Let me go on, like I blister in the sun
Let me go on, big hands, I know you're the one.

--Violent Femmes

The second John said it, the second he told Claire everything she had even dared to imagine she wanted to hear, told her in three words, one of them obscene, after having prepared her for the worst, and giving her the worst, taunting her for her feelings, for what seemed like naïve or stupid hope, to the point where she wanted to die right there—the second he said it, he pushed himself away from the wall and from Claire and stormed out of the room. She started to call to him. He silenced her with a hand held up, suspended in the tension, without even turning around to see her face. He tore some papers from the wall on his way out. She heard the door slam.

Clarie took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor. She banged her head against the wall. It felt better. She did it again. It didn't totally quiet the ghosts of his hands or his tongue on her or the echo of his breath in her ear, but it helped.

"That went well," she said aloud to the empty room.

What had he said? Fantasy Island meets Twilight Zone. He wasn't far off.

Claire couldn't even begin to figure this out, but she did know a couple of things. That it had been one of the best and worst half-hours of her life. That it was all because of John Bender. That her life was irrevocably changing moment to moment, that she was powerless to stop it. That she didn't want to stop it, that she just wanted to keep going and going. That any holding back she did was out of fear, a fear not that she might go too far but that John Bender would pull back first and leave her falling through space, alone and unanchored in want..

She'd learned he really did like her a lot. The thought made her dizzy. She thought maybe that was what passion was, what she'd just seen. What she'd just felt.

She'd learned a few other things too. How to use cashmere to best advantage. How to use teeth in kissing. How to drive someone practically to the point of breaking.

She hadn't meant to learn that one. She wasn't even sure she'd been driving the whole time. She closed her eyes.

She'd learned she'd probably always show John Bender more of herself than she set out to. She learned it might be a little dangerous, if exciting, to push John in a direction he didn't want to go in—but it might be, she also thought, that the really dangerous part came from pushing him in a direction he did want to go in.

She hadn't learned, but she suspected, that at least half of that shuddering frustration and resentment and rage she'd seen in him just now was directed not at her but at himself.

But the tenderness? She smiled. She was still shaking and even though her face was still wet with tears he'd forced out her eyes, he was still forcing the smiles out too. He'd kissed her nose. He'd stroked her cheek. He'd known exactly where and how and why and how much to touch her. He'd made her feel like a sex goddess instead of a girl on her third real kiss. He looked at her, again and again, like she was Christmas morning. But not, she realized again, any Christmas morning he'd ever had.

That was the problem. That barely contained—or not contained—rage, and what felt like that searing contempt. Some of it was fear. She knew that. She had the same impulse. Some of it really was for her—maybe she had even earned it. But a lot of it was for himself. She was just there.

The kindness and the surprising sweetness, though, John was not getting any of that. Not from himself. Not from his family. She wasn't sure he ever had, not where it really mattered. Was it any wonder he didn't know what to do with it when it turned up?

Claire looked around at the beige walls and the tired posters of scenes from Greece and Rome, interspersed with mammoths and arrowheads. She decided, right there, that she wanted in for the long haul. Someone had to keep hold of the possibility, the fact, that John Bender was, like her, seventeen years old and that his life's ticket was not yet written.

She was changing. He might be the catalyst, what sparked her, but she was deciding to change and making it happen. He could too. Look at Allison. Look at Andy. They could change, a little, and still be themselves. They could be change to be more themselves than before. She—they all, the whole Breakfast Club—they had to keep reminding John that Dick Vernon, his father, his mother, were wrong. That his rebellion was not meaningless. The trick with John was to convince him that he needed to change less, not more, than he thought.

Claire was also sure one of the things she could do for John Bender was to stand up to him. John could stand up to anyone. He sure as hell could stand up to her. But he needed some standing up to himself. Being stood up to was different, she thought, from being ground down. Standing up to someone was saying, I'm your equal but was also saying, "you're my equal." She was sure John needed some reminding of that one.

But was he really saying that to her? did he think they were equals or did he still think she was ridiculous? Was that why he seemed so pissed off about liking her so much? Or was he just pissed off that she'd made him say it?

Claire found it possible that he was confused. He was certainly confusing. Trigonometry was really easy compared to John.

