Warning: line breaks indicating a passage of time from here on out

Andrew listened to her.

The next day, instead of sitting with his group of friends, he sought out Larry and apologized.

"You were right," Andrew found Allison afterwards, taking a seat across from her at the empty lunch table without even asking. "He didn't accept it, but it's a step. I feel a lot better. Thanks for the push."

"You're welcome."

Andrew dug into his paper bag, sorting the items on the table.

"How's your day been?" Allison shrugged, biting into her cereal and sugar stick sandwich.

Instead of getting mad, Andrew laughed. "C'mon, Allison! Tell me! You spoke a lot yesterday."

"That was yesterday." She replied flatly.

It was Andrew's turn to shrug. "Well, today's a new day. You should try something new every day."

Allison took him in, really took him in. He radiated, so much different from how he was yesterday.

"You definitely look a lot better." Allison commented.

Andrew took a bite out of one of his ham and cheese sandwiches. "All thanks to you."

Allison felt her cheeks growing hot and she bit her tongue to focus on the pain instead of the pleasure.

True to his word, Andrew was waiting for her that morning on the curb of her home. She froze in place, but not because of the cold. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly and almost had half a mind to run back inside. It couldn't be real. But it was.

It was really happening—she had a friend.

"Hey, Clarke," One of Andrew's best friends, Mark, showed up in the middle of Andrew's second sandwich. "You mind if we talk? Privately?"

Andrew glanced between her and Mark. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her."

Mark, seemingly ignoring Allison's presence, finally acknowledged her. She was used to the looks of disdain but that didn't mean it didn't hurt all the same. "Dunno if that's such a good idea, pal."

Andrew's brow quirked. "Why not?"

Allison tuned out the conversation, reveling how the crunchy texture of the cereal blocked everything out... until Andrew stood up.

"Say one more thing," Andrew said threateningly, chest to chest with his considerably taller friend. "And I'll waste you. I'm done with this. It was never funny."

"—And then you show up with some random chick? So you'd choose some… some freak over me? Over us?" Mark put his hands against his chest in emphasis. "The guys who've stuck with you through thick and thin? She must be giving it to you real good—"

Andrew snapped like a pouncing lion. The sound of Andrew's fist meeting his friends' nose made Allison jump.

The cafeteria erupted into chants and chaos. Some of the jocks rushed over, trying to pull them apart to no avail. Andrew was red and ready for revenge. Nothing would stop him.

Allison swore that it was over when she blinked. And the next thing she knew, she was waiting right outside Vernon's office.

Andrew appeared not long after, disgruntled from Vernon's yelling and holding an ice pack in one hand. Mark managed to get one good shot at him, the side of Andrew's face was an angry red.

"Hey." Allison said when he didn't notice her.

Andrew whirled his head to his right, eyes widened with something that looked like shock.

Mark shoved past him, snapping Andrew out of whatever reverie was cycling through his mind. Shooting them a threatening glare, Mark disappeared down the hall.

"Vernon gave me Saturday detention," Andrew huffed though he didn't actually seem mad. "I'll be missing a big meet. My old man and coach won't be happy."

Allison didn't know what came over her. She pried the ice pack from his hand and put it on the side of his face, right above his eyebrow. She was grateful all Andrew got was a potential bruise. Mark, on the other hand, got a busted lip and possibly a broken nose—just in time for one of his biggest basketball matches.

His hand came up and she thought he'd swat it away. Instead, Andrew held it right above hers.

"I'm fine, Ally," He said reassuringly with a smile that made her stomach do flops. He brought her hand down. "C'mon, I'll walk you to class."

He held her hand the entire way.

Allison was used to the stares, but ever since yesterday, it was getting worse—especially if she was alone. Rumors were starting to spread. Everyone had seen them holding hands. That in itself was a big deal.

She always hid in the bleachers for fifth period gym class. Gym was just another form of ridicule she didn't need. It was enough that she was a sore thumb. Nobody needed to see a complete lack of athleticism.

