"Youth Novels"
Chapter Two
John was not a patient person. He'd always twitch or hum or drum his fingers on a desk whenever things got too tight. Reinette liked to tell people he had ADD. She told everyone that, told so many people the Student Counsellor eventually sent him to some shrink who specialised in child psychology. Said they wanted to test him to see if there were any underlining issues affecting his "performance". It was probably the only test John had ever aced in his life. He'd made damn sure to ace it. It wasn't him who was wrong.
That morning patience no longer existed. John was bored and agitated. The remainder of the drive to school was setting his teeth on edge and it was all Claire's fault. Not that it was right to blame her for everything but it was easy and John was getting half pissed at her just thinking about all the things she'd said on Saturday. He wanted her, damn did he ever but she'd just had to go and say how things were going to go down on Monday. The earring made him think she wouldn't flake. He hoped she wouldn't. Maybe it was because she was like the apple in the Garden of Eden but he wanted her so bad it was making him doubt everything. Girls like Claire Standish didn't get with guys like him because they liked them, John knew that. They got with them because they had something to prove to their parents and to their upper crust white bred world. He'd run with her for as long as it lasted but he couldn't help but hope she wouldn't be so shallow as to use him without giving him something back.
"What's the matter, Bender? You've gone all quiet."
John smacked himself mentally. It didn't matter how stoned Garth got, he was always perceptive little shit when it came to picking up people's moods. The guy had this in built sonar that would trigger every time something was up. It annoyed the hell outta John.
"Blood problems."
There was an 'ah' of understanding. John made damn sure to avoid looking at Brian. The kid had loosened up again and was talking animatedly to Duncan but every now and then, he'd glance John's way.
So John talked. He laughed at Brian's science project. He called Duncan a Neo-Nazi scumhead just to piss him off and persuaded Garth to spell 'onomatopoeia' backwards ─ which was good for kicks because Garth was so high he couldn't make it past the first two letters without spelling out an entirely different word. They talked about what classes to skip, about who wanted to weed and what teachers were dicks. They didn't talk about Arnie or Senior or the eight detentions waiting for John. They didn't talk about the flare gun in Brian's locker. They didn't talk about Claire. John was relieved.
Despite all his efforts though, he felt himself slipping back into silence when they hit the traffic lights. He couldn't help it. Shermer High was only a few more minutes away and John's fancies were caught somewhere between turning the van around to safety and driving it up along the sidewalk, overtaking the traffic in front of him, pedal to the floor.
What he really wanted was a distraction to take the edge off. All the waiting around for the beginning to begin was driving him stark crazy. If he'd been bothered, he could have found one in the cigarette packet on the dashboard or in Garth's submarine bong or even in the pain running up his side. None of it appealed to him however; he wanted to get out from inside of himself.
He looked around and caught sight of a young professional busy flicking through his planner in the Jag beside him and decided that would have to do. Yuppies annoyed him, especially ones in paisley ties. They were always running around Shermer, acting like they were big wigs when in actuality they were just a crowd of sheep. Rolling down the window with one hand, John reached over and grabbed the abandoned half-eaten burger wrapped in a greasy wrapper from the dashboard. It had been sitting there for two weeks courtesy of Duncan. For all his highbrow vegetarian beliefs, Duncan always got a real hankering for meat whenever he got drunk. He'd always get halfway through it and then remember he was a vegetarian. Sometimes John would finish the rest of it but he'd left this one for whatever reason and now he was thankful he did. There was mould and the lettuce had gone squishy. Smirking to himself, he hurled it at the driver's window.
Thwack!
The man jumped, flushed and rolled down the glass but the lights had gone green and John was already speeding, hollering away on the guitar solo on Children of the Damned.
"He's still shouting!" Duncan was half on top of Brian and his box, his head stuck out the window. "SUCK ON MOULD YUPPIE SCUM!" he roared. John grinned.
"What did he do to you, man?" Garth was talking. He'd sparked up a blunt after John yelled at him about the stench of burning glue coming from the submarine. The scent of weed wafting through the van was so strong that John knew a sniffer dog would be able to smell it through the metal about thirty miles away. "That guy's just tryna exist same as everyone else."
"It's not existing if your heart's already dead, Garth," John hated stoned Garth sometimes although stoned Garth was marginally better than sober Garth. Sober Garth was a drag.
From behind Duncan's revolted face, Brian was smiling knowingly. He was probably thinking of Allison. John hadn't said it cause of Allison. Allison didn't know what she was talking about.
"That's such a homo thing to say," mustered Duncan eventually.
"Everything sounds homo to your homo ears, faggot," John added for good measure.
"You know Allison stole my wallet on Saturday?" Brian said abruptly. He was trying to bring her up casually ─ the little bastard. "She gave it back after she told me my social security number."
John frowned. "She's fucking nuts."
"Who's Allison?" asked Duncan.
"Our friend. She's kinda crazy. Right John?"
But John wasn't listening anymore. He saw her, sitting in the front passenger seat of a white jeep behind them. The sight of her nearly threw his entire body from the driver's seat. He'd thought a lot about what he was going to do when he saw Claire. The thing was John was no longer thinking, he was seeing. There she was all gorgeous plump lips and red hair in his rear view mirror and all he could do was stare transfixed.
