"When the enemy has no face, society will invent one."

Susan Faludi

Chapter 1

The day Jack Napier set foot in school, Harley knew things would never be quite the same.

She sensed him coming before she saw him. The roar of chatter wavered off as students parted in the middle of the hallway for a messy nest of dirty blond hair to make through. That's all she could see of him at first. As he came closer to her place by the lockers, a small gap formed in the crowd within her line of vision, and she managed to catch a flash of dark, angry eyes that left her with an uneasy feeling of needing to cave into herself or hide. Then, he was gone, having whizzed past as more and more people turned their heads in his direction.

He hadn't been drawing attention to himself. The only thing noticeable about him was that he was new to the school; she was good with faces, and the second floor hallway on the east side of Gotham High School was mainly reserved for classes where honors courses and AP courses were taught, classes she often frequented. She would've recognized him. That, and people wouldn't have been ogling at him if he had already been a student here.

"God, who was he?" her friend Sasha asked as she stared after where the new mysterious boy had disappeared.

Harley had known Sasha since she was twelve, and they were still best friends their sophomore year of high school. She watched as Sasha rapidly chewed on her bubble gum and stretched it with her teeth, deeply contrasted by her dark lipstick in the same way her pale skin contrasted her jet-black bob. Her wide-eyed gaze shifted between Harley and the hallway.

Harley shrugged as she retrieved the books for her first lesson out of her locker. "He must be a new kid." Though it was strange for anybody to be transferring schools when they were halfway through the school year.

"Yeah, but I've never seen that reaction before. Did you get a glimpse of him? Was he cute or something?"

"I couldn't see through the crowd. But if his class is in this hallway, we might see him again later." She grinned mischievously. "I hope he's cute."

Sasha folded her hands and leaned against her locker. "A cute face would be refreshing in this dump."

"He's Harris Napier's son. Don't you ladies watch the news?" Jaime Harrington came to stand in between Harley and Sasha, adorned with a crooked grin and towering above the both of them. His gaze was immediately fixated on Harley, and she began to fiddle with the straps of her backpack, avoiding his eyes.

Harley knew that Jaime had had a thing for her since freshman year, and she detested it. While she didn't mind attention from boys and was capable of handling flirtatious advances, Jaime was too darn-right stubborn and arrogant for her liking. He had the habit of lingering by her locker and calculating her with mean, green eyes, expecting her to squirm or drape her arms over his chest or play with his hair like so many other girls did. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, and it should have been clear after she had already rejected him about going on a date twice.

She looked up from the floor and met Sasha's gaze briefly before forcing herself to glance up at Jaime and give him a small smile.

"Who's Harris Napier?" Despite wishing she could just slam her locker shut and rush to Mrs. Perkins' English class, Harley had a genuine curiosity. Could the new kid have been the son of a celebrity?

Jaime shifted from foot to foot, licked his lips, and leaned closer to Harley, as if he were about to disclose a secret. "Harris Napier was a senator, but he's running to be Gotham's mayor now."

A politician, Harley thought. Yuck. She imagined it was difficult to have a politician for a parent. They were all cunning, self-interested liars, as her Dad always told her. A few lessons in history made her come to the conclusion that he was probably right, though she knew there must have been exceptions.

"How did you know that was his son?" Harley asked.

Jaime shrugged. "Word spreads fast. He transferred from Gotham Academy."

Sasha frowned. "The posh, rich-kids school?"

"Yeah." Jaime raised his eyebrows and leaned even closer to Harley. She caught a whiff of his cologne. It smelled overly-sweet and like something older men wore. It flooded her nostrils and made her want to retract. "They say he got kicked out for starting a fire."

"Really," Harley said. It was more of a passive comment than a question. She turned to her locker and shut it closed. "Well, we better get to class, Sasha."

Sasha was aware of Harley's dislike of Jaime and perked up, gripped her books and following after Harley. "Yeah, we should hurry. There's only five minutes left and Perkins hates it when we're late."

The truth was, Mrs. Perkins' class was right around the corner, and she only got angry for a few minutes if someone was late to class before forgetting about it completely, but they weren't about to tell Jaime that.

Harley gave Jaime a polite nod. "Bye Jaime."

"Later, Harls." Jaime winked and went off in the opposite direction.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Harley groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Thank God."

"You should stop being so polite to him," Sasha said.

"I wish I could."

"Oh, c'mon, Harley. Clearly rejecting him politely didn't do the trick the first time. Or the second time," Sasha said incredulously.

Harley took a deep breath and tried to level out the discomfort that must've been apparent on her face. "I know, Sasha. You know I hate him. But I don't want to start a conflict."

Aaron, Celine, and Patrick- they were friends with Jaime, too, but they made up a social circle Harley wanted to stay a part of, and the only way that could happen is if she just swept her hatred for Jaime under the rug instead of making things awkward. Sasha was the only one that disdained Jaime just as much as Harley did, but that was because she was the only one who saw him for the douchebag he was.

