Next Thursday

"Hey Ang," Bender calls out as Angela is about to enter the classroom, "I got my first A on an English exam," He smiled as he leaned down and kissed her gently. "Congrats!" She kissed him back with the same fervor. Among the sea of students looking at them with shocked eyes, she meets him, turning into him, a hand going to his shoulder as she completes the circuit, kissing.

Angela's friends couldn't understand it. "You're crazy for dating that trouble-making stoner," they would say. "He's only pretending to want to learn so he can get in your pants." Angela dismissed their opinions with a confident smile. "John's not perfect, but he's never been anything but kind to me."

On the other side, John's friends thought Angela was just another one of his many conquests. But when he told them things were serious, they backed off. After all, despite her nerdy exterior, Angela was a knockout.

One night, they were studying in Angela's room, textbooks spread out on her floral bedspread. The soft glow of her desk lamp cast a warm light on their faces. Angela was explaining a complex concept when she noticed John had gone silent, his usual bravado replaced by a distant look in his eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, touching his hand gently.

John took a deep breath. "Can I tell you something? Something I haven't told anyone else?"

Angela nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Of course, John. You can tell me anything."

He hesitated, then began. "My father... he's an abusive alcoholic. He hits me and my mom. At least once a week, sometimes more. for defending her...just for existing, or..."

Angela's eyes widened in shock, but she stayed silent, letting him continue.

"He wasn't always like this. But he started drinking more when I was a kid. My mom does her best, but she had me when she was in high school. She can't leave him. She cannot support us without him, even though he doesn't provide much."

Angela squeezed his hand, her heart breaking for him. "John, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

He shrugged, trying to maintain his tough exterior. "It's why I'm so messed up, I guess. It's why I need to escape...get high. Visiting homes like yours makes me realize it's not normal. My mom always tells me 'Johnny-boy, go to school, make the most of it...' It's cool," he shrugged, "To meet different people, better."

Angela's eyes filled with tears, but she managed a smile. "The sky's the limit for you, PBJ."

John looked confused for a moment. "PBJ?"

"Your mom nicknamed you peanut butter and jelly, right?" Angela giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

John's lips twitched into a smile. "No, silly. It stands for Pretty Boy John."

Angela couldn't help but laugh, her cheeks flushing with warmth. "Well, that certainly fits you."

John blushed a rare sight that made Angela's heart flutter. "Yeah, you think?"

"I do," she said, her voice soft and sincere.

John leaned in, his eyes searching hers. "You know, you're different from anyone I've ever met."

"So are you, John," Angela replied, her hand resting on his cheek. "And I like that."

He smiled a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you, Angela. For seeing me."

They sat there, the weight of his confession lingering in the air. But in that moment, they both knew that despite their differences and the challenges they faced, they had found something special in each other. And no matter what their friends or the world said, they were determined to hold on to it.

Angela glared out the window of her class at the gently falling rain. She wasn't sure if the glare was because of a class that irritated her every single day she sat in it, or if it was just simply because of what the rain does to her hair. She supposed it was both. And then there he was, John showed up to English Literature, he and his friend Jim Baker aka 'Jimbo' just walked in, their eyes and demeanor broadcasting the look of someone who had just smoked a bowl to anyone who cared to notice, but something didn't seem right. John wasn't laughing the way his friend was.

As the teacher droned on about how many phrases still used today were coined by one William Shakespeare, Angela watched in horror as Jimbo started to march towards an unsuspecting Brian, immersed in the lesson the substitute teacher was speaking about.

She'd witnessed fights before – what high school students hadn't? – but never so unprovoked and certainly never involving anyone so close to her heart. She watched as Jimbo grabbed the collar, and pulled it back to choke him before he even had a chance to retaliate.

"Fucking nerd," he growled.

She saw John run-up, screaming in his friend's face and tearing him off Brian. She felt a sense of paralysis, unable to move, for a moment before the two supposed friends looked at each other, fury in their eyes, and began throwing punches.

Before she knew what she was doing, she sprinted towards them, standing next to Brian and yelling at them to stop. Neither of them listened, but it didn't matter. A few moments later, the teacher marched the four of them straight to the principal's office.

