Three minutes and one strongly-worded lecture after the bell had ended first period, Leslie and Carol closed the door behind them as they stepped out of Algebra 1.

It was just a warning: no actual punishment, but it still meant they were that much closer to an actual punishment. Leslie, who stayed standing in front of the door next to Carol, didn't see it that way.

"That went well," Leslie chirped. "I mean, as far as the whole 'lecture on responsibility' thing goes, that wasn't–"

THUMP, went Carol's fist on the Leslie's arm.

"Ow!" Leslie leaned away from her and rubbed the sleeve of her jacket. "Hey, that–!"

THUMP.

"Hey! What the–!?"

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" Leslie sidestepped Carol's next blow and continued rubbing her arm. "Geez... for a pipsqueak in pink, you sure got a mean right hook!"

"I'm on the cheerleading team, idiot! And if I ever get detention, I am out, do you hear me!?"

"Uh, yeah, well, you didn't, so..." Leslie chuckled. "No big deal. Comprende?"

"Thanks to you, I am this close–" She pinched her fingers together from Leslie to see. "–to getting kicked off the team, and if you keep up what you just did, my whole career goes up in flames!"

" 'Career'? Aren't you, like, a sophomore? In high school?"

"I have scholarships riding on this, dumbass! Not to mention my image, my popularity, my chance at getting back with Ha–!" Carol's lip trembled as the name had trouble coming out, and she hid it behind her hand. Leslie noticed Carol's violet eyes becoming more moist than usual.

Leslie rolled her eyes. 'This girl,' she thought with disdain. "Jesus, if it means you don't slug me in the arm anymore, fine!"

As one final gesture, Carol leaned in to Leslie, standing on her toes, and pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then at Leslie's: 'I'm watching you.' With that, she stormed off, barely one minute left to get to second period, hoping it was all worth it and that the leatherclad girl had learned her lesson.

Leslie took only a few steps away before looking over her shoulder to see Carol didn't want to hit her one last time. When she saw Carol walking away, she held her head low and grumbled as she strolled off to second period.

"Hardass."


Art, especially Art 1, was a very relaxed class: the art teacher always gave everyone some time to themselves to get their work done while she walked out and did various other tasks like making calls and building a ball out of rubber bands, which usually meant one thing for the students that almost no other class permitted: talking.

And no one liked talking more than Carol. This would have bothered Pam, who only knew Carol out of everyone in the class, if not for the fact that for whatever reason, Pam never minded it as much as the others would. Maybe it was because that same ranting drove away undesirables, or maybe it was because...

...no, that was pretty much it.

Right now, the pink pixie herself was in the next seat over, going on about something having to do with cheerleading and Leslie jeopardizing it with her antics ('big surprise there,' Pam thought), and then something about Hal, the very mention of whom made Pam roll her eyes. Following their relationship (if it could even be called that) was like watching a soap opera made by people who hate soap operas: the characters are superficial, the conflicts are unsatisfying, and the plot is always highly predictable. It left Pam almost begging for a twist love interest.

"...and it's like she doesn't even care about what I want! Like, I have feelings too, so why can't you just see that and know that you're hurting me like I'm just some stupid character in a stupid game you're playing! Ugh!"

Pam nodded on instinct as she finished the last line of the art she was working on. She blew away the eraser shavings, wiped them away for good measure, and laid back in her chair just to stare at nothing on the tiled ceiling.

"Pammy?" She asked in an accusatory tone. "Were you listening to me just now?"

"Mmhm." Pam nodded again. "Leslie ruining your chances with Hal, video game... something like that."

"Goodie!" Carol cheered. "So, yeah, my day was horrible. How's yours?"

Pam rolled her head across the back of her chair to face Carol. "Ever consider Hal just isn't worth all this trouble you're going through for him?"

Carol gasped melodramatically. "Pammy, how could you say that!? He's the quarterback, I'm head cheerleader – we're just meant to be together!"

"Seems arbitrary to me."

