Author's Note: Thanks so much for the feedback everyone; it's greatly appreciated.

Claire yawned as she slowly made her way to her locker. She'd been up all night tossing and turning thinking about what Benny had asked her to do. Needless to say, she didn't want to do it, but there seemed no way out.

Then she turned the corner, and stopped.

Looking at her painted over locker, suddenly gave her an idea.

She didn't know what class he had this period, but a good place to look for him would be the basement. That was where the shop classrooms were. It was also where the burnouts hung out when it was too cold to go outside.

She rushed down the stairs. As she descended into the basement, the smell of wood shavings and oil made her nose tickle. The hallway was wide and starkly lit. It contained a third of the classrooms the other floors did, and at the end of it, she saw him, surrounded by his friends.

He was dressed as he usually was – in ripped jeans and a flannel shirt. And even from a distance, she could make out his muscular legs and strong chest. Don't, Claire said to herself, a mix of emotions flooding her, the dominant one being fear. How could she approach him with all those guys around? Every fiber of her being told her to turn and run, but she couldn't. It was now or never. There was no turning back. So she waited, hoping he would see her and walk over.

When he finally looked up, their eyes locked, a jolt of electricity shooting through her.

Then he went back to talking to his friends.

Damn it John, she said to herself. Of course, he wouldn't make this easy for her. Sighing, she swung her suede bag over her shoulder, and purposefully strode down the hall toward him.

"John," she said softly when she reached him.

All conversation stopped as the guys turned to look at her.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You know this chick Bender?" one of his friends asked giving her the once over.

"What chick?" Bender said looking around exaggeratedly. "I don't see nobody."

"John," Claire said pleadingly. "I really need to talk to you. It's about Allison."

Allison, Bender thought, intrigued. What could Claire possibly have to say about Allison that was so important she'd come all the way down to preppy no man's land and risk being seen talking to him. This had to be good.

"What?" he said staring at her. Even agitated, she was beautiful with her soft auburn hair and freckle kissed skin. Don't dumbass, he said to himself. Don't even think about it.

"Can I talk to you alone?" she asked giving the guys an uneasy glance.

"Whatever," he said, trudging down the hall.

"Where are your manners Bender? You going to introduce us?" Dez called after him.

The other guys laughed.

He ignored them, stepping into an empty classroom. As soon as Claire entered the room, he closed the door behind her. "What the fuck do you want Claire?"

She felt her face heat up and her pulse quicken – from fear, from shame … from desire. Girls like her didn't end up with guys like him. And though she'd been telling herself that ever since they'd met, she was drawn to him. John Bender was like no other guy she knew. There was something almost primal about him that fascinated her.

"I need your help."

"You need my help," he said with an amused tone. "You can't honestly believe I'd help you?" He moved toward the door.

She reached for his arm.

"Then please help Allison. Benny Hanson is out to get her. She wants me to …." She couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud. What Benny wanted her to do was just so unreal.

"What?" Bender asked, his impatience evident.

"She wants me to sleep with Andrew," Claire said in a rush.

"What the fuck?"

"It's insane, I know. Of course, I don't want to do it. Andy and Allison are my friends."

"Your friends," Bender said taking a step towards her. Instinctively, she drew back. He was taller than she was and seemed to fill the entire room. That and he seemed on the verge of exploding, his anger about to rain down on her at any moment. "Your friends," he repeated louder, loathing in his voice. "Have you even spoken to Allison since detention?"

She said nothing.

"Have you?" he demanded.

"No," she said softly, turning away.

"Look at me. I saw how you treated Brian that day in the cafeteria. So what's this sudden interest in Allison?"

"Benny …."

"Do you do everything people tell you to do? If I told you to suck my dick, would you do that?"

"Fuck you," Claire screamed. She could feel hot tears forming behind her eyes, but she'd be damned if John Bender saw her cry. She turned and made a dash for the door. Rushing down the hall, she could see his friends staring at her, but she didn't care. Her mind was on one thing and one thing only, getting the hell out of there.

She ran and ran until she reached her locker. Shaking, she turned the combination lock. After grabbing her jacket, she ran down to the first floor, and out a side door.

A blast of cold air greeted her, hitting her in the face. Instead of drawing back from its sting, she embraced it. To her left was the student parking lot, she ran to it and her father's BMW, letting herself inside. Since Jessica and Paul were no longer talking to her, she'd had to borrow it to get to school.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Claire said to herself as she banged her open palm against the car's steering wheel. No longer able to stop them, the tears began to fall. God how she hated herself. So much so, she felt like gouging her own eyes out.

Allison had walked down the halls of Shermer naked. Brian had had the courage to approach her that Monday after detention knowing the risk. And Bender? He was courage personified. Why was she so weak?

Laying her forehead against the steering column, Claire closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began to calm herself. Only then, the fog covering her mind began to lift and the obvious became clear.

Yes, Shermer was a social minefield and the thought of maneuvering it alone terrified her, but if she were to do Benny's bidding, she'd be one sick, twisted, fucked up person.

At last, she looked up. Standing at her passenger side door was Bender. Wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her hand, she smiled weakly at him, then reached across the seat and unlocked the door.

