Fic: A Handful of Hope
Title: A Handful of Hope
Summary: Claire tries to make things right with Bender a week after that infamous Saturday.
Pairing: Bender/Claire
Rating: PG-13/Teen
Warnings: Um... nothing, really.
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 4895
Author's Note: This is my first Breakfast Club fic ever, and I was a bit unsure about posting it, but I hope you enjoy it. It's 1st person, told in Claire's POV.
Shermer, Illinois
Saturday, March 31, 1984
Well. Here I am. Ready to enter the lion's den. It's a quiet afternoon, so quiet it's almost eerie, and the wind seeps and snakes through my clothes and makes me shiver. I am standing before school, truly freaked out at the sight for maybe the first time in my life, feeling so small, like an ant ready to be crushed. I feel I am about to make a big mistake. I feel I am about to walk out of here with my self-worth and self-esteem trampled on, and when my courage finally comes crashing down and disappears, I will regret having even tried. Fear is starting to make me shiver and my teeth chatter even more than the icy wind, and my coward mind contemplates going back, running back home without looking over my shoulder. But I can't. Because I know, deep down inside, that this is something that needs to be done. Something that will keep prodding and poking at my soul, whispering venomous little secrets in my ear, and will not leave me alone until I get up and actually do something. And why do I feel I need to do something so badly?
Because half of why this came to be, half of the reason why I'm currently standing here, is my fault.
I didn't want to pretend nothing had happened. I didn't want to pretend I didn't know him. God knows I wanted to seize the chance, start over, do what I wanted to do for once. I guess that's one of the things he taught me. To follow my heart's desires without giving a fuck what everyone else thinks. It's my life. Why should I let someone else dictate it? When I went back home last Saturday after detention, easily disconnecting from my dad's idle, bubbly chatter, that's something I really thought about. The big chance to take my life in my hands and truly do something about it. How would it be like to have all that freedom? The freedom to choose, to wear the clothes I want to wear, to be friends with the people I want to befriend... is it a dream? Can something like that actually happen? Do people like me actually have that chance? Would he appreciate me more if I took that step and stood up for myself?
For the rest of that weekend I contemplated that possibility, I allowed myself to dream. I decided I was going to take that step, to make some changes. I decided I wouldn't care what my clique would think, that I would survive just fine on my own. After all I had connected more in a few hours with those four people, with him, than with most of my so-called friends. But when I arrived in school on Monday... all my resolutions melted away. Like magic. It was as if I hadn't even thought about them. Everything went back to normal. I walked past them, one by one, and couldn't even say anything, except to Andy, and still it was awkward, far more awkward than it should have been. I walked past him, saw his intense stare on me... and I kept walking. I couldn't stop. I couldn't do anything. Cowardice is a hard thing to get rid of. An unwanted friend that keeps stalking you and stalking you until you finally give in and welcome it back into your life. And I was a coward. That Monday morning just made it official.
Now here I was, a week since that fateful day when we had all come together, ready, or at least willing, to fix my mistakes and talk to John Bender. But my resolve was quickly crumbling and I was getting more and more ready to flee. But no, it couldn't happen again. I took a deep breath that seemed to rattle my whole body and stepped forward, approaching the menacing-looking building. Detention should be almost over, he would be ready to leave any minute now. That thought made my heart skip a beat and race maniacally, and I felt my whole body wobble in nervousness again like I was made of rubber. Fuck, this wasn't a good idea. It was all going to backfire on me. I should go home, hide in my room, maybe call one of my girlfriends and forget about this whole thing. But I couldn't. Because doing this had kept me awake at night for days in a row. Doing this felt right, made sense, like so little had in my life. I had to do it. I had to show him, I had to prove to myself that I wasn't a coward. That I was more than a rich, spoiled little girl. I needed him to see that. But in my darkest thoughts I wondered why the fuck would he care. I was a princess to him, deep down would always be. Why would he care about what I could be, about who I was? We belonged in such different worlds, and yet... yet something in him called to me. It was refreshing that he had been pretty much unimpressed by how much money I had, about the pettiness of my world which was so glorified in my clique. He wasn't superficial, and I liked that. I really did. I wondered what it would be like to sit down and really discuss life with him, think about what he hoped, what he dreamed about. It sounded like such a fucking cliché, yet I really wished I could do that with someone, let my walls break and watch them do the same. And John Bender, of all people, was my chosen one. Such a fucking disastrous, laughable choice, one I would never have considered at all, if I hadn't gotten to know him last Saturday. He made me feel differently than everyone else I'd ever met. He didn't care about the size of my bank account, or my clothes or how expensive my shoes had been. He was completely unimpressed by all of that. Despite the snarky, oftentimes annoying comments, I felt he saw right through me. He saw me as a person. And his words always hit exactly the right spot. They were hurtful, but true, and I had to admit that. The more I came to think about that, the more I felt he would be able to tell if I lied or if I as much as attempted to do so. He seemed to just... know some of my secrets so well and without even trying, it was unnerving. The first few moments with him had annoyed the hell out of me. I didn't need a smart-ass trying to be funny and harassing me during what was already a humiliating day for me. I would have gladly watched him disappear if I had had that choice. But then... something changed. To this day I still can't quite pinpoint the moment when that happened. We all just opened up. He let us, me, see a side of him he kept so fiercely hidden, and he came to just know me without my permission. God, he what been so absolutely infuriating at times. I still remembered, so vividly it was almost scary, that all-knowing smirk on his face as he stood before me, with me trying to act in the most unfazed way possible but knowing I looked awkward and terrified. The way he had leaned forward and breathed, almost as if mocking me: 'Are you a virgin...?' and basking in my complete embarrassment, my utter humiliation at having one of my deepest secrets exposed for everyone to know. 'Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?' his deep chocolate eyes transfixed upon me, as if seeing right through me, knowing better than any lie or stuttered excuse I might come up with. I hadn't understood why my heart had started to beat so fast the moment he said that, that strange, unfamiliar blend of desire and loathe as he kept talking about things he knew very well I had no experience with. I was torn between the desire to slap him and walk away, trying to blink back tears of humiliation, and remain frozen on my seat, my brain and my heart wondering what would it be like if he kissed me. It was a forbidden thought, something no one would ever know about, something no one should know about. But how it made my lips tingle, how it set my blood on fire in a strange, irresistible anticipation. And when he actually did it... it had been better than anything I could have expected, a secret for me to hold close to my heart and cherish. I couldn't help but smirk just to imagine what my friends would say if they knew I had kissed John Bender, the misfit, the freak. At least I knew I had broken one of their rules, had dared to do something because I wanted to do it without consulting them. Deep down that made me smile. It was the closest thing to an act of defiance of my part... well, besides having opened up with the rest of them. And this.