She wasn't saying hi to him in the halls. But he wasn't saying hi either. Was it giving her space? Or taking it for himself? And forget about walking down the halls together, his words echoed, because that was never going to happen.

She wasn't even sure they were speaking. But she was pretty sure, pretty sure, that they would be. Because otherwise, she would probably die.

How could she feel like she would die if someone didn't speak to her and then not speak to him in front of any other person? Even the things that had been so clear in her mind two minutes before now seemed to be swirling.

And everywhere there was the feeling of John's hands on her, on her skin, over her sweater, even under the sweater where they'd never been. John's hands ghosted places she'd only wanted them to stray, places she would have stopped them from going. She could feel the trail where he'd bitten up her neck and it was still throbbing. She wanted his mouth there again. She wanted her mouth on him too.

She hit her head against the wall a third time.

She had chemistry with John and it didn't seem to depend on his presence but she also had chemistry class with Ruth-Ann and her stupid copycat jeans and her glare and then she had Allison at lunch and after-school glee club and prom committee and how would she get through all of that and the whole rest of the day with no possibility of John coming back and teasing her and calling her Cherry and replacing his own ghosts on her body with his real, warm, hands? How did people do this?

Lots of people liked boys and went out with boys and managed to get through a day in high school. Managed to get through more than one day. Of course, lots of people weren't going out with John Bender.

Except they were. "Some of them I consider my girlfriends. Some I just consider."

She didn't think he'd explained to them they were out of luck. This time, instead of banging her head against the wall, she put it down on her knees and pressed her eyes into them.

The jealousy thing. She was so jealous. She was so jealous of every single girl in that wallet. It wasn't fair of her. But there it was. She wanted him to feel it. She wanted him to know.

But that hurt in his eyes. That wasn't something she wanted to put there. Had she? She maybe had gone a little too far.

She sighed. If that was true, she wasn't the only one. Claire could feel the intensity, the controlled cruelty in his voice as he seemed to be grinding her feelings in the dirt. She thought of the way he had been shaking and accusing her of pushing. She thought of the way he'd left the room.

So she wouldn't push. She wasn't going to be that clingy, needy girl pressuring the guy to give up other girls. But one thing she was sure of. She wasn't going to stick around to be one of seven girls. She hoped. She was getting pretty addicted to John Bender. That was clear. Ok, so this one thing she was sure of—if she did stick around to be one of five or six or seven? John was going to feel that too.

There. She was doing it again. She'd just resolved to stick by him, and within three minutes she was plotting to cause him pain for doing something he'd just taken pains to reassure her, actually twice that day, that he had no interest in doing.

This wasn't the easiest thing ever. And although she felt like she wanted to go far, she also felt like she wanted to stay close to home. That there was something to be said for the familiar.

Claire could use some more lipstick shopping. She could use talking French Vogue with Bethany. She couldn't lose everything she knew and felt comfortable with and end up spinning in the dark with or without John Bender.. Claire needed normal. Lightweight. Fun.

But then, John could be more fun than anything in her life. Not just the hands and teeth and tongue. She had so much fun with him.

She was heading toward the door when it opened. She jumped. Claire hadn't thought he'd be back. She wasn't at all sure she could speak to him right now. She needed a break. She needed something just a little bit less—big. And loud. And exciting. And sexy. And angry at her right now.

When she looked up she found herself staring into the face of Brian Johnson.

As ordered, she thought.

Brian looked a little freaked out. "Um, Hey—is everything, you know, ok? Because, I mean, I just saw John a second ago and, he, like, punched out a locker. And he brushed me off with the back of his hand. I mean, he didn't touch me and it's not like we're best friends or anything? But the last thing he said before was that he'd see me at lunch. I mean, I realize it's only fourth period, or will be, so maybe seeing me was a little off schedule, but that seemed a little extreme, you know, like just because I said hi early? And I mean, I thought he looked pissed off when I saw him before. But—"

Claire looked down. "Uh-oh."

"Well—did something else happen, I mean, I don't mean to like, get in on your business—but it looked like he might be coming from a war. Except it's fourth period. Not war. And you look, not so good yourself. Did you break up? Wait, were you together?"