"Look, I know you might see it that way, so I don't expect you to understand, but let me explain it to you: we're–"

"PENCILS DOWN, everyone!" cried an older voice from the teacher's office. "Class time is almost over, and I want to see how everyone did on the assignment."

"Crap!" Carol whispered, covering her head with her hands. "I forgot the assignment! What was it again?"

"Symbolism," answered Pam.

"That's the one with hero-glyphs, right?"

"It's 'heiroglyphs', and no, it isn't. Just draw something that means something else."

"Oh! Right!" Immediately she began her work.

By the time the teacher had walked over to her, Carol had haphazardly drawn a cracked heart shape with closed eyes overflowing with teardrops.

The teacher scanned the image for her usual critiques. "Very... expressive, Carol! A little on-the-nose, but very effective symbolism. Keep up the good work!"

"Thank you! I worked very hard on it!"

Next after Carol was Pam, and after realizing this, the teacher felt a twinge of fear for whatever she was going to see next from this girl. She'd seen blood and gore used creatively in her classroom plenty of times, and she often only rejected it for academic reasons, but Pam's work was something else entirely.

She was pleasantly surprised when she saw it was only a drawing of a football being sliced open like a watermelon, the blade sitting idly in the corner of the sheet.

"Ah, very creative, Pamela! And much more toned down compared to what you usually draw."

"I forgot to add the blood splatters."

"Uh, i-it's fine, really! May I ask what this is meant to symbolize?"

"It's personal."

"Maybe in a more general sense, then?"

Pam looked at her drawing for a good several seconds before looking back at the teacher with a half-decent answer.

"Using the money for sports to fund the arts," said Pam, almost as if she was guessing.

The teacher gave a hearty chuckle. "Oh, if only..." she whimsied.

Pam watched her move down the line of students sitting in a broken circle of desks before her own eyes drifted around and settled on Carol, who was staring wide-eyed at Pam's drawing.

And frowning.

As little as Pam thought of Carol, she couldn't help but slide her arms over the drawing to cover it up, and face straight forward.

They didn't talk for the rest of the period.


At the beginning and end of each week, Coach Flag would take his class out to the football field to have them run laps. Officially, it was to track their progress before and after the lessons throughout the week, but the students were sure it was just so he didn't have to come up with enough lessons to fill out five days a week.

It was busywork, and like most busywork, three laps to make a mile-long marathon didn't exactly boost morale. Like most classes, what little joy there was could only be found in the little things: the smell of fresh grass, the open air, having a good song stuck in your head – or, if you're Doris Zeul, being faster than everyone and smacking the backs of their heads as you pass by.

"Oof!" Karen cried out in pain as her hands reached up to rub her scalp.

Doris chuckled with sadistic glee as she sped right past. "Gotta keep up, squirt!" she yelled from in front, head still straight forward as if she had nothing to do with it. She had to tone her bullying down while class was in session, but she still had her kicks.

Of course, all of that was just the cherry on top. Every lap day, Doris would zoom through the first lap in no time at all and use her remaining minutes to chat it up with Leslie, one of the few instances of in-class quality time they had together.

On lap number two, she met Leslie as she was halfway done with her first lap, and leveled her pacing so they would match.

"Hey, Lez!" Doris called out. "Which lap you on? Still on your first?" She already knew that, of course. She just liked to brag.

"Yeah," Leslie replied through huffs of shortened breath. Even with all the powers of a human lightning bolt, her body was still flesh and blood (for the most part).

"Cool!"

For a moment, the only sounds around them were the footsteps and hefty breathing of students before Leslie, heart pounding in her chest, said, "so... how... ya been?"

"Been pretty good. You?"

Livewire nodded, knocking a few beads of sweat from her forehead. "Same," she wheezed.

"Great!"

Another moment of relative silence.

"Hey," Doris started, "I was wondering: why do you even run in the first place? I thought you didn't care about your grades in gym."

Leslie shrugged. "Dunno," she lied. She didn't want to seem like a creep to Doris — she cared about that, for some reason.