It was time. I made my way inside as if I was stranger, and not someone who had entered this building a thousand times before. I walked the deserted halls as if I was standing on eggshells, terrified that he might pop out of nowhere and run into me. Although that was the whole point of me being here. Shit, I was a complete mess. My heart started to race again, so hard I had to slap my hand against the wall. I felt as if I might throw up, and that was precisely what I needed to end this already precarious day. Keep walking.
My brain was turning to mush at an alarming speed. Suddenly I realized I didn't even know what to say to him. I had practiced a dialogue in my mind for practically the whole week and now that I was finally here, I didn't know where to start. Was there even a good way to bring up what I wanted to say? And despite all my hopes, I wasn't quite expecting Bender to be happy to see me. He wouldn't care about my reasons, and maybe he had a right not to. After all, I had ignored him for the whole week, made everything we went through seem meaningless. That was all he needed to know, even though it was so far from the truth. Oh god, what if he refused to even listen to me? What if he didn't acknowledge me at all, perpetuating what he thought was my game? What if it all went wrong? That possibility filled me with a a dull, heart-wrenching pain – I was somewhat prepared for disaster, yet I hadn't completely considered he might not even want to talk to me and discuss things. If that happened... if that happened and he just walked away from me and things continued the way they had always been... I wouldn't know what I would do. And why is that?, the nagging voice in my brain prodded.
No, I still couldn't say the words. It was ridiculous and impossible and everyone would laugh at me if they knew... and true. Even when he was arrogant and annoying and hurtful I felt drawn to him. That mocking, arrogant little smirk made me feel butterflies on my stomach against my will. Even though I had felt the need to keep my walls up and defend my lies, I felt I didn't need to hide from him. I felt I could open up and be normal. I didn't need to be perfect to be with him. I could fuck up and make mistakes and feel it was okay, that he wouldn't mind, that he wouldn't laugh at me. I had never felt this way with anyone before, ever. My parents constantly demanded perfection, a smile for the picture perfect charade we lived everyday. My friends wouldn't even let me breathe if that meant it would mess up my hair or something. I felt I always needed to hide, to put on a facade in a way. But he saw right through it. He'd always had. Maybe he still thought I was a spoiled, good for nothing little girl, how could he not by now?, but I was hoping... so badly... that he might be willing to give me another chance. After all when we were together in detention he seemed to have let his walls soften around me at a certain point, and the way he kept teasing and taunting me... that couldn't be just because he was a pain in the ass and wanted to annoy everyone. It wasn't because he felt he had to make my life miserable. But I had fucked it all up regardless of the way he felt. I was going to be sick. Maybe this was just a bad idea. I would be just setting myself up for failure. Maybe I should give up. People like us don't belong together.... and what a load of bullshit that was. It was one of the things I had learned with him and the rest of the gang. It's only impossible because we let it be, because we make it that way. If we break the cycle and try to come together we learn much more than we ever thought possible. And that's precisely why I was was here now, swallowing my nerves, to try to break the cycle.
Like traveling back in time I recognized I was walking the halls I had last Saturday, and every memory connected to them came instantly swirling back. I was approaching the library now, which meant he was close. I couldn't help but wonder if he would think about the last time he'd been there, if he remembered the way the five of us had connected. Would he miss that while sitting mindlessly among other kids, waiting for the time to pass, doing nothing or just being obnoxious for the sake of it? My thoughts were interrupted by a small group of students exiting the library. They all looked at me, frozen in place and most likely looking terrified, with their noses turned up in the air, a look of both surprise and indifference coloring their features before they walked away without a word. And then... there he was. Carelessly swinging his denim jacket over his shoulder, his chains banging against his jeans as he walked, his combat boots making the floor squeak, out walked John, and my heart shot up to my throat. My mind was blank. I suddenly turned into a vegetable. And it took him two seconds to see me. He was prepared to keep walking when he suddenly looked at me out of the corner of his eye and abruptly stopped. It was my cue. If only I knew what the fuck I should say. I knew my doe-eyed, terrified stare wouldn't inspire any compassion so I just swallowed and took a step forward. Bender remained motionless, his intense stare piercing through me.