She looked beautiful… she also looked extremely upset. Even in the mirror he could see the wet trails shining on her cheeks. She blinked and stared into space, the same way she did when he asked her where she got her earrings and if she'd paid for them and if she'd got them as a Christmas present. It was like she was trying to drown out the world. Shayne Shrewsbury was whaling on her in the driver's seat.
John had never liked Shayne, now he disliked her even more. She was one of those preppy newspaper bitches who walked around with a pad and pen in hand, asking the rich and the beautiful their opinion on HIV or the impending invasion of the USSR or informing everyone what lunches the cheerleader team were eating ─ Garth always read the school paper and he'd told John that the 'what I eat for lunch' section was always dominated by cheerleaders even though everybody at Shermer knew about half of the team were bulimic. It was a pretty sick joke on Shrewsbury's part now that he thought about it.
It was probably for that reason John felt himself becoming annoyed at the way her hand repeatedly cut through the air. Claire was refusing to look at her. She looked even more upset than she'd been when she'd told him she hated him.
"Hey Brian?" he asked suddenly, an idea forming in his head at the low hanging branches up ahead. "Have you ever driven before?"
"I've… Just my Dad's fishing boat," was the low, embarrassed reply.
John sat there for a moment, silent. Thoughts of homework and lockers and F grades circled his head. He slowly turned to stare at him.
"You are joking me."
Brian was bright red. "I've never done my homework on it before though."
"You're Dad makes you do your homework when you go on family trips?" Duncan sounded scandalised. "Fuckin' hell man! Do you ever catch a break?"
"He doesn't, that's the point," John replied for him. He glanced in the rear view mirror once again; they were still fighting. "Fishing boat is good enough. Duncan swap."
It was all elbows and knees for a moment as Duncan climbed over the box and the boy and shoved him into his seat. Brian didn't move a muscle. He merely let himself be herded along like a sheep. From his expression John could tell that he would not resist but nor was he going to actively concede to whatever insanity John was concocting. His eyes went wide when John stopped the van abruptly in the middle of the road. Car horns blared, he ignored them. The on-coming traffic was too heavy for anyone to overtake or go into the next lane. Shayne was swearing at his vehicle in the rear view mirror. It made him grin with smug satisfaction.
"Bender stopping suddenly like that in the middle of the road is probably considered a traffic violation," began Brian with concern.
John arched an eyebrow. "Young man, are you trying to tell a licensed driver the rules of the road?"
"Uh-"
Grabbing the box from Brian's hands, John dumped it on Duncan's lap with a warning look not to screw with it. He was pretty certain Duncan wouldn't. From the looks of it, he'd finally developed a fondness for the nerd. Fondness however wasn't much to go by as far as he and Duncan were concerned. They both liked Garth well enough but they also liked picking on him too. They picked on him so bad sometimes that John almost felt bad for him.
As John began to shift his feet up onto the driver's seat, he issued instructions to Brian. "You gotta take it off the clutch before you can start moving. Just pull it up by pushing down the button as you lift it. Brake pedal is your left, accelerator is your right. Don't slam your foot down on it. Put both hands on the wheel and keep in a straight line."
Brian looked terrified. His hands were gripped to the steering wheel for dear life. "I don't know how to drive!" he whimpered.
John waved it off. "It's either you or Volbeck and he looks like he's been at the toilet cleaner this morning." There was a dim muffle of 'get bent' from the back mattress.
"What about Duncan?" Brian was staring at the skinhead desperately.
"He's not allowed to drive my van," said John.
"I'm not allowed to drive his van," repeated Duncan. He was pretending not to notice Brian's discomfort as he poked through the box again. Opening the lids and re-smelling them for some bizarre reason.
"Under any circumstance," John went on.
"Even in an emergency," added the skinhead.
"But I don't get why I have to drive! Why can't you drive your own van?" demanded Brian. "I'll crash it! I don't even know where the indicators are!"
"One's on the left and the other's on the right," replied John and Brian glared at him sourly. "And one more thing; if you crash it, I'll fucking kill you." Then John popped his head out the window. There was a lane of cars tailing back about fifty yards. People were screaming over the beeping horns, their heads sticking out their windows in red faced fury. John relished the sound. It was a million times better throwing a hundred rotten burgers at a yuppie's car.
As he grappled with the metal surface, his side sang with pain and his shoulder knotted. John ignored it and gripped the plastic roof bars, pushing his feet against the bottom of the open window; he hoisted himself up, left knee first and then the right up onto the top of the van. From up there everyone looked like a mound of pissed off fire ants.
"MOVE IT DICKHEAD!" roared a voice over the blaring din.
John stood up, spreading his arms wide, legs hip width apart and knees slightly bent. He refused to look back at Claire. If he did, she'd know that he was only trying to get her attention and that would be lame.
"Crank up the volume and put the pedal to the floor, Big B!" he banged his foot on the roof.
"This is a very bad idea!" Brian shouted up at him. "There's branches up ahead!"
John laughed. "I know!"
"ROCK 'N' ROLL, BENDER!" Duncan was sitting halfway out the window, hand raised in a rock salute. Gone was Iron Maiden. From the sound of the music coming from the windows, Duncan had gotten a hold of his Venom cassette. John flipped him the bird.