"Hm." With the conversation at a dead end, Doris looked around, her eyes setting on Coach Flag standing against the wall, talking to some girl she recognized from the cheerleading squad. She was a little too close for comfort. And Coach was only getting closer.

"Ugh, Jesus Christ..."

"Wuh?" Leslie grunted.

"Coach is creeping on some girl again."

"Wait, really!?" Leslie's head perked up with eyes wide as golf balls, like she was excited to hear the news.

It was dirt – of course she was excited. And of course she suddenly wasn't out of breath, it was practically her lifeblood.

Leslie looked over in the coach's direction.

"Holy shit! Wait, that's not Carol, is it?"

"Nah. Definitely some cheerleader, though."

"Hm."

"Somebody should report that already."

Leslie was silent, still staring in the coach's direction.

"Leslie."

"Hm? Yeah?"

"I said somebody should report that."

"What, you mean I should do it?"

"Well, no, maybe not. I mean, you're the one with the vlog, but, like, whatever."

"Honestly, I kinda just wanna see this play out."

"Seriously? It's so gross!

Leslie snickered. "I know, right? Principal's gonna be so pissed when she finds out!"

"Oh! Haha, yeah!"

It was four-and-a-half minutes after the caucus race had started, and Leslie and Doris were nearing the starting line yet again. All they could think was that this was just two more laps from being over (technically one in Doris's case, but she was going to stay behind with Leslie anyways); however, their thoughts were rudely interrupted by somebody pushing them apart coming up from behind.

Doris was annoyed more than anything, but Leslie — the weaker of the two — was nearly thrown to the grass before stumbling to her feet.

"Second lap, going on third!" shouted the boy passing right through them. "Try to keep up, Doris!"

Doris cursed him behind clenched teeth and lagged behind for Leslie to catch back up; the latter was holding her ribs when she got back on track, face twisted in discomfort.

"You okay?" Doris asked, even without noticing her ribs at first glance.

Leslie just mumbled an affirmative and kept running.

"Attaboy, son!" shouted Coach from the stands.

Ah. Now he was watching his own students.

Most students who had PE knew the basic lineup of the Flag family: Rick Flag Senior, a jingoistic old man, gave birth to Rick Flag Junior, who fought in "the war" (as for which one, he never gave a straight answer), became a gym teacher, and had a son he named after himself and his father: "Rick the Third," the others called him. The Third was also captain of the football team for obvious reasons.

"Ugh, I fuckin' hate that guy," Doris nearly growled.

"Nnf," Leslie groaned, "yeah, me too." Her pace was more of a jog by now.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!"

More lies. But Doris let it go for now. Leslie knew herself best, of course - why wouldn't she?

Doris looked straight ahead and her concern melted into rage. "Too bad he's Coach's baby boy, otherwise he'd be toast right about now."

"Yeah..."

...as Leslie held her ribs, though, the extra blood rushing through her body must have made its way to her head. She smiled uncontrollably as gears began to turn.

"Actually," she wheezed, "I think got the next best thing!"


Rick the Third was having a nice day: woke up early and rested, had a good, hardy breakfast of oranges and Dad's V8, left his rival Doris in the dust for once, and all was right in the world.

Things continued to go well until about halfway through PE — he was making good time on his laps, Dad had been very encouraging...

He was already on his third lap when he saw something out of the corner of his eyes: some chick he barely recognized, with streaks of blue dye in her hair, the rest of which was very obviously dyed black. She zoomed over to his side, but not like she was running — at least, not at first — more like she was thrown and ran from there to keep up with him.

It seemed weird, in hindsight: she was veering closer to him with her arms out at her sides like a chicken. She nodded in his direction for some reason, but while he tried turning his neck to see who else was there, he felt the sudden pain of two elbows jabbing into his ribs from both sides.

'Ouch,' was all he could think.

Air was knocked out of him, his torso was on fire, and all he could do was hold his sides in his arms and keel over.