“What are you doing here?” his voice broke the awkward silence, but the cold, subtly disbelieving tone was like a slap on the face.
“I—I need to talk to you,” I stuttered.
As a response he started walking again.
“Why would you even think there's something to talk about?” he replied coolly as he made his way down the hall.
I trotted after him to catch up with his long strides.
“Please, John. I... I know I ignored you since Monday but I didn't mean to. I want to explain why—”
“Save it. I don't give a flying fuck,” he replied without even glancing sideways.
“John, please, can't we just... talk? I know it was wrong, but I really didn't mean to make you think I was ignoring you.”
“Okay, you've made your point. Ta ta then,” he retorted as nonchalantly as always, stopping before his locker.
“John, please,” I came to a halt at the same time as he while he opened his clutter-filled locker. “I'm sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for? You just acted as your typical self,” he remarked, shoving something in his jeans' pocket and slamming the locket closed before any stuff fell out.
I should have expected that comment, and it stung. But I knew I had it coming and I deserved it.
“I wanted to talk to you. I just... when Monday came, I just couldn't. I couldn't talk to Brian or Allison either, and I could barely talk to Andy. I know I was a coward, but I didn't mean to make you think I was ignoring you, or that... you didn't mean anything to me. I wanted to let you know that.”
“Good. You have. You can go now,” he replied, resuming to walking down the halls again.
“But I want you to believe me!” I exclaimed, my exasperation growing.
He came to an abrupt halt, looking over his shoulder at me and his expression made me shiver. His pupils seemed to be dilated, his orbs darkened to a near black and his nostrils flared and that was the definite moment when I knew he was pissed off.
“Why would I fucking believe anything coming from you? Why the fuck would I think you mean anything you say? In fact, why are you even doing this, Claire? You're wasting a perfectly good Saturday. Don't you have some shopping you need to do?”
He whirled forward again and kept walking. I was starting to feel that familiar pressure in my throat, like a thousand little needles piercing through my flesh until tears welled up in my eyes. But among the alarming feeling of disaster there was something else, something that intrigued me: he was still wearing the diamond earring I had given him a week ago. A tiny sliver of hope pierced through my heart. That had to mean something. It had to mean something, right?
“Let me speak,” I pleaded, bolting forward to catch up with him again. “I'll leave you alone then.”
He stopped walking and stood motionless without turning around, waiting. My nerves were meshing with my infatuation and I felt my brain had turned into mashed potatoes again. But I couldn't fuck up this time. It was the last chance I had.
“Look, I need you to believe me. I really wanted to talk to you, to all of you, on Monday. Especially you. But you don't understand... when I was next to my friends again, it was like nothing had changed. I couldn't bring myself to do anything, to even say a word. You can call me a coward, I know I was one. But I... I just don't want you to think you don't mean anything to me, because you.... do.”
By the time I was done talking my heart was throbbing in my mouth and I felt I was ready to faint. I wasn't anywhere near to feeling relief, though, not with the way he was acting. I hoped my confession would soften his heart some, but knowing him I figured he most likely wouldn't be impressed.
“So?” his voice seemed to reverberate on the naked walls and the empty halls, a sound as dismal as the sight around me. “Why would you think I care?”
“I saw you looking at me on Monday,” I began tentatively. “I had the feeling you were expecting me to do something and I—”
“I wasn't expecting anything,” he cut me off, much too fast if one asked me. “You just proved my point. You're a selfish little bitch just like the rest of them. Go find your little friends, Claire. Stop trying to be the fucking saint trying to save the freak of nature. Why do you insist on this? You think it's going to look nice on your yearbook? That people will like you more? That you will be voted Prom Queen?” he prepared to keep walking but I stood on his way this time, my gaze firmly holding his.
“No,” I declared. “I'm doing this because I want to. Because it's the right thing to do, because... I just had to do it.” I paused for a brief moment only to see his still slightly demented gaze staring at me attentively. “I don't want to save you or do this just so that other people think good things about me. Shit, my friends would all be horrified if they knew I was here on a Saturday, trying to talk to you. The point is... I just don't want to be your enemy. We don't have to be.”
He was quiet for what seemed like an awful lot of time, arms crossed over his chest. Then he spoke up.
“No,” he finally replied. “We are all enemies because that's what's bound to happen. Isn't it? We'll all be divided into neat little groups and try to shit all over the groups that are not ours, thinking we are the best. It doesn't matter what happens behind closed doors. We are predators. We'll always try to kill each other when we're with other people. That's why it doesn't matter what you say or what you try to do. Anything that happened last Saturday was a mistake and you should fucking go home. We both know that on Monday you'll be discussing nail polish with your little friends and not give two shits about what happens to me or any of the others. So save it.”
I fell on a stunned silence, both by the passion in his words and by his totally inexorable nature. Time was slipping away and my chances of even trying to change his mind were running very thin. I had to try to do something, one last attempt... this was what I had been trying to save, to avoid even, and talking about it was what was truly making my heart race in nervousness.