The van rolled forward as Brian jumped into action under John and Duncan's furious instructions. Gradually it picked up speed. Brian wasn't the worst for a first time driver, he was slow and kept swerving from side to side making it damn near impossible for any motorbikes to overtake. People were really angry now. Some guy five cars back was screaming about calling the cops. John was laughing. It felt good to be up there on top. It was damn hilarious how they got worked up over nothing.
As the van approached the first of the hanging branches, John took out a cigarette, lit it with a match and put it in his mouth before lazily reaching up his arms to grab on. He held on for ten seconds, until the van had passed fully underneath him and his arms felt like they were going to pop from their sockets. Then he dropped, right in front of Shayne Shrewsbury's car like a cat.
"WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE?!" screamed the girl as she slammed on the breaks.
A shock of pain jolted upwards through John's muscles and bruised tissue from his feet. He shook it off, swept down to pick up his fallen sunglasses. He hoped Claire hadn't noticed the black eye. Putting them on, he took a drag from his cigarette and turned to face the jeep, casual as you please. Claire was shaking her head in exasperated disbelief but she was smiling. She looked her best when she smiled.
Jaws dropped however when he jumped into the back seat beside the hot blonde. He settled back in a cloud of cigarette smoke. "Step on it, Curly. We don't wanna miss your chance to write up what lunches the cheerleading team will be regurgitating before practise."
John smirked. Shayne was staring at him like he was some shit covered dog who'd just rolled himself all over her brand new cream carpet. He flicked the ash on the floor deliberately. Her eyes narrowed.
"Who gave you permission to get into my car?"
"Can't be helped, someone's driving mine," he replied before turning his attention to Claire. Her dark eyes sparkling like moon light on the water.
"Forget your pencil?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Something like that."
Claire was biting down on her bottom lip. John swallowed. How he was supposed to begin this one he wasn't quite sure.
"I'm overseeing Brian's first driving lesson if you must know." He nodded to the swerving van. "Gotta make sure he keeps in a straight line. Very important. So far he is failing abysmally."
Claire giggled. "Brian's driving?" She'd turned fully in her seat to face him. "Has he ever driven before in his life?"
"He assures me that he's had some previous experience steering his Dad's fishing boat-" Claire grimaced and he shrugged out an 'I know'. He wasn't proud at all that he'd guessed the truth. "Relax, I've told him if he crashes, I'm gonna shove a flare gun were the sun don't shine."
Claire fought against it admirably but her traitorous lips trembled and the sides of her mouth split apart in a wide grin as the real Claire shone through. Although he'd called her a bitch for it, John could respect her little cruelties for what they were. They rendered her more human, more like him.
"You are such a jerk!"
"Hey! Who was it that laughed when she first heard Larry Lester's buns got taped together? Hmm?"
"Pfft! That actually happened to someone?!" scoffed the blonde. Carrie or Caroline or something like that was her name? John wasn't sure. He knew her to see, she was a cheerleader. He'd seen her in her pompoms wrapped around Jake Ryan plenty of times like a damp cock sock.
"It's not funny, Caroline!" Claire scolded severely. "It really hurt the guy. He ended up having a whole pile of hair and skin ripped off when they took off the tape. It was really bad."
"You laughed too as I recall," John pointed out. "Snorted actually."
"And immediately I felt terrible afterwards!"
"Claire's right, it isn't funny," interjected Shayne. She glanced at John with disgust. "Did you do that to that Larry guy?"
"I didn't," he replied. "But I know the guy who did."
John wondered what she would say if he told her it was Andrew who'd done it. She'd probably have a meltdown but he wouldn't rat out Sporto, it wasn't his style. Shayne turned her attention back to road and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'It figures' under her breath.
"And by the way, I don't snort," Claire folded her arms. "Remember that."
He let it lie with Curly. He knew Claire wanted him to. She was warning him to with the look she was giving him.
"I heard it clear as day and it was terribly unladylike, Miss Standish," he tutted. "Whatever will the ladies at the Country Club say?"
"They'll be far too scandalised by the fact you're my boyfriend to care."
John rolled his tongue over his bottom teeth as his mouth fell slightly open. He hadn't been expecting that, and in front of her friends nonetheless. He was her boyfriend, not some guy she was playing around with. Claire was smiling coyly back at him but there was a shyness lightly dusted across her cheeks in a soft pink blush. They had Brian's failed suicide attempt to thank for this, he supposed.
"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.
Claire sighed. "I'm still grounded. My parents are in total Jekyll and Hyde mode right now. Now it's my Dad who's saying I can't go out," Then her eyes came alight with mischief. "I think it's because he didn't like the look of you."
"Then of course you gotta sneak out, Princess. Whaddyah say? Nine-?"
"Sorry to interrupt!" said Shayne, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. "But can you go and back to your van?! Your friend is holding up the traffic!"
"Great right?" John glanced up to where Brian was still snail crawling down the road. "Half the school's gonna be late at this rate."
"Maybe a bu-" she stopped herself. "Maybe you don't care about being late but Claire has to make an announcement about the bake sale that the student council are holding for Africa."
He turned to Claire. "A bake sale for Africa?"
"Don't!" she raised a warning finger. "Don't, John."
"Don't what?"
"Say whatever it is you are going to say."
"Claire, what can I possibly say other than do you not see the fucking irony? Promoting obesity in the name of starvation?"
"At least I'm doing something to make a difference! What are you doing?"
"Me? Why I provide the weed that will insure your customers are hungry enough to buy."