He heard a clap, like from a high-five. Whoever it was, they were chuckling — a sound that followed them and faded into the distance.

"Ow..." he squeaked. Squeaked. He was hurt that badly.

He couldn't call out for help in his state, and the other students seemed to just run right around him like a hurdle. But his dad... he had to have seen that. He's Coach, for Christsake.

"Junior! Quit sleepin' on the job!"

This day sucked.


It was finally time for third period lunch and, as always, a table between the center of the room and its back corner was reserved for the Girls — that is, not so much 'reserved' as it was 'sit here and you're gonna start something and it ain't gonna be pretty'.

Doris and Leslie came in together smelling like sweat and crabgrass, even in spite of the locker room showers. For whatever reason, Selina didn't, despite having gym the same period as them.

Pam walked in sulking as always while Carol came in next to her, being uncharacteristically quiet despite normally talking Pam's ear off. The few that noticed decided to count this as a blessing.

Normally, Harley would burst in, hopping around or running or jumping or whatever she felt like doing at the time; and yet, the first any of the girls noticed her that period was when she slammed her tray on the shared lunch table.

All eyes at that table were on her, even some that heard the noise from different tables — their focus was quickly diverted when they saw who it was.

"The gig's on tonight," she asserted as she sat down and awaited a reaction from the others.

Mostly, they were just staring at her with looks of momentary confusion.

"What, the one from this morning?" asked Livewire.

"Abso-tootly! Turns out, banks don't reinforce their walls! 'Least the one in Gotham doesn't."

"Well, that is true," said Selina, "but that's Gotham. That whole city makes crime look easy."

Doris held up her hand. "Uh, guys? Didn't want to say it before 'cuz of Selina, but, like, I can probably smash through it either way, it's really no big deal."

"See!?" Harley gestured to Doris. "She can handle it! Doesn't even need to go through the walls, she can jump from the building over and bust through the ceiling! Ain't that right, big guy?"

Doris nodded. "Yeah, sure! Plus, with my weight pushing downwards, it'll be even easier. Probably quicker, too."

"It's not just about the walls," Selina argued. "First rule of being a criminal: be prepared."

"That's Boy Scouts, though..."

"Same difference! What if we go there and some goody-goody like Superman shows up and wrecks the whole thing? Or a team like the Super Hero Girls?"

"Aw, we can take 'em! I managed to pick 'em off one-by-one that first time, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And Leslie did exactly that too, didn't she?"

Leslie pumped her fist in Harley's direction. "Heck yeah, I did!"

"Okay, sure, but that—"

"And Doris did 'em in like a tank through a brick wall!"

"Heh, well, yeah." Doris scratched the back of her head. "Sorta..."

"And Carol: you could fight 'em off wit' one hand tied behind ya back — literally!"

Carol groaned. "Mmyeah, I guess..."

"I mean, Selina, you literally took Supergirl in a one-on-one, didn'cha?"

"Once! And it was in a very specific setting, not even a bank!"

"Ooh! And Pam! You, uh... you... did that... thing... once. Right?"

Pam scowled at her with narrow eyes.

Harley digressed: "point is, it wouldn't be the first time we took 'em down, and it sure ain't gonna be the last! Right, girls?"

"Wooh!" Leslie pumped her fist in the air again, and Doris followed suit. "Wooh!"

"Sure," Carol shrugged.

Pam grumbled something neither scornful nor supportive, which was about as supportive as she got.

Selina massaged the bridge of her nose. "Can we at least schedule it for another time? A few days, maybe?"

"Why, ya got somethin' goin' on?"

Carol propped herself up in her seat. "Ooh! Is it a date?"

"What?" Pam said, having not paid attention. "A date?" She thought they meant the fruit, but they didn't know that.

"W-well, I, uh..."

Like a true supervillain, Leslie leaned forward with narrow eyes, intertwining her fingers beneath her chin. "Oooh, she does, doesn't she?"

"Aw shucks," said Harley, "why didn'cha tell me earlier? I woulda made some sorta excuse for ya!"

