"C'mon, pull it together!

Andrew Clark's dad was lecturing him for not paying attention during practice. He wasn't the only one who had noticed, the whole team had. Andy was trying, he really was, but as he got knocked out of the ring for the 4th time in the day, even he could appreciate being called out for playing so poorly. The truth was, like John and like Claire, his mind was distracted by all that had happened during the week. He hadn't spoken to Allison properly in a couple of days as they had both been busy with their respective lives, but every time they passed each other in the hallway-which was a rarity-they would exchange smiles and he was noticing that she was looking more and more radiant as the week went on.

The closest they got to a conversation was on Tuesday, when he had stopped right in front of her locker while she was putting away some of the contents of her bag. That surprised him, because he knew that she always carried around all of belongings as a 'just in case'. He had been about to ask her what she was doing, and had already begun by saying hi, when his words got stuck in his mouth and he froze, and was found by his friends just in time to pull him away from Allison and away from his opportunity. He had been kicking himself ever since.

It seemed as though, since then at least, that the girl had been avoiding him. He hadn't seen or heard from her in any way, and if he asked Claire about her she would just stare at him blankly. He knew deep down that she honestly didn't care as much for Allison as she tried to make herself and everyone else believe. He figured it might even be harder for both of them than for anyone else, being that they were both girls in a very judgmental high school. In fact, they seemed to bicker whenever they were around each other. Andrew just put it down to the fact they were girls, and that was what he was always told girls do.

But what did he honestly know about girls? The correct answer to that would be nothing. He was far from the playboy jock stereotype that was forced upon him and his friends. The rest of the school kind of expected it of them; they were in excellent shape, decent looking, hot-blooded males who enjoyed beers at the weekend and women on the side. It was out of the ordinary for someone like him to get nervous and not know how to deal with girls; even worse if they didn't know how to talk to them, which was Andy's true dilemma. He was still thinking about freezing up in front of Allison earlier in the week. He wanted so badly to be cool around her, to reek of the effortlessness of it like she did to him, because she never seemed nervous when he was around. For the first time he wanted to be more like his friends, the ones that could have any girl they wanted while still being able to devote their whole attention to their game when it was needed. That was something Andy couldn't quite get the hang of.

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, and his dad grunted at him, then walked off.

His lecture was the same every time, no matter how hard Andy tried. Unless he played perfectly, he wasn't a winner to his father. He was never good enough for him.

He opened his eyes again to watch his father walk away, and he could feel a glare growing on his face as he truly felt like he was on the verge of being done with the bullying every single practice. His fists clenched and he quickly excused himself from the ring to sit down and 'cool off' for a few minutes.

The brief time the athletes were given to relax themselves was always a godsend, and at this moment Andy felt like he'd never needed anything more in his life.

From the time he had arrived at the gym, up until now, his mind was on what he would say to Allison the next time he saw her. He vowed to walk up to her, in the middle of the hallway for all to see, and he wouldn't forget his words this time. They were so well-rehearsed in his mind-he had been practising them every time he was pushed out of the ring-and he knew they were good, enough so that he was satisfied. He had the idea that he might just run up to her and kiss her the next time they were in the same room, but even he knew he didn't have enough confidence to pull that one off. He tried to hide it and play it off, but deep down he wasn't a cocky and confident guy, like all of his friends. He was Andrew Clark, and he was scared.

He was scared of messing up again, in case his dad scolded him for it. His father had never hit him physically, but he could pack a punch verbally with some of the things he had said to him in the past, and deprived him of. It didn't sound like much to many people, and almost might seem quite pathetic to some, but on a few occasions Andrew had been forbidden to leave the house for a week, apart from school and practice, and the whole ordeal always made him want to rip his own hair out.

He was scared of talking to a girl. Just a standard girl who probably thought he was a complete fool for the way he acted around her. It hadn't always been like that, though he had always shown interest in her. It was just recently she set him on edge, since he got to know about her home life. It wasn't that he was worried about her, more that he was worried about himself. To get in with someone like that would be like diving in at the deep end. Both of them would have more to deal with than they did already. Since he had realised that, only very recently, he had been scared.

He was scared of the thoughts he had of just quitting these things all together and pushing everything away from himself. He would be lying if he tried to claim that he'd never considered giving up wrestling. On the contrary, it was something that he thought of every week when practice got exceptionally tough, or he lost a meet and let everyone down. He had a lot riding on his shoulders, and everyone made sure to make him aware of that, which was exactly why he knew he couldn't just give it up. If he did, he'd lose his friends, his status, his relationship with his father, his hobby, his ride to college, and perhaps most importantly: himself. What was he without the wrestling title? Who cared about Andrew Clark if he wasn't the school's champion?

