Chapter Two

The clock read 10:22am and everyone was in the library. Aideen had assumed her previous seat in the front row, furthest from the door, while the others seemed to have migrated to the other side of the room. The Basket-Case apparently had just wanted a change of seat, and perhaps a change of scenery from library-right to library-left, and she was on the other side of the room in the back row, continuing with what she was doing previous to moving. The Jock had his leg up on the wooden railing and was stretching out while the Princess, still in her seat, was checking her nails.

On the other side of the railing, the Criminal and the Nerd were holding a book each; however, while the Nerd was reading, the Criminal was tearing his up and tossing the pages around. Aideen watched him do this for a moment before she turned away, tapping the desk with her fingers impatiently until a glare from the Princess made her stop. She curled her hands under her desk and sighed quietly, looking back at Bender as he threw another page of the book behind him.

"That's real intelligent," commenting the Jock, rolling his eyes. Aideen tensed instantly and lowered her head – their fights were stressful, and it was obvious due to their dislike of each other that there was bound to be many more that Saturday.

"You're right," said Bender monotonously, continuing to rip up the book, "it's wrong to destroy literature," he mocked, not stopping. "It is such fun to read and," he paused as he looked in the book to find the author; "Molet really pumps my nads!" he finished sarcastically.

"Mol-yare," the Princess smirked, pronouncing the name correctly. Bender looked at her and raised his eyebrows contemptuously.

"Did you know that, Sweetheart?" he asked, pulling Aideen into the conversation with his new favourite nickname. "It's Mol-yare," he snorted, giving the Princess a half-grin as she glared at his bullying.

"I love his work," offered the Nerd and turned and Aideen smiled at him as he smiled a little back. Both of their smiles dropped, however, when Bender tossed the rest of the pages at the Nerd with a small frown on his face. The Criminal then reached round to the librarian's desk and picked up the card catalogue drawer, taking the cards out.

"Big deal," he brushed off the correction and being ignored, "Nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy."

"Ahh, speak for yourself," sneered the Jock and Bender looked down, giving him an astounded look.

"Do you think I'd speak for you?" he asked in a disdainful amazement, "I don't even know your language!" he snorted. The Jock, ignoring him completely, turned to the Princess.

"Hey," he called to her, "you grounded tonight?" the boy asked. The Princess shrugged slightly before she replied.

"I don't know; my mom said I was but my dad told me to just blow her off," she explained. The Jock looked around – making sure Bender was listening – before he turned back.

"Big party at Stubby's," he told her. "His parents are in Europe. Should be pretty wild..." he trailed off to gather her reaction.

"Yeah?" she smiled, thinking about it.

"Yeah," he confirmed as Bender began to rearrange the cards, "can you go?"

"I doubt it," she shrugged, lowering her eyes and looking as sad as she possibly could without crying and ruining her makeup. Rolling her eyes, Aideen stood sharply and moved around the desks, going to the other side of the library and out of earshot. Alone, she sighed in relief.

"Maybe this is why I avoid people," she commented to herself. "I subconsciously know how strange they all are."

"Ha!" a loud yell from where the others were gathered sounds and Aideen whirled around in shock. Her heart beating fast from the shock of the sudden noise, the Irish girl shook her head and calmed herself down. Glancing at the shelves, she selected a book at random and plucked it away from the rest, sitting where she was – and crossing her legs – as she read the title.

"Rage of Angels, by Sidney Sheldon," she said aloud, considering the title before turning to the first page and beginning to read.

'New York: September 4th, 1969

The hunters were closing in for the kill...'

"I'm being honest, asshole," was the charming statement that she heard when she woke her from her daydream. Half of her wanted to know what the fuss was about this time, so Aideen dropped the book to the floor and peaked around the shelves, catching Bender and the Jock arguing with each other yet again.

"Yeah well, he's got a name!" the Jock bickered. Becoming interested, knowing that this argument extended past their testosterone and need to always be right over the other, Aideen quickly and quietly picked the book up, restored it to the shelf – not really caring that it was likely not in the correct location – and went back to the end of the aisle, peaking her head around again.

"Yeah?" snorted Bender as though this were a foreign concept to him – the Nerd having a name.

"Yeah," insisted the Jock before realising that he didn't know it. He turned to the Nerd and pointed as he asked, "What's your name?"

"Brian," the Nerd replied quietly, hesitantly.

"See," the Jock boasted, but Bender was unaffected.

"My condolences," the Criminal scoffed to Brian, turning and walking away from them.

"What's your name?" asked the Princess, looking at Bender. Aideen – deciding that everyone was suitable distracted – darted forwards to her jacket and her backpack; she looked inside for her water bottle so that she could quench her thirst.

"What's yours?" she heard Bender question, assuming that the question was directed at the Princess.

"Claire," she replied, as expected. Bender laughed a little, humourless chortle and she looked behind her, seeing his eyes on Claire.

