After yesterday's high of watching Benny Hanson fall flat on her face and being Claire's knight in shining armor, nothing could bring Bender down – not his father, not Vernon, not the teachers who'd written him off years ago, and not the rain falling from the sky. As he walked across the muddy athletic field behind the school, he noticed a familiar figure leaving the rear exit of the athletic building and cutting across the field in front of him.

Andrew. He'd pretty much said all he had to say to him, but still Bender couldn't let things go. The guy wasn't all that bad really; he just needed to stand for something, anything.

"Sporto," he screamed into the wind and rain. "Sport."

It was no use, his words only ended up being thrown back in his face. With a groan, Bender took off in a run, trying not to slip and fall in the muddy grass.

"Andrew," he shouted as he tapped the other boy on the shoulder.

Andrew turned and upon recognizing John, his blank face turned into a scowl. "Jesus Bender."

"Close but not quite."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Sport, I've taken it upon myself to help you grow some balls. Call it community service."

"Fuck off."

"Dude, the chicks have put their asses on the line for you. Now it's time for you to step up to the plate." Up ahead was a brick field house. Bender signaled for Andrew to follow him there. There they could seek shelter under the overhanging roof from the pounding rain.

"What are you talking about?" Andrew asked as soon as they stepped out of the rain and into the relative safety of the field house's roof.

"You know that whole Allison walking down the hall naked thing was about you. And Claire stood up to Benny Hanson trying to save your ass and you know what a bitch Benny is."

As Bender related the story, a look of helpless confusion flashed across Andrew's face. Bender couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He wondered if the guy had it in him to make life work. He had tried to kill himself after all. "Look Sport, Allison cares about you. She'd never admit it now because of the way you treated her, but that girl would go to the mat for you. How many people would do that?"

"Not many, but …"

"But what?"

"Even though she's considered a freak, she's too good for me. That day she approached me, I could see in her eyes that she expected so much more from me than I could ever give. I can't live up to her expectations."

"Allison doesn't need you to prop her up. To be honest, you need her more than she needs you."

"I know and that scares me too."

"You can't keep living in fear man. Aren't you tired of hiding and pretending?"

Yeah, but how can I break free, Andrew thought. Everyone had a different opinion of him, and expected him to behave accordingly. His friends saw him one way, his father another. Coach saw him a different way still, not to mention everyone else. Being with Allison would force his worlds to collide, and that could only lead to one thing. Nuclear annihilation. Then where would he be?

"Earth to Sport, come in Sport," Bender said waving his hands in front of Andrew's face.

"What?"

"Dude, you totally spaced out for a minute."

"Sorry."

"You need to do something. I found your ass parked across a railroad track a few weeks back. If you keep living the way you're living, you're going to end up dead."

"Whatever," Andy said stuffing his hands in his front pockets. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. "Look, I need to get home." Without waiting for a response, he started across the athletic field.

"Think about what I said Sport," Bender shouted at Andrew's retreating back. Then he turned up the collar of his worn leather jacket, hunched his shoulders against the rain, and began the trek to Dez's house.

Claire scanned the wet street in front of her looking for Allison's house. She'd gotten her address from the student directory and was surprised to learn that she lived not too far from her. It was funny how close yet so far they'd been from each other.

Claire pulled her father's black BMW in front of a white colonial. She contemplated taking her umbrella but decided against it, it was only a quick dash from the car to the covered drive.

She rang the bell.

A few minutes later, a short, full-figured Latina woman opened the door.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice lilting and accented.

"Hi," Claire said giving the woman a quick smile. "Is Allison home?"

"She is. Come in," the woman said enthusiastically as she stepped aside and allowed Claire to enter. Though her own home wasn't too shabby, Allison's house was immaculate with its white marble foyer and cathedral ceiling. In fact, it reminded Claire of a museum lobby.

"Just a minute," the woman said. She walked over to an intercom and pushed a red button. "Allison, you have a guest." She turned back to Claire, "She'll be down in a moment."

Sure enough, seconds later, Allison appeared on the landing.

"Claire," she said surprised.

"Hey," Claire said waving uncertainly.

"What are you doing here?" Allison asked as she made her way down the stairs.

"I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing."

"Well you've seen me."

Claire took a deep breath. What did she expect? She hadn't spoken to Allison since detention and here she was showing up at her house unannounced. Claire watched as she continued down the stairs. She hadn't told her to go to hell and she hadn't run back upstairs – a good sign Claire hoped. At last, Allison reached the bottom step. "So Claire, what's really going on?"

"I'm here to ask for your forgiveness."

"For what?"

"For being a bitch. For not coming by sooner."

"Forget it Claire. I know you had a lot more at stake than the rest of us."