“After what happened last Saturday, I'd really like you to believe that I... just don't want any hard feelings between us.”
His piercing stare was sharper than an arrow through my flesh.
“Oh, I get it,” he replied, in that tone of deadpan mockery. My stomach dropped in dread. “Now I know why you're here. You were hoping something would happen between us. Did you think you would talk to me and I'd declare my undying love for you and we'd walk down the halls hand in hand on Monday? You are so fucking clueless!” his voice echoed like thunder in the deserted halls and I shivered, that pain slowly squeezing my throat again...
“Poor, naïve Claire...” he continued very calmly. “So delusional. You really think that by coming here and trying to talk to me we could play boyfriend and girlfriend on Monday?”
Desperately hanging on to my last shred of defiance, I looked him in the eye.
“Then why did you kiss me last Saturday? Why did you never leave me alone for the whole day, always trying to get to me on some way or another? Why didn't you do that with Allison? Why didn't you kiss Allison?” my voice was getting high and squeaky, but I couldn't let it go now.
Then I saw it, that flash of weakness, of emotion, in his eyes. He was trapped. He was the prey now, for the first time since this conversation had begun.
“Do you really think people mean everything they say or do?” he retorted, but there was something strange in his voice, a forced attempt to lie, that weakness spreading across his words like poison. I had caught him. He wouldn't admit the truth, but I knew I had him. “Nevermind that. Just forget about it and start thinking about the fucking prom. Maybe daddy will buy some new rocks for you to wear. Or maybe you'll even lose your virginity! Wouldn't that be swell, Claire?”
His words were like a razor on my skin, that deliberate venomous tone his attempt to get back the upper hand in this. But the way he had so quickly, yet half-heartedly, dismissed my feelings, kicking my heart like one would kick a dead leaf across the sidewalk, the way he had totally trashed my efforts, my vulnerability, made the grip on my throat tighten to an unbearable extent and then, as if I hadn't put myself on the line too much already, my eyes filled with tears, his face blurring before me. Despair was growing like a second skin. I saw no way of trying to save this anymore.
“Fuck you,” I replied, two tears rolling down my cheeks. “You have no fucking right to say those things to me. If I'm a fucking hypocrite, then so are you. You're preaching to me about being a coward and shitting all over others, but you're doing exactly the same thing. You're a fucking liar, John, and I hope this fucking weighs on your conscience until it's too late for you to do something about it.” Christ, I was a sobbing, inarticulate mess, tears and snot ungraciously falling down my face the more vehement my words grew. Yeah, that was classy. This would totally make him change his mind and make him say... what? That he also liked me? That he wanted more than this? Oh god, maybe he was right. Maybe I was just naïve. I should know better. This is John Bender... I'm not going to be able to break his walls after all. Maybe no one will...
I frantically wiped my nose and my eyes in a desperate attempt to regain my composure, not missing the way he was still staring at me, ever so intently. It would have made me shiver and gape if I wasn't feeling so disheartened.
“Is that all?” he asked flatly.
I looked at him wide-eyed, but what else was I supposed to say? What else did I have to keep him here? I just nodded, the ridiculous picture of heartache and humiliation, while he was still calm and collected, although falsely so. And then he started walking away. But there wasn't the same swift determination in his steps, the pace of someone who knows they're unstoppable, that nothing will stand in their way. He walked away with an invisible limp, something denting his soul, slumping his shoulders. It could easily be missed, anyone who didn't know about this, about us, wouldn't make anything of it. I knew the truth though, but what good would it be? He would always hide. He had given me not a chance, and even though my insides swirled in red hot anger, in the bitterest disappointment, a part of me felt I couldn't really blame him. My hopes had been dashed. My ridiculous, tentative reveries had died a pathetic death. And what did I have left? What had trying, putting myself out there, brought me? I should have known this would fail. I should have known I wouldn't win.
Slowly, mechanically, like a toy, I turned on my wheel and made my way back, outside into the cool spring air. Bender was nowhere to be seen, having probably bolted home the moment he was outside. The wind still hissed in invisible swirls, almost mockingly so, freezing me to the bone. And I found myself exactly in the right place I had been just a few minutes ago. But now I no longer had that tiny spark of hope to hold onto. It had all gone to shit. I was alone, empty-handed and had made a tremendous ass of myself. I guess this means it's over. Why try anymore? I pulled my coat tighter against me, my face still sticky and cold from the tears. Going back home was not something I looked forward to in the least, knowing there would probably be questions or, god forbid, someone noticing my red eyes and poofy face. I just wanted some peace and quiet, some alone time to think or do exactly the opposite. But I wouldn't get it. Life at home would continue, exactly the way I'd left it, and then on Monday I'd be swallowed by the horde of my popular friends and the days would waste away, forever shallow, forever meaningless, the reminder of my failure and my lost chance fluttering across the halls. And I would find his dark eyes glancing at me as we walked down the halls, a secretive, meaningful glance betraying a stony, serious face. But we would both ignore it, we would both ignore the still throbbing, hidden connection between us and the rest of the gang, and would go on with our lives. Forever feeling like we were missing something.
This was real life. And in real life, second chances are rare. In real life, you don't get to truly connect. You just keep on keeping on. And this what I was going to do, like I had always done so far.
