Gotham High: A Harley Quinn Story

Her Search For Love

My name is Harleen Quinzel. One day I hope to be a famous Doctor at Arkham Asylum. Today I will dare to do something that no student at Gotham High has ever dared to do before. I will find where Jack Napier lives and meet up with him outside of school.

I have been told that Jack Napier finds you. Not one student in this whole public school system has a clue to his home address, including Eddie. In fact, I was told by one teacher that Jack is a student that will not be found unless he needs something. What this teacher did not know is that Jack pissed off his girlfriend. The same girlfriend who has a criminal for a father, been studying psychology most of her life and has never gotten a B. If that wasn't enough, let me tell you I have some serious closure issues. He might not be in school at this very moment, however, once I get out of my last class today; I will find him.

Pamela was nice enough to comfort me and help fix my makeup so I didn't look like a walking horror movie, but I will not give up on our love that easily. I needed to see him. I needed to face Jack and know what went wrong.

Now the tricky part. How do you find a person's address when no one knows where they live?

Despite popular belief, I am a smart girl. I've seen how Pamela worked the staff of the school. This was too important for me to shy away. It took me three attempts, and two teachers until I persuade the mathematics professor to let me into his office. I can't help but feel a little proud of myself, how I marched right up to him in my tight black pencils skirt and white button down top. First I tried to convince him with reason, but when that failed I used Pamela's flirtation method. I guess that really is the way to get a male teacher to listen to you around this school. Now I know what you thinking. I didn't touch the grimy bastard, just lowered a few buttons. My goal was pure. Find Jack Napier. I slipped into the school's main office, using my acrobatic skills to remain unseen. He had many addresses but I could tell they were fakes. I needed a new approach. His phone!

My idea is simple math! His number + my favorite tech genius= home address. I won't tell Ed who I am looking for but I am sure he could locate Jack's phone. Knowing Ed he will be a little difficult but I will just acknowledge he's a genius and see what he wants in return. How hard could that be?

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Moments later the light above the alley way flickered off as Harleen strutted down the pavement. Before her there were two dumpsters, and an entrance to an old apartment that looked long abandoned. Was this really Jack's home? Harleen knew that Ed would never lie to her. She took a deep breath as her foot stepped forward near the entryway.

Frightened a trembling fist raises to knock. "Ah!" Harleen jumps as the door is blown open by a chilling wind from behind. This was in the worst neighbor Gotham had. What was her love doing here?

"Mister J?" Her voice feels small, echoing down into the empty hallway. I need answers. I need to be strong and brave to win back my puddin. Harleen pushes forward, tuning out the inner warnings of her conscience.

The old building was broken down, empty minus a few scuffed furniture. The only pop of color in the room was a strange red liquid that was both splattered and graffitied with on the walls. The idea that the red substance might not have been ketchup made Harleen ill. Never once did Harleen ever suspect that Jack could have come from such a home. He was always so happy. You can do this Harleen, for Jack. Carefully, Harleen tip toed over forgotten toys and cards. Her eyes focused on the wooden floor, ignoring the newspaper clippings and creepy clown sketches scattered about on the walls.

Harleen's heart was racing as every instinct of her body told her to run. Everything except her heart. Instead her heart yearn to know the meaning of all this. She wanted to help Jack for a teen didn't need to live in this condition. With half the steps missing from the staircase, Harleen decides to try her luck with the elevator. She steps inside, forcing her eyes to remain focused on the floor. Only two of the ten buttons were lite up besides the main floor; six and thirteen. Which one? She wonder her finger lingering over the buttons. Six or thirteen, six or thirteen. The level thirteen one flickered in and out, making Harleen nervous. Six it is then. Her ears are pierced as the elevator closed with a blood curdling sound.