The move from Seattle to Gotham City was an abrupt one. After the incident with Brett, the worst thing that could've happened to the Isleys happened.
A public scandal.
Brett's parents wanted to sue the Isleys for the "irreversible damage" Pamela inflicted on their son. His left eye couldn't be saved. The doctors said the thorn had cut too deep into the eyeball, and thus, he would never see out of it again. Plus, they tried to say the emotional trauma Pamela caused Brett entitled them to more financial compensation.
This was on top of several parents wanting Pamela expelled from the school. They claimed she was "dangerous" and a "threat" to their precious children.
If Pamela wasn't directly involved, she would've laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Her parents didn't find it funny, though. They were the talk of their country club, of the social circle they oh so carefully built. Ever so concerned about appearances, her parents soon found themselves humiliated and isolated like Pamela had been all these years.
So in an executive decision, her dad decided to move them back to where her mom was from.
Gotham City.
It was eternally dark and gray like Seattle was, with rarely a sunny day in sight. But unlike Seattle, Gotham made her think she'd catch Hepatitis B just from walking through its grimy streets. She was grateful her family belonged to the upper class, so she didn't have to use public transportation. Just the thought of sitting in those torn, gum-filled seats next to someone who probably hadn't bathed in days made her gag.
Humans were so gross.
Gotham was somehow even grosser.
Funny how for someone who spent so much time in the mud and dirt, Pamela thought Gotham was too dirty even for her.
Even in a new city and a new school, Pamela found the same old problems as before. She kept to herself, and no one really talked to her unless they had to. But they whispered about her. A lot.
When she passed by them, she could hear their snarky comments and feel their intense gazes on her. They were looks she knew all too well by now. Comments she had heard so many times before.
Weirdo. Freak. Slut. Worm Girl.
If she had more courage, she would have told them they had a lot of nerve calling her a weirdo and a freak when they lived in Gotham. If anyone was a deviant, it was them.
As for being a so-called slut, she still had never kissed a boy. And she wasn't planning on to. Not after what happened with Brett. While she never had any interest in boys before, she sure as hell didn't now.
But unfortunately, they still had an interest in her.
They'd still leer at her from afar. And sometimes, they'd come up to her and try to flirt horribly with her, all while ogling her chest.
Her body had developed more curves, and her school uniform only accentuated them. Like her previous uniform, the females could only wear skirts. She couldn't do anything about that, but she could still wear her sweater. It was gray like the Gotham sky, but it could be black-which was her least favorite color-and she'd still wear it.
When they changed for P.E., Pamela noticed how her body was one of the more developed ones compared to the other girls. Even in the locker rooms, she wasn't safe from the lingering stares. She tried to dress as quickly as possible, her back her only protection from the other girls.
She wasn't allowed to slouch anymore. Her mom threatened her with a posture corrector if she continued to do so. And while Pamela didn't care what people said or thought about her, the last thing she needed to get made fun of was for wearing a brace.
Pamela couldn't wait to be out of high school. Just a few more years of this hell, and she'd be in college. She just hoped it was a better experience than this. It couldn't be worse.
Worm Girl was a new nickname she had earned since moving to Gotham. Typical that Gothamites would come up with something so childish and uncreative.
If Pamela could label her fellow schoolmates, she'd call them roaches. But even then, that was an insult to roaches. She'd rather spend time with a roach than ever socialize with these degenerates.
Her parents still didn't understand why she didn't have any friends. She figured they must've thought moving to a new city would mean a new opportunity to make friends. But what use did she have for people when she had her plants?
Maybe if she went to an agricultural school or was surrounded by farmers and botanists, she'd finally enjoy the company of another person. But with the idiots around her in every direction, there was no way that'd happen anytime soon.
It's why she actually looked forward to college. She'd be studying something she wanted to, instead of something she'd been forced to all throughout her education.
Pamela excelled in school. From the beginning, she was gifted in academics. And she had to admit, she did enjoy learning for the sake of learning. She loved to read, write, draw, and study. Science was her favorite subject naturally.
So when she told her parents she wanted to major in botany in college, they weren't too happy about that. They told her that if she went to college, she'd need to major in something more acceptable for a woman. Like education or nursing.
But Pamela didn't want to be a teacher or a nurse. She wanted to be a scientist.
Her dad said if she did that, she'd have to find her own way to pay for college because he wouldn't give her a cent. Never mind the Isleys were wealthy and set up a college fund for her.
Pamela just shrugged and said okay. She knew she could get a scholarship somewhere. She was smart enough, and this news only pushed her to be smarter. She was determined to graduate at the top of her class and earn her way into college.