Half laughing in spite of herself, Claire shook her head. "I think it's going to be ok. No. And no. Not really. Maybe. Kind of. In a late night tv special kind of way. But here—I mean, John was—I think he was just trying to tell me he liked me." And she blushed.

"Um, Claire? That doesn't really sound like war."

Claire smiled and looked down, shaking her head again. "I think if you're John, maybe it does."

She looked at Brian. He raised his eyebrows, then slowly nodded. "You should have seen when I told him I was giving him lunch yesterday. I thought he was gonna flatten me. But then—he seemed pretty nice afterwards."

"You're giving him lunch?"

"Well, my mom packs extra." Brian looked down. "Yeah, because I tell her to. I told her I'm going through this huge growth spurt. But don't tell him. I just thought. He seemed to like my lunch, you know, the food groups? I mean, he could buy lunch. I think. But it isn't the same as having, someone make it, you know?"

Claire nodded. "I do. My mom isn't actually a sushi chef. Brian. I won't say anything. But I don't think you have to bring him lunch to get him to be your friend. I think he really likes you. Weird as that seems."

Brian smiled. "I know. I mean, that's why I do it. Because I don't have to. But don't tell him. I don't want him to feel like he has to tell me he likes me. I mean. After what I just saw, I think I'd really rather not.."

"Understandable." Claire smiled and touched Brian's arm. "C'mon. We'll be late."

They walked to the door, which opened practically into Claire's face. And behind it was Principal Vernon. He folded his arms.

"Miss Standish. Mrs Mantego tells me you were supposed to report to her about halfway through the period."

"I know, Mr Vernon, and I am so sorry. But this trig took me way longer than I thought, I got stuck and I just had to finish."

"Really. Well, let's see it. And as for you, Brian. You didn't have any cause to be here at all."

"Well. You know. I'm trying to help Claire. You know, it is after the bell, and Claire told me, we have French together, that she'd um, be here. Working. On trig. So I, stopped by to see if I could look it over for her, before fifth period. Um, the one after this next period. Sir."

Vernon looked skeptical. "Hmm. Well. Let's see this famous trigonometry."

Claire nodded obliging and reached into her bag. "You see, this is the one that was, like, a total mess." She held out the no crumpled, stained piece of paper.

Brian nodded vigoruously. "Yep. Total mess. Literally and figuratively." He laughed nervously and then shut up off a look from Vernon.

Claire put her hand to her brow. "Well. I just got, you know, so frustrated. But I did it over, and look!"

She pulled the clean, white paper from its safe folder and gave it to the principal.

"It made such a difference to have it explained again, and then to have some peace and quiet. Thank you, and Mrs Mantego too, so much for the opportunity to learn."

Brian did a double take, and then nodded. "That one, it's so much better. It's like a miracle. Are you good at trigonometry, sir? Because you should really have a look. It's impressive."

Biting her lip, Claire looked shyly pleased at Brian's compliment on the trig problems he'd never seen. Vernon glanced at the papers and thrust them back at Claire. "Very nice. You're basically good kids, you two. I know detention isn't the most fun way to spend a Saturday—" and here Brian and Claire exchanged a look and nearly successfully suppressed a couple of smiles—"but if you made friends, you know, a little outside your "social safety zone," you'll thank me later." He smiled at them. "But as for that Bender character, trust me, you'll be thanking me for getting him out of that room early when you see where he's at in a year or two." He turned to Claire.

"I know why you're upset," he continued. Claire doubted that. "I heard about Bender's little incident with you outside my office this morning. I may have made a mistake in putting him among you basically decent kids to begin with. And don't worry. I saw the damage in the library. I know who was responsible. I know what he was up to. But Claire, I want you to know. I've warned him to stay away from you. I made it clear that if he so much as looked at you, I'd be telling your father."

"You warned John Bender to stay away from me. This morning. You warned John not to even look at me. You mentioned my father." Claire spoke very calmly and quietly.

"Exactly."

Claire nodded and looked a little dazed.

"I think you shouldn't have any more problems with him. I just reminded him a little of who you are at this school compared to him, and who your father is compared with his—" And the bell rang.