Selina was about to deny it, but then she thought...

Selina tapped her chin with a claw-like nail and her eyes drifted off to the side. Her thoughts drifted back to PE.

"As a matter of fact..."


Less than an hour ago, Rick the Third lay injured on the football field where students passed by without thought, and his dad was as helpful as ever.

"Junior! Quit sleepin' on the job!"

This day sucked...

...for the moment.

"Need some help?" a stranger said to him.

He looked up and saw a delicate hand reaching out to him. Wrapping his arm around his sides as best he could, he held the other out and grabbed the stranger by the hand, pulling himself up with his legs acting as extra support.

The stranger was a girl: copper skin, full, dark lips that looked soft and well-cared-for, forehead covered by short black hair with a streak of purple dye running through, and slit-like eyes sharp enough to cut steel. Everything about her was striking in all the right ways.

"Th-thank you, I—" A sharp pain in his ribs made him gasp between clenched teeth. "Ow! Oh, oh man..."

"Should I take you to the nurse?"

"Not... really sure..."

The girl put her other hand on the man's rib. "AGH!"

"Are you sure now?"

He nodded, holding back a groan. "Ye-eah," his voice broke. "I... I think so."

She pulled his arm around her shoulders like a needle over fabric and began slowly trudging sideways through the football field.

"Sorry about them. Those girls, I mean."

"Oh?"

"They're—" She caught herself about to say 'not usually like this.' What bothered her wasn't the lie itself so much as how obvious it was.

" 'They're'...?"

"—that is, they can be a bit of a handful, especially when they're together."

"Yeah, I think I'm starting to see that now."

"Hey!" shouted Coach. He jogged up to them as they crossed the side of the track closest to the building. "You two didn't finish your laps, did you?"

"Dad, I just need—"

"He's just been hit in the ribs, he needs a nurse."

Selina kept walking Rick along, leaving Coach to lag behind and watch them both walking away so steadfast. He caught up with them almost a second after.

"Wait, he's injured?"

"Yup," Selina answered.

Coach looked back at his class. "Uh..." A glance at his stopwatch told him it was only 5 minutes after they'd started, the first ones to finish should be waiting on him any minute. "Alright, you're dismissed. But get back as soon as you can, I still need your time for the day!"

And just like that, he was gone.

The wall of cool air hitting them as they walked into the hallway was a relief to both of them, especially with Rick in pain and Selina dragging him out of the hot sun.

"Think you can walk on your own?" she asked.

"N-not very far, I don't think."

"Well, that's progress, at least."

"Barely. I still need to get out there and finish up..."

"In due time. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly eager to run a whole mile all over again."

"Builds character, at least."

"I'm guessing that's something your dad, the coach, would say?"

"Eh. He's tough, but fair."

"That sure sounds like him."

"What, you know him?"

"I should hope so; he teaches our class, after all."

"Oh! Right."

For a minute or two, there was just silence.

"I'm Rick, by the way."

"I know. It's nice to meet you. I'm Selina."

"It's nice to meet you too, Selina!"

"Even under the circumstances?"

"Tch, yeah..."

When they finally arrived, she laid him down in one of the nurse's cots. She and Rick exchanged numbers, out of interest of friendship.

And that was when she left.


"...I do have a date."

"Sweet!" said Doris.

Leslie grinned maniacally. "Ooh, this has gotta be juicy!"

"Oh wow! Who's the lucky germ?" Harley asked.

"Rick Flag the Third," Selina announced with pride.

But Leslie and Doris had other plans.

"WHAT!?"

"Selina! What the fuck!"

"Why would you—!?"

"But he's just such—!"

"—even consider...!?"

"—a fucking scumbag!"

Selina wasn't surprised.

"He's not that bad," she huffed.

"Uh, yeah, he is!"

"He is literal goddamn Satanspawn!"

"What, just because he's related to Coach Flag?"

"YES!" they both replied.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Oh, come now, you both are acting like children. Carol, back me up, won't you?"