"That's the thing. The people who I thought were my friends really weren't. I know that now. It took you, John, Andrew, and Benny Hanson to make me see that. I'm sorry. I hardly know you, but you're more my friend than they ever were." Her throat tightened and her eyes began to water, jerkily, she wiped away the tears. "You must think I'm an idiot."

"No, I don't." Allison walked up to Claire and bumped her shoulder against Claire's.

Claire smiled. Who would have ever guessed she'd end up friends with Allison Reynolds. "So what were you doing before I disturbed you?"

"Nothing. Just staring at the ceiling. I got over daytime TV days ago, nothing but soap operas and I Love Lucy reruns."

"Do you wanna hang out?"

Allison hesitated a moment. "Sure," she finally said. "What kind of music do you listen to?"

"The Police, David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, Blondie."

"Great, I have Synchronicity, Ziggy Stardust, and Born to Run upstairs. We could listen to records."

"Okay."

For the first time in a long while, Allison had a friend over to the house.

They sat on her bedroom floor, a bowl of Doritos between them, albums and cassette tapes scattered around them when the doorbell rang.

A few minutes later, Rosa's voice came through the intercom. "Allison honey, there's a boy here to see you."

A boy, she thought. She gave Claire a look that said, "I don't have a clue who that could be" as she pushed herself off the floor then headed downstairs.

Standing at the bottom of the steps was Andrew.

"Hi," he said sheepishly. He was dressed as usual in Nikes, jeans, and his letterman's jacket. Allison could tell that he was uncomfortable. He should be, she thought. She'd be damned if she would go out of her way to put him at ease. "Sorry to bother you. I hope you don't mind me just dropping by."

"There seems to be a lot of that today."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. What are you doing here and how did you get my address?"

"The student directory."

Damn that directory, never again would she allow her address to be printed in that thing. "So what can I do for you?"

"Well first off, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted that Monday after detention. I was an ass and there was no excuse for it."

While his words did touch her, if he thought she could be swayed by mere words, he was in for a surprise.

"Look," Andrew said stepping to her and grabbing her hands. "It was me, not you. I was the problem. Someone told me today that I needed to grow a pair and he was right."

Bender, Allison thought and couldn't help smiling to herself. For someone who was supposed to be the spawn of Satan, he seemed to be everyone's guardian angel (Claire had told her about Benny Hanson).

"Secondly, I was wondering if you'd let me make things up to you?"

"No."

"What?"

"Look Andrew, I know you mean well and that you probably believe what you're saying, but the gulf between us is too wide. Besides, I'm not going through that self-loathing bullshit again. Plus, me dressing like a preppie was a one time performance."

Allison waited for him to say something, but he didn't. And that was okay. She didn't need Andrew to respond. It was enough that she'd said her peace. "I think you should go," she said at last. She walked over to the front door and opened it. Silently, she waited for him to leave. He sighed, defeat washing over him. "Goodbye Andrew."

"Bye Allison," he said as he crossed the threshold, then he ran down the drive.

She used to hate Monday mornings because they signaled another long, boring, lonely week of so-called higher education. Another week of being invisible. But today, Monday morning meant hanging out in study hall with Brian and eating lunch with Claire.

As soon as her fifth period English Lit class ended, Allison headed for the cafeteria instead of the darkened auditorium or the stairwell where she usually ate lunch. As had been happening all day, people stopped to stare and point at her, the crazy girl who had walked down the hall naked. Well, what you expected, her mother would say.

After she'd been waiting for five minutes, Claire came rushing down the hall.

"Sorry I'm late. Ready to go?"

"Sure. Let's sit in the back," Allison suggested as soon as they entered the cafeteria.

"No, let's sit at this table."

"Are you some sort of masochist?" The table Claire had chosen was smack dab in the middle of the lunchroom. There was nowhere to hide from curious, prying eyes.

"No. We have to sit here."

"Why?" Allison asked suspiciously. What was going on?

"We just do."

"Whatever," Allison said. She didn't feel like arguing, and there was something in Claire's demeanor that told her Claire wasn't going to budge.

So she followed Claire to the table and sat down. Needless to say, they were like a circus act or animals on display at the zoo – all eyes seemed trained on them.

Purposefully, Allison took out her lunch.

"Let me guess, a Cap'N Crunch and pixie stix sandwich," Claire said smiling.

"Ham and cheese on rye," Allison said as she began unwrapping it.

While Claire ate her Cobb salad and Allison ate her ham and cheese on rye, they talked about music, Dynasty, Matt Dillon and Rob Lowe. They both loved Molly Ringwald and thought Mathew Broderick was adorable in War Games.

