Harley Quinn at Super Hero High (DC Super Hero Girls)

by Lisa Yee

  Steve’s dad owned Capes & Cowls Café, and though he wasn’t a super hero, Steve worked as hard as one. The restaurant was a mishmash of homey and trendy that the Super Hero High students loved.

  Regular teens and Supers alike—and even some of the teachers—went there. Steve always set aside a dozen apple cider doughnuts for Batgirl’s father, Police Commissioner Gordon.

  Harley picked up a sweet potato fry and pointed it toward the door. “There’s Wonder Woman,” she said. “Let’s ask her!”

  Before Steve could stop her, Harley shouted, “Hey, Wonder Woman! Wonder Woman, over here!” Harley waved, then pointed to Steve, who looked like he was trying to make himself invisible. “Stevie here has been asking about you! Come talk to him!”

  Wonder Woman blushed as red as the star on her gold tiara. The only person who was a brighter red was Steve…and Red Tornado, the school’s flight teacher, who had stopped in for a strawberry smoothie. But then, he was always that red.

  “When is your channel going to be back up?” Star Sapphire asked Harley from the next table. She played with the power ring on her finger.

  Harley could only stare at the purple glow coming from the ring. “Pretty!” she said, her attention shifted away from Wonder Woman and Steve.

  “I have a scoop for you,” Sapphire whispered. Frost, who was sitting next to her, raised her eyebrow inquiringly as she blew on her peppermint tea, turning it ice-cold.

  “Whatcha got?” Harley asked, snapping to attention. A scoop! Harley loved nothing more than getting news first. Her motto was All the news, as it happens…and sometimes even before!

  “I heard from a little bird that we’re finally getting a new music teacher,” Sapphire said.

  “It’s about time!” Harley whistled with approval. “Can’t wait to interview her. Or him. Do you know who it’ll be?”

  Sapphire smoothed the front of her pink and purple dress. The insignia on her belt matched the one on her jeweled headband, which matched the color of her ring.

  Harley took note of her own clothes: a black, white, and red checkered shirt with short black sleeves, and blue jean shorts with a thin belt over colored tights—black on one side, red on the other. All with comfortable chunky blue sneakers on her feet. Harley felt a little sad…for Star Sapphire. If only everyone could have a costume as fun, fashionable, and functional as mine, she thought.

  “I hear it’s a he, and he’s starting soon,” said Sapphire, reminding Harley of what they were talking about. “By the way, you will be featuring me on Harley’s Quinntessentials when you’re back on the air, right?”

  “You betcha!” Harley assured her. Fashionistas always tuned in when Star Sapphire was on her show.

  As Harley settled back to contemplate her happy return to the Internet, she noticed a familiar figure at the counter. She grabbed her plate and plopped down next to her. “Heya, Lois! What’s the new news?”

  Lois Lane pushed her glasses up and smiled. “Hi, Harley. I heard about Harley’s Quinntessentials going on hiatus.”

  “Yeah, well, Waller’s trying to teach me a lesson,” Harley said nonchalantly—with a shrug that said, “In the meantime, I guess that means you’ll get all the scoops!”

  “We’re not in competition,” Lois said. “I report the news, and you do news and entertainment.”

  Harley glanced at the jukebox. Captain Cold from CAD Academy had it blasting a retro rock song. The music inspired Beast Boy to lead a bunch of kids in a dance in the middle of the café.

  “Well, just news is boring,” Harley mused as a conga line of teens weaved in and out of the café. “Booor-ring! Oopsie, sorry—you know what I mean,” she said to the teen reporter.

  “No need to apologize. It can be boring,” Lois said, laughing. “But straight-up news is what I’m interested in. What are you interested in?”

  Harley tugged on a pigtail, watching it bounce when she let go. “I’m interested in having the most viewers in Metropolis. No, wait—in the world and beyond!”

  “You’ve always thought big,” said Lois. “Harley, you’re a force to be reckoned with. Half of your audience tunes in to see the inside story on the Supers—and you have all prime access to that—and the other half tunes in to see you!”

  “Little ol’ me?” Harley said with a twinkle in her eye. She did a backflip onto a table. “Why would anyone want to look at me?” Harley said, her arms raised dramatically above her head as kids in the café applauded.

