When John Bender left school that same day and started on his way home, he still hadn't shaken Claire from his mind.

His usual journey from Shermer high remained the same every day. From the school, he would make his way to the local parks that was so large you could cut through it to get to the other side of town. He would walk at a leisurely pace, as if he had all of the time in the world, and once he reached the edge of the green, he would stop in at one of the nearby stores and purchase himself a pack of cigarettes, because he usually just about finished up half a pack while walking. He smoked like a chimney, swore like a sailor and spat like a wildcat the whole time, scaring off children, earning glares from parents and ensuring that his walk was as secluded and peaceful as possible.

That Monday wasn't really all that different. The weather was overcast, so there weren't many kids in the park and the cafes he passed were near empty, save for a few old people sat in the windows. Bender dug into his pockets, emptying them of change to see if he had enough for anything to drink, but he never did. He quickly stuffed the money back into his coat and walked on a bit faster, pretending to himself that he didn't want a drink anyway.

In his mind, it felt different.

The chill of the wind got him on the back of his neck, and his hands felt like they were burning from either the cold or the places they had touched, like Claire Standish's body.

Bender really hated himself. As much and as hard as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it was making him want to skip his cigarettes, quieten his mouth and swallow his saliva; it was making him want to be something else.

He was truly lying if he claimed to be unintimidated by the sort of person Claire was. It wasn't that she was popular in school and technically out of his league, because he didn't give a shit about anything like that, but it was where she stood in the world. Girls like the princess she was really did have that kind of status in the real world, and they never ever went for guys like him-the criminal. He was sure she had to have been lying when she claimed to be a virgin, never-been-kissed with tongue, loyal to one guy type of girl. She could have anyone she wanted at the snap of her fingers, even both of the guys that had been in detention with them, and it made him feel even worse. John Bender knew he wasn't special, and it was something that was engraved deeply into his soul.

For as long as he could remember, he knew he wasn't worthy of anything. His home life guaranteed he knew that much from a very early age, but he heard it elsewhere as well. At school, it was all he heard every time Vernon called him up on something. Sometimes he would pass the jocks in the hall and they'd mime spitting on him, as if he was nothing, and girls would glare at him as if he was the muck on the bottom of their Prada shoes. But he'd learned to get over it. He didn't care that he was treated this way, and found it odd if he wasn't. So when Claire started actually taking an interest, he shoved her away from him as fast as he knew he could. When she'd come to find him on the field, he almost thought it was some sort of practical joke. He felt like Brian, the kid that everyone always picked on, or Larry Lester, the guy that Andy had tormented. In his mind he couldn't shake the fact that these sort of people, Claire's sort of people, were supposed to see him as a lesser being. For her to see him differently just wasn't how it worked.

But when did he ever play by the rules? That was a trick question: he didn't. John always found a way around everything; a more convenient way, a more practical way, or a more funny in a sick kind of way. When he'd been locked in that closet, he'd found a way out via the school's vent system. When he'd pulled the schools fire alarm that earned himself the Saturday detention in the first place, he got away from the wrath of Dick by climbing out of one of the second-floor classroom windows and shimmying down onto the field to join everyone else who had evacuated the building. When someone called him out on his means of escape, he told them he was in such a panic he couldn't think of any other way to get outside than via the open window. When Dick called him out on it, he didn't let Bender speak, but instead told him that he was an attention-seeking brat who was going to get his comeuppance very soon.

Bender couldn't help but feel a slight pity for himself. Was Saturday really a comeuppance? And if it wasn't, was there something else coming up for him? Sure, he had the rest of the next two months full of Saturday's at school, but he hardly saw how those would make him regret any of his actions. He didn't regret anything.

Claire didn't regret anything either. Not even kissing Bender out of place on the field earlier, an action so surprising that he'd actually questioned it. He wasn't the sought, she thought, to turn down random make out sessions, but then maybe she didn't know him as well as she had thought.