Brian was standing pretending not to be there, but Claire could feel his sense of shock. She could feel speech sort of bubbling in him, but she shushed him with a hand. She looked calm, but she jumped at the bell. "Oh. Look at that. We're going to be late. Mr. Vernon. Do you have hall passes for us? Because this has been such an important conversation, and we certainly wanted to hear all you had to say, but—we don't want to be disorderlywandering around the halls."

Vernon reached into his pocket. "As a matter of fact, I do. Not that you need them if you have my word vouching for you, but we'll just take a minute to fill them out and. . . "

Claire daintily snapped them out of his hand and pulled Brian after her. "Oh. No time. And, you know. Brian. Can't be late. Too much pressure. You know." And she mouthed the words "Flare gun" and made the sign for pulling the trigger.

As soon as they were out the door, Claire pulled Brian around the nearest corner out of Vernon's sight line. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

Brian lifted his hand up to her shoulder awkwardly. "Hey. Claire. I'm really sorry. I mean. That sucks."

"It is just so fucked up. John's the one who helped me see all that as bullshit, and here I am, trying to get free of it and it just won't let him go." She sniffled. "Brian. Listen. That's just too much pressure. I don't just mean, like, he'll blow me off. I mean, like, he'll blow up. We've got to get Vernon off his back. It's not cool."

"No. I mean. It's definitely not. But I'm not sure—what could we do?"

"I don't know."

They stood in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Claire wiped her eyes. "OK. So I guess we go to class? Take the hall pass but try not to use it. We're not that late and I might need it later, ok? I'm going to think about it. You too. We'll come up with something. If you see Andy and Allison, even, maybe tell them. God, now I'm a total mess and everyone is going to be looking at me wondering why. I know you think that's stuck up, but you really have no idea—never mind. If you see John, please don't say anything, ok? I mean, he didn't say anything to me. No wonder he was so mad at me." Claire felt panicky. That was the last thing she wanted John to have heard. From anyone.

Brian shook his head "Claire, you didn't say it. Mr. Vernon did. I think John, I mean, I think he won't confuse you with Vernon, you know? You look really different." And he gave her a little smile.

Claire smiled back, a little weakly. "That's good news."

****

After having damaged school property and then smoked a cigarette out the window of the boy's bathroom with the disabled smoke detector, John Bender had been able to go for nearly an hour without hitting anything. He also hadn't hit any humans, like principals or random dudes who looked like they might someday look at Claire Standish. That was showing some restraint. There might be hope for him yet. He even went to class.

But if he let his thoughts stray to the look on Claire's face as she had backed herself up against the wall and shaken her head and said "no, please, stop" as he mocked her for wanting him to feel the very things he did in fact feel, it wasn't so good. If he let himself remember the fleeting thought that bruises on Claire would be ok because they'd show he'd been there, he was rewarded with the image of his mother's face reeling from his father's backhand and it was worse. When he thought of Allison's prediction that they were all doomed to become their parents, he wanted to torch everything in sight.

So he tried not to think about those things.

In algebra he'd thought about equations that would calculate the slope of the line between Claire's picking out sweaters with his touching them in mind and her question about how many other guys he'd like to imagine fondling them That was a negative slope. If he thought about equations for the line between Claire's looking at him like he was a cockroach and deciding it was fun to put her tongue in his mouth, that was a positive slope. In fact, pretty much any equation involving Claire's mouth was a positive slope. Bender shifted in his seat. Yup. Positive. Almost vertical, from the origin up.

It was safe to say that this was the most fun he'd ever had thinking about algebra although it was not necessarily the most comfortable he'd ever been.

In this way, John managed to keep his mind from downward spiraling into despair and rage at the thought of principals or parents or dudes and sweaters or the distinct possibility that he had maybe just gone a little too far with Claire. Both in his own feelings and in the delicate way he'd expressed them.

But things had gone really well before that. Based on his well-tested girl barometer, he was pretty sure she was liking how things were going before he decided to become a prize asshole and fuck things up. He was pretty sure he could turn it around. If he could just get some clue about how to do it. If there hadn't been a fucking principal hell bent on ruining his entire life inside and out of school.