Harley and Sasha had spent too many days fooling around and pulling pranks with the other three friends, which made the high school experience much less daunting from the beginning. Going to city rooftops and having picnics, picking dream prom-dresses to try on for each other in Gotham Central Mall with the girls, smearing left-over marshmallow-and-chocolate goo on each other's faces during a camping trip in the Palisades- thinking of them always brought back those warm memories, and Harley refused to trade all that for one jerk who was a part of the same social circle. She created something for herself here, and she was not about to give it up.

As she pushed open the door to Mrs. Perkins' class to start the day with American Literature, she switched the topic to the homework and whether Sasha had understood what a "motif" was.

The moment she set her eyes on him, she had stopped listening to what Sasha was saying.

Shoulders hunched, head hung low and sitting isolated at the furthest corner of the classroom, the shock of dirty blond hair was the first thing to stand out to Harley just like it had in the hall. She noted that he was tall and lean, his legs stretching out far beneath his desk. He was clad in a black, crisp, long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants, but the look didn't seem to fit him, Harley noted. The sizes were right, but something about his rigid posture told Harley he wasn't comfortable wearing it. She couldn't blame him. It was so formal and dull for a school with a very lax uniform policy.

Upon closer inspection of his face, Harley's stomach twisted into knots.

Stretching along the right side of his face from the mouth up to the cheekbone was a rough and jagged scar. It was macabre, like someone had gotten a knife and split open his mouth along the seams. That's why everyone had been staring at him. It wasn't because he was famous or because he was cute or because he was the new kid. It was because of the terrifying laceration.

Harley shared a look with Sasha, who had also grown silent upon seeing the Napier boy. As they slowly made their way to their seats in front of the class where Aaron and Celine were already sitting, Harley continued to cast surreptitious glances his way like everyone else.

If he was aware of the attention, he didn't show it. He stared with intent focus outside the window and restlessly tapped his fingers on his desk, the corner of his mouth pulled into a small scowl. Even though he didn't appear to be self-conscious, it was evident that he wasn't in a good mood.

When she greeted Aaron- jock-type, boyish grin, spiky-haired Aaron- and took a seat to the right of him, he raised his eyebrows and cast exaggerated glances in the direction of the Napier boy.

"Yeah, I know. He's new here, right? Do you know what happened to him?" Harley whispered.

Aaron shrugged and rubbed his head. "No idea. Heard he attended Gotham Academy and got kicked out for drug dealing."

Harley raised an eyebrow. "I thought he got kicked out for starting a fire."

"You kidding? Take a look at him. He looks like a junkie." Not being able to resist the temptation, Harley did glance the Napier boy's way again, and she had most certainly not been expecting for him to be staring right back. His eyes were thunderous and pierced right through her, just like they had in the hallway, causing her to abashedly turn away as her cheeks began to grow warm. Great, she thought. Now he definitely knows we're talking about him. Could he hear what we're saying?"

"Bet he got the scar when a deal went wrong," Aaron continued with a knowing tone.

"I don't know," Harley muttered, turning her body towards the front of class so as to avoid the Napier boy's gaze. "He's the son of a politician. I don't think he'd be able to get away with that stuff. But he is a bit creepy."

Just then, Mrs. Perkins arrived into class. She was an older woman with short, grey hair and glasses with rectangular frames. Harley was glad to have her class to start off the day. She was a no-nonsense type of woman, but she was still kind and fair and had an amusing anecdote to tell every now and then.

She started off the day with taking attendance and did a double take when she spotted him.

"Oh, are you Mr. Jack Napier?"

Jack.

Every single head whipped around to face him. Harley turned around too, secretly glad to have an excuse to inspect his scar again.

He slowly turned his head from looking outside the window, countenance utterly neutral. He chewed on what Harley guessed to be a piece of gum and then, in a voice that was too deep for his age, said, "That's me."

"Welcome to Gotham High, Jack." Mrs. Perkins smiled at him warmly. "I hope you'll be enjoying your stay here. If you ever need help with anything, I'm always here. And I'm sure your new peers can help you navigate around the school."

"Aren't cha gonna ask him why he came here?" Andy Smith, the class clown, mumbled from the back, loud enough for only the students to hear. Some sniggered at the boldness of the question and looked expectantly at Jack, who gave a downward glass in their direction but simply continued to chew on his gum.

Even though there was something creepy about him, Harley still felt a twinge of pity for the way everyone was treating him. She was glad that Mrs. Perkins hadn't heard Andy, or perhaps had chosen to ignore him. She probably knew about whatever situation brought Jack here, since she recognized him.

