Allison Reynolds trudged up the stairs of Shermer High, her head down. After Monday's fiasco with Andrew, she wasn't interested in talking to anyone, especially members of "The Breakfast Club." So, she'd decided to revert back to her old ways – head down, mouth closed, alone, and invisible.

A certain amount of shame washed over her every time she thought about the fact that she'd actually worn makeup to school. Makeup! Who had she been fooling? After peeling off her coat and stuffing it in her locker, she headed to the auditorium. At this time of day, early morning, it was empty except for a few kids skipping class. One would think that Vernon and Rooney, the principal and the vice principal respectively, would have caught on by now, but they hadn't. After scanning the room, she plopped down in a chair, gathered her sweater around her, and propped her booted feet on the seat in front of her. Next, she took out her sketchpad and flipped it to a series of nudes she'd done of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. She sat, sketching, until she heard a voice say, "You look better this way."

Allison jumped. She turned to see John Bender standing behind her. He leaped over the seats, and sat down next to her.

"What?" she asked, shoving the sketchpad back into her bag.

"I like you better this way. The other day you looked liked some commie clone. Seriously," Bender said as he put his hand over his chest, "it broke my heart when I saw you dressed like a mindless, conformist preppy."

Allison looked away embarrassed. She didn't know what to make of Bender. He could be a jerk. The way he'd treated Claire during detention had been way too harsh. But with Bender, you always knew where you stood. Of course, she sighed, she knew where she stood with Andy too.

"So how did it go with Sporto?"

"It didn't," she replied quietly. She refused to let her emotions show. She'd done enough emoting that Monday in the girls' bathroom and later at home to last a lifetime.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. The princess and the sport, no way would they allow themselves to be seen with the likes of us."

"So you and Claire didn't …."

"Nope. But I have a little surprise for Miss Claire."

Allison knew better than to ask what.

"You're too good for him Allie," Bender said standing up. "Do yourself a favor and forget about him."

Forget him, Allison thought as soon as Bender had left. She wished she could, but she couldn't. He'd made her feel for god's sake. Allison slinked down in the seat as if her thoughts were a beacon that had been transmitted to everyone in the auditorium. Then she thought of Bender and smiled. More precisely, she thought of his anger, his defiance, his swagger.

It was as if some of Bender's essence had rubbed off on her. Who did Andrew Clark think he was? Who was he to kiss her and play with her affections? Who was he, she thought as hot tears ran down her face, who was he to reduce her to this? Wiping her face, Allison sat up straighter in her chair. She wasn't out for revenge like John, but she'd show him. She'd show Andrew that he hadn't broken her.

"Please tell me this is a goddamn joke," Benny Hanson said as she sauntered down the hallway, her best friend and second-in-command Jena Hoeman flanking her left and Claire on her right.

Though only 5'6", Benny was the biggest bitch at Shermer High. Jena was a very close second. And Claire hated them both. That said, she was nobody's fool. To be on Benny's shit list was to have a death wish.

"I wish the fuck it was," Jena said as she rummaged around in her Louis Vuitton bag. "Blane really is dating that skank Andie Walsh."

"She's such a whore. She wanted to fuck Steff, but he told her to go to hell."

Claire knew not to say a word, but truthfully, she liked Andie Walsh. And though her clothes were totally thrift store, Claire had to admit Andie had style. More importantly, Andie wasn't afraid of what people thought of her. She stood up for herself. And Blane? He was the nicest guy in their group. She would have never guessed though that he'd end up with someone like Andie. That was almost like her ending up with ….

"Anyway," Jena's voice cut into her thoughts. "No one will have anything to do with him. Hardy Jenns and those guys are even talking about kicking his ass."

"I can't believe Blane would give everything up for … uhhh," Benny finished, a look of utter disgust on her face. "Do you have any cigarettes Jena?"

"Yeah, just found some in the bottom of my bag."

"Let's duck in here for a quick smoke," Benny said pointing to the washroom up ahead. "Claire, you coming?"

"I can't. I need to grab a book from my locker." She only had five minutes to get Hamlet and get to her English Lit class before the late bell rang. Ms. Close had warned her that if she were late again, she'd get detention. Needless to say, she was determined to avoid that at all costs.

However upon reaching the third floor landing, she could tell that something was up. A small crowd had gathered in the middle of the hall. As she neared, she could hear peals of laughter and see people pointing.

"Does anyone know whose locker that is?" Samantha Baker asked as she and her friend Randy passed. Claire pushed her way through the crowd.

Then stopped.

Spray painted on her locker was the words "CHERRY FOREVER."

Like a clairvoyant felled by a vision, she just knew who had done this. Instinctively she scanned the crowd. Finally she spotted him standing in a corner.

He smiled then raised his arm in a salute.

Bender!

Angrily, Claire turned, forcing her way back through the crowd. She had to see Ms. Sparrow the school nurse. There was no way she could make it to the end of the day.

Andrew sat in his friend Dave's car, watching as droplets of condensed water rolled down the windowpane. A few weeks had passed since he'd blown off Allison, and except for constant thoughts of her, his life had returned to normal.