He almost managed to stop the downward spiral. But he was not going to let that prick fuck him over on this awesome girl who liked him. If that prick wanted to fuck him up with Claire, it looked like he'd have to get in line. Behind John himself, who also seemed to be doing his best.

But it was ok, maybe. Claire had seen that side of him before. She came to that closet to kiss him anyway. She'd understand that even if he didn't say those things in an ideal smooth kind of way, he really did mean every fucking word. She'd understand that. She'd forgive him. Maybe. He could turn it around. He hoped.

For now he could think of the function of Claire not moving away when he was showing her something about rise over run.

****

As the bell rang for lunch, Bender was hightailing it for his locker. He had to have a cigarette if it killed him. He felt bad about blowing Brian off, and he was definitely psyched about the pudding and all, but he just couldn't face that lunchroom without a blast of nicotine. He should be getting a fucking medal just for not getting high.

But Andy Clark was waiting at his locker. Mild surprise. Did the kid wanna get high? If so, Bender might be tempted. He liked Clark and he kind of wanted to hear how it was going with Allison, for comparison's sake, not that he'd dream of asking since he was not that much of a girl, recent habits be damned.

"Hey, Bender. Let's blow for a minute. I've got my dad's truck."

John made the sign for smoking a joint with a question in his eyes. "

"Nah, can't. Got practice, you know? But I could take you somewhere you can, if you want."

"Nah, I'm not even in the mood. But if we could just blow for a minute and I could maybe get out for a smoke, that'd pretty much make my lunch."

"Cool. Let's motor. I just need to get off the school grounds—probably cause I can, you know? But I should get back so I can hook up with"

"Allison"

"Yeah," and he rubbed his hair a little sheepishly. "See, She's hanging with Claire at lunch and trying to look like that doesn't matter that much to her, but ," Andy shook his head, "it totally does, you know? So I don't wanna be, like, in her way."

"With Claire?" Bender was surprised but didn't show it.

"Mmm."

They walked in silence for a minute.

"Excellent use of fake nonchalance, man. It's impressive, really." Andy spoke in a total deadpan. Bender smirked. He'd gotten it wrong more than a few times, but it could definitely be said that Clark had his number this time.

"Years of practice. You're catching on though."

After a few more paces, Andy spoke again, "I think maybe they're plotting."

"Plotting?" Bender thought that sounded interesting. They'd crossed the parking lot and Andy opened his car door. They climbed in.

"They explained to me they had nefarious plots of world domination that involved a complex code of lip gloss."

Bender nodded. "I also noticed Claire's use of the word nefarious. I found it—"

"Nefarious."

"Exactly the word I was thinking."

Andy pulled out of the parking lot. He was trying very hard to keep a straight face. Bender looked at him and then found himself also failing to keep a straight face.

"Do you know," Andy laughed, struggling to keep control, "that Claire Standish and Allison Reynold are going lipstick shopping together and plotting against you and me by purchasing and wearing and then switching flavored lip gloss?"

John's whole body was shaking. He managed a nod.

"It's like the fucking Love Boat visits Outer Limits, you know?"

Now John totally lost it, "Fantasy Island meets Twilight Zone."

"Exactly! Except on Fantasy Island you have that little dwarf guy that kind of cuts the hotness factor of two girls plotting lip gloss flavored kisses, you know?

John sucked air through pursed lips. "I don't know, man. I'm not sure anything cuts that hotness factor, I gotta say. I mean, it's so fucking cute, and like, they give the flavors little meanings, and shit. And it means they are thinking about it, you know."

Andy nodded. "I know. Do you know they switch off?"

Now it was John's turn to nod vigorously. "It's fucking unbelievable."

They paused. Then Andy smiled again.

"And hot. Still. That dwarf is pretty gnarly, you know? I think he might detract."

John raised an eyebrow, "So you're saying that Captain Steubing gets you hot?"

"No, man. It's Gopher. Gopher gets me hot. I've got a thing for pursers."

"God, I'm so glad you said that. I thought it was just me, y'know?." And they both completely lost it again.

"Dude, could you see pulling over so I could have that smoke? I don't wanna stink up your dad's ride, but I had some kind of hellacious day—the part that wasn't so much about lip gloss, anyway. It's decent of you, you know? To get me, thanks, dude."