"You're in my spot," A familiar, gruffly voice said. "Get out."

"I don't see your name anywhere."

John Bender was popular, like Andrew, but in another way. He was known for doing what everyone else was afraid to do. And it didn't help that John seemed to live with Vernon in Saturday detention. Almost everyone in the school was intimated by him—except Allison. He was unapologetically himself. Allison respected that.

"I've seen you before, ya know." He said in that condescending tone of his.

Allison didn't respond, going back to her sketch. John plopped down on the grass, keeping a distance between them.

He dug up his carton of cigarettes from his pocket. "So, you come here often?"

"I skip gym."

"Can't say I blame ya," He lit the cigarette and took a drag, the light breeze carrying the smoke away from her. "The uniforms are ridiculous. Gotta say though, it don't look too bad on the chicks, so I guess the system's got somethin' going for 'em."

Allison shrugged, losing herself in her drawing. John's obnoxious comments towards the mock football game the students were playing fell on deaf ears. Eventually, he stopped and they fell into an oddly comfortable silence; him finishing his cigarette and her drawing.

Ready to start inking this grassy landscape, she rummaged through her bag for a pen. John took the opening to pluck her sketchbook right off her lap.

"Hey!" She reached for it, but his arms were longer than hers. "Give it back!"

"I wanna see!" He held the sketchbook high above his head with one hand and pushed her away with his free arm. "If you're the next Picasso, I wanna be a witness to greatness!"

"It's not done yet!" She was seething. Her works were private. "Give it back!"

John's thumb brushed the page, flipping it upwards. A peak of yesterday's sketched showed.

"Wait. Is this…" John's brows furrowed, staring at the monochrome finish from below. Allison sat back, swallowing while he flipped it back completely. "Shit. You saw this?"

She nodded numbly, waiting for his inevitable rage that he was also known for. John lowered her pad, placing it on his outstretched legs.

On the way to meet up with Andrew after school, she caught the incident. John was walking the path towards the entrance and bumped into another person heading his way; a girl, holding a few binders and a text book. The collision caused her to lose her grip and everything splattered on the floor.

What shocked Allison wasn't the fact that John helped her pick up the mess and helped her up to her feet. It was the blatant tension between them though they were clearly from two separate worlds. The usually confident girl became a shy mess and even John didn't have his usual spit fire to him.

Allison knew she needed to get it on paper so the memory could stay with her forever.

He snorted in contempt, his eyes lingering too long on her silhouette. "Ya know, I didn't even get her name. Must be losin' my touch. But I see her all the time now. It's fuckin' weird."

Allison pursed her lips. "Her name's Claire."

"Oh," His hazel eyes widened comically. "A fat girl's name. I should've seen that one comin'."

"She's not fat."

"Not at the present." He replied nonchalantly.

"I have her for Algebra and gym." Allison looked through the peep, trying to find Claire on the football field. "She's… one of them."

John didn't need any elaboration, following Allison's gaze. "I figured by the diamond earring's. She seems like quite the pristine girl, if you know what I mean."

"I'd rather not know what you mean."

It didn't take long to find her. Claire stuck out from the crowd with her short hair that shimmered different shades of auburn under the sun's rays. She trailed a little ways behind her crowd; a position Allison saw her in constantly. And there was something about the way she smiled that was fake—almost the same way Andrew always seemed to never smile genuinely. Claire's smile never reached her eyes.

"She seems nice, but…" She watched as John's face contorted when a guy came up to Claire. "She always seems sad. She's there but wants to be anywhere but there."

John raised a brow, chucking the sketchbook at her that she caught with ease. "What the fuck could she be sad about? She's got everything."

"Money can't fix a broken heart, John."

"Yeah, well, money could fix a load of my problems." He squinted, leaning in further. "Cherry's pretty hot, can't lie. I'd slip her the hot beef injection twice in bed and once in the shower, if I could."

