Chapter 6: I've Always Wanted To Be The Best

2 Hours before Aria's Cave

Harley's Room

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"Harley, have you ever seen a butterfly flap its wings in front of your eyes?"

"No, Daddy"

"Well, if you do just remember that if it does you'll be destined to face some great things..."

"Daddy, will you come to help me?"

"Yes, I will sweetie no matter what...*tears appear* so no matter what just never forget me okay?"

"I prom-"

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"-ise Daddy," Harleen said before forcing herself awake again.

*sigh*

Harleen's eyes fluttered open, her heart pounding in her chest. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she tried to catch her breath. It was just another one of those dreams, haunting her sleep like an unyielding ghost.

"Daddy," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. Her father, long gone from this world, seemed to linger in her dreams, his presence a bittersweet reminder of the love they once shared.

As the remnants of the dream faded, Harleen sat up in bed, her mind still wrestling with the emotions it had stirred. She glanced around her room, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and grounding.

Posters of her favourite musicians adorned the walls, their faces frozen in time, forever captured in their youthful glory. Harleen took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness that clung to her.

She knew she had to face the day ahead, no matter how daunting it seemed. Her father's words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the strength and resilience she carried within her.

With a determined sigh, Harleen swung her legs over the edge of the bed and planted her feet firmly on the ground. Today would be a new day, filled with challenges and uncertainties.

But she would face them head-on, just as her father had taught her. As she prepared herself to face the world, Harleen silently made a promise to herself. No matter what obstacles came her way, she would carry her father's love and guidance in her heart.

He may no longer be emotionally present, but his spirit would always be with her, guiding her through the butterfly wings of fate.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Harleen pushed the dream aside and prepared to step into the world outside her room, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Harleen paced back and forth in her room, her mind consumed by a web of suspicion and intrigue. The failures she had endured, and the disappointments she had faced, all seemed to lead back to one person—the Imposter.

She had spent weeks tirelessly investigating her classmates, trying to uncover the truth behind the series of mishaps and betrayals that had plagued her.

With a determined expression, she pinned a photo of someone who vaguely resembled Thess onto a corkboard, connecting it to various newspaper articles with a network of red strings. Each connection represented a questionable event, a piece of the puzzle she was determined to solve.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on one particular article—the 1996 Stanley Bakeoff incident. It had been dismissed as a simple oven failure, but Harleen refused to accept such a flimsy explanation.

She knew there was more to it, especially considering the presence of the Imposter alongside Caesar, a figure she suspected of being involved in the web of deceit.

Moving on, she connected another string to the 1999 Marathon. The Imposter's victory, maintaining a ten-minute lead without breaking a sweat, had always struck her as suspicious.

Perhaps they were simply someone who didn't sweat, but Harleen's instincts told her there was more to it.

Her thoughts drifted to a more recent event—the year 2000. She had a vivid memory of that day, but something about it felt hazy as if a fog had settled over her recollection.

The frustration welled up inside her, gnawing at her determination to uncover the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Harleen reminded herself to stay calm. She couldn't let the memories overwhelm her.

She needed a momentary escape, a temporary respite from the intensity of her investigation. With that in mind, she reached for her remote control and turned on the small television in her room.

Seeking solace in the familiarity of an animated show, she tuned in to "Totally Spies," allowing herself to be absorbed in the adventures of the fictional spies.

Wrapping herself in a cozy Winnie the Pooh blanket, she let the colourful and light-hearted world on the screen momentarily whisk her away from the complexities of her own reality.

In this moment of reprieve, Harleen gathered her strength and resolved to continue her search for answers. She knew she couldn't let herself be consumed by paranoia or fear. The truth was out there, waiting to be unravelled, and she was determined to uncover it, no matter the cost.

............

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Harleen and the Imposter stood facing each other, the tension palpable in the air. The Imposter's alien-like demeanour and robotic speech had always unsettled Harleen, making it difficult for her to trust or even like them.

"Why don't you like me, Harleen?" the Imposter asked, their voice devoid of human warmth.

"Because you don't communicate like a normal person," Harleen replied bluntly. "When you speak, it's as if you lack understanding of emotions or even basic human language. You come across more like a programmed computer than a living being."

The Imposter seemed genuinely perplexed. "Then how should I talk? How can I meet your expectations?"

Harleen sighed in frustration. "Talk like you want to be alive like you have feelings and emotions. Show some semblance of humanity."

"Women are stupid," the Imposter retorted coldly.

"Men are stupid," Harleen shot back without missing a beat.

The Imposter's face remained impassive. "Go ahead and say that since I'm not human anyways."

The words stung, and Harleen couldn't hold back her anger. "You f*****! Profanity is a bad trait, Imposter!"

The Imposter maintained their composure. "See, Harleen Rudreen, you did it again. No one says someone's full name when speaking."