Andy pulled over. "No prob. It's kind of a relief to talk to someone who knows Allison—I don't know, a little differently from like, what she seemed like before. In her pre-verbal state."

John nodded. He took out a cigarette and packed it against his knuckle. Then he offered one to Andy, who shook his head.

"Sometimes at parties, you know? But Saturday for poker? I'll smoke cigars."

"Excellent." John inhaled deeply. "But what about Allison, will she ralph?"

Andy shrugged. "Better than even money she smokes one too."

John had to agree.

"So is Claire coming?"

John looked down. "Is the prom queen coming to my poker game? I highly doubt that's her scene. If she's still talking to me, I'll see if I can ask her."

"So, was whatever reason she might have for not talking to you part of the hellacious part of your day?"

John didn't answer immediately. Then he took a deep drag, and thought, "what the hell?"

"I don't know, man, it was so good and bad. My head is fucking spinning. So I'm up half the night, I've got this bullshit from my mom, and I'm out early. So fucking early, out front waiting for Claire and telling myself I'm not, but I don't even know how to talk to her or how to find her in school, ok? I'm officially completely girl retarded which is—trust me—not the usual state of affairs. But just to give you one example, apparently I was supposed to ask her for her phone number. So when I didn't ask, she thought, like, that I didn't want to call her or some shit. How was I supposed to know? Girls just give me their numbers."

Andy shook his head. "And you explained this reason for your mistake. That most girls usually always give you their numbers. Like seven or eight a day."

John rolled his eyes. "Fuck man, I did start explainging that. I tried to stop, but she got it. Like I said. Girl retarded."

After blowing a couple of smoke rings, he continued. "Look, that wasn't even the worst thing. So this morning, I see her get dropped off, and she looks, I don't know. She's wearing this short skirt. I think she looks incredible. And I've been thinking about her most of the night and then she's there and she looks better. She gets out of the car and goes inside, and I take off after her. I see her go into the office, and I run in there too. You know, Vernon's office? Me? Running in violation of school policy to be with the prom queen in the fucking principal's office. And when I get there, Claire's in there doing some act and lying to the secretary, trying to get some room by herself to do trigonometry."

Andy raised his eyebrows. "You know, that really doesn't sound like Claire."

"Dude, if you think the lip gloss thing is hot, you should see a prom queen lying in the office to get an empty classroom. I almost died. I did lose my mind, and then I come in and they're all what did you do now Bender, and I—"

He broke off. Andy shoved him a little in the arm. "C'mon, man, what'd you do?"

John sighed. "So I come up with this whole act, and Claire and I are kind of playing the secretary together, and it—rocks hard."

"So what was the act?"

"Oh, like I'm so crazy about the prom queen that I can't control myself and had to run through the halls just to see her, like I can't sleep at night."

"Ok. So the act was basically not an act."

"Shut up. And then, so, this was all pretty much funny as hell, and Claire's working hard not laughing, and then the secretary says that since I've "got plenty of other girls" and I need to stay away from nice girls like Claire."

Andy sucked some air through his teeth to indicate "ouch." "I'm sure Claire loved hearing that." Then he looked curious. "Wait, so how many girls do you have?"

Bender rubbed his head with his hand. "I don't know, man, I'm just—I mean, I'm not two-timing anyone. I just don't really do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. It's not me. I mean, I hang out, they hang out, we're happy, it's mellow."

"I don't think that's really Claire's scene."

"Yeah, I believe she's, like, intimated that much. But most girlfriends will, like, acknowledge your presence in public. Some of them, I hear, speak to you in public. Yours, I've noticed, kisses you in public." John sounded more bitter and envious than he'd imagined he was.

Without looking at John, Andy wondered, "Do you speak to Claire in public and she, like, blows you off, like she was saying would happen the other day? Cause she's—she's working on that with Allison. I can see it's a little weird for her but she's working up to it or something. It sounds lame. She talked to us in the halls. They're having lunch. but she's blowing you off when you say hi?"

John sighed. "Nah, I figured, let her when she's ready, you know? I don't wanna embarrass her. I can like, I don't need that, you know? It's ok."

