I'm tardy, I know. This is Monday.

If John was still expecting miracles, Monday would have been a disappointment. Wearing a matching cigarette burn on his other arm, he looked at the grey building in front of him and was a little horrified to discover that he preferred school on Saturdays. That was so not what a normal teenager, let alone John Bender, was supposed to think and he most certainly wasn't going to be telling anybody else that.

But it was all so dull, he mused as he headed towards the building. Here everybody was, milling about as they did every Monday morning, discussing the lame-ass parties they'd been to and the chores they'd done and the disappointingly PG-13 trysts with people who they might or might not be dating. He wondered if they all knew how tedious they were.

Strange how it took less than forty-eight hours for his usual demeanour to reappear. He supposed that was what a lifetime of conditioning did for you – as well as an ear-battering from both of his beloved parents. Given how mad his father had been when he'd finally dragged himself home on Saturday night, he considered himself lucky to have got away with a small cigarette burn. He'd yet to raise the issue of his forthcoming series of detentions at home; that was something he'd need to think much more carefully about before he tried.

For now, he just had to get through today without his stupid expectations being dented too far. Simple, surely?

'Hey Johnny!' There was something which would never change: Dom's ill-advised enthusiasm at seeing him. John expected it was ninety-percent driven by a desire for a smoke, but he'd take what he could get.

'You didn't come to Diego's on Saturday.' Trust Dom to state the obvious. 'Did your folks ground you?'

John frowned. 'Why would they ground me?'

Dom gestured vaguely, his eyes so wide and innocent that it almost killed John. 'The detention?'

Oh yeah. Grounding him was what normal parents would have done, what Dom's parents would have done. A grounding, and a talking to, and a promise never to do whatever had landed him in detention again. John could just imagine that scene playing out in Andrew's and Claire's houses: the Princess had said as much. Brian, for sure, would have copped a locking-up. But the Benders had a more direct way of dealing with their son's misdemeanours. To be truthful, John wasn't sure whether his new scar wasn't getting off lightly.

'I was busy.' John shut the conversation down, handing Dom a cigarette and lighting one himself.

'Oh. Well, you missed a good one…' And off he went. John zoned out, doing his best to concentrate on smoking the cigarette and nothing more. A few hours, he could do this.

So lost was he that it took Dom to give him a tentative slap to the chest to realise he was being spoken to. It then took him several seconds of blinking to understand exactly who was standing in front of him and that he wasn't hallucinating.

'Hey.' Claire stood awkwardly in front of him, seeming smaller than she had on Saturday, as though she needed her entourage around her at school in order to mean something. They'd certainly deserted her now, lingering by the school steps, eyes trained directly upon this little scene here. It had cost her to give him even that small word; he couldn't help feeling he should be more impressed.

Ignoring Dom's stunned silence next to him, John deliberately took his time knocking the ash off the end of his cigarette. Then he nodded. 'Hey.'

That flummoxed her and he enjoyed it more than he should do. Her upbringing kicked in though, all those church fundraisers he could just imagine her mother presiding over finally becoming useful. 'How are you?'

John chose not to answer. He didn't know what to say and staying silent was safer. It was also making Claire uncomfortable, which was always interesting to watch.

'Our home rooms are next to each other.' She'd checked. That was cute. John would have struggled to have found his own, let alone hers. 'I was thinking we could… walk together.'

It was impossible to prevent himself from smiling, although he wasn't sure why. Everybody liked an invitation, but… this was ridiculous. Even if Dom hadn't been gawping from one side and Claire's ladies-in-waiting hadn't been hovering in the background, he'd have known this was odd. As it was, he felt like some kind of actor on a particularly hostile stage.

Still, being John Bender, son of John Bender, hadn't worked out especially well for him over the past eighteen years, so maybe being John Bender, boyfriend of Claire Standish would fit him better.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground. 'Let's do this then.'

John had always enjoyed a certain level of fame at school. Like Nancy had said all that time ago, perhaps infamy was a better word for it. People knew who he was and whether they should bother speaking to him or not. It was how things were.

By lunchtime on Monday, though, he'd realised that his notoriety was almost nothing when compared to the spotlight Claire walked within every day of her existence. When he walked down the corridor, people got out of his way, keeping their eyes down and barely breaking off their conversation. But Claire… Claire virtually got her own catwalk to parade down, whilst guys checked her out and girls coveted her clothes. John could practically hear the soundtrack as she moved between lessons.

