Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original breakfast club characters
John, to no surprise, had skipped school again to sit on his front steps and smoke. He had it in his mind that no matter how often he went, or what he did, he was going to fail anyways. There was absolutely no point in walking all the way to school, in the freezing cold chill of winter, just to deal with Dick and report to the back of the bleachers to smoke, which was exactly what he was doing at home anyways.
There were times when this upset John. Beyond anyone else's wildest imaginations, John Bender really did want to do well in school. He wanted out of the hell hole that was the Bender house, and he wanted out of the hell hole that was his neighborhood. One most days, these thoughts were blocked out of his mind, but on some he allowed them to break though, and considered how nice it would be to have a regular house, be a regular person, with a regular family. How nice it would be to someday be a regular father, who kissed his wife goodbye in the morning, went to some important job or business meeting, and then would come home and do homework with the kids. Like normal families.
It didn't matter how often he thought about being normal. If he didn't get to drunk or beat out of shape to the point he couldn't show his face around teachers or anyone else who would ask questions, then he'd go to most of his classes but end up being too far behind. He, of course, was a very quick learner, but found no point in even trying. He was doomed to be the Bender that everyone knew for the rest of his life.
After chain smoking a whole box of cigarettes without even realizing he was doing it, John saw Andrew's dad pull into the driveway. He was taking back by complete shock when Clair stepped out of the car after Andrew, spinning her head to examine every angle around her, as if she expected someone to jump out of some place with a knife and steal all the money she had with her.
John tried sneaking back into his house before she could notice her, but epically failed as the girl spotted him in a matter of minutes. To his pure astonishment, a smile spread on he face and she ran over to him immediately. He was shocked that anyone had kept their promise, let alone Clair. Yet there she was, running at full speed toward him as if she was PMSing and he had a full box of chocolate in his hands.
"John!" she squealed with excitement once she caught up to him. What had happened to the girl from the time before the detention to their current meeting in John's front yard that had changed her so drastically? He doubted she'd even be seen within a hundred foot radius of him before, and now he was the one hoping she'd just disappear from his presence. Now he was the jackass who didn't want anything to do with any of them.
"Get out of here Cherry. You don't belong here." He said dryly, turning towards his house. The breakfast club was never supposed to happen. John couldn't have friends who didn't smoke and drink and cause trouble. He couldn't have anyone, for that matter, who was cheerful without alcohol, who were good people, or who actually cared about him, with the small exception of Mark.
"I'm not going anywhere." Clair warned, making John immediately spin around. It was one of those few moments in his life where he was unable to hide the pure shock on his face. In fact, for all he could remember, Clair was one of the only people who could do that to him. She never stopped surprising him, he would never be able to predict her actions.
"I'm a bitch? What about you? I didn't believe it when Andrew told me that you hadn't kept your promise, but now I have no choice. I wish I never met you!" Clair shouted, not fully knowing how to handle a situation where she didn't immediately get what she wanted. In trying to smite each other, her parents had forgotten how to say no to her, and her friends had yet to make a complaint about her new friends (though the occurrence was not yet far from her expectations). Clair usually got whatever she wanted, but not with John. She had to fight for what she wanted with him.
"Then what the hell are you still doing on my front lawn. Leave." John ordered once more. He actually considered picking Clair up and throwing her back in the car. Anything to get the stubborn little princess to leave, to forget about him and everything she thought he was and thought they could be. Playing pretend with her was fun while it lasted, but it was only supposed to be temporary. She couldn't be the good little girl who changed his ways and actually gave him a purpose to be around for more then a day; that just wasn't life.
"I hate you." Clair muttered, still caught in the shock of not getting what she wanted. John had done something to her. He'd shown her that she didn't have to do what people expected of her. He liked her more, in fact, when she didn't. She had concerns that he would be the only one, and her heart hurt knowing that the only person who's only expectation of her was to do whatever the hell she wanted, didn't want her around him anymore.