  “Um. Harley,” Steve said, wiping his hand on a towel. “Remember, we talked about no standing on tables.”

  Harley giggled. “Right-O, Steve-O,” she said. “My bad.”

  After Lois left, Harley continued to peck at her fries, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what the young reporter had said. She wondered what might happen if she did more than cover the falls, foibles, and fantastic happenings of her fellow Supers, like Star Sapphire’s Fashion Fix It. What if she did specials like…

  It was hard to concentrate. Steve had recently installed the retro jukebox. It was all bright lights and neon colors, and music, music, music. It seemed like half the restaurant was dancing to the music. Most of the kids were just goofing off, but a few were really talented.

  As she watched, Harley’s brain began to go into overdrive. She had so many ideas it was hard for her to keep up with herself. Finally, one thought hit Harley so hard that she yelled, “OUCH!”

  She jumped up and dashed out the door.

  “Hey, Lois!” Harley called, running after her. By then Lois was in Centennial Park. “Slow down! I have something to ask you.”

  Lois looked curious. “Yes?”

  “Okay, okay. News, yes. News is news. But when it’s not new anymore, it’s not news, right?” Harley reasoned.

  “I…think so?” Lois said slowly. “What are you saying, Harley?”

  “I’m saying, what if I expanded Harley’s Quinntessentials beyond Super Hero High? What if I took the news and turned it into entertainment?” Harley looked right at Lois. “What if I broadcast a dance contest? And what if it was live so everyone everywhere could tune in? That way we’d all know the winner at the same time! I’d be making the news instead of just reporting it! Isn’t that a great idea? A totally WOWZA-YOWZA of an idea! I’ll have more viewers than I’ll know what to do with! I’ll have so many viewers that—”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Lois said. She waited patiently for Harley to stop with the somersaults. “You do know that there’s a difference between informing your viewers with the news and entertaining, right?”

  When Harley gave her a blank stare, Lois tried again. “The news is fact. We strive to tell our viewers the truth and inform them about what’s happening in the world. Especially when the information may impact them.”

  “Yes!” Harley agreed “Impact them! That’s what I plan to do. POW! I’m going to have reality shows on Harley’s Quinntessentials! And the first show will be a dance competition called Harley’s Dance-O-Rama! What do you think of that?”

  Lois gave Harley a weak smile. “Um, okay,” she said. “But it sounds more like entertainment than—”

  “It sounds like blockbuster ratings, that’s what it sounds like!” Harley assured her.

  There were only two more days left in detention. Vice Principal Grodd had finished his banana recipe book and was now reading a cookbook called Bamboo and You. As he sat munching on a stalk, the Supers shifted in their seats. Blessed with powers like super-speed, super-strength, and enhanced mental abilities, they weren’t good at staying still.

  In the back corner, Poison Ivy kept sticking her head into her backpack and talking. When she saw Harley staring at her, she offered a sheepish grin. “I’m comforting one of my baby daffodils,” Ivy whispered apologetically. “She’s lonely.” A petite yellow flower peered out from the backpack and then quickly retreated. Harley smiled. Poison Ivy was crazy about her plants, and they were crazy about her, too.

  Outside the window, Supergirl wa
s zooming in and out of the clouds, playing bow-and-arrow boomerang. In the game, Arrowette, whose family’s archery skills were legendary, would take her stance, draw her bow, aim into the sky, and release an arrow. As the arrow hurtled at almost four hundred feet per second, Supergirl would catch it and then throw it back. Their record was fifteen in fifteen seconds.

  Harley opened her notebook. There was a big HQ in blue and red on the cover. Inside, in her loopy handwriting, were her notes for the Dance-O-Rama. It was all coming together—on paper, at least. Once her Web channel was back up and running, the real fun could start. But first Harley needed some help.

  That night Harley stood at the front of the room and said, “You’re all probably wondering why I asked you here.”

  Beast Boy had a giant red-pepper pizza in front of him. “I thought we were in the dining hall for dinner,” he said, folding the pizza in half and eating it like a taco.

  “I want to know why we’re here,” Big Barda said. She had so many servings of mashed potatoes on her plate, it looked like the Swiss Alps had relocated.