He couldn't quit, and he couldn't become so distracted by Allison.

As he entered the ring again, he shoved it all to the back of his mind. He forgot about his father's tense words and the worries he had about his future in wrestling, and focused completely on shoving the guy in front of him out of the ring as quickly as he could. He even tried to get rid of the thoughts of the girl who was haunting him, pretending she simply didn't exist just for five minutes.

But then Andy was on the floor in minutes and called out for the rest of the session, having lost too many times, and his dad was already on his way over to give him a piece of his mind all over again.

This was going to cause a problem.

John Bender didn't come to school for the rest of the week. Claire Standish had smirked and remarked to herself how true to his word he was when he told her she would see him around instead of tomorrow. Still, it had made her kind of sad for reasons she deemed incredibly stupid.

On Wednesday, Claire hitched a ride with her dad on his way to work and arrived at school on her own, free from her usual gaggle of girls. In a spur of the moment, total 'why the hell not' idea, she decided to hang around the front of the building to see if she could catch John, wondering if it would knock him off his guard to see her waiting there for him. She doubted he would walk right in through the front door-this was Bender, after all-but she kept her eyes peeled none the less. Ten minutes passed and she tried waiting around the side. And then around the back. Finally, she set on her way towards the field and the bleachers, to see if she could see him smoking under there. It made her think herself stupid; if John wanted to be seen smoking and skiving off lessons, he wouldn't hide right behind the back of the seats, but she tried to look for him anyway.

The bell rang and she waited as long as she could, but he was a no show. Claire walked into her first period that day with her cheeks burning the color of her hair; red, with embarrassment.

She wanted to save herself the disappointment of looking for him on Thursday only for him to ditch again, but when her father offered her a ride again and she decided to take it, Claire couldn't help but delay going into the building as long as she could. She found herself cursing at her stupid timetable, angry that she was in no classes with John and their lockers were presumably far away from each other, because she never saw him in the hall.

By Friday, she stopped blaming her timetable, and blamed it on John. It was almost a week since they had met, and already he was blowing her off because he obviously had something so much better to do with his time than see her. It all made her feel so stupid and worked up. Stupid because she was assuming he would know she was looking for him, and worked up because he should know she would be looking for him. It wasn't like she went around making out with guys in fields and then never seeing them again. If he knew her at all, which she doubted now, he would expect nothing less than for her to at least look out for him around the school. She thought she had proved to him by now that she wasn't going to just ignore him. But now it was a role reversal, because she felt like he was ignoring her.

By Friday lunch time, after watching Andy storm past her right up to Allison in the middle of the hallway and begin a conversation in front of everyone, Claire decided to take matters into her own hands. In a matter of 10 minutes she had excused herself from her friends, dumped her lunch in the trash, and marched out to the field all the way to the bleachers. She knew instinctively where she was going, though it was only because John had shown her days before. As she walked, Claire attempted to hold her head high and keep her brow furrowed as an attempt to show her disapproval of Bender's actions on her face, but when she turned the corner and was faced with the group of teens a few steps away from her, she tensed up. She really hadn't thought this through.

Before she could turn back, though, Scissors looked up at her and lifted his hand to wave. She waved back, and gulped in her dry mouth, then walked forward.

It was all wrong. There was Scissors and Weaver sitting together helping each other roll a suspicious looking cigarette, and a long haired boy sitting next to a blonde girl who looked just as dirty and dishevelled as all of the guys did. Claire bit her lip, expecting to see John's face looking at her when the boy turned his head, but when he did Claire saw that it was Bates. John wasn't sat with them and, upon glancing around quickly, Claire couldn't see him anywhere.

"What do you want?" the blonde girl suddenly spoke up, glaring up at Claire and interrupting Claire's thoughts abruptly. The usually defiant and catty girl suddenly felt very small and very alone without John standing beside her or sitting next to her.

"Chill out, Kim, Standish is cool," Scissors said, nodding his head at Claire as a sort of reassurance of said coolness, then going back to focusing on what he and Weaver were doing. Claire smiled briefly at him, then looked back at the girl, who she assumed now was called Kim.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Claire Standish," she said, holding out a hand to the girl, who looked at it as if it was covered in filth. Claire put her hand away, and made a mental note that the burners didn't like that sort of greeting.

"Kim. And, may I ask, Miss Standish," Kim began, imitating Claire's much higher voice, "what you are doing here? Whatever would your mommy say if she saw you with us!"