Beside him, Caroline burst into giggles and John decided that she wasn't half bad. She had a weird laugh though, sounded a bit like a hyena.
Even Claire smiled despite herself. "Thank you then for the support, John."
"No need to thank me, Princess," he grinned. "I'm sure it will be the bake sale to end world hunger once and for all."
"Thanks."
John knew from the frosty edge in her voice that he should quit while he was ahead but sometimes it was just too easy. "So did the live in chef do the baking?"
Claire's eyes flashed. "No, a group of us got together on Sunday and did it."
"Shopping for cookies and cakes doesn't count."
"Uggh! You are so condescending! I know how to bake and cook. I'll even prove it to you sometime. Now go and put Brian out of his misery, please," she added.
"You never answered my question."
"Well, since you were so rude about the bake sale, I'll think about answering it after you go and help Brian."
John exhaled another cloud of smoke, flicked the cigarette butt away. He held Claire's gaze. She said nothing. She refused to budge. Seconds later, her eyebrow arched in confusion. He could see her expression shift, becoming more and more self-conscious beneath his stare. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't a long kiss. He did have to go and stop Brian from really killing himself with his van after all. She kissed back harder than he expected, like she wanted him to stay. Her hand went to the back of his head and twisted in his hair and John broke their mouths and pulled away. She was staring at him, eyes dilated, her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth and the makings of another kiss. He could've kissed her a thousand times for the way she did that. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.
"Deal."
And with that he jumped out of the jeep and hurried down the road to where Brian was pushing dangerously close to ten miles per hour.
Later in the parking lot, after they'd sent Brian packing with his box and a dead arm for good luck, John stood against the van, selling baggies and listening to Duncan's gaggle of Sophomore minions yammer on and fucking Ray McCarthy talking about Police Academy ─ the dude always hung around for too long after he bought. Occasionally he glanced over to where Claire was on the other side of the parking lot. She was greeting friends. She had too many friends. It felt to John like she had hundreds of them. They were all bright and utterly shiny in the morning sun like plastic. He watched them hug and kiss cheeks and laugh in their chinos and diamonds and crisp polo shirts, all the while moving towards the front doors slower than Brian Johnson could drive.
Eventually her friend group whittled itself down to its usual foursome and broke away. Her eyes began to search the parking lot until eventually they fell on his. Shayne was muttering something in her ear like a goddamn shoulder angel. Claire ignored her. She smiled at him and lifted her hand to reveal a folded piece of paper held between her fingers. John pushed off the van. It wasn't too much of a hassle to meet her half way.
As he approached, her friends hurried towards the steps. Caroline nodded to him, she looked incredibly amused while Shayne glared and hurriedly whispered something to the other girl in their posse, Amanda Jones. John hadn't spoken to her since Elementary.
"Good luck with the cheerleader's lunches, Curly! Teenage bulimia is always riveting read!" he called after her. Shayne hurried on Caroline burst out barking in her wild dog laugh.
"You know, you're not making a very good impression on my friends," But Claire's smirk mirrored his own. Obviously she was still sore over whatever herself and Shayne had been arguing about.
John pulled his lips back in a half smile. "It's not problem she can't buy herself a sense of humour."
"I know she was being… She's just in a mood today. She-It doesn't matter," she dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
"Let me guess, she had an aneurism after I left?"
She bit down on her lip, closing the gap between them. "Kinda," she admitted. "Caroline's okay though with us dating ─ not that it matters what other people think or that I need their permission or anything," she added hurriedly in an effort to reassure him. "She thinks I'm crazy but she doesn't care really at all. She's kinda a bitch that way."
"But Shayne isn't?"
"Shayne's just..." she sucked in a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm like totally mad at her right now so I'd rather not talk about her. Here's my address," she handed the paper to him. "Wait for me at the bottom of the drive. I'll meet you at half nine. There shouldn't be any problem with me sneaking out. Dad's going to be out all night. There's a big company party being thrown to celebrate some deal they finished closing last week. And Mom… well, she was already drinking before I left this morning. If worst comes to worst, I can just ask her if I can go out and she'll say yes just to piss him off."
John could tell from her expression that she'd rather not ask. After all, where would be the fun in that? He took the piece of paper and put it carefully in the breast pocket of his denim jacket. "I'll make sure to bring the footmen."
She smiled, biting on the inside of her cheek. "You could try being a little nicer to my friends."
"You're not with me cause I'm nice to your friends, Sweets."
She rolled her eyes. "Why are you wearing sunglasses?" she asked then curiously.
"Eye protection against UV rays and all that."
"In March?"
He knew she was going see it if not now then later on tonight. It was one of the enviable things that she was going to see a lot of. Sometimes he came in beat up and that was just how it was. So when Claire reached up and gently removed the sunglasses, he didn't stop her. It was better to get the ugliness over and done with.
"Did he do that?" her voice was soft, sad. Much as he disliked her sadness, it looked good to see her in colour. Her red hair was like fire, illuminating the grey morning with its light.
"Yeah ─ Look, it's fine. It just looks bad," he found himself explaining. "It'll be gone in a day or two. It's already fading, see? I've had worse-" Claire's lips stopped him midsentence.
His body relaxed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her fingers in his hair. His hands went to her waist and up her back, clasping her towards him. Behind them, the boys stood up and took note. Whistling and cat calling soon followed. God, did he hate his friends.