"Yeah? Good." John answered coldly, earning himself a sharp slap across the face. Clair followed this attack by punching him as hard as she could multiple times in the chest. Besides placing shock on his face, this did not even phase John, and quite frankly Clair had no idea why she was wasting her time hitting him, when all it did was make him think she was crazy.
Clair smacked him until she started to cry. The one person in the world who saw through her had rejected her. She tried punching him again, but John caught her wrist and looked her in the face, trying to decipher what had upset her so much. He had thought he was nothing more then a thrill to her, something that put excitement in her life, nothing more.
John pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly and ignoring the astonished glare he was receiving from Andrew. Clair was the only person who could break his façade, the only girl who had ever made him feel guilty or bad about his behavior. She was the only person who still cared what happened to him, the only person who would notice if he disappeared, and that didn't change no matter what he said or did to her. Her caring state was unconditional.
"We were going to pick up Allison and go do something later. Come with us." Clair demanded, a hint of begging in her voice at the same time. John could only nod. He wouldn't be able to pretend that he didn't want to desperately leave the house, to go somewhere and forget everything for a little while. Even with his own friends, he was never really away. They had the same problems. Clair had invited him to escape.
Andrew and Clair had errands to run before picking up Allison, so Bender had stayed behind to "get ready". In actuality, going to the drugstore and God only knew where else didn't seem anymore interesting then staying at home and waiting for them to come back for him. Not to mention, he had really never went into the drug store with the intention on actually purchasing anything, which had developed cold feelings between the owner and himself.
It took some time to pry open the front door, which was frozen shut, but once he did the fumes from the smoke filled kitchen made John cough. At the table sat Nina, his older sister, who was doing her makeup in an especially trashy manner with the cracked mirror that she kept in her purse.
"Hey kid. What's up?" Nina asked, casually enough to make a stranger think that they actually got along. She often liked to pretend like John could stand her and like she was an important part in his life, and sometimes he wondered if she realized that this was just an illusion she'd set up, or if she had forgotten that.
John himself didn't know why he hated Nina so much. There was something about the way she chose to stay, the way she used different men to support her drug addictions and her alcoholic father to give her a place to live that bothered him. Worst of all, she got away with it. Joe Bender didn't hit Nina anymore, and no guy ever said no to her.
John ignored her question. He walked past her to the refrigerator, grabbing a beer out from his father's "secret" stash. Joe had thought that he was so very clever by putting his alcohol in the very back of the fridge, but when the ice box had nothing in it to begin with, it wasn't very difficult to spot the stash.
He pulled himself on the countertop and took a long gulp of alcohol, mentally saying cheers to his dumbass father. When Bender wanted to hide his own liquor stash, he did it in a Tupperware bowl. Nobody in the house ever dared to look inside a Tupperware bowl, and if they did and found a strangely colored liquid, it was safe to say they wouldn't think to drink it.
"Damn it!" John heard from down the hall. He froze; his father had woken from his nap early. He panicked, trying desperately to find somewhere to hide the beer, but at the same time was too frozen in terror to think straight or make any action at all. Nina starred at him as if he was completely retarded, but he remained as still as a deer in headlights.
Joe Bender entered the room, approaching his son and knocking his head backwards into the cabinets as he did so. He cursed with slurred words as John rubbed the back of his throbbing head, mentally cursing the same words. Nina, on the other hand, was once again pretending she didn't notice anything was going on. As usual.
"Where the hell you get that earring boy?" Joe asked, staring at his son's new ear piece. John's heart beat faster, he had made a mental note to get rid of the jewelry but, of course, had forgotten. The earring shined so brightly that it, not the alcohol, had been the first thing that Joe Bender noticed to be wrong with the scene.
Without any warning, Joe ripped the earring out of his son's ear and threw it out the window. Had he been sober, he would have taken the prize and sold it, but in his drunken state he could simply think to discard it. At the moment, the piece of jewelry was just a way to punish his son, who could never receive such a treasure unless it had been stolen.
John cupped his ear with both hands as blood drizzled down his neck. He groaned in pain as the cold air whipped past his open flesh, but he didn't dare to scream out. He could never scream, if he did the neighbors had a higher chance of calling the cops.
