Young Writers Society

"Miss Hope, do you know the answer?"

I glanced up from the doodle I was making. Seriously? I was drawing my most favorite superhero and Oh So Ms. Important had to interrupt my drawing process? No one interrupts me when I'm thinking about Batman, and I mean no one.

I set down my oh so lovely pencil on my crappy desk and leaned back in my chair. Then I smiled.

Ms. Driscoll glared at me. She brought her wrinkly small hand up in the air and pointed at me, wagging her ring finger up and down. Was she trying to look intimidating? She's as intimidating as a kitten.

I chuckled softly at my thoughts.

"Miss Hope, would you please answer my question?" Ms. Driscoll tried to be patient, but was failing oh so well.

I smirked.

I set my chair back down on the dingy linoleum floor and sat up straighter in my seat. I folded my hands together and gave her an award winning smile.

"If I knew the answer, I would have raised my hand. So, no I won't answer your question because it was a complete waste of your and my time." I spoke with confidence and a bit of an attitude.

I smiled slightly as I heard my fellow classmates giggle quietly.

I then unfolded my hands, grabbed my sparkly pencil, and started working on my Batman doodle again.

I did glance up to see the look on the old woman's face, though. It was hilarious. Her face was as bright as a tomato and her hands were clenched so tight that you could see her knuckles turn white. I'm pretty sure she popped a few blood vessels. Her dull blue eyes were like daggers. I shivered. I swear she was staring right into my soul. I scoffed in annoyance. She was stealing my job! I'm the ginger here!

She finally calmed herself down to the point that she could talk. She closed her eyes and took long deep breathes. After about five minutes, she opened her small beady eyes and stared directly at me.

"Miss Hope, I'll ask you once and only once to go to the Principal's office right now."

The corners of my mouth turned up into a menacing smile: a smile that would classify me as a troublemaker. My eyes brightened as I leaned down to grab my bag sitting patiently by my seat. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I pushed myself into a standing position.

As I walked towards the thick prison-like door on the left side of the classroom, I looked around the room through the corners of my eyes. Everyone looked awestruck and dumbfounded. Some kids even had their jaws hanging wide open. That was an interesting sight.

No one expected little Miss Goody Two-Shoes to backtalk someone, especially a teacher. Heck, no one even thought she could hurt a fly.

I ambled up to my lovely, note the sarcasm, instructor. I halted about two feet away from her desk and winked at her.

"Thanks for the excuse to get out of this boring class. I'd rather go to the Principal's office any day than go and 'learn' in this torture room. So, ciao!" I brought my right hand up to my head and flipped my hair behind my shoulder. Smiling in triumph, I skipped out of my math class.

As soon as I exited the room, I leaned against the cold steel door and sank to the ground.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

I opened my bag a little, the sound of the zipper echoing down the emptied hallway, and pulled out my green composition book. I traced my ring finger around the Batman and Robin stickers I had on the front of my book for a minute before opening to the page of my most recent masterpiece.

I mentally sighed at the thought of meeting Batman when I looked at the drawing I made of him. I then smiled slightly at the plan I made to see him again. I spent all night working on it. I made my brain work overtime just to make it up. I finally finished it and was going to do something incredibly stupid to make it work.

I gazed a little bit more at Batsy, as the Joker and Harley Quinn call him, then shut my book and put it back in my bag. I got off the dirty tiled floor and wiped my hands down the back of my pants. I then strolled down the deserted hallway until I reached the school's front doors. What? You thought I was actually going to the Principal's office? Well you're in luck. Not. I raised both my hands and pushed open the barrier setting me apart from the outside world. As soon as I stepped outside the doors, I took in a deep breathe of the freezing January air.

Time to set Plan A in action.

I threw on my old, too small jacket and started down the sidewalk. I reached into my pocket rubbing my fingers up and down the small unique object in my pocket. I didn't want to get rid of it, but if it meant seeing Batman again, it was worth it. I kept walking down the sidewalk until I reached the really bad side of town. If you thought Downtown Gotham was bad, wait until you see the things that happen in Arkham.

I kept my head down and kept walking towards, well jogging towards, a bar where some criminals hang out. Don't ask me how I know this, but I'll tell you that if it's Arkham, there's going to be criminals everywhere you look.

