Forbidden Friends

Why So Se-rious?

                                                                      Jessica Carter (The Jester)

My alarm clock never woke me, it was a small explosion that coaxed me out of bed. Running from my room I grabbed the first thing I could in an effort to protect myself. Sneaking down the stairs, I raised the object above my head, not caring that I was still clothed in my unicorn print pajamas.

I arrived in the hallway on the main floor and looked around. Since most of the windows were either boarded up or coated in a fading black paint, it was difficult to see around the corner. I heard an alarm sound and cursing. Knowing exactly who it was, I arrived in the makeshift kitchen and shook my head when I saw none other than the Joker standing in front of a very angry microwave. He had his hand raised and I could see the outline of his favorite Glock 35 resting in his leather clad fingers.

Reaching towards the large iron supporting beam, I flicked on all three light switches and hissed against the harsh glare. The Joker turned to me, gun raised and aimed at the middle of my forehead. I could see beads of sweat gathering above his red painted lips and in the creases above his nose. I held up my hands in surrender and waited for him to recognize who I was.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at my left hand. It took me a moment to realize he was looking at the weapon I had grabbed. My swiss army knife was held gingerly in between my index finger and thumb. Looking back at him and his worsening state, I dropped it on the ground and kicked it to his waiting feet. I could see his shoulders drop and his arm fell to his side as he threw his gun to the opposite corner of the room.

My breathing was rocky and I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to relax. It was obvious his condition was intensifying and there was nothing I could do without the antidote. He reached out to me and I found myself flinching away. Opening my eyes, I looked into his and shook my head. It was clear he was still suffering from the effects of Scarecrow's new poison and there was no guarantee he would ever snap out of it. Cursing Scarecrow silently, I was broken from my thoughts by the screaming of the fire alarms.

"Dad?" I questioned, pushing my way past him to the black smoke filled microwave and opening the door. The smoke flowed out, groping at anything it could as the fire alarms blared incessantly. Inside the microwave sat a burnt and deflated bag of super-buttery popcorn. I grabbed it in between two of my gloved fingers and dropped it in the trash. Finally I really looked at my father and I crossed my arms over my chest as I glared.

"Sorry, ah, Gor-ge-ous." He started, bowing his head and wetting his lips with the quick dart of his tongue. "I wanted to, ah, to make you break-fast as an, ah, apology for being mad when you got-tah arrested"

I could feel my glare getting weaker and finally I broke. "It's okay dad. Don't worry." I turned to leave and he turned me around with not so gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Where, ah, where do you think you are going, Jes-ter?" He questioned, eyes desperately searching mine for something, anything. He wouldn't find anything there. In the months since his accident with the other villains, I had learned to mask my emotions very well.

"To change, unlike you, some of us have places to be today." I sassed, walking back up the stairs to get ready for my first day at public school.

"I do have things to do!" He called after me, his hands raised to make him look more fantastic in all his purple and green glory. Eyes wide he llicked his lips some more, smearing his already messed up red lipstick. "I just don't-tah, make plans." I could hear the swishing of leather as he threw his arms to the sky. "I'm not-ah a schemer"

"I don't want to know..." I whispered, closing my door. I fought back the tears telling myself that my life wasn't horrible. I admitted to myself that I wished my father wasn't the most wanted man alive and that I could take him to a hospital to get him treated for this dose of fear. Shaking my head I looked out at my room.

The house was rather cute for an abandoned factory with its large space and relatively open concept. The amazing part was all the beams we had and how many hidden rooms there were. Fighting the urge to climb up to my little nest in the ceiling, I remembered my promise to my aunt to leave the house and get an education.

I opened my closet and flipped through, already knowing exactly what I planned to wear today. Ignoring my usual outfit that sat in the corner of the wardrobe, I choose to wear something that didn't scream to the world I was the Joker's daughter. Something that didn't say I was an up and coming villain, that I wasn't 'The' Jester.

I slipped on my purple and black tie-dyed denim skirt and my black over the knee socks. Turning back to the closet, I hardly managed to pull out a plain black shirt and corset rather than my usual green corset and purple shirt pair. I put my feet into my black highheeled combat boots and looked into the mirror.

I smiled at my reflection and nodded. The shirt had bell sleeves and came to a stop just above the skirt. It matched well with the black leather corset that went on top. The corset was tied on both sides and matched well with the entire 'goth' look I had going. Not being able to help myself, I grabbed my purple blazer and my black fingerless leather gloves. Pulling on my blazer, I pivoted in the mirror and went to the bathroom to apply my makeup.

Finishing my red lipstick and smokey eye, I grabbed my black backpack and headed down the stairs once more. My father, being much more relaxed, took in my outfit and smiled at the purple before looking at my makeup.

"You, ah, a-ppli-ed it wrong." He motioned to my makeup and I rolled my eyes before grabbing the keys to my motorcycle.

Turning to leave I was stopped by a non to gentle tug on my wrist and spun to meet his eyes. He placed a small wrapped box in the blazers pocket before smiling shyly. I smiled back, silently praying he would let go so I could leave the cursed place.

"Why so, se-rious?" He whispered.

Remembering how he used to say that all the time, I smiled and kissed his makeup covered cheek. I turned and walked to the door. When I got there, I looked back and waved slightly before heading out to my motorcycle. Starting it, I drove myself to school, whispering that question under my breath the whole way.