Lunch period found John Bender behind the bleachers, as usual, leaning against a fence, smoking a joint. He'd blown through most of his weed that day, but it was helping the pain, and making school at least tolerable. It had been a bizarre day. First waking up remembering Allison sleeping in his bed, then finding his stolen knife on his bed side table... and he hadn't seen her anywhere at school, yet. Usually he at least saw her in the halls between classes.

He flipped his knife open and shut absently. It was good to at least have that back.

He wished he could say the same thing about a certain redheaded catastrophe he just then caught sight hurrying across the football field.

Claire had been dogging him all day. She wanted to talk. She wanted to go over everything they had said the afternoon before. She wanted to fix things. He had mostly evaded her; there really hadn't been time to talk in between classes. But what Claire didn't realise, what Bender himself hadn't realised until their fight, was that he was already over them being together.

There had been an amazing, unexpected moment, before he'd run into her that morning, when he thought they were well and truly broken up and she would be too upset to talk to him, where he savoured the idea that he wouldn't have to face unending questions about his knuckles, his ribs, his split lip, and gossip about people he didn't know or care about. No stupid small talk to cover up the lame answers he would have given her about his injuries that would have still left a huge elephant in the room. No sideways glaces that she thought she was concealing so well.

Why he thought she wouldn't realise he'd hidden out by the football field, he had no idea. Sadly enough, his first impulse was to hide. Scowling at himself, he angrily put out the joint, and stepped out from the bleachers. He had to face her again sometime. Better to get it over with now.

'John!' she called, waving and closing the last bit of distance between them. 'Finally, I might actually have a chance to talk to you.'

'What's up Claire?' he asked, shoving his hands offhandedly into his pockets, and then trying not to flinch as pain shot through his ribs.

'I want to talk about yesterday,' she said. She already looked like she was going to cry. 'I want to talk about us. You know that, I've been trying to talk to you all day.'

'Yeah, noticed that,' mumbled Bender, setting his jaw. 'Look princess. I meant everything I said yesterday. And yeah, I was kind of an asshole about it. I guess I should've chilled out more. But I still meant it.'

'What do you mean?' asked Claire, her eyes starting to shine.

Oh fuck, thought Bender, internally rolling his eyes, but also feeling that specific brand of dread reserved for the moment you realise you're about to make someone cry.

'We have nothing in common, Claire,' he went on. 'All you ever talk about is other kids at school who I've never even met and don't give a shit about, or how you couldn't get your hair to look good this morning, or where you want to spend your parents money for spring break.'

'Are you actually telling me we're breaking up?' she asked quietly, her eyes fairly gleaming now.

'You were going out with me just to piss of your folks,' he said, trying to remain cool and removed. 'You just wanted their attention. I was there for dinner with your parents, Claire. You just watched them the whole time to see their reaction to this fucking burnout you brought home.'

'That's not true!'

Claire was a terrible liar. Even to herself.

'It was nice for a second, sweetheart,' grumbled Bender, turning to walk away. Yeah, maybe he was a coward, but just because he wanted to be done with Claire, didn't mean he wanted to watch her cry.

He got to hear it, though; he'd expected to hear some angry retort or shrill insult flung after him as he strode back towards the school, but instead, the only sound within earshot was the muffled, breathy, unmistakable sound of a high school girl trying to stop herself from bursting into tears.


Allison was sitting in Frankie's driver's seat, munching on a Subway sandwich and tapping her foot against the floor when Bender scared the crap out of her by violently kicking the wheel outside her door and throwing himself against the side of the van. After setting the sandwich in the other seat, she pushed open the door and stuck her head out.

'Don't kick my van,' she growled, and then caught sight of his face, which was contorted with agony.

She hopped out and leaned back against the van next to him.

'I guess running into a van with broken ribs isn't really a good idea,' she said quietly, and then pushed off again so she could stand in front of him. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

'Fuck off,' he growled, grabbing her hand and throwing it away from him. He turned so that he was sideways against the van, curled away from her, his face hidden.

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

After a moment, he got the pain under control, took a very slow breath, and faced her way again. She thought she saw something else flicker across his face before he resumed his usually no-fucks-given expression. Something sad. But it was gone too fast for her to know if it was real at all.

'Sorry,' he grunted. 'I'm being an asshole today. What're you doing? I saw your van...'

'I was having lunch.'

They were interrupted by the sound of the end-of-lunch bell ringing across the parking lot.

'Well, I guess that's over,' she said, reaching back into her van for her bag. Bender took her arm to stop her, and run his other hand gingerly through his hair.

'Do you wanna do something else?' he asked. 'Let's get out of here. Half a day of school is way to fucking much today.'

She thought about it briefly. She didn't skip class much. She didn't really have a reason too. The school would probably call her parents. Her parents probably wouldn't care.

'Yeah,' she said, grabbing the door handle in preparation of swinging herself up into the driver's seat. 'Let's go.'