by Lisa Yee
Parasite, the school janitor, was sweeping up under the bleachers. “Polka’s not old-school,” Harley heard him grumble. “The easier it looks, the harder it is.”
“Okay,” Wildcat called out. “Pick your partners.”
“You heard him,” Harley yelled. She began clapping. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Wildcat looked at her sideways. Harley shrugged. “I figured you need a dance assistant, and that person ought to be me.”
There was a mad rush. Big Barda and Supergirl stood together. Green Lantern and Lady Shiva were happily chatting. Cheetah and Star Sapphire were conspiring. Everyone had a partner except one student, who stood on the sidelines.
“Miss Martian,” Wildcat said. “I’m sorry, but there’s an odd number of dancers, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to sit this one out.”
“That’s fine,” Miss Martian said softly. She began to fade until no one could see her.
“Dancers,” Wildcat bellowed. “I want you to watch this video first, and then we polka!”
At a school full of super heroes, everyone wanted to be the best, whether at battling intergalactic villains, outsmarting criminals, or doing a polka. They studied the video of big-skirted women and men in jaunty vests with a keen interest. Hawkgirl took notes. Bumblebee danced in place.
“Okay, ready?” Wildcat asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “And…go!”
As the relentlessly upbeat strains of accordion and clarinet pumped through the gym, an imposing figure stepped into the room. Amanda Waller’s face was unreadable as she watched her students galloping and gallumphing in pairs.
“Big step, small step! Small step!” Wildcat was calling as he clapped his paws to the beat. “That’s right! Big step, half step, half step. Full, half, half…No, no, Wonder Woman and Supergirl, no flying. This is on the ground only. Flash, slow down. Barda, Katana, it’s not all big steps!”
“You heard him!” Harley called out, bouncing up and down to the music. “Big step, small step!”
The Supers were bumping into each other, causing some to crash against the walls and/or knock over the other dancers. They were all enjoying the confusion, especially Harley—until she noticed Principal Waller staring at something at the far end of the gym.
“WOWZA!” Harley said, pointing. “Do you see what I see?”
Soon everyone was watching Parasite doing an incredible polka…alone. His eyes were closed as he deftly moved through the steps, lost in the music.
There was a collective gasp as his partner slowly appeared. Miss Martian was smiling as she polkaed around the gym with the janitor. As they continued to skip and spin, Waller nodded to Wildcat before leaving.
When the music ended, the applause began. Parasite was a little out of breath. It took great control to dance and keep his powers in check—he had the ability to drain Supers of their powers. But Miss Martian was beaming. “Thank you,” she said bashfully.
“Thank you,” he said, giving her a small bow before he picked up his broom. He tried not to smile amid the calls of “Great job!” and “Parasite, you’re the polka king!”
Wildcat looked at Miss Martian. “Next time,” he said, “you will show these Supers how it’s done.”
“How would you describe yourself?” Bumblebee asked the girls who were crowded around her locker. She was holding the “What Super Are You?” quiz in Super Student, Super Star magazine.
Harley didn’t hesitate. “I’m the frosting on the cake! The zzazz in pizzazz! The ribbon on the present! The duper in super!” she said, leaping up and then taking a bow.
Cheetah strolled past and commented, “What you are is a class clown.”
Frost followed, laughing. “Where’s your red nose?” she asked.
Harley lit up. “Thanks for the reminder!” She pulled a red foam nose seemingly from out of nowhere and plopped it on her nose. Then Harley grabbed her book bag and headed to class, leaving a trail of giggles, guffaws, and shocked expressions in her wake as she made her way down the hall yelling, “Clown comin’ through!”
The line into the gym snaked out of the building and wrapped around the base of Crystal Tower. Twice.
“Lookit!” Harley cried. “Look at the semifinalists! We’re gonna have big fun!”
Just a few days earlier, Harley’s Quinntessentials had gone back on the air with new segments. “Hey, Harley fans,” she had broadcast. “Didja miss me? I sure missed you, and you’re not gonna wanna miss this—Harley’s Dance-O-Rama!”