We had no choice but to survive or die trying.
Summary: Claire tries to make things right with Bender a week after that infamous Saturday.
Pairing: Bender/Claire
Rating: PG-13/Teen
Warnings: Um... nothing, really.
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 4895
Author's Note: This is my first Breakfast Club fic ever, and I was a bit unsure about posting it, but I hope you enjoy it. It's 1st person, told in Claire's POV.
Shermer, Illinois
Saturday, March 31, 1984
Well. Here I am. Ready to enter the lion's den. It's a quiet afternoon, so quiet it's almost eerie, and the wind seeps and snakes through my clothes and makes me shiver. I am standing before school, truly freaked out at the sight for maybe the first time in my life, feeling so small, like an ant ready to be crushed. I feel I am about to make a big mistake. I feel I am about to walk out of here with my self-worth and self-esteem trampled on, and when my courage finally comes crashing down and disappears, I will regret having even tried. Fear is starting to make me shiver and my teeth chatter even more than the icy wind, and my coward mind contemplates going back, running back home without looking over my shoulder. But I can't. Because I know, deep down inside, that this is something that needs to be done. Something that will keep prodding and poking at my soul, whispering venomous little secrets in my ear, and will not leave me alone until I get up and actually do something. And why do I feel I need to do something so badly?
Because half of why this came to be, half of the reason why I'm currently standing here, is my fault.
I didn't want to pretend nothing had happened. I didn't want to pretend I didn't know him. God knows I wanted to seize the chance, start over, do what I wanted to do for once. I guess that's one of the things he taught me. To follow my heart's desires without giving a fuck what everyone else thinks. It's my life. Why should I let someone else dictate it? When I went back home last Saturday after detention, easily disconnecting from my dad's idle, bubbly chatter, that's something I really thought about. The big chance to take my life in my hands and truly do something about it. How would it be like to have all that freedom? The freedom to choose, to wear the clothes I want to wear, to be friends with the people I want to befriend... is it a dream? Can something like that actually happen? Do people like me actually have that chance? Would he appreciate me more if I took that step and stood up for myself?
For the rest of that weekend I contemplated that possibility, I allowed myself to dream. I decided I was going to take that step, to make some changes. I decided I wouldn't care what my clique would think, that I would survive just fine on my own. After all I had connected more in a few hours with those four people, with him, than with most of my so-called friends. But when I arrived in school on Monday... all my resolutions melted away. Like magic. It was as if I hadn't even thought about them. Everything went back to normal. I walked past them, one by one, and couldn't even say anything, except to Andy, and still it was awkward, far more awkward than it should have been. I walked past him, saw his intense stare on me... and I kept walking. I couldn't stop. I couldn't do anything. Cowardice is a hard thing to get rid of. An unwanted friend that keeps stalking you and stalking you until you finally give in and welcome it back into your life. And I was a coward. That Monday morning just made it official.
Now here I was, a week since that fateful day when we had all come together, ready, or at least willing, to fix my mistakes and talk to John Bender. But my resolve was quickly crumbling and I was getting more and more ready to flee. But no, it couldn't happen again. I took a deep breath that seemed to rattle my whole body and stepped forward, approaching the menacing-looking building. Detention should be almost over, he would be ready to leave any minute now. That thought made my heart skip a beat and race maniacally, and I felt my whole body wobble in nervousness again like I was made of rubber. Fuck, this wasn't a good idea. It was all going to backfire on me. I should go home, hide in my room, maybe call one of my girlfriends and forget about this whole thing. But I couldn't. Because doing this had kept me awake at night for days in a row. Doing this felt right, made sense, like so little had in my life. I had to do it. I had to show him, I had to prove to myself that I wasn't a coward. That I was more than a rich, spoiled little girl. I needed him to see that. But in my darkest thoughts I wondered why the fuck would he care. I was a princess to him, deep down would always be. Why would he care about what I could be, about who I was? We belonged in such different worlds, and yet... yet something in him called to me. It was refreshing that he had been pretty much unimpressed by how much money I had, about the pettiness of my world which was so glorified in my clique. He wasn't superficial, and I liked that. I really did. I wondered what it would be like to sit down and really discuss life with him, think about what he hoped, what he dreamed about. It sounded like such a fucking cliché, yet I really wished I could do that with someone, let my walls break and watch them do the same. And John Bender, of all people, was my chosen one. Such a fucking disastrous, laughable choice, one I would never have considered at all, if I hadn't gotten to know him last Saturday. He made me feel differently than everyone else I'd ever met. He didn't care about the size of my bank account, or my clothes or how expensive my shoes had been. He was completely unimpressed by all of that. Despite the snarky, oftentimes annoying comments, I felt he saw right through me. He saw me as a person. And his words always hit exactly the right spot. They were hurtful, but true, and I had to admit that. The more I came to think about that, the more I felt he would be able to tell if I lied or if I as much as attempted to do so. He seemed to just... know some of my secrets so well and without even trying, it was unnerving. The first few moments with him had annoyed the hell out of me. I didn't need a smart-ass trying to be funny and harassing me during what was already a humiliating day for me. I would have gladly watched him disappear if I had had that choice. But then... something changed. To this day I still can't quite pinpoint the moment when that happened. We all just opened up. He let us, me, see a side of him he kept so fiercely hidden, and he came to just know me without my permission. God, he what been so absolutely infuriating at times. I still remembered, so vividly it was almost scary, that all-knowing smirk on his face as he stood before me, with me trying to act in the most unfazed way possible but knowing I looked awkward and terrified. The way he had leaned forward and breathed, almost as if mocking me: 'Are you a virgin...?' and basking in my complete embarrassment, my utter humiliation at having one of my deepest secrets exposed for everyone to know. 'Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?' his deep chocolate eyes transfixed upon me, as if seeing right through me, knowing better than any lie or stuttered excuse I might come up with. I hadn't understood why my heart had started to beat so fast the moment he said that, that strange, unfamiliar blend of desire and loathe as he kept talking about things he knew very well I had no experience with. I was torn between the desire to slap him and walk away, trying to blink back tears of humiliation, and remain frozen on my seat, my brain and my heart wondering what would it be like if he kissed me. It was a forbidden thought, something no one would ever know about, something no one should know about. But how it made my lips tingle, how it set my blood on fire in a strange, irresistible anticipation. And when he actually did it... it had been better than anything I could have expected, a secret for me to hold close to my heart and cherish. I couldn't help but smirk just to imagine what my friends would say if they knew I had kissed John Bender, the misfit, the freak. At least I knew I had broken one of their rules, had dared to do something because I wanted to do it without consulting them. Deep down that made me smile. It was the closest thing to an act of defiance of my part... well, besides having opened up with the rest of them. And this.