  As Harley told the Supers about her Dance-O-Rama, some ignored her, but others seemed interested. Hawkgirl raised her hand. “So let me get this straight. Heroes and villains will be allowed to try out to be contestants?”

  “That’s right!” Harley said. “And regular citizens, too. It’s open to all.”

  “And you can have as many people on your team as you want?” Supergirl asked.

  “And as few,” Hawkgirl added. She had been taking notes. “You can be a soloist.”

  “I can be a soloist?” Wonder Woman asked.

  “Anyone can,” said Harley.

  “What are the rules?” asked Hawkgirl.

  “Who needs rules?” said Harley.

  “The contest does,” Hawkgirl said. “Otherwise it will be chaos.”

  “Would chaos be so bad?” Harley asked.

  “It could be,” Supergirl said. “Have you run this past Principal Waller yet?”

  Harley suddenly got serious. YOWZA! If anyone could stand in the way of this great idea, it would be the Wall.

  “Let me understand this, Ms. Quinn,” Principal Waller said. Already an imposing figure, she was wearing one of her severe dark gray suits. Waller had seven of them, one for every day of the week.

  Bumblebee flew into and out of the office, delivering papers and passing along messages. When Bumblebee saw Harley, she offered her a warm smile. Harley smiled back. She appreciated Bumblebee’s upbeat nature. Too many Supers are stressed out and so serious, Harley lamented as a dozen other thoughts bounced around in her head.

  “Dancing?” Waller continued, making it sound like Harley had asked permission to hold a worm-eating contest. “And you want to enlist some of my students to help you? And you want open auditions—ones in which a contestant’s past is not of consequence? And you want to broadcast the contest live from Super Hero High on your Web channel?”

  Harley gulped. When Waller said it, hosting a Dance-O-Rama didn’t sound so fun.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Harley mumbled.

  “Well, Harley.” Waller shuffled some papers on her desk. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Harley got up and made her way to the door. “Yeah, yeah, got it. I hear ya, I hear ya. No dance contest. Anyway, thanks for listening.”

  As Harley dragged herself down the hall, the sound of buzzing got louder.

  “Harley, wait. Waller sent me to talk to you,” Bumblebee called after her.

  Harley stopped to pull up her socks. They were always falling. “Am I in trouble again?” she asked. Despite her best efforts, it seemed like Harley was always getting called out. Most people, she decided, did not have her refined sense of humor and penchant for fun. Harley held up her hands. “YOWZA. I surrender already. Arrest me!” she joked.

  Bumblebee’s laugh was light and warm, like honey. “There’s no need for that,” she assured her. “Waller thinks you didn’t understand. Harley, she was giving you permission to go ahead and hold the dance contest!”

  “Wha-wha-what?” Harley blabbered. Her jumbled thoughts were spinning.

  When Bumblebee nodded, Harley’s whoop of joy could be heard all the way to the athletic field. “Yes!” she yelled. “Get ready, world! Harley’s Dance-O-Rama is going to be the biggest and best-est dance contest anyone has ever seen. Ratings are gonna go straight through the roof, pierce the clouds, and ricochet off the stars!”

  Big Barda was tossing huge weights to Supergirl, who tossed them to Wonder Woman, who was stacking them up so the Supers would have something to knock down.

  “Does this look crooked?” Wonder Woman asked as she stepped back to appraise the pile.

  Across the room, Miss Martian was nervously dangling several feet above the floor from a rope that was part of a training exercise.

  “And…go!” Coach Wildcat yelled as he lit the bottom of the frayed rope with a match. It looked like an upside-down Fourth of July sparkler. “Miss Martian, you’d better start climbing the rope before the fire catches up to you!”

  Frost stood by the sidelines and tried not to yawn. She was there to put out the fire if needed.

  As the rope began to sizzle, Miss Martian scampered up. Her brown eyes were big with misgiving, and her long red hair covered her face. She had never gone so high or so fast before! Poison Ivy stood by and applauded.

  “Good!” Wildcat barked. “El Diablo, you’re up next! Replace that rope and then climb it, stat!”

