Brian looked around him, the trophies and plaques that surrounded his desk glinting in the dull lamplight. He set his pencil down in the spine of his book and looked around his room, trying- not for the first time- to find something about himself that he actually liked. Failing, he picked his pencil back up; he turned his attention back to chemical equations and continued to work.

When he awoke a few hours later his, his back was aching and a rather large spot of drool on his textbook. He wiped it off as best he could, then wiped his chin and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of whatever remnants of sleep were left. He looked at the clock on his desk, the bright red n umbers telling him it was well after eleven o'clock. His whole family would be asleep by now- they went to bed at precisely 10:30, after the last bought of evening news. He shut the book on his desk and stood up, stretching. His mind still flew with the dream he had been having- chemical equations interspersed with the faces of the people he had just spent all day with. Bender flashed before him, a bemused and cocky look on his face as he asked Brian for the weed that had been in his underwear. Andrew's face, stained with tears, as he told them all of how he had to deal with his father. Claire's face as she tried not to cry while Bender mocked her for a talent that seemed so innocent. And Allison, who still looked so unsure of herself as she walked out of the back room, make-up on and hair pulled back, taking her first ever shot at beauty. And now, standing in the middle of his room, walls bare and floor clean, he wished that they could all be standing back in front of them again. That they could be with him tonight, as they had been that afternoon.

Brian opened his door carefully, stopping right before he knew it would squeak. He tiptoed down the hall, stopping stock still and holding his breath when he heard his father turn over in his sleep. He walked down the stairs carefully, skipping the creaky third step. He heard his sister mutter something in his sleep, and it almost gave him a heart attack. He knew that if he were to get caught sneaking out of the house on the same day he got home from his first-ever detention, his mom would wring his neck. So he opened the door to the hall closet slowly, putting on his coat and taking his father's keys from his jacket pocket. He opened the front door and closed it almost as quickly, finding himself outside in the bitter wind. It was just cold enough to make him want to go back inside, but he knew that he would rather freeze to death than go back up to his room, where everything was white and clean and sterile and dull. He opened the car door slowly and slid in to the front seat. The car made a rumbling noise as it turned over, and Brain sat completely still. After five minutes and no other signs of life, Brian slid the car in to reverse and headed out of his neighborhood. Only when he was on the main road did he dare to turn on his headlights.

Brian had never snuck out of the house before. He had never even stayed up past his bedtime before, unless he had a test the next day that he had to study for. Brian had never NOT cleaned his room, had never NOT done the dishes or taken out the trash. Brian was, in all ways, a model son. Of course, that was up until the day Brian decided to throw his entire life away and bring the gun to school. Brian hated his life. His life was just as Bender has described it- Saccharin sweet and completely detestable.

Brian drove down the main road, his stereo loud and playing the most heavy metal stuff he could find on the radio, which was a lot at this hour of the night. Without one thought in his head, Brian turned a corner on to a side street, which was reasonably dark, seeing as how the county hadn't quite gotten around to fixing those street lights. He drove slowly, looking around a part of town he always tried to stay away from. He pulled to a stop at the corner and a leggy blonde girl in a tight red dress and tall black boots approached Brian's passenger side window. He rolled it down, thanking God that his dad had gotten new power windows installed just last week.

"Hey stud. You looking for a good time?"

"Um...I…um…er-"

"What's the matter big boy? Cat got your tongue?"

Brian nodded, noticing that up close the girl was not all that pretty.

"Well, that's okay. Look, I think you're new at this, so I'll cut you a deal. Fifty bucks. Two hours. I'm yours. What do you say to that, stud?"

"I say that cherry here doesn't want any of what you got, Keri, so why don't you go hit another street corner."

Brian looked past Keri to see the tall form of bender, standing right behind her. For some reason, he felt much calmer with Bender there.

"John, why don't you find some other poor working girl to bother? This one ain't interested."

"That's not the tune you were singing last week, now, was it Keri?"

Keri spun around and put her hands on her hips, her heels making her almost eye level with Bender. She jut out her chin and stepped forward, trying to make him move his ground.

"Now you listen here Mr. Big shot. I don't need you telling me which tricks I can and cannot turn! This is my street, Bender, and you'd do well to just stay the hell off of it you bast-" Keri wasn't able to get the rest of the words out of her mouth, as Bender raised his left hand and smacked her square across the jaw. From where Brian was sitting in the car, the whole thing looked some kind of horrific movie, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out in shock as Keri went tumbling to the pavement. The next thing Brian knew, Bender was sitting in the front seat of his car, putting his seatbelt on. Well, at least Bender has a mind for safety, Brian thought bitterly.

"Drive, Cherry."

"Where to?"

"Does it look like I give a fuck, Brainiac? Just drive!"

Brian punched his foot down on the gas, sending them rocketing out in to the street, narrowly missing another parked car. He looked at Bender out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was nursing his ear and that his eyes were rimmed in red, as though he had been crying.

"What happened to your ear, Bender?"

"JUST KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" John shouted, his voice echoing off the roof of the small car. John sat back, amazed at how much he sounded exactly like his father. Brian nodded and turned his attention back to the road. The two drove in silence for another twenty minutes before Brian dared to open his mouth again.

"Thanks for helping me out with that girl back there. I didn't really know what to do."

"You don't know this side of town, Cherry. I do. The people here are all the same. All of us. You either put us in our place or we run wild, like chickens without dicks." Brian laughed at the image, but he stopped short when he felt his cheek sting with the incoming slap. "You think I'm joking, fuck bag? You think I'm fucking joking with this shit. Well, fuck you, kid. You don't know what it's like to be me. You spend one single night in my town, in my house, and then we'll see how hard you laugh."

"I'm sorry, Bender," Brian said quietly, his cheek still red and tingly.

"Sorry is for shit, Brian. That's one thing you better learn fast. Sorry won't get your dumb-ass shit in this life, so you might as well stop saying it."

Brian nodded, feeling a small ember of joy in the pit of his stomach. Bender had used his real name. Not "Cherry". Not "Brainiac". Not even "Fuck Bag", which seemed to be his favorite. He had called him Brian.