It hadn't been easy getting John out of there, and the criminal would probably swear up and down that that was because of his "attitude", which teachers felt the need to point out whenever he managed to make a bad situation worse.

But, in Andy's opinion, this situation couldn't have gotten worse, and Bender was hurt bad. Andy was sure Bender had faced bruises, burns, even some concussions or sprains - but broken bones? This was serious. A broken wrist, the same arm's shoulder being dislocated, some broken ribs... he needed a hospital. But Clarke refused to even ask. Three things ensured the fact that Bender could never resort to a hospital: lack of money, the risk of getting pity, and his father would kill him.

So here he was, a "young man with a bright future ahead of him", dragging the school criminal out of his shack of a house and into the ghetto. And it was getting dark outside. Great.

Andy had no idea what to do, and the semiconscious guy he was practically pulling along was no help. Bender just muttered, "No hospital," then promptly went limp. Andy figured he must have a bad head injury to be this out of it. Anyway, the only place he could go without a car and in the dark, too far to walk to his house with this load, would be to just get out of the street. Behind a building or something. So he lugged Bender along and pulled him into the gap between a rundown house and a dumpster. Though the narrow alley-like passage, they got to an open space, like a concrete yard with so many weeds it may as well have been a field of grass. Andy dropped Bender there, against the wall, and sat with him.

"Th' fuck you think you're doin'?" Bender growled. It wasn't angry, though. He just sounded tired.

"Got you out of there. It's probably the only reason you're still alive."

"Wouldn'a kicked the bucket yet," John replied almost defensively, "m'Dad's got a lot more to say before he kills me. Wants to teach me a few things. Like not to yell, not to look at him funny-" Here he laughed, and Andy wondered whether the knocks to the head had knocked a few screws loose. "Hell, maybe he won't kill me, just wait until I can't come crawling back. I'll just die out here." The criminal closed his unfocused eyes and leaned his head back against the wall as if he was ready to die here, now.

"That's not going to happen."

"Aw, sweets," John cooed dryly, "you could be my knight in shining armor, but you can't exactly wait around outside the front door until you hear a crash." He dropped the false tone. "Ain't that easy. Don't be a dumbass."

"Yeah, whatever." Clarke shrugged it off. It was pretty dark now, except for the low glow by the skyline from houses and obnoxiously lit businesses. "So, are we just gonna sit here until you magically heal up, or do you have an idea of what to do?"

"Well, fuck, jockstrap," Bender snorted, "I didn't know you were that clueless. We can't stay here, some bums will come back here looking for a fight."

"What?" Andy started. "Are you serious? People just lurk around here, trying to find someone to jump?"

"It's not exactly like there's anything better to do, and how'd you think I got half the shit I have, a knife and doobage and a sweet ass coat? Guys I dropped."

Andy seriously doubted that Bender had killed anyone, but he'd believe that he'd gotten in fights. He probably didn't even start the fights. Maybe he worked to keep his rep up to par as a criminal, but he didn't have a death wish.

"Okay, so we have to move." Andy reasoned.

"Damn right, you do," A stranger sneered as he slinked around the corner, half a dozen guys following behind him. "Wouldn't want to be caught outside past curfew, would we?"

John immediately tried to stand, and Andy gave him credit for making it up halfway. Clarke helped him straighten up and move away from the men.

"Hey, no problems here, we were just leaving." Clarke said as he continued to move backward. Suddenly, he backed into someone, and the buy behind him shoved at his back. Andy stumbled and let go of John, who made sure to find his balance quickly.

"Bender, you looking for a fight, working my neighborhood, huh?" The guy seemingly in charge stepped forward, challenging him.

"Like hell it's yours, I beat your ass into the ground a block from here. If anything, it's mine."

"You wanna bet?" The guy threatened and moved to get in Bender's face. "Show me how tough you are, then."

"You're not worth my time," John deflected the threat.

The guy shoved him into the wall, and Bender choked back a cry as his damaged arm hit the wall.

"Ooh, coming to a fight after you already got your ass handed to ya, huh? Bet you can't even fight back. Pussy."

Bender's eyes flashed and he reeled back to deliver a punch to that smirking face with his good arm, but the guy easily dodged it and delivered a punch of his own to the criminal's chest, and another. John ignored his sudden inability to breathe through the pain as he kicked at his shin. The guy cursed and favored his kicked leg, and Bender drove his knee into the guy's gut. The blows earned him a momentary upper hand, but within seconds, the leader's buddies were coming at the criminal, and the one that had initially shoved them was holding Clarke back. The guys got their friend's revenge on the criminal for picking a fight, and John was already badly hurt. Andy was worried that John would take a bad hit to the head and die or something, so the struggling wrestler was bellowing as the men beat the already downed teen. Bender couldn't do much more than try to block the blows, but that only got him further injured. When he tried to block a kick to his side by lowering his arm, the kick met his shoulder and the dislocated joint's grinding made the criminal scream.

"Jesus, who knew the infamous Bender could scream like that!" One of his attackers cheered. "Looks like you ain't so tough after all."

John wasn't giving up, though. He hadn't passed out yet. He was getting back up. A knee to his gut actually gave him some momentum to move upward, if he didn't cringe and curl up more. So he wouldn't go down, Andy groaned inwardly. Still didn't mean he hadn't already lost.

When Bender finally hit the ground again, though, the guys decided it wasn't as fun anymore and backed off, and Andy was let go. The gang walked away laughing and jeering, leaving Clarke to stand where he was, staring at his friend uselessly.

His friend. Well, Andy supposed, it was likely no one had ever known about or even tried to help Bender in this situation before, so he was probably the closest thing the school criminal had to a friend.

But Andy couldn't help. Bender looked like death, like he was right that he would die on the streets. He was pale, bleeding, lying on the ground with his hair splayed across his face, and his breaths were short and jerking.

Really, Andy was almost tempted to give up. This wasn't his responsibility. In fact, Bender would probably prefer it if no one saw him like this. But after that Saturday detention, things had changed, and he was no longer a selfish, mindless jock. Now he was trying to make a difference. And there was no way that a good person would leave a friend like this.

So he moved forward warily and knelt beside the form of Shermer High's most feared delinquent, lying beaten and concussed on the streets, with a friend that had no idea what to do.