"Fuck off!" John broke the kiss and spat at them before turning his attention back to her.
"What did you tell them?" Claire was staring at him accusingly.
"Nothing," he replied. "Honest! They had no idea I was on speaking terms with you until a minute ago when you came over. Give me some credit at least."
Claire arched an eyebrow, unimpressed but she didn't push him away.
"I'd bleach those lips afterwards if I were you!" called Ray. "He's got a wallet full of-Ow!" John turned with a snarl just in time to see Duncan smack Ray hard across the head.
"See that?" he gestured to Ray. "If I had said anything, I would've told them you already knew about that. …Honest to God," he added.
Claire stared at for him blankly. For a second he truly thought she was going to scream and shout and start kicking him but then her mouth slipped into a mischievous grin.
"God, you should see your expression right now. You look totally freaked."
"Oh, you bitch."
He didn't say it mean. Nevertheless she still blinked, a little take a-back. "That's a real nice thing to say to your girlfriend."
"I'm not a very nice person. And I've called you one before." He added.
"At least tell me you haven't still got all those girls' pictures?" she was staring deep into his eyes, waiting. John could see galaxies in there.
"Not anymore."
"Better not," she warned, putting his sunglasses back on his nose. She moved to leave but John wouldn't let go. "I've got to get to Home Room early, John."
"Ah yes, Africa," he recalled, capturing her lips again.
She was like liquid the way she'd surrendered into the kiss and him. The bell rang in the distance, John ignored it and so did she.
"CLAIRE!" shouted Shayne from the steps.
Claire broke away, a little flustered and dazed. Her red lips were bruised and swollen, her breath heavy in her throat. "I-" she stopped herself with a smile, a giddy giggle bursting from her mouth. "I gotta go."
"CLAIRE! C'MON!"
"JUST A SEC!" she called back before turning to John. "You have to let me go." She gestured to where his hands were still planted on her waist.
"But my hands are comfortable where they are. Do you know how hard it is to find a good waist to hip ratio these days? It's all these bake sales for Africa I'm telling you-"
"John!" she tried to sound severe but his name got caught in a shriek of surprise as he launched an attack of butterfly kisses across her face and neck. "John!" she protested, giggling. "I'm serious!"
"CLAIRE! OH MY GOD WOULD YOU STOP SUCKING FACE AND HURRY UP?!"
"Christ," John muttered, looking up. Curly was red faced and livid. "Does she let you out for walks often?"
"Stop," she shoved his shoulder lightly. "She's not that bad and I'm should go. I've got to go," she then reaffirmed. "She's only having a freak out because she's writing a huge newspaper article about starvation in the third world and what teens can do to help so the bake sale is of course included in that ─ You can admire my hip to waist ratio all you want later."
John ignored the dig. "Is that an invitation?"
Claire didn't reply. She broke away from him, coquettish little half smile playing on her lips. John stared after her as she rushed up the steps towards Shayne. A little voice in his head kept telling him that he was rushing into this; that girls like her didn't get with guys like him because they liked him. He didn't care. He didn't give a rat's ass about that at all any more. Then he walked back to his van and punched Ray McCarthy so hard in the stomach the boy bent double, wheezing and groaning.
"Lay it on me, Bender!" Duncan held up his hand for a congratulatory high five as the boy on the ground gasped for air. John took it. "How'd you swing that? She's got a rep for shooting guys down faster than a machine gun."
"We had Saturday detention together. Nothing like being trapped in a vacancy to get you acquainted with someone."
"So not only did you get high but you did it with Standish?!"
It took a moment but John did swallow his pride: it was one hell of a gulp. "We haven't done it yet," he corrected him. "She's into monogamy, dates nights and all that commitment shit. So I'd appreciate it if you'd all show a little more respect towards her cause she's gonna be a permanent fixture."
Duncan arched an eyebrow and pulled down the corners of his lips like a St. Bernard. "You're going steady? With her?"
"I am," John tried his best to sound casual. "What?" But he knew 'what'. They were all staring at him as though he'd suddenly started speaking in biblical tongues. "Look," he said, getting agitated. He licked his lips and swallowed. "She's never kissed a guy before me. Girls like her don't jump from a zero to a sixty-nine at the drop of a hat. It takes a little more effort."
"Oh man… you are whipped," said Duncan finally. "Someone call a doctor! Bender has finally been WHIPPED!" he shouted at the sky as his minions erupted in laughter.
John just let it wash over him. Screw them all. He'd gotten Claire Standish and he wasn't about to let his pride mess it up by doing something stupid like denying it ─ not unless she messed him around and even then he wasn't sure. She'd got him so messed up already he felt light and warm and a whole pile of other fuzzy stupid feelings he didn't know. God, how the mighty had fallen.
"Lay off, Dee. He is serious about her," Garth spoke up. "He even held up the traffic this morning just to talk to her that's how serious he is-" John could have knocked him out for telling everyone. "I think it's cool you dig her. I'll admit I had her pegged down as shallow like the rest of the richies she runs with."
"Claire's alright that's just her friends," he said before turning his attention back to the shower of bastards in front of him. "I suppose the best news about this for you dickheads is that now you might finally get a chance to score." A few smiles faltered. John took his wallet out of his back pocket and took out the offending item Claire was demanding he get rid of. He held it up to the group. "I was gonna make a donation of the Babe Book but now I'm thinking I might just burn-"
"Claire is smoking!" said Ray desperately. "You are at the very top of the high class pussy totem pole-"
"How does it feel to be the most envied guy in this school?" asked Duncan.