She rolled her eyes, flipping back to her landscape from before. "You should talk to her."

"… And risk crippling rejection at the hands of those hyenas? No thanks, Kooks. I get enough of that. You should know how it is."

"My name's Allison."

"My condolences," He replied sarcastically, making a motion with his hand. "Let me tell ya somethin': Girls like her don't end up with guys like me. It's not somethin' I can even hope for."

"Why not?"

"It's not the status quo, Weirdo," John said simply and Allison was starting to think the nicknames were terms of endearment while still being vexatious. "Her parents would never approve—let alone her friends. She's gonna slum it with me in secret for a couple weeks until she finds something better or things blow out of proportion. They always stick to their kind in the end."

"You don't even know her," Allison responded softly. "She could be different."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Look, just because things are goin' swell for you and Sporto, doesn't mean it'll be the same for me."

"Nothing's going on between me and Andy." She denied quickly.

"How cute, you guys are on a nickname basis!" He said, sticking his index finger in his mouth. "Gag me."

"I mean it." She deadpanned. "There's nothing going on."

"Yeah, sure," John rolled his eyes elaborately. "Let me tell ya how many times I've socked my best bud in the face for talkin' shit about my girlfriend—"

"You don't have girlfriends."

"—and hold hands with them while I walk them down the halls—"

"Because you don't."

"—Not that you know of, but that's besides the point I'm tryna make." He flicked his hair out of his face.

"There's nothing going on between him and me."

"Whatever you say," John sighed, exasperated. "I guess I'll be expectin' Sporto in detention, then?"

"I think so." Allison decided she was done inking, leaving it open on her crossed legs for it to dry. "Hey, John? Sometimes you have to take a risk. And sometimes, the risk is worth it in the end."

John didn't say anything but Allison didn't miss the very miniscule clench of his jaw.

John didn't have girlfriends but Allison couldn't count on two hands the amount of times he had his tongue down another girls' throat. He went through girls the same way Allison went through sketch pads. Maybe it was some kind of defense on his part, one she didn't understand.

He shot up right after, careful to avoid hitting his head. "This chat was nice and all, but it's time to be on my way."

"Bye."

He turned around and pointed, walking backwards. "This stays between us, got it?"

Allison nodded with a slight quirk of her lip.

Friday afternoon came quickly and Andrew was waiting for her at their usual meet up spot. His brows furrowed, taking in John by her side with an expression she didn't like.

"Later, Kooks." John announced, looking over his shoulder as he stomped down the steps. "See ya Monday!"

Allison gave him the peace sign as a goodbye.

"Hey," Andrew acknowledged but looked behind him, watching John saunter to the parking lot to meet up with a couple of his buddies and smoke. "So, you know Bender? Since when?"

"I have him for English. We've been hanging out since Wednesday…" She paused, still swimming in unfamiliar waters. "I guess he's a friend, too."

Andrew took her by the waist, gently guiding Allison down the stairs. She still wasn't sure to feel about this close proximity. John said multiple times that Andrew clearly liked her—he mentioned something about riding a hobby horse—but Allison didn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. Andrew was just a friend.

"Bender's nothing but trouble."

"How do you know?"

Andrew retracted his arm, fixing the strap of his book bag. "I've heard a lot of rumors about him, that's all. I have him for Home Ec but he's rarely there."

"Does that mean you believe the rumors about me?" Allison asked, keeping her tone neutral. "What everyone says about me?"

"Of course not!" He denied hotly, opening the passenger door for her but she didn't get in. "You're awesome! And really funny, and—"

It slipped out before she could stop it. "He's not so different from me, Sporto."

Andrew's eyebrows flew up at the nickname. "Whoa, okay. Sorry. I, uh, didn't think you liked him that way."

"I don't. He's a friend," She hopped inside. "You know, you'd probably like him, if you get to know him."

His lip curled in complete disgust and he snorted loudly. "There's no way in hell that guy and I will ever get along."