"And git' your sorry ass off the counter!" Joe shouted, pushing John to the ground where he remained still. Like he had done nothing deplorable in any sense, Joe grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and went back to his room where he would drink and watch T.V.
John remained still for a moment more before getting up, his hand still cupped around his torn up ear. He made his way to the bathroom, trying his best to keep every drop of blood within his hands and off the floor. He figured if he bled on the floor he'd just be beat even worse for making a mess.
It would surprise most to know that John actually knew a great deal about first aid. He had learned how to prevent infection through his years of torment, and made it a point to steal first aid requirements along with his cigarettes.
Unfortunately, Joe Bender had managed to rip right through John's ear. It would be impossible to cover up something like that, but he did his best. He cleaned the wound and sprayed mounds of disinfection on it. He then threw a scarf around it, hoping it would remain unnoticed.
On his way back outside, John grabbed another beer from the ice box. The cold air of outside that was not only unbearable in its own nature had a painful grip on Bender's still open wound. He considered blowing Clair and Andrew off and heading back to his room, but knew that Clair would just make him feel guilty if he did. Besides, he wanted to be as far as physically possible from his father.
Finally, three heads appeared from over the hill. They laughed as if they had been friends forever, which, for reasons unknown, made John uneasy. He didn't know if he wanted to be a part of that or not, and didn't want to chance finding out.
"Hey John," Allison greeted, her voice suddenly small and cracked. The stopping laughed the moment John's ear was in eyeshot. A million things passed through her mind, but she couldn't think of a decent thing to ask. It wasn't like she could go out and say "Say John, why is a big chunk of your ear suddenly not there?"
"Did you decide what we're doing or what?" John asked, not in the mood to be the playful and teasing boy he naturally was. Not only was he in an awful mood from receiving yet another wound that would probably scar over, but he had no idea how to treat the people before him. In detention he had one goal; to get a rise out of them. He didn't have to be their friend in detention, he was forced to be there with them, and they were nothing but his entertainment. What were they now?
"Um…well, there's a big bonfire…we were thinking about going to that. It's right next to the reserve park, you go down one street to get there, do you know of it?" Andrew explained awkwardly, trying his hardest to break his eyesight from John's ear. It looked horrible; the flesh was jagged and the blood was clotting differently in different areas. He couldn't help but stare at it.
"You mean 'Dead Man's Street'?" John asked, his spirits somewhat lifted when the faces the other three wore instantly became that of fear. They glanced at one another, silently trying to decide if they really wanted to go down a street with the word "dead" in its nickname for the sake of a stupid bonfire.
"We don't have time to go a safer way. As soon as Allison gives me back my switchblade we'll go." John said flatly, half hoping to run into trouble so he could use the switchblade and vent his anger on some stupid douche-bag.
"You saw?" Allison asked as she reached into her new designer bag, pulling out the small knife. While she allowed herself to be more girly, and to have the things she wanted but never took because she never wanted to confirm, she still kept the treasures she had stolen from people close by her.
"No, but it was gone and you were the only klepto around." He explained as he took his switchblade and stuck it in his coat pocket, where he could easily pull out as quickly as he might need to.
"Look, I think we should do something else. Why the hell are we risking our lives for some stupid party?" Andrew asked, failing at hiding the fact that he was actually scared out of his mind to be going down any street in his brand new neighborhood, let alone one that Bender needed a switchblade to go down. If John Bender was taking precautions before his actions, it meant trouble was ahead.
"Relax Sporto, The things you've seen on the wrestling mat are probably a lot worse then the things you're going to see around here. I've been this way a million times and nothing has ever happened to me." John stated as he pressed forward.
Lies. Everyone could read what he had told them to be nothing but a lie. However, Bender, for whatever reason, was set on going, and not one of them wanted to be the one to argue with him when he was in a bad mood and had a torn up ear and a switchblade in his pocket. Their chances of surviving were better if they did what he told them to do.