Once the bell had rung and it was time to switch classes, Harley turned to look for him again but only saw his back with one foot already out the door before he disappeared. She didn't see him again till lunch.

She and Sasha had been the first to arrive at their usual lunch table inside the cafeteria. Since they were only serving hamburgers and an orange-y, gooey pile of pasta and meat that was supposed to pass for lasagna, Harley decided that she would skip lunch and bite into an apple Sasha didn't want. The hamburgers didn't look half bad, but she was trying to watch her figure.

"God, Harley, do you ever eat?"

"If they served anything that was healthy or looked healthy, I might. My coach is being strict, telling me I have to lay off the fast food. I haven't eaten chocolate for a week. And you know how my mom is. She cleansed the kitchen and wants Dad to go on a diet, too."

"This gymnastics thing is really pushing you. Guess you're not going to be able to go out this Saturday either, huh?"

"You know I can't. This is States. There's only a month left and I feel like I don't know my routine any more now than when I started." Harley groaned.

Harley had been taking gymnastics classes since she was four years old. It meant sacrificing time with friends and learning how to manage her time. The amount of discipline required was a feat to achieve, but Harley had always been proud of her ability to persevere. Her passion for it always drove her to push herself to do better.

Aaron, Celine and Patrick all emerged from the lunch line with filled lunch trays and took their seats at the table with Harley and Sasha.

Celine was someone Harley could see as becoming a news anchor or saleswoman. She had warm brown eyes, a stunning smile and a photogenic face that could do the sweet-talking for her, though she was good at drawing people in with friendly comments too. She looked at Harley's sad apple core and said, "Here, you can have mine too," tossing her apple to Harley.

"Thanks," Harley responded. Aaron and Patrick followed suit and disposed of their apples too.

The first thing noticeable thing about Patrick were his cerulean eyes, always filled with laughter. He was relatively short compared to most boys, and he was sometimes made fun of for that, but Harley thought he was cute. And she liked his kindness. He had been her first friend here excluding Sasha, and he had invited her along to hang out with the rest of her current group of friends, which made her feel welcome her first day in Gotham High.

"Doing all right?" Patrick asked as he dug his fork into his lasagna.

"Yeah," Harley replied. "Just tired. Practice didn't end until nine yesterday, and then I stayed up another two hours trying to finish the math homework. All for nothing. I still don't understand it."

"Really? Well, I did it. I could explain it to you, if you'd like."

Harley's face broke into a smile, as if she were a small girl being offered all the Barbies in the world. "Could you?"

"Anything for you, Harls."

"God, thanks a bunch. How's badminton practice going?"

Just as Patrick reached for his backpack to take out the homework, Jaime appeared out of nowhere and slid into the seat next to Harley. He usually sat at this lunch table, but Harley knew that if he chose to sit next to her, he would most definitely do everything in his power to bother her. Already he sat far too close for her liking. Their elbows were touching, though she was well-aware that there was plenty of room to the other side of him.

"Hey guys," Jaime greeted them. He looked pointedly at Harley before turning to look at everyone else. "Sup?"

"Aren't you going to get lunch?" Sasha asked with unmasked annoyance.

Jaime didn't even hear her question as Aaron called to him and asked him something about swimming practice.

As the two boys spoke over her, Harley leaned forward so she could hear Patrick explain what was on the homework he had just smoothed out on the table.

Though she attempted to listen and even took out a paper and a pencil to take notes on Patrick's instructions, his voice and her focus was being drowned out by Aaron and Jaime's raucous laughter, and she could hear Jaime obnoxiously chewing gum with an open mouth.

As soon as she had asked enough questions to understand what she had to do, she stood, grabbed her stuff, and said, "I'm going to go and try to finish this somewhere else."

Sasha nodded her head in understanding and replied, "See you later, Harley."

Just as she was about to walk away, Jaime grabbed her wrist and said, "Hey, where you going, Harley girl? I have to talk to you about something."

Harley slowly pulled her hand away. He always tried to find ways to touch her. "I really have to finish this, Jaime. We can talk sometime later."

Jaime pursed his lips and shrugged, as though slightly disappointed. "All right. Guess I'll see you later."

Harley wished she hadn't been so cold in her remark. "Sorry, Jaime. It's just…this is important. My grade had already dropped to a B last semester and I can't let it happen again. Maybe you can call me later." She knew that wouldn't be a possibility because of gymnastics practice, but maybe the comment would reassure him she didn't dislike him.

Jaime cracked a grin. "Hey, it's all good. Though a smart girl like you shouldn't worry so much."

Harley tried to hide her irritation at the comment; her grades meant something to her and she has worked hard for years to maintain a good academic record. If she planned to keep doing gymnastics, she had to prove she could still handle school to her mother and to the universities she might apply to in the future. Of course she had to worry. Instead of saying all that, though, she put on a false smile instead. "See you later, then."