Claire's eyes narrowed instinctively. "I'm looking for John. Bender. I haven't seen him since Monday." Scissors, Weaver and Bates shared a look, but didn't say anything.

"Why should we tell you? Are you his new plaything?" Kim asked, raising her eyebrows and smirking at Claire, as if a title like that suddenly reduced her.

"Don't make me throw up."

Kim got up from the ground and walked over to Claire, and she noted her attire. Torn, baggy blue jeans, a dark t-shirt and duffel coat. Her long blonde hair was shiny at the ends, but knatted at the top where Claire assumed Kim had attempted to backcomb it to add to her messy look. If she had met her on any other day, Claire wouldn't have even wasted her time on a girl like her, but she didn't want to be that sort of person anymore. Especially if this girl was one of John's friends.

"What's wrong with that? I was his plaything once. Oh, we had a great time together, me and him," Kim said, and Claire felt herself pale as she frantically searched her mind to remember if Kim's picture had been in John's wallet.

"Shut up, Kim, stop being a bitch," Bates said from the floor, "don't listen to her, Standish. She wishes Bender would take notice of her." Kim looked back at Bates, glaring at him, and nudged him with her foot. Then she looked back at Claire and looked her up and down. Quite frankly, Claire had seen enough.

"Well, thank you all for your time. Good bye." Claire looked at them all once more, then turned and walked away as quickly as she could without jogging or running.

Nobody had seen John, and now Kim was involved in the whole thing. If she hadn't known any better, she would've called what she was feeling right now jealousy. But she was the Claire Standish, and she had kissed John's lips twice and she knew he had enjoyed it as much as she had. What was there to be jealous of?

On Friday night, Allison's sister came home from college to visit, and their mother insisted on the family eating their dinner at the kitchen's dining table for the first time in two years. Allison was made to set it out while her mother prepared the food, her father got changed from work, and her sister lazed on the sofa to recover from what her mom classed as a 'long drive', if you could really call an hour-long car drive that. Despite both being in the kitchen together at the same time, Allison never spoke to her mom. She never spoke to her dad when he arrived home, and when her sister, Jennifer, walked in the front door she just about managed a smile. Her family didn't expect or want anything more from her, so she got away from it.

Allison used her brief solitude before dinner to leave herself alone with her thoughts for a while.

It had been a strange and confusing week for her. As it had gone on, she found herself digging deeper into the back of her closet to find more interesting and colourful clothing for herself to wear to school, as opposed to the same all black every day. Today she had even worn a pair of blue jeans that her mom had bought her three years ago. They were a tight squeeze because she'd grown since then, but that was the last thing she had cared about. She dressed them with a deep purple blouse and pulled her hair back into a black scrunchie, something that made her feel quite out of her comfort zone. When she walked downstairs dressed like this that same morning and waited for one of her parents to give her a ride to school, neither of them noticed her change in clothing. She didn't know what she had honestly expected, but she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

Brian and Andy were the only ones who noticed it, like always. Over the week Allison had found herself moving more and more towards Brian and his friends, realising that she actually enjoyed the company of having a crowd to hang around with. It sucked that there were all boys, although she'd never admit to wanting a girlfriend, but they didn't seem to mind her occasionally butting in their conversations and her following them around. She realised she relished in having somewhere cemented to sit in her free time, because it gave her somewhere to always be. It also gave her an excellent view of the jock table and, more importantly, Andrew sitting at it.

He had approached her earlier in the day and completely surprised her, which was the last thing she ever expected him to do. She had been stood at her locker, assessing the situation of what books she would need for the rest of the day, and what could be put away to make her bag less heavy, when she felt like someone was standing behind her. Before she could even turn to see who it was, that person had said 'hey' and she instantly knew it was Andy.

She had turned to him, and said the same back. Then he'd looked her up and down in a very noticeable fashion, causing her to glare at him. But then he spoke, and all his words came out at once as if he had been holding them all in since Monday. He told her that he liked how she looked today and every day of the week, and he was sorry that he got dragged away the other day by his friends, and he thought they were a bunch of idiots, and he thought he was an idiot as well, and he couldn't hack going to practice next Thursday, and he was wondering if she wanted to do something with him instead. At the end of it all, he let out a deep breath, and his cheeks flushed a shade of pink.

Allison had smiled, and told him to meet her in front of the school instead of going to his practice. Then she shut her locker, gave him one last look, and stalked off down the hallway in a complete Allison fashion. With her back turned away from him, she didn't get to see how big the smile on Andrew Clark's face was as he watched her go.

Once the food-a simple enough pasta bake-was ready, the Reynold's family sat down at the table and began to eat.