It was time. I made my way inside as if I was stranger, and not someone who had entered this building a thousand times before. I walked the deserted halls as if I was standing on eggshells, terrified that he might pop out of nowhere and run into me. Although that was the whole point of me being here. Shit, I was a complete mess. My heart started to race again, so hard I had to slap my hand against the wall. I felt as if I might throw up, and that was precisely what I needed to end this already precarious day. Keep walking.
My brain was turning to mush at an alarming speed. Suddenly I realized I didn't even know what to say to him. I had practiced a dialogue in my mind for practically the whole week and now that I was finally here, I didn't know where to start. Was there even a good way to bring up what I wanted to say? And despite all my hopes, I wasn't quite expecting Bender to be happy to see me. He wouldn't care about my reasons, and maybe he had a right not to. After all, I had ignored him for the whole week, made everything we went through seem meaningless. That was all he needed to know, even though it was so far from the truth. Oh god, what if he refused to even listen to me? What if he didn't acknowledge me at all, perpetuating what he thought was my game? What if it all went wrong? That possibility filled me with a a dull, heart-wrenching pain – I was somewhat prepared for disaster, yet I hadn't completely considered he might not even want to talk to me and discuss things. If that happened... if that happened and he just walked away from me and things continued the way they had always been... I wouldn't know what I would do. And why is that?, the nagging voice in my brain prodded.
No, I still couldn't say the words. It was ridiculous and impossible and everyone would laugh at me if they knew... and true. Even when he was arrogant and annoying and hurtful I felt drawn to him. That mocking, arrogant little smirk made me feel butterflies on my stomach against my will. Even though I had felt the need to keep my walls up and defend my lies, I felt I didn't need to hide from him. I felt I could open up and be normal. I didn't need to be perfect to be with him. I could fuck up and make mistakes and feel it was okay, that he wouldn't mind, that he wouldn't laugh at me. I had never felt this way with anyone before, ever. My parents constantly demanded perfection, a smile for the picture perfect charade we lived everyday. My friends wouldn't even let me breathe if that meant it would mess up my hair or something. I felt I always needed to hide, to put on a facade in a way. But he saw right through it. He'd always had. Maybe he still thought I was a spoiled, good for nothing little girl, how could he not by now?, but I was hoping... so badly... that he might be willing to give me another chance. After all when we were together in detention he seemed to have let his walls soften around me at a certain point, and the way he kept teasing and taunting me... that couldn't be just because he was a pain in the ass and wanted to annoy everyone. It wasn't because he felt he had to make my life miserable. But I had fucked it all up regardless of the way he felt. I was going to be sick. Maybe this was just a bad idea. I would be just setting myself up for failure. Maybe I should give up. People like us don't belong together.... and what a load of bullshit that was. It was one of the things I had learned with him and the rest of the gang. It's only impossible because we let it be, because we make it that way. If we break the cycle and try to come together we learn much more than we ever thought possible. And that's precisely why I was was here now, swallowing my nerves, to try to break the cycle.
Like traveling back in time I recognized I was walking the halls I had last Saturday, and every memory connected to them came instantly swirling back. I was approaching the library now, which meant he was close. I couldn't help but wonder if he would think about the last time he'd been there, if he remembered the way the five of us had connected. Would he miss that while sitting mindlessly among other kids, waiting for the time to pass, doing nothing or just being obnoxious for the sake of it? My thoughts were interrupted by a small group of students exiting the library. They all looked at me, frozen in place and most likely looking terrified, with their noses turned up in the air, a look of both surprise and indifference coloring their features before they walked away without a word. And then... there he was. Carelessly swinging his denim jacket over his shoulder, his chains banging against his jeans as he walked, his combat boots making the floor squeak, out walked John, and my heart shot up to my throat. My mind was blank. I suddenly turned into a vegetable. And it took him two seconds to see me. He was prepared to keep walking when he suddenly looked at me out of the corner of his eye and abruptly stopped. It was my cue. If only I knew what the fuck I should say. I knew my doe-eyed, terrified stare wouldn't inspire any compassion so I just swallowed and took a step forward. Bender remained motionless, his intense stare piercing through me.
