did.
"Well? What do you think? Tie?" Selina was saying.
Red and green and purple blurred together suddenly, and Harley realized that her eyes were wet. She looked up at the ceiling, stupidly thinking for a second that water was leaking on her.
Then she looked straight ahead again, blinking back her inexplicable tears, and found herself staring right into emerald eyes that mirrored her own feelings of shock.
The crowd was starting to disperse now – show's over, Harley thought bitterly – and she turned and let herself be swept along with them, stumbling over her own stupid feet in her haste to get outside.
/
Pam watched Harley's blonde head bob out of sight as the crowd exited the room. That look in her eye- shock, confusion, maybe disappointment- it made Pam's stomach hurt knowing she was the cause of it. An anger like white hot fury bubbled up in her throat, tasting of bile and stinging like aimless frustration.
She grabbed Selina by the lapel of her jacket and the brunette yelped as she was dragged from behind the island up the stairs.
"Pam, ow! Hey!" the brunette complained as the redhead pulled on her jacket, nearly ripping the fabric. "What are you—"
Pamela opened Selina's bedroom door and shoved her inside. They were alone now, the sounds of the party distant below the floorboards as the redhead slammed the door shut behind her.
She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, three times, but ended up clamping it shut again as a mixture of pain and anger twisted her features.
Selina backed up into the room slightly, positioning herself with plenty of area to maneuver should she need to. "What's the matter?" She asked, her voice confident, but her eyes afraid.
"Don't do that!" Pamela shouted. "You know what you did, Selina. It's cruel!"
"What did I do, Pammy?" Selina asked mock-innocently, raising a dark eyebrow. "You mean the kiss? Was it too much tongue?"
"Stop it!" Pamela advanced, pushing Selina harshly onto the bed a few feet behind her. "Just stop!"
"Ooh, Me-ow, Pammy." Selina swiped her hand like a cat claw. "Are we getting feisty?"
"Why are you being like this?!" Pam was almost crying now. "Why would you do that when you knew…"
"Knew what?" Selina baited her, sitting up. "Knew that she'd be here? Your little fucking girlfriend?"
"No, that's not what…she's…" Pamela tried to pull herself back under control. "You can't do that. Not anymore. You have Bruce and I have…"
"Oh my god." Selina crawled to the foot of the bed and sat back on her heels. "You really do have a thing for her." She laughed, cruelly. "You don't even know her!"
"But I'd like to!" Pamela took a few heated steps forward. "Why am I not allowed that? Why do you get to have Bruce but I can't have anyone?"
"Oh, knock it off, Pammy. You make it sound like I'm jealous." The brunette placed her hands on her friend's hips and looked up at her. "I'm sorry, OK? Now come here." She tugged gently, trying to pull Pam onto the bed. "I'm gonna make you feel good."
"You're drunk." Pamela spat, pushing the girl's hands away. "Why don't you go make sure Bruce isn't fucking Talia."
"Hey! Where the hell are you going?!" Selina demanded once Pam started for the door.
"To water your fucking hydrangeas." The redhead explained, her eyes cold. "They are noticeably dry."
"Is that a euphemism?" Selina's question went unanswered as the door had already slammed shut.
Pam lied, she was going to make one more stop before she got to watering Selina's decrepit garden. The redhead made a b-line directly for the bar. God, it was horrible. She knew it would all taste horrible. Vodka seemed like the best bet, it would be effective at least, deliver her at her desired state of carelessness somewhat quickly. So she grabbed the bottle from the boy who was holding it and poured it into a plastic party cup. Then, after a deep breath, she swallowed the majority of the liquid in one gulp, gagging once it was rid of her mouth. The only way she knew to describe the emotions swirling around within her was 'anger', and so she gulped down another mouthful, hoping to somehow blunt it.
"I don't wanna be Bruce's sidekick anymore," she heard Dick Grayson whining. "I gotta be my own man, right?"
It took a moment for Pamela to realize he was talking to her. "Do I look like your therapist?"
"Hey!" Dick said, his dark eyes lighting up with excitement. "Did you bring your glasses tonight?"
Pamela narrowed her eyes, reasonably suspicious of the odd question. "Why?"
"Cuz maybe we could do some roleplay." He grinned. "You be Professor Gordon; I be the naughty student…" He waggled his eyebrows at her and Pam's face screwed up in disgust.
"God, your name is so appropriate right now." She mumbled into her cup as she took another sip of the stinging liquid. He did the same and then threw his plastic cup on the ground. "Hey!" She yelled. "You better put that in the fucking recycling, you useless meathead."
/
Harley wasn't quite sure why she didn't just leave. Screw these rich kids and their parties – she had better things to do.
Except she didn't.
And leaving would have meant being worlds away – once again – from the one person who occupied her thoughts these days.
"Ugh," Harley said out loud from the deck chair she was slumped in, sipping slowly at a bottle of tequila she'd grabbed on her way out. She'd grabbed a pretty sweet mallet, too, and it leaned against her chair as she watched a redhaired girl (who looked oddly like Pam, goddammit) and a blond boy Harley didn't know engage in a series of competitions, fully clothed, in the Kyles' Olympic-sized swimming pool.
"Arthur! Let's see who can hold our breath the longest! Hey, Diana? Where'd you go?" the redhead yelled before both of them ducked underwater once more.
Diana . . . that was a name Harley knew. And just then, the goddess herself appeared, as swiftly as though she'd been summoned. She flopped down into the deck chair next to Harley's and sighed.
"Rough night?" Harley said, and Diana looked stunned that someone was sitting there but then recovered quickly.
"I'm just tired," said Gotham Prep's star lacrosse player, leaning her head back and looking up at the stars. "Been doing feats of strength all night. Also, tying people to chairs and making them spill their biggest secrets. You know, party stuff." She looked at Harley, eyes glassy. "Hey, you're that blonde girl – Blondie Blonderson," she said. "What have you been doing tonight? Hanging out with your bestest bio tutor? Making her all blushy with your little texts?"
Harley's mouth actually fell open in shock, and Diana laughed. That must be the sound warriors hear as they enter Valhalla, Harley thought, weirdly. "I can read," Diana said. "And every time Pammy's phone buzzes with a message from 'Crotch Rocket,' it makes her smile."
"I'm in her phone as Crotch Rocket?" Harley said indignantly, and the other girl laughed again.
"Missing the point there, kiddo," she said, clapping a hand on Harley's shoulder – ow, Harley thought. Diana looked at the pool, where the redhead had once again bested the blond boy in one of their ridiculous competitions. As she resurfaced, she smiled dazzlingly and waved at Diana, who grinned in return and jerked her head toward the house, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
Harley thought the other girl's head was going to fall off, she nodded so hard. "Later, Arthur!" she trilled, climbing somewhat gracefully up the ladder. The blond boy fell into a back float and paddled around slowly, looking relieved.
"You want to sweep a redhead off her feet, you come find Diana Prince sometime," Diana said with a wink. Then she walked over and did just that, gathering the other girl up in her arms, sopping green dress and all, and they giggled as Diana carried her into the house.
Harley blinked a few times, trying to process that whole conversation, but the tequila was starting to hit her a little now and she just couldn't.
Then she looked across the lawn, to where a stand of trees bordered one edge. Someone was walking along the trees, fumbling to remove first one high heel and then the other – and if Harley squinted, she could barely make out a green evening gown.
Well, shit.
Harley gathered every bit of her courage and followed.
Bonus question: What drunk teenage "superpower" would you have most like to see that we didn't show?
