I don't own the Breakfast Club

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There had been no reason as to why John Bender pulled the fire alarm. Some students thought that he had done it for fun, wanted the thrill of it, or his group of friends thought that he had done it just to get on Vernon's nerves. That was half of the truth. Even though John enjoyed giving Vernon a tough time, there was another deeper reason as to why he had done it. Out of all the Saturday detentions that he had; he was running out of ideas. He wanted to get himself in trouble but just enough where he wouldn't get expelled. To his surprise, Vernon had not threatened him yet to expel him but John knew that it would only be a matter of time. At that time, he hoped that he would be far away from this place and his household.

Deep down, John dreaded the moment that he had to get home. He could camp out until the morning but then he would risk himself in getting caught by the police and questioned as to why a kid his age was out after curfew. There were some things that John hoped for when he turned into an adult. He could go where he wanted, screw curfew, and he hoped that at that age he could stand up to his old man.

"Another late night here?" a soft voice asked as John looked up at the waitress that had served him his dinner of a small hamburger and fries. "It's almost eight thirty."

John looked at the clock ahead of him and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then he turned his head and looked over at the waitress whose name tag read Darlene. "Damn and I was hoping to stay a bit longer until you were off, sweets." Screw the curfew, as if that would keep him from going home anyway.

The waitress let out a small giggle when John said that. It wasn't anything new since they had become acquainted, in more than one way, many weeks ago and the fact that she had given him her picture that he kept in his wallet. "Always the flirt," she commented with a smile.

The flirt, the criminal, the bad boy…why couldn't anyone call him by his name? "The name's Bender, sweets," he said to her, "John Bender."

A raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Is that so? I would have thought you were 007."

Oh a comedian John thought, forgetting that she was one of those girls that pulled a joke every now and then. "More like the anti-007," he said to her. "But I like my things both shaken and stirred…if you know what I mean."

He noticed a blush creeping up her cheeks when he said that. With any girl that he had been with, that had always been the effect that he had on them. It was the same thing over and over. He would flirt with a girl, she would blush, they spent a quick one night together, and the next day it was like nothing had happened. No other girl had been interested in continuing a relationship longer than one night…and he was fine with it because he knew that no girl would want to be with someone like him.

"And my name is Darlene," she said to him.

John raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "So?" he asked her.

She then pointed to her name tag. "That's my name…not 'sweets.'"

John fought the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't that he had purposefully forgotten her name but he just didn't care for that information. "I didn't ask for it," he said to her with a smirk creeping up on his lips. Now it all depended on how she would react to that…and John had a feeling what was going to happen next.

Darlene looked at him with a blank expression before she turned on her heel and walked away, muttering under her breath.

There we go John thought to himself and smirked once more to himself. Were her feelings hurt? He didn't care about that. People were a lot crueler than he had been with her.

He lightly tapped his hands on the table and got up after he had finished the remainder of his meal. Ever since he had left school, he hadn't thought about going home. He thought about staying over one of friends' house but he was sure that their parents either wouldn't want someone like him sleeping in their house or that his friends' parents were just as screwed up as his were. It was a lose—lose situation but it wasn't something that John couldn't handle.

He took a deep breath as he walked in the cold air and approached the proximity of his home. The lights were out and he prayed that his parents were already asleep. He walked around the house and into the backyard and to the window of his bedroom. He slowly stood on the plumbing vent and held onto the windowsill. Goddamn it! he wanted to yell when he noticed that one of his parents had closed the widow.

He cursed under his breath and knowing that there was no other way, he walked around his house and to the front porch. He looked at the door as if it was going to open by itself. Taking a deep breath, John grabbed the doorknob and gave it a slight turn. When the door opened, he let out a sigh of relief. If anything, better in there before he froze in the cold. He peeked inside and heard the television blaring in the living room. The whole house reeked of alcohol and John knew that something was about to go down if he made any noise.

As he walked past the living room and towards his bedroom, he noticed his father lying on the couch with a bottle of beer clutched in his hand. He snored loudly but it wasn't until John's eyes fell on a single couch where his mother sat smoking a cigarette.

She let out a plume of smoke and looked at John indifferently. "Finally decided to show up, John?" she asked him as if they were best friends. "Where were you?"

John didn't answer right away. He noticed a blue and purple bruise that was had formed on the arch of her eyebrow. "I was busy," John simply answered her.

"Sure you were," his mother said, "busy enough getting another Saturday detention."

Typical that Vernon would call up his house to let his parents know about that.

"Pulling a fire alarm," his mother said, a little loudly where John hoped it wasn't loud enough to wake up his father. "We were waiting for you to talk about that." She motioned her head towards her passed out husband. Using her foot, she shook him awake. "Wake up," she said to him, "you wanted to talk to John. He's here."

John felt his stomach drop when his mother tried to wake up his father. His eyes fell on his father but when he didn't bother to get up from his sleep, John relaxed. He watched as his mother let out a plume of smoke and rose from her couch. "He'll wake up later," she said more to herself than to John, "then it will be another repeat." She turned from her husband and then looked at Bender.

Since his father couldn't move, John braced himself for whatever action his mother was going to take. She wasn't as strong as his father or him, but John would never dream of striking out against her.

She did nothing. She looked at him as if she was studying his face. He didn't have any visible bruises on him that she could see…but the way that she was acting, John didn't know what to make of it. "He'll sleep all night and wake up at nine tomorrow," his mother said, "I will make sure of it." With those words, she walked past John and retired in her room.

What…the…hell? John thought as he turned around and looked at his mother's retreating figure and shut the door behind her.

The longer that John stood by the living room, the more he risked his safety. He could contemplate about this in his bedroom and that was exactly what he did. When he lied down in his bed and shut his eyes, it was the quickest sleep that he had ever experienced before in his life.