Suddenly Allison looked up to see Andrew coming their way.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Claire asked looking around. "Oh," she said as soon as she saw him. She began packing up her lunch.

"Where are you going?"

"Whatever happens, please don't hate me."

"Claire!"

Claire stood and gathered her things. "Hey Andy," she said then made her way to where John sat with his friends.

All at once, Allison felt vulnerable and exposed.

"Allison," Andy said walking up to her. "I meant what I said Friday."

"About what?"

"About wanting to be with you. I was an idiot. I know I hurt you and you have every right to be pissed at me, but I am begging you to forgive me."

"Andy."

"Allison, please," Andrew said as he climbed onto Claire's vacated chair then climbed onto the lunch table. Everyone in the cafeteria turned to look at them.

Oh fuck, Allison thought.

"Allison Reynolds, if you could find it in your heart, would you please forgive me," he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Andy, get down from there."

"Not until you forgive me."

"Give him another chance," a girl at another table shouted.

"Stop it," Allison hissed.

"I'll promise you anything. I'll be your boy toy, your sex slave."

Oh god, Allison thought as she covered her face with her hand. "Please stop."

"I'm going to kiss you Allison."

"Excuse me," she said a little sassily.

"I'm going to kiss you, right here, right now, in front of all these people," he said climbing down from the table and onto the chair then down from the chair onto the floor. Like some sexy beast, he approached her.

"Don't you dare."

"I can't hear you," he said bending down.

She considered pushing him away and bolting from the cafeteria. But instead, she decided to call his bluff. "I don't think you have the cajones Sport. What's everyone going to say? What will people think?" she taunted in a singsong voice.

"They'll probably think damn that lucky bastard; I bet he's getting some tonight."

Then he pressed his lips to hers. A bolt of electricity shot through her. Damn, he can kiss, she thought as she grabbed at his arms. But she already knew that.

Cheers and catcalls filled the cafeteria, but Allison was oblivious. She was making out with Andrew Clark and it was amazing. Finally, he pulled away. "Sorry," he said wiping his mouth. "I couldn't breathe."

"I just bet you couldn't. I can't believe you slipped me some tongue. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gave her the kind of lazy, sexy smile that would give any girl fever.

Epilogue

"Trust me, you're going to love this place," Bender said as soon as the cab stopped in front of the Checkerboard Lounge.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Brian asked as the gang climbed onto the sidewalk. He'd heard horror stories about the city especially the south side - stories of gangs, guns, and drugs.

"It's fine. This place has the best blues in the city. Hopefully, the U of C kids haven't taken all the tables." A 6'4", 250 lb. black guy stood at the door. He nodded to the group but said nothing though he did give Brian a questioning look. Inside the front door were photographs of some of the bands that had played at the Checkerboard over the years including one of Muddy Waters and the Rolling Stones jamming on stage. The lounge area was dark, smelled of cigar and cigarette smoke mixed with beer, and infused in an eerie red light. It was indeed packed; college kids and locals sat side by side bobbing to the pulsating music. Bender scanned the room looking for an empty table. Finally, he spotted one in a back corner.

"Follow me," he shouted over the din. The Breakfast Club made their way to the table and sat down. It was a rickety old card table surrounded by metal folding chairs. A petite black woman with a Jheri Curl and a large gardenia pinned to her hair sauntered up to the table. "What can I get you Sugar?" she asked looking at Bender.

"A Miller. Andy is a Miller okay?"

"Yeah."

"What about you Brian?"

Brian looked around nervously. "I'm underage. Hey, aren't you guys …"

"He'll have a rum and Coke," Bender said cutting him off. "Ladies?"

"A rum and Coke sounds good," Claire said.

"I'll have one too," echoed Allison.

While the waitress went to get their drinks, they sat back and looked around. "I'm glad we were able to get together before the start of summer. Nothing beats good music, good brew, and good friends," Bender said. Though they hadn't known each other last summer, they were sorry they wouldn't be spending this summer together. In a few days, Claire would be off to Europe with her mother and Andy would be bagging groceries at Jewel. Brian had signed up to take accelerated summer classes at the University of Illinois in Urbana, and Bender would be working construction. Allison had plans to take art classes at the School of the Art Institute thanks to her father's connections.

They sat listening to Big Willie and the Cyclones. As the night wore on, Allison and Andy went to play pool while John sat with his arm around Claire, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Brian sat tapping out the beats of the music on the table with his fingers.

"So Brian, what do you think?" Bender asked as he watched the other boy begin to nod off.

"I think this is the most amazing night of my life so far."

"Who would have guessed we'd end up together," Bender said looking off into the distance at Allison and Andrew as they kissed while playing pool.

"Not me."

"Me neither. God has one fucked up sense of humor."

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story. It was much appreciated.