But Carol was too busy picking at her food, mumbling, "captain of the... can't even... a quarterback... so unfair..."

"Right. Nevermind, then." She went back to facing Doris and Leslie. "In any case, I don't need your approval to date him. I can draw my own conclusions about people, thank you very much."

Harley put her hands on Selina's shoulders, making them face each other closely. "Selina. Selene. Sel-a-rina Ballerina. Listen."

"Harleen, darling, I've been listening this entire time."

"You go ta him... you tell 'im how you really feel..." She sniffled. She was really starting to tear up. "You do ya best ta make it work, you nevah let go o' that beautiful man..."

"Harleen. It's just a date."

"I know, I jes'..." She sniffed again. "I wanna see you be happy, an' if this is how you wanna do it, you do it, awright? Promise me..."

She took the sleeve Selina's jacket and blew her nose into it.

Selina shook some of the moisture off. "Nice."

"...promise me you'll be happy, Selini-weeny. Please promise me!"

God, even Carol was wiping tears from her eyes; then again, Carol was... well, Carol.

"Uh, sure, I promise."

"Yaaay!"

Harleen wrapped her arms firmly around Selina's torso, resting her head on the girl's shoulder. "My little kitty-cat's leavin' the cuckoo's nest..." She nuzzled her neck, getting more snot on the girl's black collar before Selina pushed her off.

"Alright, alright, that's enough! Geez, where's the napkins?"

Harley held out a handful of brown paper napkins, having taken them apparently out of nowhere.

Selina just stared at her.

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE USED THESE YOURSELF!?"

Harley shrugged. "It was convenient!"

Selina rolled her eyes and began toweling herself down with the napkins. "Honestly, you're worse than Leslie, sometimes..."

"Hey!" cried Leslie.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, Leslie. You're still pretty awful."

"Thank y— hey, wait a second!"

"Anywho," said Harley. "Guess this means we gotta re-skedgy-ull the heist, then, don't it?"

" 'Reschedule'," corrected Selina, "and yes, sadly. How's next week sound?"

"Now, wait just a cotton-pickin' minute — I still gotta get this done by Thursday, else I can kiss my place adiós! It's gotta be tomorrow, I can't risk doin' it last minute!"

"Why not?" Pam asked. "That's how everyone I know does their homework."

Leslie looked around. "Wait, you guys do homework?"

"Tomorrow?" Selina tugged at her collar. "B-but... my date is..."

"Isn't that tonight? If not, we could just do the job as planned."

"Er, well... I..." Selina sighed. "I don't see why not."

Harleen put her hands together. "Then it's settled: tomorrow, we ride! Who's with me?"

"Yeah!" they cheered. Even Selina quietly joined in, but her eyes, heart, and mind were elsewhere...


Selina walked out of the lunchroom earlier, ducking into the ladies' restroom. It was empty for the moment, thank God.

Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a fistful of shredded paper and dropped them onto the counter below the faucets. With one hand, she was trying to piece them tigether, and with the other, she pulled out her phone to dial what was on it.

It rang once. No answer.

It rang twice. Selina scratched her chin in the mirror.

This was taking too long. Or maybe it was just her nerves.

The third ring was interrupted by the click of a receiever, and all too late, Selina could hear a masculine voice on the other side of the line.

"Y'ello?"

"Hey! Rick! I was wondering about you and me having a date tonight."

"Selina? Wow, that was fast."

"Just feel like I could use the company! Now, how do you feel about sushi?"

"Uh... sure! Wabasi's on 44th street?"

"Exquisite! 7 tonight?"

"Well, I don't know about 7, but..."

"9, then?"

"Well..."

Selina hunched forward. In her mind, she was pleading for him to say yes already.

"...sure, I can do 9."

"Great! You're buying!"

"Well, I don't—"

Selina hung up.

Everything wasn't going according to plan.

But it would.

After tonight, it would.

She put the paper back into her pocket, no longer going to throw it away like she thought she would; instead, she had another call to make.

And then her phone was going in the trash.