She wanted to cry; she knew her parents would be pissed at her landing in the principal's office, she was on the shortlist for valedictorian. She sat in a hard plastic chair in the waiting room outside Principal Vernon's office, last in line after John, Jimbo, and Brian. When Mrs. Ingram, the secretary finally called her name, she walked slowly across the floor, heels click-clacking their way to an identical plastic chair across the desk from Principal Vernon.

"Why did you ask me here?" Angela asked as she sat down, adopting an air of contempt and crossing her arms in the way only a spoiled girl from the suburbs could manage.

"Well, you did try to stop the fight, Angela."

"Am I in trouble for that?"

"No," Principal Vernon said, closing his eyes for a second while he drew in a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted to talk to you about John Bender."

"What about him?"

"You're good for him."

"What?" Angela said, shocked. She had expected to be asked if she'd seen him fighting any other times or if she knew anything about the dope in his locker.

"You heard me," Vernon said. Angela knew that he hoped she would say something, anything else, but he was the one who needed to talk. "Look, Angela. Nothing gets past me here and I know what the kids get up to...but I allow it and you know why..."

"No," Angela said quietly, all defiance gone from her voice. "I – I don't."

"Well, I'm not stupid," Vernon said. "Yes, I know you all think that, but I'm not. I may not think every choice I see made is a good one. But I never want to see a student...hurt." He said the look in his eyes conveyed sincerity.

"Sir?"

"I believe Bender told you something about his home life."

"Yes, sir," Angela said, unwilling to admit anything more than that. She did not trust Vernon, she knew he had been exceptionally harsh to John.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this," Vernon said. "But I think it's important that you know. The counselors at this school have tried for years to find out what happens at home for John, and why he is the way he is, but the truth is, we haven't been able to catch his father on anything. We just haven't. I'm hard on him, yes, but he needs it. For a while, I might have forgotten why I did this, but a friend of mine pointed out to me recently that I haven't been running the school quite the way I should. Ever since, I've been trying to make it right."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Angela," Vernon said quietly. "I've noticed, he's different when he's around you, I think you can help him."

After a few more minutes of conversation between Angela and Vernon, she left his office.

She walked along towards the army of silent cars that waited anxiously for the end of the school day like all of their owners. She bit her lip at the sight of John. He was leaning against his motorcycle. When he saw her, he grabbed an old paint bucket, one of many that lined the dumpster, turned it upside down, and sat down on it.

"Hi, John,"

He adjusted so that he was balanced properly on the makeshift seat, and silently pat a hand on his knee. There's a moment where she bites her lip again, but she obeys, stepping between his open legs and perching neatly in his lap. His legs shift a little closer so that she is tucked between his knees, and his hand slides around her waist. His eyes haven't left her once, and his hand explores the small of her back, the sheer of her skirt, the satin of her blouse...

It's not as scratchy and rough as the other satin he's touched. This is the real deal. The thought excites him, and he licks his lips, He'd wanted to kiss her so bad the thought frightened him, and then her eyes met his... And he saw that there was a similar kind of fire in them. Fear, yes. But also, the thrill of it. The excitement. The need. The hunger. The lust.

"Hi, Angela."He bit into his bottom lip, trying to contain his grin. A few students passing by glared at the couple with disgust, and he flipped it off as was his custom, a cigarette hanging out of his lips, and a few jeers and returning fingers flashed back.

"John, we can't study here."

"Let's do something else then. Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?"

She shook her head, eyeing him and the beast on two wheels with a mix of curiosity and fear. She wanted to tell him about the many things she was afraid of, but she didn't want to be scared anymore. She wanted to be brave like John Bender.

"Don't be afraid, baby." He wanted her arms wrapped around him, her body pressed against him, with the wind blowing away all of their problems.

"Maybe tomorrow. We need to study; the project is due tomorrow."

He had his doubts, but he nodded anyway. She gave a deep sigh of contentment and stood up from his lap, heading toward the building. Bender reluctantly followed; he hated the library, but Angela was right—the school parking lot was no place to study. He hoped he might get her interested in activities other than studying. For now, all he had was hope.