John tossed Duncan his much coveted collection of girls. The boy caught it with a grin and opened the plastic folds. John wasn't even sorry to see it go. It's not like any of the girls had liked him enough to care. Duncan was right, he really was whipped.
"I guess it falls to me to return each one of these to its owner ─ Telephone numbers are on the back, yes?" Duncan nodded to John with an air of self-importance. "Garth?"
He handed the boy what John instantly recognised as Lydia's photograph. John watched, trying to push back the guilt with a grin. Garth was going to be pissed as hell with him in a second.
"Why are you giving me a picture of Lydia?" Garth stared at it in confusion.
"Cause it was in Bender's Babe Book and I don't fuck friends' sisters."
Garth dropped it like he'd just been bitten. "Why'd you have her picture? I thought it was just that one time!" he demanded of John.
"She insisted that I take it as a memento," lied John.
Garth was glaring at him like he'd like nothing more than to rip out his intestines. He felt a little bad about it. It wasn't like he'd planned it. Lydia was hot and the first time he'd been drunk and she always made the first move so it wasn't his fault. She came on to everyone. Duncan was probably the only guy left who hadn't fucked her. She'd probably fuck her own brother given the chance.
"Yeah right!" spat the boy.
"Relax Volbeck, he won't be doing it with her again," grinned Duncan. "Bender has been laid low by Cupid's arrow. I might keep a hold of it though-" he picked it off the ground and began slipping it back in the plastic pocket. "In case I change my-"
"Gimme that!" Garth snatched it from him as they all laughed.
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The words that came from the mouths of Andrew's friends weren't bad or cruel but Allison watched their eyes. You could always tell when people were being phoney; the meaning behind the words didn't quite reach the whites. For the most part, they didn't speak to her. She was Andrew's girl and that was it; just another brod for an athlete to hang his Varsity Sweater on. Had she not been wearing a head band to hold back her hair and Andrew's blue hoodie and been as she was normally dressed, she would have raised a few eyebrows. They would've laughed their asses off at her just like Claire said.
She didn't quite know how to feel about it, standing at his locker surrounded by so many people as they talked about a world she didn't understand. Andrew kept squeezing her hand and asking her questions. He also kept glancing to his friends too, worried, waiting for them to say something but they were too busy talking about Stubby's party and the next meet and how brilliant Police Academy was. Allison decided she didn't like Andrew when he was like this. He was much better when he was on his own like on Sunday evening when they'd gone out for milkshakes together.
What she needed to do was to find the others. It wasn't good enough just moping around Andrew's friends. They weren't like her, they weren't like Andrew either but he played the part of the jock around them and she was cramping his style. He'd never say it of course but that was the truth.
When the bell for Home Room rang, she left him with the promise of lunch together and resolved herself to find the others. It wasn't until she entered the art room for second period that she realised what she really needed were her own group of friends, separate from Andrew and Claire and Brian and John. The four of them already had their own cliques. They all already fit in, she didn't. She had nowhere to hide but the wallpaper.
Friends were people with similar interests. She looked around. Art was her interest and the people in here liked art. At the table near the back sat one of John's friends, the Skinhead, he was busy carving something into the wood with a knife. Allison wondered what the boy would say if she sat down next to him and told him that she knew John. He'd probably call her a liar.
"Excuse me."
Allison turned, startled. A tall auburn haired boy smiled politely at her as he pushed past her, his sketchpad in his hand. Keith Nelson, her brain registered dimly.
"Hi," the word jumped out unbidden.
Keith looked surprised and Allison realised she must have sounded like a weirdo.
"Hi," he said back before making his way to his usual desk by the window. As he put down his sketchpad, the Skinhead looked up and snorted.
"Nice shiner."
"Thanks, you gave it to me," muttered Keith, not looking at him.
"Oh, you're very welcome," the Skinhead smiled vindictively. "I still stand by what I said. It's the truth, she's shit."
"You're free to your opinion."
Keith didn't say anything more, no matter how much the Skinhead goaded him. Allison decided that she was definitely not going to sit with John's friend but neither was she going to sit with Keith. His friends had arrived, a tall red haired girl in floral print and second hand lace and Ducky, the boy who was always talking too fast and too loud like he was about to collapse.
It was too crowed to make friends. Allison gave up and went to her usual seat by the window near the easels, alone.
Minutes ticked by, Miss Hoover was running late. Allison took out a pencil and began writing the Humpty Dumpty rhyme on the desk. 'Couldn't put Humpty together again…' She wondered if it was possible to be whole and yet have pieces missing. She was sure it was, sometimes she felt that way. When the door finally banged opened. Allison expected to see Miss Hoover in her beads and long shawl. It wasn't her.
"What are you guys doing here?" asked the Skinhead, bewildered.
John Bender was in the doorway, a red eyed boy with greasy, messy brown hair in a leather jacket standing by his elbow. The boy looked to the art.
"Wow, imagine being here on DMT, man. I like the head-" he pointed the abstract papier-mâché piece dangling from the ceiling, one eye three times bigger than the other. People ducked and looked away, afraid.