It was a well known fact that conversations in the family only flowed when Jennifer was around. Maybe it was because both of their parents had jobs and were constantly busy with work, only stopping when their eldest daughter visited home, but Allison always swore that Jennifer was their favorite.

If she had a group of close friends, perhaps she would tell them she was adopted, to save the awkward questions of asking why things were this way. Allison didn't know. It was just the way they had always been.

She dug into the pasta bake, chewing away despite its singed taste, and paid little attention to her sister talking about college. She had been lucky enough to get a scholarship for music, which had truly been a huge help to the family. The Reynolds' weren't exactly poor, and with both parents working in the big city they were essentially very middle class. But Jennifer's essentially free trip to school helped them keep their funds in tact.

Allison wasn't going to get a music scholarship, or a scholarship of any kind. She had already prepared herself for the awkward conversation she had coming when her parents would try to explain to her why Jennifer could go to college, but she could not. Sometimes she could kid herself into not caring. Whenever Jennifer came home to visit-which was every time she broke up with her on-off boyfriend-Allison despised the stories she told of preps and parties and everything in between that.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she wasn't going to college. Since leaving home, Jennifer had essentially sold her soul to fashion and hair dye, and this month she was sporting a blonde perm; a far cry from the Reynolds' natural brunette hair.

Allison had just shoved a huge forkful of pasta into her mouth when she noticed Jennifer watching her, an expression of disgust and bemusement on her face. Allison ate the food in her mouth slowly, then gulped it down, letting out an 'ah' when it was gone.

"Can't you eat normally?" Jennifer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am," Allison replied. Jennifer pulled a face, then gently put her fork into a piece of pasta and cut into the cheese. She lifted the fork to her mouth and slowly ate the one piece of pasta while looking at her younger sister the whole time. Allison stuck her tongue out at her, and Jennifer rolled her eyes.

"Girls…" Mrs. Reynolds looked at them both, her face stern.

"Sorry, mom, I just don't know why Allison is so hostile! You'd think she'd be nicer because I'm not here all the time…"

"Jennifer, you're here most weekends now. You come home all the time, it's not a special occasion."

"Allison! I only come home more often because I'm having relationship problems with Robbie! Last week he told me he wanted to take a break, and I'm just not in a good place right now. You know it's a sore subject for me!" Jennifer looked from Allison to her mom, a desperate look on her face, and right on cue Mrs. Reynolds turned to Allison.

"Allison, don't upset your sister and don't ruin dinner. Jennifer, you know your father and I are happy to have you home at any time. You can take as long as you want." Mrs. Reynolds placed her hand over Jennifer's, and Allison narrowed her eyes at them both.

"It's okay. Allison obviously just doesn't understand what romantic relationships are like to deal with, because she's never had one and probably never will," Jennifer retorted, looking down at her food and avoiding Allison's icy stare. The younger girl looked over at her mother, who didn't look back, and then her father, who was too busy eating, and then back at her sister. She always brought out the worst in her.

"I do know what a romantic relationship is like," she said, before she could stop herself. It was only half a lie. Jennifer snorted, but both of her parents finally looked at her.

"How's that?"

"Because I'm in one. I have a boyfriend."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. He's really cool, but you'd hate him. He's definitely not your type."

"Well, what's he like then?" Jennifer asked out of general curiosity. Allison knew now that she couldn't describe Andy, because he wasn't someone that would shock her parents enough if she brought him home. She looked around at all of the eyes on her, and bit her lip before speaking again.

"Well… he smokes. Loads. And drinks. Tons. He was held back a few years so he's older, and he's into rock music." All lies.

"I don't like the sound of this boy, Allison," her dad chimed in, preventing her from carrying on with her description and digging herself a deeper hole. At this point her mother had lost the color in her cheeks, and Allison was getting a sick enjoyment from it.

"Well, I don't believe her," Jennifer said, putting her knife and fork down on her plate and wiping her mouth, "What's his name? Full name."

Allison glanced around the table, her mouth agape. She knew the question was coming, but she hadn't been prepared for it. She hadn't been prepared for any of it. She couldn't exactly tell them it was Andy, because what if he were to turn up to her house to see her one day and make her look like a complete liar? Which she was, but that was beside the point. She also never wanted Andrew to see her home, but that was also irrelevant. She just never wanted her sister to win in their stupid sibling rivalry. Allison had to think of a quick solution, and fast.

So she said the first name that popped into her head.

"John Bender."

And cemented herself even further as a big, fat liar, in a very deep hole that she had dug completely by herself.