After walking away from the field that day, Claire went to find her friends so they could hang out. It had been a few days since they had hit up the mall and the other girls were pining to get new clothes. But not Claire. Shopping had always been one of her favourite past times, right after painting her nails and doing her hair, but now she found the whole idea vapid, and realised how vapid she once was, too. Still, she followed the other girls around like she was a lost puppy dog, fingering through racks of sweaters and eyeing over different styles of shoes, never actually bothering to look at the things properly or take the whole trip seriously. She was just finding something to do to keep herself connected to the conversation and not drift off into another daydream, but it didn't work. She remained miles away, deep in thought, barely keeping up with the talks long enough to add anything of worth-not that the topics they were talking about were really worth anything. Her friends, Heather, Benny and Steff, picked up on her distance straight away, but failed to say anything until they were in the car driving back home.

"Claire? Claire? Steff just asked you a question," Benny said, shaking Claire by the upper arm. Benny was sat next to Claire in Heather's father's cadillac that he let her drive on weekends, now including Monday's and Friday's. Claire quickly snapped to it, blushing furiously for having been caught out in such a deep daydream. The manner of the daydream made it worse; she had been remembering what John was wearing today, remembering the way he flicked her hair and the way his arms felt when he held her, how his body felt so big compared to hers.

"What? Oh god, I'm sorry. I totally zoned out," she quickly said, looking around at all of the girls. Benny was giving her a disapproving look, but Steff seemed more sympathetic.

"Benny, don't freak. It's obvious that it's Claire's time of the month, that's why she's had such a moody look on her face all day," Steff began, speaking as if she knew everything in the world. Claire couldn't help but think of how little she actually did know because she'd got it all completely wrong, but Steff was her friend and she would never say such a thing like that. She bit her lip as Steff continued, "Claire, if you need anything, like a xanax… or a tampon… I got you covered, alright?" Steff smiled at her, and Claire smiled weakly back, turning to look away from them all again. At least now Steff had made such a statement to the whole car, they wouldn't bother again for the rest of the journey.

She went back to thinking about John at lunch time. She couldn't get his image out of her mind; of him laughing, of him glaring, of him focusing intently on lighting his damn cigarette multiple times because obviously he enjoyed chain smoking. Most of all, she was thinking about his words to her before they had separated, how he told her she would see him around soon. It was that sentence that set a small amount of hope inside of her. She would see him soon, and she didn't know how soon John's 'soon' was, but it at least meant he wasn't going to ignore her anymore. And hopefully it meant that he wasn't going to give her shit anymore.

It always took a lot for Claire Standish to like a guy. She had told her friends recently, before her detention, ironically, that she wanted to attend prom alone. Shermer high school lacked in suitable companions for her pickiness, she explained to them, and Claire had a lot of specifics. She liked men as opposed to boys, who were witty and charming, and who made her knees weak on several occasions. In total, she had kissed three guys in her whole lifetime, but none of them brought everything she wanted to the table. So she concluded that what she needed was an older guy, a college guy. Someone she could proudly hold hands with and hang out with all the time, because he'd be a friend as well as a lover, and her friends wouldn't even be mad for her blowing them off because he'd be so charming that they'd all like him, too.

John was hardly that sort of guy, but she liked the idea of seeing what it would be like to hold his hand, under his fingerless gloves. She wondered if he'd ever done that with a girl before, especially since he didn't believe in one guy one girl-or as he had told her. But despite never seeing him around school before, she knew most people's businesses and she knew that no girl from Shermer had been one of the girls he'd claimed to consider. So either he got around town a lot, or he was just lying to her to seem cooler and more mysterious. She kind of hoped the latter was true, but it didn't make him seem aloof to her at all. It made him seem like he was lonely, and more importantly it made her feel more compelled to let him know that while she was willing to kiss him, she wasn't willing to share him with other people.

That kiss. Claire couldn't stop replaying the moment in her mind of when she had kissed him and everything stopped around her. It was different to their kiss on Saturday, where she knew her dad would be watching and she knew she couldn't carry it on as long as she or he wanted to. But on the field earlier that day, there was no one else around and it gave them so much more freedom. She finally got to touch John, hold him close to her, feel his arms around her. She had her hands on his skin and in his hair, feeling the material of his jacket and of everywhere in between. And that was the kind of kiss she had always been saving herself for. That was the kind of kiss that she knew would change things for her. But what she didn't expect was the fact that things felt different even before they kissed, and the kiss only secured that feeling more.