His old man was still riding him about placing at State. In fact, he'd had to sneak out of the house tonight to attend Stubby's party. What a waste. Standing in Stubby's living room, he'd been surrounded by his friends, yet he'd felt alone.

Of course, this hadn't been the first time he'd felt this way. But it had been more pronounced this time because he knew it didn't have to be this way. If he just had the courage, he could talk to her, touch her, kiss her.

Angrily Andy shook his head then buried it in his hands. He was a coward. He wanted Allison but he wasn't man enough to pursue her. He wanted to tell his dad to stuff wrestling, but he couldn't. A college scholarship was riding on wresting; his father's hopes and dreams were riding on wrestling; coach's job and expectations were riding on wrestling.

Slowly he started Dave's car. A plan had been forming in the back of his mind for a long time, a plan he'd been too afraid of articulating even to himself. It was nearing eleven o'clock as Andrew pulled out of Stubby's driveway and headed toward Shermer Rd. The drive to the Metra station was a quiet one, the streets of Shermer deserted. The 10:35pm commuter train was due in from Chicago at 11:19pm. And then what?

It would be over. As he neared the train station, a weird calmness came over him. No more Allison, no more dad, no more coach, no more wrestling, no more … pain.

Streetlamps illuminated the empty parking lot and the train tracks before him. Fifteen minutes until the train arrives, he thought looking down at his watch. Carefully, Andrew maneuvered Dave's car onto the train platform, then drove it onto the tracks.

He felt numb, his mind blank, as he began rocking back and forth in the car seat. In the distance, he could hear the warning whistle as the train made its way toward the Shermer station. He closed his eyes.

Once the train hits, it will be over in an instant. He imagined his neck and vertebrae shattering upon impact. He silently prayed he wouldn't suffer.

Suddenly, he heard a loud banging against the window. He opened his eyes.

"Dumbass, the train's coming, get the fuck off the track."

Bender!

"The train is coming," Bender yelled. "What are you trying to do, kill yourself!"

Yeah, Andy thought. Funny, he'd never used the words kill, suicide or die to describe what he'd been contemplating. Instead, he'd always chosen words like freedom, release, and peace. But didn't they all mean the same thing?

Andy watched dazedly as Bender frantically gestured for him to get off the train tracks. In the distance, he could hear the train from Chicago approaching. All of a sudden the driver's side window shattered, and Bender reached into the car and popped the door's lock. After wrenching it open, he reached across Andy's body and turned the key in the ignition. He put his foot on top of Andy's, pushing down on the gas pedal, and rolled the car across the tracks to the opposite platform. A minute later, train 2157 pulled into the Shermer station. As soon as it came to a full stop, two conductors hopped off. The one nearest Bender yelled, "You getting on, son?" He looked quizzically at Dave's car parked on the platform but said nothing.

"No sir," Bender shouted back.

The man climbed back onto the train and it took off into the night.

Bender stood stunned as his heart pounded in his chest. Get a grip, he said to himself. Rounding on Andrew he screamed, "What the fuck were you doing?"

Andy remained rooted to the car seat, staring ahead as if in a trance.

Angrily, Bender bent down and grabbed Andy by the front of his letterman's jacket and hoisted him out of the car. "I don't fucking believe you," Bender continued. "If you don't give a damn about your miserable life, then at least think about the poor stiffs coming home from work you could've killed."

Bender's words cut like a knife, stinging Andrew out of his stupor. As the realization of what could have happened hit him, he fell to the ground as if on legs of jelly, his body suddenly shaking and racked with sobs. He hadn't thought things through that far. All he'd thought about was his pain, and the need to be free of it. It never occurred to him that he could have killed someone else by driving that car onto the tracks.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry," he wailed, tears streaming down his face.

For once, Bender was at a lost for words. The only thing he could think to do was kneel next to Andrew and awkwardly pat his shoulder.

Bender stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed home, light snow flurries falling on his bare head. What had happened tonight? The Sport had tried to off himself, that's what. Bender couldn't believe it.

Sure, Andrew had talked about his old man pushing him to excel at sports and all, but truth be told, a father like that would be a dream compared to his dad.

Granted, he wouldn't have been at that train station if it hadn't been for his particular brand of father.

His wintry Hallmark moment had consisted of coming home to find his father whaling on his mother.

"Whore," John Sr. said as he kicked his wife in the stomach. She was on the floor curled up in the fetal position, whimpering, her arms covering her head.

"What the fuck," Bender said, rushing to pull his father off of her.

"All I ask is that you keep this house clean and that you have dinner ready when I come home. You stupid bitch, you can't even do that."

Bender grabbed his father's arm and flung him against a wall. Fear fuelled adrenaline flooded his veins. He felt like a runner poised at the starting block anticipating the pistol going off. "You want to beat on someone, beat on me."

"This ain't any of your business boy," his father snarled. "If you know what's good for you, you'd stay out of it."

"Well, I'm making it my business."