"I wasn't asking you," he explained, lifting his hand and pointing at Aideen, "I was asking her," he said as the Princess glared. "Although, now that I know;Ka-Laire?" he sniffed.

"Claire," she confirmed haughtily, frowning, "It's a family name!"

"No," he corrected, shaking his head in mock sympathy, "It's a fat girl's name."

"Well, thank you," Claire scowled sarcastically.

"You're welcome," replied Bender with a higher level of sarcasm than the Princess had offered to him previously. She rolled her eyes and snarled.

"I'm not fat!" denied Claire, rightly so. Bender's mouth twitched as though he were going to laugh, but it serious facade remained in place.

"Well not at present," he allowed with a nod, "but I could see you really pushing maximum density. You see, I'm not sure if you know this," Bender lowered his voice and leaned towards Claire as though he were telling her a secret, "but there are two kinds of fat people. There're fat people that were born to be fat, and then there's fat people that were once thin but they became fat; so when you look at them you can sorta see that thin person inside," he mocked, leaning back, "You see, you're gonna get married, you're gonna squeeze out a few puppies and then, uhh..." Trailing off, Bender mimicked someone becoming bloated.

"What a jackass," frowned Aideen, but her dark expression dropped in a flash when Bender turned to her, her head tilted.

"You say something, Angel Face?" he grinned, folding his arms. Aideen shook her head quickly and Bender snorted, turning back to Claire. "Now, then, where was I? Oh, yeah," he recalled, "Fat girl's name," he repeated as Claire scowled and flipped him the bird. "Oh," he said in mock surprise, "obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!"

"I'm not that pristine," denied Claire resentfully. Bender bent closer to her, his face once again completely serious.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, both pausing as Claire, now enraged, realised what he asked. "I'll bet you," he continued before she could speak up, "a million dollars that you are. Let's end the suspense! Is it gonna be a," he paused again, this time smirking, "a white wedding?"

"Why don't you just shut up?" the Princess yelled, her frown deepening as her scowl resurfaced.

"Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?" asked Bender with a blank face and Aideen shook her head, gathering up her belongings with the intention of spending the rest of her detention away from the Criminal and the rest. "Sit down, Sweetheart," he called to her, pointing his finger at the redhead before she could shift her bag to her shoulder. "I'll get to you in just a sec', okay?"

"Excuse me?" she yelped, her face horrified. The day Aideen actually stayed put, waiting to be questioned in the way Bender was questioning Claire, was the day she spoke up in class; still never to come.

"Sit!" he yelled, though not angrily or with any real force. Shocked by the raise in his voice, Aideen jumped and her eyes flew closed, only opening again when she heard Bender laughing. "Just sit your ass down, Angel Face. I'd hate to have to yell again," he finished, talking to her as though she were a baby.

"Ah, screw you," the Jock spoke up. "Why can't you just leave both of them alone?" he said in an almost tired voice, as though he were fed up of telling Bender to stop.

"Yeah, jerk," agreed Claire, turning her head to look at the Jock, but Bender caught her gaze and pulled it back to him. Seeing that Bender had no intention of doing as he was told, the Jock stood up and walked forwards.

"I said 'Leave them alone', asshole," he warned. Bender stood straight, taller than the Jock, and snorted.

"You gonna make me?" he challenged, taking a few steps towards the Athlete threateningly. Gripping her bag tighter, Aideen tensed and moved into her seat, watching both of them cautiously.

"Yeah," confirmed the Jock, nodding. Bender climbed the tables and chairs smoothly, walking towards the Jock and standing close, until they were almost toe-to-toe.

"You and how many of your friends?" mocked Bender, but the Jock wasn't taking the bait and his anger didn't rise any father than it already had.

"Just me," he assured evenly, "You and me – two hits – me hitting you, you hitting the floor. Anytime you're ready, pal!"

Bender sniffed in amusement and moved his arm up, tapping the Jock on the cheek mockingly. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the Athlete to quickly take a hold on his arm, grabbing the other one as well, and pinning them both to his back as he pressed his knee in Bender's back, forcing him face-first to the ground. The Jock kept his arms pinned, one of his own across Bender's back in order to keep the struggling boy down.

Aideen watched the exchange and jumped, gulping as she saw the Jock in a whole new light – rather than the school's golden boy, he scared her. More so than any Popular Student should; she could clearly see why her brothers had warned her against dating any wrestlers or football players – the violence the Jock was displaying had successfully scared her away from accepting any future offers for a soda from any member of a physical-sport team. Suddenly, Bender stopped struggling and began talking.

"I don't wanna get into to this with you, man," he stated calmly, turning his face away from the ground so that he knew the Jock would hear him, his words only slightly muffles due to lack of breath. Releasing him, the Jock stood up and took a few steps back, still tensed to fight.