But being one of the smartest students in her grade came at a price. While Pamela wanted very much to be invisible to the other students, they'd come up to her with offers in exchange for help with their homework and projects.
Popularity? She wanted none of that. A date with the 'hottest' guy in school? She wanted that even less. Money? She had more money than she could ever need thanks to her family's name.
However, there were some interactions she couldn't avoid. Like when her teachers assigned a group project and she was forced to pair up with someone.
Yesterday had been one of those times.
Pamela had been paired with one of the jocks for a history project on World War II. It had gone just as she had expected with her doing most of the work and him trying to flirt with her in vain.
As much as she despised it, she'd rather take charge than have an imbecile like him somehow ruin their project and get them an F.
She could not afford any bad grades right now. Any grade below a B could mean no scholarships. And no scholarships meant her dream of being a botanist would crumble. She would either be stuck as a teacher or a nurse. Or worse... Someone's wife and mother.
These were the thoughts that preoccupied Pamela's mind as she made her way to her locker the next morning. She didn't notice the circle of girls a few feet away, watching her. Trying to hide their laughter behind their hands.
If she had, she might've smelled the familiar, earthy scent that often covered her when she was gardening. It wasn't until she opened her locker that she got a waft of it, but it was too late.
A huge pile of dirt and dozens of worms fell out with a plop. On instinct, Pamela startled backward with a yelp. Everyone in the hallway turned their heads toward the commotion while Pamela just stared at the ground, her face burning up.
The worms were still alive and wiggled around on the floor and over her shoes where they had landed. She glanced up and saw even more worms in her locker, their pink, squishy bodies moving in the heaps of dirt.
Pamela could feel everyone's eyes on her, and it only made her skin flush even more.
"Looks like Worm Girl has some friends for once!" The group of girls burst out laughing. It didn't take long before everyone else joined in too.
Clenching her fists, Pamela stormed off from her locker and toward the nearest restroom. Away from those girls. Away from everyone.
Her white shoes were covered in dirt, and she knew she needed to clean them or else risk her mom's scolding. "A lady must always look clean and presentable" was something she had always been told growing up.
She grabbed a couple of paper towels and rinsed them under the sink before starting to scrub her shoes. While she did so, she heard the sudden creak of the door open and looked up.
In came those same girls who had just been laughing at her, their heels clicking against the bathroom tile.
"What's wrong, Pamela?" Silver, the tallest and meanest of the trio, mocked. "Don't you like the smell of dirt?"
Pamela did not answer and just continued cleaning her shoes. This was apparently not what Silver wanted since she immediately charged at her and grabbed her by the chin.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, bitch!"
The other two girls snickered while Pamela struggled in Silver's grip.
"Do you know why we left that little surprise for you?" Silver narrowed her eyes into slits at Pamela.
"Why?" Pamela asked, knowing she wouldn't let her go unless she played along.
"Todd told me you tried hitting on him yesterday while doing your project." Silver squeezed her fingers even harder. It was beginning to hurt from the way her nails dug into Pamela's flesh.
"It's not true," Pamela said. "He was the one trying to look down my shirt."
That had also evidently been the wrong thing to say since Silver's hand shot out and slapped Pamela across the face. She went flying back, seeing stars. Before she could even steady herself, she was pushed face-first into the wall. There was a sickening crunch followed by a gush of blood from her nose.
Pamela cried out and clutched her face, but the hits just kept coming. The other girls had jumped in, scratching and clawing at her. One of them had even grabbed a fistful of her red curls and ripped out several strands.
She tried to protect herself–tried to huddle into herself from their relentless attacks. But with three against one, it wasn't long before she found herself on the dirty floor.
The fluorescent lights hummed above her, and they were all she could stare at as the girls continued to beat her. In her mind, she hoped someone would stumble in on the scene. A teacher or student perhaps. But no one ever did.
The taste of blood dusted her lips as it dribbled down from her nose. She had forgotten how sickeningly sweet it could be.
"You're not so pretty now, Worm Girl." Silver smirked down at her before giving her a hard kick in the stomach. "No one wants a slut with a broken nose."
Their attacks had ceased and their footsteps began to walk away. The door opened again before slamming shut.
The lights continued to buzz above her. They were the only sound inside the bathroom other than Pamela's soft moans. She wasn't sure how long she lay there on her back, bleeding and bruised.
All she knew was that she was finally alone.
Eventually, she did stagger to her feet, still clutching her nose. She didn't even take a step when something caught her eye and made her pause.
On the tile was a clump of her red hair.
Pamela sighed and limped out of the bathroom toward the nurse's office, leaving her hair behind.