The buzz for the Dance-O-Rama was so big that even Lois Lane reported on it. “Word is that dancers from around the world and beyond are eager to show their moves,” Lois had said.
“I’m glad I had everyone check in online before they showed up,” Batgirl told Beast Boy as she consulted the mini-computer on her wrist. “Each entry was given a number. We have one hundred eighty-seven dance groups and thirty-seven soloists for the semifinals. Good thing we had the groups send in tapes for us to cull through first. Otherwise we’d have more contestants than people in the entire city of Metropolis!”
“Thirty-eight soloists,” Beast Boy corrected her.
“No, thirty-seven,” Batgirl said, triple-checking the list.
“A super-talented last-minute performer just showed up,” Beast Boy told her. He began to moonwalk. “We don’t want to leave this one out. This will rock the ratings, believe me!”
Harley’s eyes grew big. “Who is it?” she asked, scanning the crowd.
“Me!” Beast Boy said, stopping and pointing to himself. “Right here. Right now. With all the right moves.”
Batgirl shook her head. “You were supposed to send in an audition tape like everyone else.”
Beast Boy turned into a dancing hippo and gracefully balanced on one foot. “But I’m not like everyone else,” he noted. “I’m special.”
Bumblebee flew up. As official troubleshooter, it was her job to take care of any unforeseen problems. “There’s no time for arguing, people,” she reminded everyone.
“Then it’s settled! Let’s let him in,” Harley proclaimed, adding, “He’ll be good for ratings!”
It was an odd gathering as the contestants descended on Super Hero High. A whole contingent from the Planet XOXO were dressed as puffy Valentine hearts, a trio of break-dancers from CAD Academy had brought a crate of plates and coffee cups with them, and what looked like half of Korugar Academy was present. Plus, there were dance teams from almost every regular high school, villains who had come out of hiding to show off their samba skills, and even one hundred tap dancers from Tap Dance Town, that new senior citizen community for retired super hero sidekicks.
It was sure to be a spectacle, and Harley had placed cameras around the gym to capture every dance move.
“Three, two, one…and we’re live!” Harley turned to the camera as two Furies from Apokolips Magnet stormed the stage looking confident.
Big Barda fiddled with the sound system, making sure it was working. Barda took her job as DJ seriously, and her status as a Super Hero High student even more seriously. Normally, Bumblebee would have DJ’ed, but as the show’s troubleshooter, she was already swamped.
“Welcome to Harley’s Quinntessentials,” Harley said gleefully, “or HQ, to my friends. Today we usher in a new show. Yes! It’s time for the semifinals of our POW! BANG! WHAM! WOWZA! of a spectacle, the Harley’s Dance-O-Rama! And now let’s get started! First up, the Furies!”
The duo from the dark and desolate planet started off slowly, but with each powerful stomp, their hip-hop dance ramped up until the entire school was shaking. When the music stopped, Furies Stompa and Lashina looked triumphantly at the DJ standing behind the music console.
“Hey, Barda, see what you’re missing?” Lashina snarled, tossing her black-and-blue ponytail over her shoulder.
Stompa took a bow. “You should never have left Apokolips,” she said when they walked past their former schoolmate. Her heavy boots made the gym tremble beneath Big Barda�
�s feet.
“It’s okay, Barda,” Supergirl said, quickly flying over. “You’re one of us now. Those bad days at Apokolips are—”
Harley interrupted. “C’mon, c’mon, we got a show to put on!” she reminded them with a circular motion of her arm that said “Let’s keep the ball rolling.”
Hawkgirl consulted her watch. Harley had named her stage manager, and as with all her assignments, she wanted to make sure everything was perfect.
“Katana, we’re ready for the next group,” Hawkgirl said into her headset. “Send in the clowns.”
Howls of laugher rippled through the stands as the clowns pushed and pulled and tumbled over each other to get to the stage.
“Wait for me!” Harley cried, joining them.
“Oh, look! It’s our very own class clown, doing her thing,” Cheetah said as Harley rolled past her.