“What are you doing here?” his voice broke the awkward silence, but the cold, subtly disbelieving tone was like a slap on the face.
“I—I need to talk to you,” I stuttered.
As a response he started walking again.
“Why would you even think there's something to talk about?” he replied coolly as he made his way down the hall.
I trotted after him to catch up with his long strides.
“Please, John. I... I know I ignored you since Monday but I didn't mean to. I want to explain why—”
“Save it. I don't give a flying fuck,” he replied without even glancing sideways.
“John, please, can't we just... talk? I know it was wrong, but I really didn't mean to make you think I was ignoring you.”
“Okay, you've made your point. Ta ta then,” he retorted as nonchalantly as always, stopping before his locker.
“John, please,” I came to a halt at the same time as he while he opened his clutter-filled locker. “I'm sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for? You just acted as your typical self,” he remarked, shoving something in his jeans' pocket and slamming the locket closed before any stuff fell out.
I should have expected that comment, and it stung. But I knew I had it coming and I deserved it.
“I wanted to talk to you. I just... when Monday came, I just couldn't. I couldn't talk to Brian or Allison either, and I could barely talk to Andy. I know I was a coward, but I didn't mean to make you think I was ignoring you, or that... you didn't mean anything to me. I wanted to let you know that.”
“Good. You have. You can go now,” he replied, resuming to walking down the halls again.
“But I want you to believe me!” I exclaimed, my exasperation growing.
He came to an abrupt halt, looking over his shoulder at me and his expression made me shiver. His pupils seemed to be dilated, his orbs darkened to a near black and his nostrils flared and that was the definite moment when I knew he was pissed off.
“Why would I fucking believe anything coming from you? Why the fuck would I think you mean anything you say? In fact, why are you even doing this, Claire? You're wasting a perfectly good Saturday. Don't you have some shopping you need to do?”
He whirled forward again and kept walking. I was starting to feel that familiar pressure in my throat, like a thousand little needles piercing through my flesh until tears welled up in my eyes. But among the alarming feeling of disaster there was something else, something that intrigued me: he was still wearing the diamond earring I had given him a week ago. A tiny sliver of hope pierced through my heart. That had to mean something. It had to mean something, right?
“Let me speak,” I pleaded, bolting forward to catch up with him again. “I'll leave you alone then.”
He stopped walking and stood motionless without turning around, waiting. My nerves were meshing with my infatuation and I felt my brain had turned into mashed potatoes again. But I couldn't fuck up this time. It was the last chance I had.
“Look, I need you to believe me. I really wanted to talk to you, to all of you, on Monday. Especially you. But you don't understand... when I was next to my friends again, it was like nothing had changed. I couldn't bring myself to do anything, to even say a word. You can call me a coward, I know I was one. But I... I just don't want you to think you don't mean anything to me, because you.... do.”
By the time I was done talking my heart was throbbing in my mouth and I felt I was ready to faint. I wasn't anywhere near to feeling relief, though, not with the way he was acting. I hoped my confession would soften his heart some, but knowing him I figured he most likely wouldn't be impressed.
“So?” his voice seemed to reverberate on the naked walls and the empty halls, a sound as dismal as the sight around me. “Why would you think I care?”
“I saw you looking at me on Monday,” I began tentatively. “I had the feeling you were expecting me to do something and I—”
“I wasn't expecting anything,” he cut me off, much too fast if one asked me. “You just proved my point. You're a selfish little bitch just like the rest of them. Go find your little friends, Claire. Stop trying to be the fucking saint trying to save the freak of nature. Why do you insist on this? You think it's going to look nice on your yearbook? That people will like you more? That you will be voted Prom Queen?” he prepared to keep walking but I stood on his way this time, my gaze firmly holding his.
“No,” I declared. “I'm doing this because I want to. Because it's the right thing to do, because... I just had to do it.” I paused for a brief moment only to see his still slightly demented gaze staring at me attentively. “I don't want to save you or do this just so that other people think good things about me. Shit, my friends would all be horrified if they knew I was here on a Saturday, trying to talk to you. The point is... I just don't want to be your enemy. We don't have to be.”
He was quiet for what seemed like an awful lot of time, arms crossed over his chest. Then he spoke up.
“No,” he finally replied. “We are all enemies because that's what's bound to happen. Isn't it? We'll all be divided into neat little groups and try to shit all over the groups that are not ours, thinking we are the best. It doesn't matter what happens behind closed doors. We are predators. We'll always try to kill each other when we're with other people. That's why it doesn't matter what you say or what you try to do. Anything that happened last Saturday was a mistake and you should fucking go home. We both know that on Monday you'll be discussing nail polish with your little friends and not give two shits about what happens to me or any of the others. So save it.”
I fell on a stunned silence, both by the passion in his words and by his totally inexorable nature. Time was slipping away and my chances of even trying to change his mind were running very thin. I had to try to do something, one last attempt... this was what I had been trying to save, to avoid even, and talking about it was what was truly making my heart race in nervousness.