His old man's face turned purple as a palpable burning rage consumed him. A vein along the side of his neck throbbed against his taunt skin. His father took a swing at him just as he'd anticipated; still, he barely managed to step out of the way.

"I'll kill you, motherfucker," his old man said, reaching for a knife sitting on the counter.

"Don't John," his mother called out. Both men turned to face her. Her face and arms were bruised, her lip busted, her white blouse soaked in blood.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do in my own house. I pay the bills around here. I'm king of this castle."

"Castle," Bender snorted. "Try shithole. Yeah dad, you sure are king of this shithole."

His father lunged at him. His mother screamed. John ducked out of the way.

"Johnny, go. Leave your dad and me alone," his mother said forcing herself between them.

"You'd better run you worthless pussy. Get the hell out of here and don't bother coming back."

"Go Johnny, I'll be okay," his mother said as she pushed Bender toward the living room. "Go to your friend's house."

Bender didn't feel like arguing though he felt reluctant to leave. Hesitantly, he walked back through the living room and out the front door.

He hadn't had anywhere to go. He'd just left Dez's house and hadn't felt comfortable going back there. He hadn't been in the mood for a party, so he'd decided to walk around instead. That's how he'd come upon Andrew.

Bender didn't know how long they'd sat in that parking lot. But now that he'd safely gotten Andrew home, it was time for him to head home himself. Hopefully, his father would be passed out and he wouldn't have to deal with him.

Quietly, Bender let himself into his family's one story house. Just as he'd suspected, his father was sprawled on the living room sofa, the tv on but the sound mute. He continued on to the back of the house where his bedroom was. He flicked on the light. Pictures torn from magazines - Rush, Boston, Farrah Fawcett, Brook Shields, and Penthouse Playmates – barely covered the peeling paint on the walls. He took off his jacket, threw it into a corner of his room, then kicked off his boots. Next, he removed his jeans, balled them up and threw them in the direction of his jacket. Grabbing his walkman off his dresser, he climbed into bed, putting his earphones over his head. He tuned the radio to WLUP, but quickly shut it off.

Claire. He hated to admit it, but he still liked her even after that bullshit with Brian and that thing in the library. In fact, unbeknownst to her, he'd been watching her for months. Imagine his surprise, when Claire Standish had walked into detention. Talk about a wet dream. As the saying goes, there's a thin line between love and hate. He hated Claire. She was rich, popular, and beautiful, and he could never conceive of a universe where she would want him.

Shit, I'm almost as fucked up as Andrew, Bender thought as he turned on his side. As much as he "hated" Claire, he hated himself more. He hated being poor; he hated his alcoholic, abusive father, and the fact that his mother didn't have the strength to leave. If it weren't for her, he'd skipped out long ago.

John old boy, he said to himself, you're a fucking cliché.

Brian Johnson walked along the north corridor to the physics lab. There was a physics meet on Saturday at Glenbrook North High School and he wanted to get in some extra practice. As he turned the corner, he saw Andrew up ahead, surrounded by a group of jocks. He hadn't even tried talking to anyone else since he'd approached Claire a few weeks ago. And though he'd had ample time to think about what he'd done, he honestly couldn't say why he'd approached her. Hadn't she told them all at Saturday detention that things wouldn't change between them? Why hadn't he just listened to her? Why had friendship with "The Breakfast Club" been so important to him? It wasn't like he didn't have any friends.

"Brian, Brian," someone called. He turned to see Larry Lester beside him. He and Larry had been friends, though not best friends, since second grade. Ever since Andrew's prank, he hadn't seen much of him.

"Hey, what's up Larry?" he said giving the other boy a warm smile.

"Hey. Ready for Saturday's meet?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly mass pandemonium exploded in the hall. The sounds of loud cheering, shouting, banging on lockers, and wolf whistles deafeningly filled the air.

"In all my years at Shermer, I … I …," a kid exclaimed as he rushed pass. "I've got to tell my boys."

Brian and Larry looked at each other both clueless as to what was going on. Then out of the crowd emerged Cliff and Bryce, two guys they knew from Computer Club.

"What's going on?"

"You won't believe this," Bryce said excitedly. "This is big Brian."

"Bigger than female extraterrestrial," Cliff added.

"What?" Brian shouted over the noise and the increasing crowd of spectators. He craned his neck to see what was going on. And as the crowd parted, he saw her. Allison. She was walking through the halls of Shermer High … NAKED.

"Oh my god," Larry said breathlessly next to him. Brian looked away. He "knew" Allison. It just didn't seem right for him to look at her that way. Instead, he scanned the crowd for Andrew. Needless to say, the Sport was stunned. Andy's eyes were wide, his mouth open in an "o". Around him, his friends, yelled and whistled at Allison. A few even tried touching her.

As Allison passed him, she nodded her head but said nothing.

"You know her"? Larry asked in amazement.

"Yeah."

"How? When? Where?" Larry, Cliff, and Bryce asked in unison.

"Just around."

"Geez Brian, you knowing her is almost as big as Ted dating the prom queen," Bryce said shaking his head.