“It’s going to be just as hard to corral Harley as the contestants!” Batgirl shouted to Big Barda, who cued up the circus music.
The Comic Conga Clowns soon had everyone in the stands dancing in one long line around the gym and out the building. When the first clown in front leaned back, so did everyone else. And when she sat down, it caused a chain reaction of everyone falling into the lap of the person behind them.
Harley could not stop laughing, nor could anyone watching. Though the semifinals had just begun, she was having a great time, and the dancers kept coming: samba, tango, foxtrot. Polka. Belly dancing. Ballet. Every kind of dance imaginable was being demonstrated.
“And now, another group from my own Super Hero High!” Harley said into the camera. “Here are Green Lantern, Raven, Catwoman, and Starfire doing their rendition of swing dancing!”
Batgirl was monitoring the online viewership. There were hundreds of thousands of viewers from every corner of the universe. She even detected some views from another galaxy. The show was breaking records. Batgirl had to admit: Harley knew how to entertain a crowd.
“And that’s all for today!” Harley announced. “Tomorrow, we will resume our semifinals! So, until then, keep watching and keep laughing,” she said as her channel started replaying the day’s events.
If Harley Quinn had her way, Harley’s Quinntessentials would be live 24/7. But Waller had put limitations on how much time she could broadcast. There was, after all, something called “school.”
“That was exhausting,” Batgirl said as they crowded into Harley’s dorm.
“Everyone, thank you for all your help in making the Dance-O-Rama a hit!” Harley enthused. “Just wait until tomorrow, when we name the finalists. That’s gonna be big!”
“I’ll bet you’re going to get zillions of messages telling you how great you are,” Miss Martian noted, looking at Harley with admiration. “I wonder what that’s like?”
“What what’s like?” asked Harley.
“To be you,” said Miss Martian. “To have so many fans, and to get fan mail.”
“It’s the best!” Harley exclaimed. “Fans make you feel good, and fan mail can make you feel even better.”
This Harley knew to be true. After all, she kept all her fan mail, and had a special file for her favorites to reread during those days when life wasn’t as funny as it should be.
Online—and in just about every other form of mass communication—there was a lot of grumbling, with complaints of fixed votes and bribes and heavy hints of favoritism. Harley could not believe the response. She was in heaven!
After a seemingly endless second day of semifinals, the finalists had been chosen via a panel of secret judges, votes from the Internet audience, and, of course, Harley. Now it was time to drop in on the tech behind her success—the one and only…
“Hi, Batgirl!” Harley shouted as she entered the Bat-Bunker. “Any press is good press, don’t you think?” she said, tossing her mallet in the air. Just as Harley was about to grab it, a net dropped from the ceiling and caught it. “Hey, that’s mine!” she complained.
“It’s mine now,” Batgirl said good-naturedly. “You know that no one’s supposed to play with their weapons in here. I have too much high-tech equipment and can’t afford for anything to break. I’ll give it back to you when you leave.”
Harley wandered around the Bat-Bunker, the dorm room that doubled as Batgirl’s computer control center. The screens glowed blue in the purple room.
“So, what are my numbers?” Harley asked, pressing some buttons randomly.
Batgirl removed Harley’s hand from her keyboard and reset the computers back to the way they were. Then she flexed her fingers and addressed the computer keyboard like a pianist. Instantly, a detailed map of Metropolis appeared with numbers running across it. Overlaid on top of that, a map of the United States appeared, then a map of the world, then the key locations around the greater galaxy covered the screen. “Take a look for yourself,” Batgirl said, scooting over.
Harley leaned in. The number was getting bigger and bigger. “WOWZA!” she proclaimed. “I’m a huge hit!”
“Yes, but not everyone is a fan,” Supergirl pointed out. Harley had been so focused on the numbers, she hadn’t noticed Supergirl eating cookies in the corner. “Look at your message board.”
On another screen were comments from viewers. Most were like this:
The BEST show ever. I love HQ’s Dance-O-Rama!
—Dance-O-Rama Fan Family
Harley Quinn deserves the awesomeness award!”
—MH234
Can’t wait to see the finals. I just know Beast Boy is going to win!!!