"Why not?" contested the Jock. Bender stood quickly, flipping his hair back as he straightened his jacked.

"Cause I'd kill you," he stated clearly, moving and walking behind the Jock – who turned so as not to take his eyes off the Criminal – until he was standing in line with the back rows. "It's real simple. I'd kill you, and your fucking parents would sue me," he explained slowly, "and it would be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother."

"Chicken shit," muttered the Jock, turning back to his desk. Aideen's eyes widened and she subconsciously flinched back when Bender pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and opened it, the 'tick' of the blade as it opened causing the Jock to turn around.

"Oh my, gosh," she murmured into her hands, hiding her eyes so as not to witness a murder in the making. Smirking a little at the reaction, Bender turned slightly and stabbed the blade into the back of the chair closest to him.

"Let's end this right now," the Jock prompted. Since he was still talking, Aideen guessed he was alive and looked at the scene again. The first thing she saw was the Basket-Case reach over and pull the knife out of the back of the chair, closing it and dropping it into her bag, "You don't talk to them, you don't look at them and you don't even think about them! You understand me?"

"I'm trying to help her," insisted Bender innocently, gesturing to Claire, "and I ain't done anything wrong to that one," he continued, now pointing to Aideen, who spun quickly in her seat and directed her attention to her desk.

"Nah," laughed the Jock mockingly, "but you scare her, obviously. So, rather than prove yourself to be a bigger jerk that we already know you are, why don't you let her just do her detention in peace? Give her at least that, right?"

"Why should I?" asked Bender, shifting in his jacket and he sneered at the Jock.

"Because, like the rest of us," he paused to gesture around the room, "she can't even stand to look at you, let alone be near you."

"She hasn't said anything about anything, okay?" said Bender adamantly, pulling the collar of his jacket and striding towards her, placing his hand on the desk and leaning over her, successfully caging the redhead between his hand and his torso via his arm.

"What're you doing?" asked Claire shrilly, seeing him so close to the girl, who was tensing. Ignoring the other teenager, Bender lowered his head and spoke right beside Aideen's ear.

"You're not afraid of little ole' me, right?" he cooed at her in ridicule, a smirk on his mouth.

Bender leaned closer every second she didn't answer him and Aideen shrugged her shoulders, trying to nudge him away as she shifted uncomfortably. This just made him laugh a little and she realised he was waiting for an answer of some sort. Before Aideen could reply, the door to the library opened and Bender jumped back, pulling out the chair beside Aideen and sliding into it quickly. Into the library came the janitor, Carl, who wheeled his supply bin up the slope, to the office, where he took the bin and emptied it into the large one on his cart.

"Hey, Brian," he greeted in a friendly tone when he noticed the bunch of teenagers sat in the library, the music playing from the walkman on his cart making the library seem warmer after the argument between Bender and the Jock, "how you doing?" he asked, continuing with his task. Brian didn't reply and, instead, lowered in his seat a little as Bender turned his head to mock him.

"Your dad works here?" he mused, his tone portraying the smirk on his face as Brian sunk father in his seat, embarrassed. "Uh, Carl?" the Criminal called, leaning on his desk as he addressed the janitor.

"What?" replied Carl; he paused in his job to speak to the teen.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Carl allowed, slightly reluctantly as he knew Bender's reputation to be a pain in the ass.

"How does one become a janitor?" he asked, sounding sincere although it was obvious to everyone in the room that he was taking the Mickey.

"You wanna be a janitor?" humoured Carl in a bemused voice as he leaned an elbow on his cart, clearly ready to retort to anything Bender had to throw at him.

"No I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor," he insisted, "because Andrew, here, is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts."

"Oh, really?" he replied sarcastically, while the Jock – Andrew – looked uncomfortable under his scrutinising gaze.

"Uhh, I guess," he murmured, before his eyes widened a little and he sat straighter. "I – I mean, yes...sir."

"You guys think I'm just some untouchable peasant," snorted Carl, "sir? – A peon? Huh?" he challenged, looking every bit the part of a man willing to put them in their place, "Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for the past eight years I've learned a couple of things. I look through your letters, I look through your lockers; I listen to your conversations – you don't know that, but I do. I am the eyes and ears of this institution my friends," he paused and smirked, checking his watch before pointing behind them, "By the way, that clock's twenty minutes fast."

"Seriously?" groaned Claire as the others looked at the clock. Bender, on the other hand, smiled at the janitor as he left with his cart of cleaning supplied.

"Shit!" swore Andrew, turning from the clock.

"Hey," protested Bender, leaning over and covering Aideen's ears; "There's some precious, innocent ears right here, Sporto," he teased, removing his hands and tapping his finger under Aideen's chin. "You just tell ole' John if Dirty Uncle Andrew gives you any grief, alright, Sweetheart?"

"Bite me, jackass," sneered the Jock.