John pushed past him. "Don't bother getting up, Duncan," he told the Skinhead. "We're not here to see you ─ Young lady, I believe you have stolen property in your possession! Hand it over right this instant!" John announced in his best Vernon impression. Allison's eyes went wide. He'd been to his locker. How he knew though was a mystery.
"Do you know how fucking hard it was to find you?" John went on, stopping in front of her table. The red eyed boy sat down opposite her with a silent nod of acknowledgement. He smelled liked he'd been doused in cheap aftershave, probably to cover whatever it was that had made his eyes red. "-You're like a fucking ghost. We checked out nine different class rooms before we came here. Mr Tanner threw a black board eraser at my head ─ Missed too, the dumb fuck."
"Hey Bender! Check it out!" Duncan, the Skinhead was pointing to Keith proudly. The boy lowered his gaze and turned away, trying to make himself as small as possible.
"That's the guy?" John was staring at Keith. "Christ, no wonder you floored him so quick."
Allison glared. She didn't know what had happened but she didn't like the casual words of humiliation John was throwing around.
He shrugged at her expression. "Just making an observation? He's about the size and weight of a bean stalk hence why he got his ass handed to him─ I'm sure you will agree," he said to Keith before turning his attention back to her. "Lock?"
He hadn't changed at all.
"You don't deserve it."
"Did Sporto blow you off? Is that why you're being a colossal bitch? Cause I can make it that he never wrestles ─ no, never walks ever again."
At that, Allison thawed. He was still gruff, still pricklier than a hedgehog and probably the world's biggest asshole but he was, despite it all, still her friend.
"He didn't," she replied. "We went for ice cream yesterday…" Then her eyes narrowed. "How did you know I have your lock?"
"You're pissed cause I caught you out? Christ, you're weird," he shook his head as she frowned. "You're the only person in this entire school who knows they can steal from me and get away with it. If it were anyone else, I'd kill 'em."
"Bull-"
"And I know you have my knife too. I want that back, it's a family heirloom."
"-shit."
But it struck Allison that there was a slim possibility that John might be telling the truth. He'd seen her around before. He'd told her that. He knew she existed. He might have even seen her lifting something before. But then again, it was John.
"You and me should hit up the mall together sometime and see how many records we can fit into that bag of yours," he went on.
"I'm not a thief." She wasn't, she was a big dirty liar.
John didn't so much as bat an eyelid. "Well, I am so think of it like you'll be putting them in your bag my behalf."
"I don't have your knife. I threw it in a river." She hadn't. It was lying at the bottom of her bag.
"That was my dead brother's."
"That's a load."
"Alright, he ain't dead but I want it back. It's about the only thing one of my siblings has ever given to me."
"You're not getting it. You shouldn't have threatened Andy with it."
"So you didn't throw it in a river? Good to know. Also Sporto shouldn't have been being a dick. He tried to jump me, remember?"
"You were being the dick," she retorted. "You were harassing Claire."
"Well, Claire and I have since made up and out and now we're going steady so it's all water under the bridge. Ask anyone, we made out in front of the entire parking lot after I dropped Brian and his science fair project off to school," he finished.
"You were speaking to Brian?" Allison was surprised.
John gave her the biggest shit eating grin she had ever seen. He knew she hadn't been expecting that. "I also gave him his first cigarette and driving lesson this morning. We're the best of friends."
"He told you I took his wallet, didn't he?"
"Might have let it slip," he admitted.
She shook her head in distain for the small part of her that had believed him. John was really full of it, almost as full as she was. She suddenly became aware of the silence. She looked around. People were watching. The entire class were listening intently to their conversation for some reason. Allison wondered why. She'd never spoken to any of them before and none of them wanted to speak to her but now they were listening. They were probably listening just to hear how much of a freak she was.
"What the hell are you looking at?" John snarled and they quickly spun back around. "The nerve of some people-" Allison smiled crookedly. "So lock?"
"Say please."
"Say please," he mimicked.
That was close enough. Allison upended her bag on the table with a clatter. She'd taken out the clothes but she'd kept everything else; John's knife, his lock, Andrew's patch, candy bars, painkillers, rubber bands all wrapped up in a ball, a sewing kit, a kazoo, tea bags, sanitary pads and tampons, identity cards, a slinky and whatever else took her fancy. John snatched his knife and lock back before she had a chance to stop him.
"Don't fucking take them again," he warned before looking down at the chaos. "No room for the kitchen sink?"
Aftershave boy was shifting through the pile, picking things up to inspect before discarding them again. She didn't mind. It was just stuff. Duncan's curiosity got the better of him. He joined them at the table and picked up the identity cards.
"She's got more chicks than you," he told John as he flicked through them. "Does this one have a number?" he held up a card of a pretty faced brunette.
Allison shrugged. She'd found them. Some she'd taken from purses in the girls' changing room. She didn't know why she did that. It was just something to do.
"You could bring it to a police station and find out?" she suggested with a wiry grin. Duncan gave her a wide smile of approval.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Allison."
"I'm Duncan. Nice to talk to you."
John's friends appreciated her, she realised. They didn't care that she wasn't cool or that she was crazy. In fact, they'd probably liked her more because she was both those things but they were trouble. They left marks, such as the bruises on Keith's face and the redness in Aftershave boy's eyes. Friends like John's were liable to explode just like John did. They would hurt and cut and laugh at everything because the world was too unfair. Still, they were better than no friends at all.