"That's pretty cool. But I'm just saying, she might not get that, or she might have her other reasons, too. I think you can talk to Claire. And dude, I can see how it wouldn't be for everyone, and I know I look like a total and complete idiot, but I like the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. It's nice. But I mean, I haven't done it much before, either. It's pretty easy to get girls to go out with you if you're a wrestling star, you know? But I didn't really feel like I could talk to any of them. Plus, I don't know, I always felt like I had to be planning how to get somewhere with them, like it was this game with a score card. And my dad—I don't know. It's different now. I like walking her to class, and then she smiles and is wearing root beer lip gloss. I guess that sounds pretty stupid."

"Incredibly."

"Thanks man."

"Any time. Take it from one who knows stupid, ok? Cause check it out. After the mostly excellent office thing, I get it that we have this plan that we made in front of the secretary to meet in this classroom, and the prom queen was all delinquent with me and dissing me at the same time, and it totally—it totally wound me up. We were on the same team when it looked like we weren't. I was totally sold. Then I have to go see Dick and feed his weird-ass obsession with me, but I don't even care, because Claire—whatever."

John was now starting to pace up and down a little. He looked like he might punch something. Andy's face got more serious, and he asked quietly, "What did Vernon say."

"He fucking—" John threw his cigarette. "He fucking—" He punched at the air. "I don't wanna talk about this, man."

"OK. I gotta get going anyway."

John didn't say anything. They got back in the car. John looked out the window, hard. He felt like he might lose it and punch out the window and then owe Andy's father, who sounded like a prize asshole himself, all kinds of money. He figured he was having enough trouble with fathers. He figured he'd have to find some other way of letting off steam. Without looking at Andy, he said quietly, "He told me that criminals like me don't get to go anywhere near girls like that."

"Are you shittin' me? He said that? That's not cool, man."

"Yeah? And he said, that he hoped I didn't imagine for one minute that a girl like Claire was ever going to look at me with anything but disgust."

"Well, she did seem pretty disgusted when you put your head between her legs while she was trying to cover for your sorry ass So you might wanna slow that down, you know? But otherwise, I'd say she likes looking at you plenty. And she likes you despite the fact that—well, let's just say it's possible you gave her a few outs, if she wanted to get out of liking you, and she didn't take them."

John gave a half-bitter smile and looked down, picking at a hole in his jeans. "Well, I might have given her a few more today. And so might Vernon, who also said that if he heard anything more about me and Claire, he'd call her father. Who also, he implied knowingly, might have something to do with my father. I don't know. You know, my father who in my delusional lying fantasy life beats the shit out of me for looking at him wrong."

Andy pulled over again. He stared out the windshield in silence. Then, without turning one inch toward John, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I said that. I didn't know, I didn't know you, I didn't know shit. And if you need to, you can stay with me, man. Any time. My dad's no picnic, but he doesn't hit me."

Without looking at Andy, either, John said, "Don't worry about it. It's cool."

"No, it's not. None of what you just said is cool. No one, no one should have to put up with that shit. Not from Vernon, not from your father. And another thing. I'm gonna tell Vernon it was me who broke the glass up in the library. Cause otherwise he'll blame it on you. But you're not just—you're not just alone in that, any more. I mean, I know you have friends. But that day—I'll have your back, ok? All of us will."

John took a breath. "Ok. I appreciate the thought. I mean, seriously. But don't say a word to Claire about that Vernon shit. I don't need her having that way of thinking, like, made any stronger for her."

"John. You should talk to her. And you should know. Vernon played that wrong. I'm just gonna ask you, does Claire look like a girl who faces, I don't know, a lot of opposition in the home?"

At that, John smiled. He thought of his earring. That her father had given her. That she put in his hand in front of her father. And then kissed him in front of her father. "Maybe not."

"Listen. Claire Standish is a girl who gets what she wants. She is a really and truly teen princess. And she may be trying to . . . broaden her court with a few new faces? But she is a princess and if she wants you her dad will tie you up with a fuckin bow, you know? You might need to change your shirt when you go to dinner. And if her dad doesn't like you, her mom will, like, adore you. I give it to you in writing. I know how these chicks are. If you wanna worry about Claire? Think about how much you wanna hang on to your other girlfriends. Because princesses don't share well with others."