A college boy didn't seem enough anymore. She wanted a man who could hold his own and wouldn't let people walk all over him. She liked the rebel type, she had realised, and not just because it made her feel rebellious, too. If she was completely honest to herself, she found the whole idea of John Bender so sexy, but that was something she would never tell him in a million years, because he would just laugh at her and tease her.

If she was thinking realistically, everyone would laugh and tease her for Bender. All of her friends would think she was off her nut, surely desperate for a date to the prom that she collared herself a burner, and she would be the talk of the school. Even the nerdier kids would look at her weirdly, because they'd all be wondering what she was doing with someone like John. She hated thinking like that, she hated that it had to be that way, but she knew her and John had a million things going against them to prevent them from ever being anything, even just friends.

But Claire liked a challenge, and John liked the attention. And both of them mutually liked each other, though they still had to truly admit that to themselves, so all hope was not lost.

When John got home, the lights were out and he could hear the TV on loud in the living room. He felt the wall to find the light switch, and almost went to switch it on, but then he heard his mom giggling in the living room and it interrupted him from what he was about to do. Nobody in his house ever laughed, or even smiled much nowadays, so to hear the action awoke him up immediately and he carried on into the house in the dark.

He found both of his parents sat together on the sofa watching Dallas. His dad was throwing back a bottle of beer, like usual, and his mom was smiling at the screen, her eyes squinted and her head leant on her husband's shoulder. The image sickened him, because John wasn't fooled by it. His mom had just taken her anti-depression pills, which she got given after lying to the doctor and telling him that her bruises were from hurting herself, and whenever she took them she was overly happy for the first couple of hours because she always, always, took too many. She had a period of pure joy, and then in two hours time she would be on the floor, crying inconsolably and John's dad would be shouting at her to pull herself together, and the whole cycle would continue. She only usually took the pills at the weekend, though, and Bender had learned the times she would come down so he could avoid them. Taking pills on a Monday was a new thing, and it sent John on edge.

The living room was a wide open space with no door, that led straight to the master bedroom, bathroom and, a little down the hall, John's room. Sometimes he was able to sneak past them, especially when the lights were off, and go to his room unnoticed. He wasn't so lucky tonight.

"Oh, Johnny's home," his mom said softly, smiling at the boy that had stopped dead in his tracks now he had been noticed. John turned and smiled at his mom, but then remember she couldn't see it in the dark he said a simple 'hi' back to her, his voice coming out dry. Chancing his bets, he went back to walking to his room, but his dad stopped him.

"Sit down, boy. We're watching TV together tonight." Just as John had thought. He gulped and turned back, going back to the living room and finding a space on the rundown sofa next to his mom. She pulled him to her and gave him a hug; she smelt of cheap perfume and cigarettes, and when she pulled away and he looked at her, he could see a new purple bruise around her right eye. She blinked at him, an act that made her seem so distant, and then turned back to the TV.

John tried his hardest to focus completely on the show. It was a rerun-he remembered his mom watching it a few nights before-and Peter was yet again being screwed over by J.R. The storyline was repetitive and the characters made Bender feel nauseated, but he knew better than to complain about watching it, at least while his dad was around. As another scene flashed onto the scene, he could feel his dad's eyes on him, but John stayed still, not moving, his eyes burning from the light from the tele.

His dad lit up a cigar, then spoke while letting out a grey cloud, "What's that in your ear?" John didn't make any movements, but inside he had already began running. The earring from Claire was still in his ear, he hadn't yet taken it out, but it figured his dad would notice it straight away.

"Nothing, dad," he said as calmly as he could muster. It wasn't good enough for his father.

"What is this, a diamond earring?" his dad said, putting his hand up to John's ear and yanking at it to get a better look at the stud. John winced, but nodded. "Where the fuck did you get that from? Is it your mothers? Have you been stealing again?"

"No, dad, I got it from my friend." John looked down, his dad's hand was still on his ear and his mom was still watching Dallas.

"I don't believe you, you lying son of a bitch. You stole this, didn't you? Looks like the ones I got your mom a few years back. How dare you steal from us, you freeloader." His voice was getting louder, and John instinctively squirmed away from him, releasing his ear from his grasp.

"I didn't steal it from mom! It's a real diamond, not some cheap plastic shit that you gave her," John said, getting up from the coach to make a quick exit. His dad stood up too and grabbed him before he could leave.