Looking uncertainly at her, he slid into the seat, slamming the door behind him. They sat in silence, peaking at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"Look Claire," he said finally. "I'm sorry for being such an ass back there."

"No, you were right. I can't believe how stupid I am."

"You're not stupid," he said reaching out and touching her hand.

"Yeah I am," she said looking up. There was a softness in his eyes that she'd never really noticed before, not even that time she'd kissed him in the closet during detention. "I should have told Benny no from the beginning, but I didn't know how to stand up to her. I still don't. I just don't want to be alone, you know."

John sighed. "You don't have to be alone. Brian, Allison, Andy, and I, we would have stuck by you. But I guess our friendship isn't good enough for you," he said turning away.

Claire faced forward. She hated to admit it, but he was right. Jessica, Paul, and that crew's friendship had been much more important to her than Allison's, Brian's, and John's. But why? That was the $64,000 question. For one, she'd known her popular, richie friends all of her life and as tenuous as it was, they had history. That said, she hadn't been truly honest with them since grade school.

"I don't know," she finally answered. "I guess because they're like me. We come from the same place."

Allison quietly let herself into the house. Unlike other homes that were alive with activity, hers had a museum quality to it with its gold flecked white marble floors, alabaster walls, vaulted ceilings, and fine art.

"Allison," her father called from the living room.

She jumped. What was he doing home!

"Your mother and I want to talk to you."

Oh fuck, she thought to herself. This could only mean one thing: Mr. Hashimoto must have called.

Cautiously, she entered the room.

The Reynolds living room was tastefully furnished with brown leather sofas and high backed chairs. In a corner near the window stood a black Steinway piano. On the floor lay an Oriental rug that her parents had bought on a trip to Morocco.

Without saying a word, Allison sat down in one of the chairs across from where her mother sat on the sofa.

Beth Reynolds was stunning with her slight frame, creamy skin, and silky black hair cut into a fashionable bob. She sat stiffly, legs folded at the knees, hands folded on her lap, refusing to look at Allison.

Next to her mother, sat her father. He too was attractive – tall with an athletic build, a ruddy complexion, and distinguished graying temples. Sometimes, when her parents thought they were alone, they'd touch – her father's hand on the small of her mother's back, her mother touching his hair. Then they'd notice her and pull apart.

"Mr. Hashimoto called," her father said matter of factly.

Allison steeled herself. She had no idea what her parents' reaction would be. On the one hand, they'd made an art out of ignoring her, on the other; her mother was very much about order. Everything and everyone had to be in its place. Walking down the halls of Shermer naked was definitely out of place.

"Why Allison?' her father asked solemnly. "Why would you do something so …?" His voice trailed off.

Weird, she silently finished for him. Stupid.

"I don't know," she said softly. It just seemed easier to lie than to try to explain the truth.

"You don't know," her mother repeated stiffly, finally turning to face her. "You parade around the high school naked like a nutcase and you don't know why."

Allison could feel the heat of her mother's anger, which burned like a forest fire.

"Now Beth," her father said, reaching out and patting her mother's hand.

"No Richard. What is the point of us sending her to that psychiatrist if she's going to act like this? Apparently, he's not making her better."

Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, her emotions flowing like water from a faucet. "There's nothing wrong with me!" Allison screamed, raising then dropping her arms in frustration.

"How dare you talk to us like that. After what you did …," her mother began.

"What about what the two of you have done to me?"

"Allison," her father said.

"Leaving me alone. Ignoring me. Look at me. I exist."

"I'm not listening to this another second," Beth said standing. "I will not be blamed for you acting like a whore."

"Beth."

"Richard don't. Don't give in to her," Beth said walking away.

"Walk away. That's what you've always done. You've ignored me for the past seven years. There's no reason to act like you care now."

"Allison, you know we care about you," her father said. Then he went after her mother. "Beth."

Allison slumped into her chair, exhausted.

As hard as she tried to fight them, the tears came. She'd thought she was free from caring what her parents thought, but suddenly she felt like that nine-year-old girl who'd come home from school for Christmas break to find her parents off to London for the holiday without her while she stayed home with the housekeeper.

Claire made it a point not to look at the other girls in the locker room as she changed into her gym uniform. It was just too depressing. While she was flat as a board and looked about twelve, Caroline Mulford looked twenty-three. She must have flunked a few grades, there was no way else to explain it. Even Watts, Keith Nelson's tomboy girlfriend, was at least a C cup.

Then seemingly out of nowhere, just as she was tying her shoes, Jena and Benny surrounded her.

"Well," Benny said pointedly.

Immediately, Claire's fight or flight mechanism kicked in causing adrenaline to course through her veins. Running, however, was definitely out of the question. She had to do this, no matter the consequences. "No," she said, her voice squeaking slightly.

"No?" Jena repeated closing in on her.

"You heard me," Claire said with a bravado she didn't feel. "Allison and Andy are my friends. I won't hurt them."

"I warned you Claire. No one worth knowing at Shermer will have anything to do with you."

"I disagree. I think I'll do just fine.
"Don't count on it," Benny said. She turned and left the locker room followed by Jena.

Claire looked around. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at her. Emboldened, she stared back at some of them. Quickly, they turned away.

Sighing, she sat on the bench. Things were now set in motion and there was no turning back.