I finally found the bar I was looking for, the Dead Corpse. I shivered not from the frigid air, but from the creepy fitting name of the bar. I wasn't going inside it. Not in a million years. Not even for a Klondike bar.

I started walking past the windows looking inside for one of Joker's goons. The men leaning against the bar's cement walls smoking were staring at me as I walked past with lust in their eyes. The prostitutes were glaring at me and looking me up and down. One prostitute, that was flirting with a gruff and muscular man, looked me straight in the eye and smirked. She unattached herself from the man and started walking towards me, pretty sexually I must add. She was wearing clothes, scratch that, she was hardly wearing any clothes.

How can you live in the outside world with hardly any clothes on in the dead of winter?!

"What are you doing here, girl?" The woman snottily asked me.

Was she trying to offend me by calling me a girl? Did she think I was going to steal her customers? Oh, that's disgusting. She thought I was a prostitute. Now I'm offended.

"First of all, that's none of your dang business. Second of all, I don't sell my body to strange men. Third of all, I don't wear skimpy outfits in the dead of winter. Lastly, I'm not a walking STD like you." I practically screamed at the anorexic woman.

Maybe that wasn't a good idea on my part. I'm in Arkham that's inhabited by criminals and hooligans. That's pretty scary if you ask me.

I stared at the prostitute with a deadly glare, while at the same time keeping my guard up. The woman's face got red and she stamped her foot. The click of her high heel hitting the pavement echoed down the street making me realize how deadly quiet everything was. I turned my attention back to the prostitute waiting for a response. All I got was a huff of annoyance as she stomped away.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

I listened to her heels clacking against the pavement as she walked back towards the man she was flirting with a few minutes ago.

I then realized that I drew quite a crowd. A few men were making their way towards me. I could tell right away that some of them were drunk by the way they kept tripping over themselves every know and then.

I was too caught up in my thoughts to notice that the men were literally up in my face now.

"Your a feisty one ain't ya, girlie? I do like mine feisty." One man slurred. My heart literally stopped. I know now how stupid this plan of mine was. Man, I'm an idiot.

The man who called me feisty started to grab me, when another man punched him in the face.

"Don't touch her!" I heard the man bellow in a rough voice, sounding like he gargled razor blades for breakfast.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then choked up when the my supposed savior turned around. I never forget a face. This certain face should be in Blackgate Prison or Arkham Asylum by now.

"She's mine!" The Joker goon with the scarred face grabbed me roughly by the arm with enough force to make me wince.

I'm dead. I'm dead. So, so dead. I screamed silently to myself in my thoughts.

There was fear in my eyes and the goon unfortunately spotted it. He smiled and kneed me in the stomach. All the air that I had in my lungs was all out in one go. I let out an oomph and collapsed. The man was still holding on to my left arm, so I didn't fall to the ground completely.

"That's for leading the Bat to me." The man screamed. He turned his head to the side and spit in the ground.

I coughed, still out of breath.

"Wait..." I managed to choke out.

The man slapped me hard. My face flew to the right as tears threatened to spill down my face.

I groaned." I have something to tell the Joker."

The man was about to hit me again, but hesitated.

"Go on." He encouraged, still glaring at me.

"It's about Batman." I said.

The man coughed impatiently. "And....?"

"And I know who he is." I retorted. I didn't know if this was going to work, but I was going to give it a chance.

"You do?" The man asked while examining his broken nails. He didn't seem surprised at all. He must think I'm lying. He whipped his head back to the side to snarl, "Prove it."

I reached into my jacket's right pocket and prayed that my plan would work. I held the batarang up so the goon could see it. It was a fake, of course, but it was a one of a kind collector's item.

"I can't prove it right now, but give this to Joker and tell him that I'll tell him who the Batman is. My name is Emily Hope." I said bravely.

The man seemed to contemplate this. Finally he stared back at me.

"I'll do it, but what do I get out of this?" The goon asked, looking very curious about this whole ordeal.

I thought about his question.

"You get paid by the Joker, right? If you tell him you got info on the Batman, doesn't that give you a good standing with him?" I tried my best to convince him.

The man's eyes brightened as he let go of my arm.

"Fine.You got yourself a deal." Man, some people are so stupid.

I watched the goon turn around and strut back towards the bar. I sighed as I saw him rip the door open and walk inside. I then ran home, even though my body still hurt from the abuse.

I really hope this works.