Title: Tales of a Wallet Girl

Summary: A character analysis of John Bender from one of his infamous Wallet Girls. Post-detention.

Rating: K+-T

Warnings: None, really. There's no violence, no sexual content, but there is some "bad" language.

Genre: Romance/General, I guess

Pairing: John/Wallet Girl(Holly Madison Woods), suggested John/Claire (but I could never actually write that. don't get your panties in a bunch)

Characters: John Bender, Claire Standish, Allison Reynolds

Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club or any related characters. (c) to John Hughes and Universal

A/N: This took me longer than you'd think. I wrote it when I was sick, and ended up watching The Breakfast Club sixteen consecutive times in a row. As I usually do when I stay home. So I started this, "ralphed" a few times (if you catch my drift-I was sick, remember?), got slightly distracted by winning thirteen of seventeen games of Spider Solitaire, and finally finished. And by the way, does anyone know why Western has it's own genre? I mean…really?

Oh. And there's no dialogue til near the end. (I know, it's short anyway, two and a half…but bear with me.) So if you like a lot of dialogue then just…skip to the bottom I guess.

Tales of a Wallet Girl

John's a really great guy. Half of you are probably rolling your eyes at me, but I understand. He can be a real asshole sometimes, but I just get him, you know? He doesn't get me all the time, no one really does. But that's all right. We usually have a good time together, when we go out I mean.

I could assume you're a bit lost, so I'll explain. My name is Holly Madison Woods. I'm eighteen, and I guess I could be considered as one of John Bender's Famous Wallet Girls. I know what you're thinking, that probably makes me a slut, right? Well, I wouldn't look at it that way. It's not like we're just a bunch of late night booty calls. He usually actually takes us out somewhere, to dinner at a diner or a club. And he's a real gentleman, for the most part. Well, a gentleman compared to the other goons that have taken me out.

I know, you all probably think I'm bullshitting you. That I'm just trying to make John sound like a swell guy because he's good in bed or something. Not that he's not.

I'd just like to clear a few things up, you know? We're not call girls. We don't show up at his whim every phone call. We're not all his girlfriends, though, either. He's not Hugh Hefner or anything. I guess you could say he kind of jumps around from one girl to the next, but we never take it personally, and he never rubs it in our face. He never compares us, either. I guess it is a little fucked up, practically passing around a guy with four other girls, but honestly, it doesn't bother us. We're happy that way. Of course we'll get a little jealous if he takes one of us to someplace nicer than the others, but like I said, we don't take it personally. It's not like we're going to get all pissy and get back at her with some stupid rumor, like the silly richie girls do.

Thinking about it, us downtown girls actually have a lot more class than the uptown richies. I guess it could be because we kind of have to stick together a little more, and that we're a little more real…But nonetheless. I'm not saying that being poor or trashy makes us better people on the inside, because that'd just be horribly cliché. There are a lot of downtown girls who you'd think were air headed richies, the way they act. But we don't go against each other. Our friends are…well…real.

John's been kind of strange lately, though. Kind of distant, you know? He took me out last week, to this nice diner midtown. This red-headed girl was there. I'd seen her around school. Clara, I think. (It's kind of funny, she acts like she owns the school when in reality us downtown assholes don't even know her name.) Every time she moved I saw him begin to stare at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Of course, this kind of put me off, but I didn't say anything. Something must have gone on between them or something. I couldn't imagine when or where, though. I've never even seen him in the same room as her.

The worst part is that she didn't even notice. If he was stuck up on her so much, you'd think she'd at least notice him walk in or something. She didn't look his way once. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that she was going out of her way to avoid his gaze, but she looked like she was having way too much genuine fun…and definitely didn't look anywhere near as distraught as he was.

It really made me sad. It shouldn't have, since we were on a date and he was staring at another girl - a bitchy-looking richie nonetheless - but I guess that's just my conscience. He was obviously really hung up on this chick, so I didn't question him, no matter how much I wanted to. He probably wouldn't want to talk about it anyway.

He didn't even finish his burger when he suggested we leave. Again, I thought that was kind of fishy, but I didn't question it. I had finished my meal anyhow, and was in the mood for some dancing. Reading my mind, he took us to this little underground club that served minors. God knows the little richie wouldn't be there.

But this is when it really got strange. John was ordering us some drinks, when this small, dark-haired girl came up to him. She must have been at least five foot three (not that I'm much better at five foot four) with pale skin and really pretty features. She looked really nice. The look on John's face was kind of funny when he saw her talking to him, I thought his eyes were going to fall out of the sockets. The little girl wasn't much better, she looked as if he made the wrong move she'd bolt. But eventually he smiled that side grin that always seemed contagious to me and introduced us. Her name was Allison, and apparently she went to our school. She didn't stay long, noticing that we were on a date, but she seemed ecstatic to talk to him, as if she were afraid he'd blow her off or something. I was about to ask him how he'd met her, but when I looked over, I just felt content to leave it alone. He looked so…happy. Sure, he's been happy before, when we were dancing or in a good conversation or when we go back to his place and I…

Never mind that.

The point is that he looked happier than I'd ever seen him before. Yeah, it made me a little jealous that another girl could do that, but there wasn't any romantic tension between them like there was between John and I, so I didn't fret.

We danced for a few more hours, just moving and sweating and grinding to the townie bands that weren't even that great. But everyone seemed fine with that so I didn't complain. But just like a light switch, John went from ecstatic to…I'm not sure what in a matter of seconds. I followed his line of vision to see a girl with frizzy red hair wearing brown boots getting down with some creep. I wrinkled my nose at the sight, but I think it reminded John on that richie redhead from the diner. By then, I'd had enough.

"John?" I called, regaining his attention. "Are you all right?" Shaking his head (though I didn't know if it was dismissively or answering my question), he led me back to the bar, ordering a beer each. "You seem really weird tonight," I noted. "Like an emotion roller coaster or something. You were really down in the diner, then when that Allison girl talked to you...I dunno, you looked as though you were walking on air." He licked his lips.

"It's a long story."

"Well, d'you wanna know what I think?"

"No."

"I think you got it bad for that fire crotch richie from the diner," I stated, taking a long gulp of my Bud Light. He turned his head to me, locking eyes.

"Oh, really?" he drawled, the sarcasm kind of busting my ego on the subject, but I kept going.

"Yes. Really. And I also think that you're wasting your time." He didn't respond to that. "She's a bitch, Johnny," I said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrug it off, or push it away like I expected him to. "Totally not worth the trouble. She wouldn't get you, you know? Not like we do. Like I do." I took a second to watch his expression carefully. "She seems like the kind of person that would try and make you go steady or something. Correct me if I'm wrong, but John Bender isn't a one-woman man." He cracked a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I would know," I added quietly so he wouldn't hear.

Sure, like I said, I didn't mind sharing him, but I can still dream of having all to myself, can't I?

"Holly…" he started, but as curious as I was, I didn't want to go into it. I put my finger on his lips.

"Let's dance," I grinned, taking his beer out of his hand and pulling him out onto the floor. I saw him cast a genuine smile my way and smiled back, butterflies shooting around like bullets in the pit of my stomach. God, sometimes I think I'm in love with that boy.

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