"These things are bigger than I thought," Aftershave boy mused, holding up a sanitary pad for inspection. "My sister uses tampons. She says they're more comfortable."
"That's an interesting euphemism Lydia's got going there for your friends' dicks, Garth," John remarked snidely and Duncan began to chortle as Aftershave boy glowered at them.
The comment annoyed her. Allison snatched the pad from Garth, ripped off the back plastic protector and slapped it across John's sunglasses in an act of female retribution. There was a pause. People stared. John just stood there, pad on glasses.
"On the rag?" he asked dryly.
"Eat shit."
Duncan and Garth exploded with laughter. As Allison glanced around, she could see some people smiling in approval. It was strange, and then she remembered that most people didn't like John. John took off his sunglasses to reveal a fading angry bruise around his eye. Allison felt her heart stop. She knew where that had come from.
"Where'd you get this chick, Bender?" asked Duncan, recovering. "She's wild!"
"She's in your art class, retard. If you'd have bothered talking to her you'd have known that already ─ How do you get the glue off?" John demanded in frustration, holding up the glasses to show the clear marks running across the lenses from where he'd ripped off the pad.
Allison snatched them from him and rubbed her nails across, heating and peeling it away in little clumps. If she'd known she would have done something else. She would have thrown a pencil at him or told him to go to hell.
"Excuse me? What are you two doing in my art class?"
Miss Hoover was standing in the door,
"This is art class?" John snatched the sunglasses back from her and put them on before turning around. "Sorry, I'm blind-" he grappled at the desk, knocking pencils and candy bars flying before grabbing Garth's head and yanking it sideways. "-Garth? Is that you?"
Garth shifted his red gaze slightly to meet Allison's and rolled his eyes as if to say, 'do you see the sort of shit I have to put up with?' She bit back a smile and began putting her stuff back in her bag.
"Would you boys mind explaining what you are-?"
"Garth!" John interrupted loudly. Garth winced. "─ He's deaf, Miss. GARTH! It APPEARS WE ARE IN ART CLASS! ─ Very sorry about this, we were supposed to be in the Gymnasium but he's got no sense of direction-" he was talking to the wall. "Can't read a timetable either."
Allison snorted a laugh into her hand. Bender truly lived up to his namesake, Miss Hoover looked ready to explode in a cloud of charcoal and white spirits. She glanced over to where Duncan was doubled over, silently laughing to himself. Garth however was bemused, tired even like a worn out actor rehearsing the lines of play he had performed every night for twenty years. It struck Allison there that not all John's friends appreciated his antics. Some were like Garth, simply exhausted by them, especially when they were the butt of his jokes.
"Out," Miss Hoover had put down the supplies and was pointing towards the open door.
"Can't see my way, Miss."
The class watched in amusement as the woman marched across the room, grabbed Garth and John by the upper arms and steered them towards the door.
"In your professional opinion," John went on as she pushed them along. "Do you think there's a market for a blind painter? Cause I can do finger painting no bother, can't see a damn thing but everyone likes a gimmick-"
Miss Hoover snatched his sunglasses off his face. John blinked. There was a ripple of sniggers around the room. She glanced over to Keith and his friends; they didn't look amused.
"It's a miracle!" John gasped. "I can see! How did you do that?!"
The class roared with laughter.
"Can I have those back?"
"Go to class or I'm sending you to Mr Vernon's office."
After they were gone, Duncan turned to her. "Whaddyah think of punk music?"
Allison thought about it. "I like the Ramones and Misfits."
And that was it. There were no deep confessions needed or tears. Duncan talked to her for the rest of art class. He even moved his belongings from his desk and sat down beside her. It was the first time anyone had ever spoke or sat beside her willingly for a full class of anything. He told her from her look, she'd like Siouxsie and the Banshees and that his Dad worked as a security guard at an art museum. He told her about the time he'd gone there at night after everything was closed up with Ferris Bueller and Garth, the boy who smelled of cheap aftershave and drugs. He told her not to tell John because John thought art was dumb ─ Allison got the impression that Duncan cared a lot about what John thought was dumb.
She told him about the concerts she'd been to by herself, and how she liked to take photographs of people in the rain because you could see their doppelgangers reflected in the puddles. She also told him what a doppelganger was. Duncan was nice to her and she was happy that he wanted to be friends but it also felt as if he'd been given a reference.
At the end of class, Allison glanced once more towards Keith, the red haired girl and Ducky's table. When the girl caught her gaze, she flashed a friendly smile before turning away to pack her bag. It was a small gesture Allison knew but at least it was a start. As she left the room, she made sure to swipe John's sunglasses from the teacher's table.
To be continued…
A/N: So for future reference, Garth is Garth Volbeck AKA Charlie Sheen from Ferris Bueller (and yes, that was his character's actual name for those who don't know). All of the characters from Some Kind of Wonderful will featured in this too, mainly Duncan, Amanda, Keith, Watts, Shayne and Ray. Sixteen Candles very own train wreck Caroline Mulford is here also as is Jake Ryan. Andie, Ducky, Blane and Steff from Pretty in Pink will be here as well and to a minor extent, Ferris Bueller, Sloane and Cameron. I've got enough OCs going with the BC's families, don't need any more.