"I do," Harleen retorted defiantly. "So please, just learn to cope with it."

The conversation shifted, and Harleen asked about Caesar, their mutual acquaintance. The Imposter informed her that he had gone back to Mexico for negotiations with a demanding individual.

Curiosity lingering, Harleen changed the subject. "So, are you going to school next year? It was weird being the kid who goes to school."

The Imposter's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "I'm going to say something very important that will decide what I do next, so please pay attention."

Harleen rolled her eyes. "Not my problem, alien."

The Imposter continued, undeterred by Harleen's dismissive attitude. "I've always felt different from the other kids, Harleen. Like an alien, a two-faced person, a wolf in sheep's clothing among actual sheep."

"An imposter?" Harleen interrupted, her interest piqued.

"Kind of," the Imposter admitted. "I feel so cynical, so detached."

Harleen scoffed. "This isn't the part where you fly or something, is it?"

The Imposter's response was tinged with a hint of longing. "I wish it were that simple. Flying would be exhilarating. But, no, I'm just distracting myself from my own thoughts."

Harleen's irritation melted momentarily, replaced by a flicker of empathy. "You're distracting yourself from what, exactly?"

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Harleen let out a groan of disdain, her frustration evident. "I hate waking up, you heartless piece of rock," she muttered, referring to the pink stone in her bag, which had now revealed its complete appearance.

"So, you want me to watch the telly? Most people would say procrastinating is bad, but I guess that doesn't apply to you," Harleen remarked sarcastically as she followed the light emitting from the stone, which pointed toward the TV.

As the plot unfolded on the screen, Harleen's attention was immediately captured. "Another clue for me, and the only person who can help keep our local chocolate shop in business," she thought, her mind racing to identify the biggest chocolate lover in Fourthville.

"Of course, it's Fem-boy. He's the one who would have the answers I need. But I have to find someone who can tell me where he is right now without alerting anyone else," Harleen contemplated, flipping through her convenient phone number book.

"Bunny Clesh, the most popular tenth-grade girl. She knows just about everyone who is anyone. And secretly, she and Chamille have a hobby of playing dress-up with Fem-boy. So, how do I get Bunny to give me his location?" Harleen pondered, a mischievous smile creeping across her face.

She opened a drawer and retrieved a key, which she inserted into a lock, twisting it to reveal a hidden storage area labelled "BlackMail."

whoo~

"It's been a while since I've coerced someone. Anyway, let's gather some medium-level material first, and then I'll move on to the high-level stuff," Harleen declared, her determination evident as she prepared to delve into her blackmail stash.

......

"Bunny asks if Chamille can pass the glue gun to Bunny, please," Bunny Clesh cheerfully spoke in the third person.

"Yeah, I was wrong, Bunny. Talking in the third person is weird. Let's leave that to someone else," Chamille responded, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Hey, is that Thess walking on the street without any protection?" Bunny observed, pointing outside.

"Chammy, please don't start another prank war. You've already destroyed all the posters I gave you, and I wanted those back intact, not full of holes," Bunny pleaded.

"B-but, Bunni, he's just so comfortable out there, completely oblivious to us," Chamille protested.

"Why don't you like him anymore?" Bunny inquired, puzzled.

"I never liked him, Bunni," Chamille replied, her tone strangely serious.

"I meant that you two were such good friends, and then in grade 7, you suddenly started hating him for some reason..." Bunny elaborated, trying to understand.

"Well, can you keep a secret, Bunni?" Chamille asked, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"Of course, Chamille. You know I can keep a secret," Bunny assured her.

"I actually asked him to Pancake Day because my parents had an interview to go to, and guess what he said!" Chamille exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice.

"That he likes larger girls?" Bunny guessed, a mischievous smirk forming on her face.

"No-Yes? How did you know?" Chamille responded, looking incredulous.

"I may...or may not have told him to say that," Bunny admitted, sheepishly.

"..."

"Listen, Chamille, he never revealed who it was back then," Bunny tried to justify her actions.

"So my self-esteem was shattered because of you?" Chamille questioned, her disappointment evident.

"Kinda..."

"..."

Chamille remained silent for a moment, her frustration building up. Suddenly, she grabbed a water balloon from her bag and hurled it at Thess, who had gotten distracted by a spider crawling on his face.

"HAH! F*** YOU!" Chamille shouted, venting her pent-up emotions.

"Chamille!" Bunny scolded, taken aback by her friend's outburst.

Thess calmly observed the slow-moving water balloon, then gently placed the spider on his shoulder. With a determined look, he glanced through the semi-opened blinds and challenged, "Random cool one-liner, go!"

He swiftly grabbed another water balloon and launched it back at Chamille before darting back to the safety of the street, skillfully avoiding passing traffic.

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