"That Night"
John
John Bender stared up at the ceiling of his room, laying on his mattress of tattered, plaid, flannel sheets while strains of Iron Butterfly rang in his head. No doubt his mom would be up shortly to yell at him to turn the music down but he couldn't have cared less. His room was his sanctuary, and no parent's rules applied past his door.
Thoughts of the beginning of the day floated through his mind and caused a slight smile to creep across his lips. The thought of the first congregation of the Breakfast Club brought some light into his shadowed life, as well as love in the form of a cherry princess named Claire. Claire. He wished he could apologize for all he had said to her earlier that day. But giving her her first kiss before she left he felt deep inside was the best apology he could've given. Claire, in a way, scared him. He never would've dreamed of falling for some shallow, popular slut that he always saw roaming the halls with their honcho football-playing, jock strap-wearing boyfriends, heads held high in the air. But she wasn't like that at all. Okay, she was, but there was something more. She was afraid, too. Of everything, it seemed. Probably because she was so naïve of everything. That's what attracted him to her. That and the fact that she would be able to love him like he wanted to be loved, what he couldn't get anywhere else. She could commiserate, and in turn provide a tender kiss his way, or soothing words of reassurance.
He had to laugh thinking back to when he, Claire, and Brian had discussed being a virgin. Brian was afraid to admit he was one and he had been ragging on the kid that he and Claire had "rode the hobby horse." And Claire said she didn't mind knowing a guy was a virgin, and that it was okay. John seemed a bit relieved by this. After all, he too was a cherry, but no one could ever know it. He had an image to keep, after all. He was seen as dirt under everyone else's fingernails as it was, and as long as everyone thought he had done it, he was still one step higher on the corporate ladder of shame.
He got up, turned the music off and looked in his mirror on the wall. He ran a brush through his longish hair and looked at his attire. In an hour he would be going to a big party. One of Andy's friend's parents were out of town and earlier he had invited Claire, but before the detention had ended, he decided to invite the rest of the Breakfast Club to it, as a test to see who decided to be seen with who, and if they would live up to their words. John was dying to see what Andy would do to Allison. Andy was all right, but he seemed full of it at times. He wouldn't be surprised if he found Allison sitting all alone some far off dark corner of the house, crying her eyes out with Andy standing somewhere nearby sipping on a Bud and laughing with his peon friends. But then again Allison was stronger than that. She'd probably leave. If Claire does that, I'll do the same, he thought. But something told him she wouldn't.
He eyed up another shirt in his closet but then thought, ah, screw it, I'll go as is. If that isn't good enough for anyone else they can eat me. He checked his watch. It was 6:45. He should probably eat something before Claire comes. Claire was supposed to meet him at his house and then they would walk to the party. He was a little embarrassed to have Claire over, even if it was for a couple of minutes, but he was conducting his own test. She could've easily just met him at the party, but he was gonna see if she had the guts to actually be seen at a dump like his place.
He went into the kitchen and got out a frozen TV dinner to eat. His dad hadn't gotten the microwave fixed yet, the lazy SOB, so he had to warm it up on a hot plate. As it cooked, his mother walked in. He rolled his eyes to himself, waiting for some kind of chide or complaint or insult. Instead, she said, "You going to a party tonight?"
"Yeah." He didn't feel like fighting now.
Apparently, neither did she. "Well, have fun."
He was taken aback. Maybe space aliens came down, abducted his mother, and took over her body. If so, it was an improvement. "I will." This had to be the first real conversation between them that actually sounded like one transferred between a mother and her son. He took his cooked dinner into his room to eat it, trying to think of the events ahead and of Claire.
John
John Bender stared up at the ceiling of his room, laying on his mattress of tattered, plaid, flannel sheets while strains of Iron Butterfly rang in his head. No doubt his mom would be up shortly to yell at him to turn the music down but he couldn't have cared less. His room was his sanctuary, and no parent's rules applied past his door.
Thoughts of the beginning of the day floated through his mind and caused a slight smile to creep across his lips. The thought of the first congregation of the Breakfast Club brought some light into his shadowed life, as well as love in the form of a cherry princess named Claire. Claire. He wished he could apologize for all he had said to her earlier that day. But giving her her first kiss before she left he felt deep inside was the best apology he could've given. Claire, in a way, scared him. He never would've dreamed of falling for some shallow, popular slut that he always saw roaming the halls with their honcho football-playing, jock strap-wearing boyfriends, heads held high in the air. But she wasn't like that at all. Okay, she was, but there was something more. She was afraid, too. Of everything, it seemed. Probably because she was so naïve of everything. That's what attracted him to her. That and the fact that she would be able to love him like he wanted to be loved, what he couldn't get anywhere else. She could commiserate, and in turn provide a tender kiss his way, or soothing words of reassurance.
He had to laugh thinking back to when he, Claire, and Brian had discussed being a virgin. Brian was afraid to admit he was one and he had been ragging on the kid that he and Claire had "rode the hobby horse." And Claire said she didn't mind knowing a guy was a virgin, and that it was okay. John seemed a bit relieved by this. After all, he too was a cherry, but no one could ever know it. He had an image to keep, after all. He was seen as dirt under everyone else's fingernails as it was, and as long as everyone thought he had done it, he was still one step higher on the corporate ladder of shame.
He got up, turned the music off and looked in his mirror on the wall. He ran a brush through his longish hair and looked at his attire. In an hour he would be going to a big party. One of Andy's friend's parents were out of town and earlier he had invited Claire, but before the detention had ended, he decided to invite the rest of the Breakfast Club to it, as a test to see who decided to be seen with who, and if they would live up to their words. John was dying to see what Andy would do to Allison. Andy was all right, but he seemed full of it at times. He wouldn't be surprised if he found Allison sitting all alone some far off dark corner of the house, crying her eyes out with Andy standing somewhere nearby sipping on a Bud and laughing with his peon friends. But then again Allison was stronger than that. She'd probably leave. If Claire does that, I'll do the same, he thought. But something told him she wouldn't.
He eyed up another shirt in his closet but then thought, ah, screw it, I'll go as is. If that isn't good enough for anyone else they can eat me. He checked his watch. It was 6:45. He should probably eat something before Claire comes. Claire was supposed to meet him at his house and then they would walk to the party. He was a little embarrassed to have Claire over, even if it was for a couple of minutes, but he was conducting his own test. She could've easily just met him at the party, but he was gonna see if she had the guts to actually be seen at a dump like his place.
He went into the kitchen and got out a frozen TV dinner to eat. His dad hadn't gotten the microwave fixed yet, the lazy SOB, so he had to warm it up on a hot plate. As it cooked, his mother walked in. He rolled his eyes to himself, waiting for some kind of chide or complaint or insult. Instead, she said, "You going to a party tonight?"
"Yeah." He didn't feel like fighting now.
Apparently, neither did she. "Well, have fun."
He was taken aback. Maybe space aliens came down, abducted his mother, and took over her body. If so, it was an improvement. "I will." This had to be the first real conversation between them that actually sounded like one transferred between a mother and her son. He took his cooked dinner into his room to eat it, trying to think of the events ahead and of Claire.