Now John was laughing. "No shit. Do you know what she fucking said to me? She asked me really sweetly how many guys I wanted her going out with this week. So she'd know. Cause she's new at this. And then she asked me how many other guys I wanted to imagine her touching tongues with. Using those words."

Andy cracked up. "Dude. You are in so much trouble."

"That's not news to me, man. I'm telling you, it never occurred to me. I can honestly say, I never though that way in my fucking life. It was just girls, you know? Plenty to go around. They like me, I like them, it's cool. They like someone else, it's cool for that dude, and there's always another girl to like. I like girls. But not like—and now I wanna kill every guy in school. Cause they might look at her."

Andy kept laughing."

"Fuck you, man. It totally threw me."

Between laughs, Andy sputtered. "How many did you say?"

"I'm not gonna answer that shit, are you kidding me? And to top it off, when I wouldn't answer that, she asked me how I felt about her, like, not in so many words, but that was what she meant. And me, in my girl retardedness, I was still so pissed off at her that I essentially backed her up against the wall, mocked her, swore at her and left her standing there calling after me. As a way of letting her know that I am batshit crazy about her. Which is why I'm saying. I don't know about the poker."

They pulled up at the school. Andy turned to him, tears streaming from his eyes. "Ok. Dude. A lot of other guys might try to say it with flowers. Chocolates. Something like that. Maybe you get points for originality or something."

"Yeah. Maybe I could get the school board to warn me away from her. For our second date."

They strode up to the school. "Listen. Clark. By the way. I think Allison is awesome. Seriously. Excellent person. No bullshit. You're a lucky guy. But you're also a standup guy there. I was gonna deck you if you weren't but I'm glad you saved me the trouble."

"Dude. You can't take me. I thought we settled that."

"Nah. I let you off easy. And now, you know, I can't mess up Allison's boyfriend. I'll have to settle now for cleaning your clock in poker."

"Dream on."

They made it to the cafeteria with about five minutes to spare. While Andy was scanning for Allison, John picked out Claire in about .5 seconds. She was sitting a the edge of a table, Allison was sitting across from her talking to some other girl John didn't know. But what got John's attention was the blond wavyhair falling over the collar of a Member's Only jacket that had some dude in it leaning over the table where Claire was sitting and talking into her ear.

John stopped short.

"Andy. Who's that asshole."

"Dude. This is a high school cafeteria. You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Wham wannabe. Two o'clock. With his mouth in Claire's hair. With his fist in my face in about seven seconds if you don't help me out here."

Andy followed John's hard stare. "Oh. There's Allison. She's talking to Bethany. That's interesting. I wonder how Claire pulled that off."

"Dude. The asshole. Who. Before I have to pull something off. Of her. Now."

Andy put a hand on John's arm. He shrugged it off. "Listen Mr how could I possibly keep track of how many girlfriends I have, you might need to chill a minute. Anyway. That's just Percy."

John did a double take. "No way. You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Andy laughed. "Percy Dale. Goes by Perce."

"So you're saying he's a fag."

Andy shook his head. "No, I'm not saying that. He digs girls. Girls dig him. I know, I know, but it's the 80s, you know? What are you gonna do? Anyway. Not to worry. He's probably just talking to Claire about glee club."

"But you're trying to tell me that Percy Dale from glee club is not gay."

Andy laughed. "Perce isn't a bad guy. He plays tennis too."

"Ok. Cause that's so much more manly. With the white shorts and sweaters and all."

"What is up with you and sports uniforms, man? It's like a complex or something. Anyway. I think he said he has a duet with Claire or something, so they're probably just going over rehearsal times or something."

"A duet? Fuck me." John ran both hands through his hair. One caught on the diamond in his ear, which slightly calmed him. "There is so much wrong with this fucking world."

Shaking his head, Andy fake punched him in the arm. "That's why we need you rebels, man. Catch you later."

"Yeah. And thanks for the ride. If you see Brian, tell him I'm sorry I missed him. I've gotta get out of here before I do something to get suspended for."

*****