When she pushed through the cafeteria doors, she rushed upstairs to the library. There was only twenty five minutes left and she still had five questions to answer.

Upon taking one step inside the library, something knocked into her and forced the air out of her lungs. She took a step back to steady herself from the impact of the crash and reached out her hands to steady herself. One hand found purchase on somebody's chest while the other braced against the wall behind her.

When she looked up, she gasped.

It was Jack.

His eyes were moving rapidly, analyzing her face. His nostrils flared slightly. He towered above Harley so overwhelmingly it sent a jolt through her heart and made her quickly remove her hand from his chest, as if he were a hot stove that just singed her hand.

"S-sorry," she stammered, stepping to the left to move out of his way. "I'm really sorry. I didn't see you coming."

His gaze followed her, but the intensity of the moment died now that she wasn't so close to him. He thoughtfully chewed on his cheek, the same cheek that bared his scar. Maybe it wasn't a piece of a chewing gum after all, but a habit he had. She thought she heard him hum low in his throat, as if acknowledging her apology. Then, he cleared his throat, turned away, and walked out of the library.

Harley let out a deep breath, not sure why she had gotten so nervous. Perhaps it was because the accusations that had been made against him for getting kicked out of Gotham Academy made her wary of him, as did the scar. The injury could've come from a freak accident, but for some reason, she didn't think so. She couldn't imagine an accident that could've created a scar like that. Somebody probably gave it to him. Maybe what Aaron had said about a drug deal gone wrong was true. Gotham was filled with addicts doing anything and everything to get their next hit, so it made for a profitable business.

But why would a politician's son even need that kind of money? Harley mentally questioned.

But he certainly looked like the type, all serious and, come to think of it, a bit rude. She had guiltily apologized, yet he was the one that crashed into her and didn't say a word; she had been walking into the library at a much more reasonable pace than he had been walking out of it.

She waved the musings away, knowing she needed to get started on the homework. Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a folded piece of paper on the floor.

She crouched down to pick it up. When she unfolded it, her eyes widened.

It was a drawing. With quick but deft strokes, someone had sketched a man covering half of his face with a masquerade mask. On the naked side, the man's eyebrow was sharply angled, his eye sinister. The lips were completely exposed, their corners upturned into a smirk. The mask, in contrast, wore a soft expression and was decorated with elegant vine patterns. Harley imagined them having a gold color, even though the sketch was black and white.

It occurred to her suddenly that perhaps Jack had dropped it in his rush out the door.

Without thinking twice, she rushed back outside, and as soon as she spotted his familiar hunched figure going down the hallway, she shouted, "Hey! Wait!"

The figure stopped, and, slowly, Jack turned around to face her.

Harley approached him, the hand holding the paper outstretched. She came to a stop a few feet away from him. "Is this yours?"

His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he hesitantly took one out to grab the drawing, then proceeding to hold it closer to get a better look.

While he wasn't looking at her, Haley took the opportunity to look at his scar again. She now noticed there was another, much smaller scar beneath his lower lip, just as jagged and rough. She wished she didn't have to wonder how he got them. She was sure many people had asked him already, so maybe to make his life easier, he should've just issued a statement over the PA about what had happened to him and quench everyone's curiosity and suspicions once and for all. Well, he at least owed her after nearly knocking her over like that.

She realized how unreasonable she was being when she imagined her own face being hideously marred like his was. It would mean merciless judgement and stares for the entirety of her life, no doubt. He probably wasn't very lucky when it came to flirting with girls.

"Well, would you look at that," he finally said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. "Thanks, doll."

Harley found it slightly strange for him to call her "doll". Perhaps he was mocking her. There was a twang to his curiously deep voice that made it seem more so.

"Yeah," she said. "No problem."

As he opened his backpack and shoved the paper inside, Harley softly commented, "It's good. Your drawing."

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and considered her, as if debating whether she was lying or not. Sensing his doubt, Harley added, "The shadows are nice. And the mask is so detailed."

He worked his mouth and cautiously drew out, "Thanks."

Harley nodded. "Well, I'll be going back. See you later, uh…Jack, right?"

He nodded, eyes studying her face, still calculating, still observing. She couldn't blame him. Maybe he thought she was mocking him.

"I'm Harley, by the way. Well, Harleen Quinzel, technically. But everyone calls me Harley."

He continued to chew on his cheek, as if processing the name like a new flavor of gum. "You mean, like, uh, harlequin?"

Harley would've playfully rolled her eyes if they were better acquainted. "Yeah, like harlequin. I've heard that one all too often before." Starting to realize how much she was babbling, Harley rushed to end the conversation. "Well, see you later, Jack. I have to get going."

And before she could distract herself any further, she waved and sped off to the library, forcing herself not to look back. As she was opening the door, she did so just once, but by then, Jack Napier was gone.