“After what happened last Saturday, I'd really like you to believe that I... just don't want any hard feelings between us.”
His piercing stare was sharper than an arrow through my flesh.
“Oh, I get it,” he replied, in that tone of deadpan mockery. My stomach dropped in dread. “Now I know why you're here. You were hoping something would happen between us. Did you think you would talk to me and I'd declare my undying love for you and we'd walk down the halls hand in hand on Monday? You are so fucking clueless!” his voice echoed like thunder in the deserted halls and I shivered, that pain slowly squeezing my throat again...
“Poor, naïve Claire...” he continued very calmly. “So delusional. You really think that by coming here and trying to talk to me we could play boyfriend and girlfriend on Monday?”
Desperately hanging on to my last shred of defiance, I looked him in the eye.
“Then why did you kiss me last Saturday? Why did you never leave me alone for the whole day, always trying to get to me on some way or another? Why didn't you do that with Allison? Why didn't you kiss Allison?” my voice was getting high and squeaky, but I couldn't let it go now.
Then I saw it, that flash of weakness, of emotion, in his eyes. He was trapped. He was the prey now, for the first time since this conversation had begun.
“Do you really think people mean everything they say or do?” he retorted, but there was something strange in his voice, a forced attempt to lie, that weakness spreading across his words like poison. I had caught him. He wouldn't admit the truth, but I knew I had him. “Nevermind that. Just forget about it and start thinking about the fucking prom. Maybe daddy will buy some new rocks for you to wear. Or maybe you'll even lose your virginity! Wouldn't that be swell, Claire?”
His words were like a razor on my skin, that deliberate venomous tone his attempt to get back the upper hand in this. But the way he had so quickly, yet half-heartedly, dismissed my feelings, kicking my heart like one would kick a dead leaf across the sidewalk, the way he had totally trashed my efforts, my vulnerability, made the grip on my throat tighten to an unbearable extent and then, as if I hadn't put myself on the line too much already, my eyes filled with tears, his face blurring before me. Despair was growing like a second skin. I saw no way of trying to save this anymore.
“Fuck you,” I replied, two tears rolling down my cheeks. “You have no fucking right to say those things to me. If I'm a fucking hypocrite, then so are you. You're preaching to me about being a coward and shitting all over others, but you're doing exactly the same thing. You're a fucking liar, John, and I hope this fucking weighs on your conscience until it's too late for you to do something about it.” Christ, I was a sobbing, inarticulate mess, tears and snot ungraciously falling down my face the more vehement my words grew. Yeah, that was classy. This would totally make him change his mind and make him say... what? That he also liked me? That he wanted more than this? Oh god, maybe he was right. Maybe I was just naïve. I should know better. This is John Bender... I'm not going to be able to break his walls after all. Maybe no one will...
I frantically wiped my nose and my eyes in a desperate attempt to regain my composure, not missing the way he was still staring at me, ever so intently. It would have made me shiver and gape if I wasn't feeling so disheartened.
“Is that all?” he asked flatly.
I looked at him wide-eyed, but what else was I supposed to say? What else did I have to keep him here? I just nodded, the ridiculous picture of heartache and humiliation, while he was still calm and collected, although falsely so. And then he started walking away. But there wasn't the same swift determination in his steps, the pace of someone who knows they're unstoppable, that nothing will stand in their way. He walked away with an invisible limp, something denting his soul, slumping his shoulders. It could easily be missed, anyone who didn't know about this, about us, wouldn't make anything of it. I knew the truth though, but what good would it be? He would always hide. He had given me not a chance, and even though my insides swirled in red hot anger, in the bitterest disappointment, a part of me felt I couldn't really blame him. My hopes had been dashed. My ridiculous, tentative reveries had died a pathetic death. And what did I have left? What had trying, putting myself out there, brought me? I should have known this would fail. I should have known I wouldn't win.
Slowly, mechanically, like a toy, I turned on my wheel and made my way back, outside into the cool spring air. Bender was nowhere to be seen, having probably bolted home the moment he was outside. The wind still hissed in invisible swirls, almost mockingly so, freezing me to the bone. And I found myself exactly in the right place I had been just a few minutes ago. But now I no longer had that tiny spark of hope to hold onto. It had all gone to shit. I was alone, empty-handed and had made a tremendous ass of myself. I guess this means it's over. Why try anymore? I pulled my coat tighter against me, my face still sticky and cold from the tears. Going back home was not something I looked forward to in the least, knowing there would probably be questions or, god forbid, someone noticing my red eyes and poofy face. I just wanted some peace and quiet, some alone time to think or do exactly the opposite. But I wouldn't get it. Life at home would continue, exactly the way I'd left it, and then on Monday I'd be swallowed by the horde of my popular friends and the days would waste away, forever shallow, forever meaningless, the reminder of my failure and my lost chance fluttering across the halls. And I would find his dark eyes glancing at me as we walked down the halls, a secretive, meaningful glance betraying a stony, serious face. But we would both ignore it, we would both ignore the still throbbing, hidden connection between us and the rest of the gang, and would go on with our lives. Forever feeling like we were missing something.
This was real life. And in real life, second chances are rare. In real life, you don't get to truly connect. You just keep on keeping on. And this what I was going to do, like I had always done so far.
We had no choice but to survive or die trying.