"What the fuck did you just say? Why the fuck do you have real diamonds? Why would anyone give that to you? You worthless, retarded, pain in my ass."

John glared at him, and couldn't stop himself from muttering, "Fuck you."

And that was when his dad hit him square in the jaw.

For dinner, the Standish housekeeper, Ms. Watanabe, made Claire her favourite selection of sushi because she was eating alone again tonight. Her parents had an evening event at the country club they were part of, so they'd left a few hours earlier and let Claire have the house to herself, while Ms. Watanabe came in and out to do her nightly chores. Once the food was prepared, Claire thanked the older woman and went to sit down in the next room at the large dining table on her own. Feeling sorry for the girl, Ms. Watanabe-first name Mai-followed her and took a seat in the chair just next to her. Claire broke her pout for a moment to smile at her, then went back to staring at her plate of food.

"Is something bothering you, sweet girl?" Mai asked, extending her hand across the table to hold Claire's in her own.

Claire and Mai had a very close bond, ever since she was a little girl. Mai had started working for the Standish family before Claire was even born, and she was in charge of both Claire and her brother whenever her parents were working or busy, which was a lot, so Mai became a second mother to the children. Now, with Claire's brother having moved out, Mai Watanabe was the only person Claire really had at home who listened to her, and was around to ask her about her day, and help her out with her problems. Claire had always been thankful for it; she didn't know what she would have done without Mai.

"I love how you always know," Claire said, smiling at her and allowing her to hold her hand, giving her small, slightly rough hand a squeeze.

"Ah, it's because you pout differently when you are sad. Even when you are happy you are pouty, but when sad the corners of your lips turn downwards like this." Mai pulled at her face, making her lips turn downwards like she claimed Claire's did, and it earned a laugh from the red-haired teenager.

"I'm not really sad. I'm just thinking a lot."

"About schoolwork?"

"Not really."

"Prom?"

Claire shook her head.

"A boy?"

Claire tried her hardest not to smile to give the game away, but she couldn't stop herself. Mai giggled as if she was still a schoolgirl, and leaned in closer to Claire.

"Tell me, is he cute? What does he look like?" Claire rolled her eyes, but decided to humour Ms. Watanabe.

"I didn't think he was cute when I first met him. And I hated him for a while so I thought he was sickening. But now... okay, yes, he's cute. He has longish hair and really brown eyes, and gorgeous tan skin and… I don't want to like him, Mai, I really don't." Claire sighed and Mai pouted back at her, attempting to mirror Claire's signature face.

"Why don't you want to like him?"

"It's just complicated like that. It would be better for both of us not to like each other. I don't know about him, but it's too late for me, I guess." Mai nodded, taking in the information, then wrapped her other hand around Claire's and looked at her directly.

"Claire, we wish we could control who our heart finds, but it doesn't work that way, you know. I meet my husband when I was young girl, like your age long ago, and he was just man on market who kept coming to my fathers stall. I could tell, oh, he is not very rich, just by looking at his clothes. My family were poor in Japan, why would they want me to get an even poorer boyfriend? But he kept coming to see me, he buy food just to speak to me. I fell in love with him, I cried about it for days because my family were so against it. But I had to accept that I love him, you know?"

"What happened?"

"Well, I became Mrs. Watanabe, and my family learned to accept, too. I loved my husband so much, best thing I ever did was looking past what I thought he was, and finding who he was inside. I thought I shouldn't love him, but I did so much." Claire looked down at the table, pressing her lips together, truly taking in everything Mai was saying.

"Where is your husband now, Mai?" she asked softly.

"He die before I come to America. Before we have children. That's why I come here, I look after children here instead. Me and him always wanted our family, we would have little boy and little girl, like you and your brother. But he die of cholera, he got very sick. When he die I cried for weeks, I still sometimes cry now. Because I really love him, Claire, you know? That is why if you meet nice man, don't judge him. Don't listen to what people say. You just love him, because it is best thing you'll ever do. Do it while you're still young and he is still alive."

Claire looked at Mai, and felt her bottom lip trembling. Before she could help herself, a tear had slipped from her eye and was running down her cheek, and she began to cry for Mai and for herself, and for everything she was now feeling. Ms. Watanabe pulled her into a hug, and they stayed like that for a long time.