—Beast Boy
But some said:
Killer Croc should have been a finalist. So what if he’s a criminal?
—KC Fan Club and Employees
The votes were rigged!
—CAD Academy Parents Association
Watch out, Harley Quinn, you picked the wrong dancers!!!
—Anonymous
Supergirl wrinkled her brow. “Do those bother you?” she asked.
“Aw, shucks!” Harley said after reading the angry comments. “I’m not afraid of anyone! So what if I lose a couple of viewers? I’ve got plenty more where they came from!”
With the finals less than a week away, the dance competition was all anyone could talk about. “It’s too bad you and Parasite didn’t try out,” Katana said to Miss Martian.
Miss Martian blushed. “Dancing’s not my thing.”
“Well, it’s my thing,” Star Sapphire said. She pirouetted around the tables in the dining hall, hitting several students with her deep purple hair as she whirled around. “I’ve already started planning my victory party.”
“Nothing like a little self-doubt,” The Flash said to himself as he passed by holding a tray piled high with cheeseburgers.
Sapphire straightened her tiara. “I’m having couture costumes made for me and my corps de ballet. Now all I need is a dance partner.” She looked around. “Oh, Flash,” she said as she adjusted the glowing ring on her finger. “May I have a word with you?”
Since the dozen finalists included entries from Super Hero High, Wildcat left the gym open for the groups to practice. “Nothing wrong with home court advantage,” he said when Hawkgirl asked if this was fair.
“Let’s triple-check this,” Hawkgirl said to Batgirl.
“I’m all for that,” Batgirl said, consulting her computer. “My list includes the following: one hundred Tappers from Tap Dance Town; The CAD Academy Break-Dancers; the Belle Reve Penitentiary Guard Cha-Cha-Chas; Little Beth from Miss Toddler Tot’s School for the Tiny and Talented; the Jigs Up, a group of former bank robbers from Limerick, Ireland; the Doomsday Divas, a group of reformed villains; a trio of dancers from Intensity Institute; our own Super Hero High entries; and the mystery dancer.”
“Who’s the mystery dancer?” Hawkgirl asked. “I don’t like not knowing.”
“Harley, who’s the mystery dancer?” Batgirl asked.
“Don’t know,” Harley said. “It’s a mystery!”
“T
here’s no way we can fit the hundred tap dancers in the gym—and it’s a direct violation of the fire code,” Hawkgirl noted, shaking her head. “Last time we had them dance in the parking lot. But that’s going to be full of vehicles since the competition is a hot ticket.”
Batgirl agreed. “What do you want to do about that?”
“I don’t know,” said Harley. She was editing a commercial featuring the finalists and trying to mimic their moves. “You guys figure out the details. I’m more of a big-picture person.”
“Outside,” Batgirl said. “They’ll have to dance outside on the sports field. I can get Supergirl and some of the others to construct a dance floor—”
“Heard you, and we’re already on it!” Supergirl said over Batgirl’s comm bracelet. “Look out the window.”
Harley could see Supergirl and Wonder Woman carrying twenty-foot stacks of wood planks and handing them off to The Flash, who was building a dance floor at super-speed on the sports field as Bumblebee directed him.
“WOWZA! We’ve thought of everything,” Harley enthused. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Saturday morning rolled around sooner than anyone expected. Wonder Woman enjoyed several bowls of colorful sugary cereals—it was her one weakness. Bumblebee fortified her steel-cut oatmeal with extra honey. Batgirl had gotten up early, had fruit, granola, and yogurt, and was already at work in the gym where the show was taking place. A stickler for details, she wanted to triple-check the equipment.
“Can you go faster?” Harley asked. She was so excited that she had eaten breakfast three times. Two on purpose, one by accident.
“I could if you would please move aside,” Batgirl said. She was staring into Cyborg’s eyes as he stared back at her. “Harley, can you see what he sees?” she asked.
Harley checked her computer. “Yep!” she said gleefully. “What an awesome, incredible idea, to have extra cameras! Who was the genius who thought of that?”