  In another part of the gym, Katana was twirling swords so fast you could hear them slicing the air. Cyborg tried to do the same. However, the sound he made was the metal clang when he accidentally hit himself with the weapon time and time again. “Pick it up and try again,” Katana encouraged him. “And don’t worry about dents. You can get those fixed later.”

  “ ’Scuse me, Coach Wildcat,” Harley said, tapping him on the shoulder. It was as solid as cement. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”

  Wildcat turned around, his face in a scowl. “Is this important?” he asked. “I have super heroes to train.”

  “It’s super-duper important, Coach!” Harley assured him.

  “You really think teaching dance during PE is a good idea?” Wildcat asked as El Diablo accidentally lit the bleachers on fire. Frost put out the flames by sending a blast of ice over them. Wildcat jerked his head around as a blur burst past. “Hey, Flash, speed it up!” he yelled.

  Wildcat looked serious as he turned back to Harley, who nodded eagerly.

  Geez. There’s so much seriousness around school, Harley thought in the face of Wildcat’s unending scowl. Good thing they have me.

  “This is a physical education class,” the coach reminded her. “These Supers need to be agile and alert at all times. After all, they may be saving the world someday, and that someday could be sooner than anyone thinks. Harley,” he said, “give me three good reasons why I should even be listening to you talk about dancing.”

  Harley had anticipated this. She turned to Batgirl and nodded. Clinging to the ceiling using one of her B.A.T. (Barbara-Assisted Technology) devices, Batgirl hit “On” and Harley’s POWer (Project, Out-logic, and Wow) presentation appeared on the east wall.

  “One,” Harley began as a photo of exuberant octogenarians dancing appeared, “dancing makes for strong bones. Two, it helps increase stamina. Three, it improves memory by making us recall steps and routines. Four, balance is called into play, strengthening our core muscles. Five—”

  “Enough!” Wildcat said, raising his paw. “Enough already, Harley!”

  She paused and held her breath.

  “I’ll give you gym periods three and four. But if I don’t see results and it’s a bust,” Coach Wildcat warned, “then you’ll be mopping the floors alongside Parasite until Doomsday. Got it?”

  “Got it, Mr. Coach Wildcat, sir,” she promised. “Harley Quinn won’t let you down!”

  The next day, Harley’s classes seemed sooo looon
g. She just couldn’t sit still. In Crazy Quilt’s Super Suits design class, Harley kept applauding and whistling, hoping to speed things up.

  “Harley, Harley, Harley!” Crazy Quilt said as he sauntered down the catwalk that split the room in half. “Please hold your applause until the situation merits it.” He stopped mid-runway and stuck a disco pose. When the class was silent, Crazy Quilt whispered to Harley, “You can applaud now.”

  At last! The class she was waiting for. Harley was bouncing off the walls. Literally.

  “Quiet!” Wildcat blew his whistle and then waited for the Supers to be silent. These were the elite teens of the universe, the super heroes of tomorrow…but for now, they were typical energetic teenagers in PE class.

  “CALM DOWN!” Harley yelled. “This is important.” She looked at Wildcat and said reassuringly, “Go ahead, Coach.”

  Wildcat scowled and continued. “Yesterday we learned how to disable our detractors with head locks, hard punches, and elbows to the solar plexus. Today we’re going to learn pivots, pirouettes, and a do-si-do or two, thanks to Harley Quinn’s suggestion. That’s right: we’re all going to dance! And anyone who thinks they can’t learn a thing or two from me about cha-cha-cha-ing is in for a surprise.”

  Hawkgirl frowned. Beast Boy grinned. Harley did an aerial, and when she nailed her landing she pointed to Wildcat and announced, “Supers, you’re looking at the Ranger Ridge State College dance champion! Give it up for Coach ‘Crazy Legs’ Wildcat!”

  “That’s ancient history,” he said with a modest grin. “But think about it. The best battles are like choreographed dance routines. It’s a give and take, and there’s a rhythm to it.”

  “How about heating up this class with a little salsa dancing?” said El Diablo.

  “How about a little polka?” Wildcat asked.

  “How about a little polka in the eye,” Harley whispered to Bumblebee, then laughed at her own joke.

  “Polka?” El Diablo said. The black images of flames that adorned his arms rippled. “That’s so old-school.”