So he was now famous by association, something he suspected he was better equipped to deal with than the other people who had been dragged into this glare. The table in the undesirable centre of the cafeteria looked more like a lifeboat of shipwreck survivors than the newest social clique that everybody was talking about. Brian was addressing every comment to his parental packed lunch bag, whilst Andrew had his arm draped over Allison's chair, trying to take up more physical space even as he didn't quite touch her. It was a pretty visual clue to exactly how things had been going for everybody this morning.

Time for some Bender intervention.

'What are we having?' He sat down with some gusto and swiped Brian's bag from underneath his nose. It was almost embarrassing how pleased the Brain was to see him. Almost, but not quite.

He pretended to rummage around in the bag, not really taking in what food was in there. Maybe Brian had been onto something in burying his head in this bag; it certainly beat awkward silences.

'Claire not with you?' Andrew said eventually.

John looked around in a dumb show. 'Well, say, it doesn't look like it.' He was surprised by how much the Jock's disgusted look cowed him. 'She's doing something.' He'd lost track of exactly what in the breakneck run-down she'd given him of her day's movements as they'd walked to homeroom. Momentarily, he wondered if he was supposed to have joined her in her lunchtime activity. Somehow he doubted the prom committee would cope with his appearance.

'So how was homeroom?' Allison spoke for the first time. She'd regained that black shit round her eyes, and John was pleased. It made her look a bit like a demented racoon, but it was her thing; she deserved a thing. He hoped Andrew was appreciating it.

How Allison had known about his rare appearance in homeroom was something he didn't even bother asking. Until further notice, he'd assume she knew most things about most people. The teasing grin on her face now said she wasn't looking for an answer anyway. He compromised, and flipped her the bird with a smile.

'How has your morning been?' Andrew asked.

John stared him down. 'Fine. Yours?'

The Jock didn't reply, turning his attention to the club sandwich in front of him, suggesting that it had been difficult, but he wasn't sharing anything. Allison ducked her head as well, and Brian remained his quiet self. Too quiet, John suddenly though, remembering how the nerd had babbled on at the weekend, and then was before he'd counted them as his friends.

So he asked the only question there was left. 'Where's Twinkie?' They all exchanged glances, as though they knew something but they were unwilling to share. John didn't know where the anger inside of him came from all of a sudden. 'Decided she's too good for us again?'

'No, it's not that…' Allison tailed off, even as Andrew gave her a doubting look. 'It's not! She just…' Shrugging, she didn't finish her sentence.

'She blew us off,' Andrew explained, matter-of-factly and not entirely unaggressively.

'Andy!'

'Well she did. And Brian too.'

John turned towards the Brain. 'Really?'

Brian shook his head slowly. 'No, not… really. She was…'. He shrugged too. 'I guess she was just busy.'

Sure. The perfect excuse. John didn't know why he was so surprised. He'd just thought that Saturday had been a turning point for everybody, and now here was Andrew, sat at a table virtually holding Allison's hand, and Claire had chosen to walk beside him this morning. He hadn't thought Madison would be the one to remind him that expecting anything from anybody only ever led to disappointment.

John knew that this was insanity. What was he doing, lurking around school after-hours, when ordinarily he'd be beating an escape as soon as possible? The day had been extraordinary enough already, uncomfortably so at times. His expectations should already been exceeded: acknowledgement from the Princess herself that something had changed between them on Saturday. He didn't need to do this.

Yet still, here he was, lying in wait for the one member of the Breakfast Club (it was too cringe-worthy to admit he sort of liked the name) who had so far evaded everybody. Her blowing off Andrew and Allison was pretty rude, but sort of understandable. Claire was a given: popular girls didn't tend to endear themselves to girls like Madison. But Brian… that was low. In John's mind, they occupied the same slightly-geeky sphere. He wasn't sure that Madison could really afford to be burning bridges like this. Why it was his problem, he wasn't quite sure; he'd think about that later. For now, it was show time.

He almost felt sorry for her as she approached him, head down, entirely unprepared for whatever he was about to unleash upon her. He hadn't really worked it out himself and was planning to just go with the flow. Given how oblivious she was, he expected he'd probably get the better of her anyway. It was almost cruel.

Then he thought about how she'd brushed Brian off, and he let his compassionate side sneak off into its dark corner again; it liked it better there.

'Hey Twinkie.' As openings went, it was hardly Oscar-worthy, but he figured the fact he'd literally brought her up short by stepping into her path was doing some of the work for him. She looked alarmed as she looked up at him, her face momentarily clouded with a thousand thoughts, none of which were how pissed off she was with him. He couldn't deny he sort of liked that moment.

'My name's Madison.' The shutters came down, her face immediately like a fortress.

It was too good not to call on her on the overheard conversation he'd stumbled across earlier. 'But people call you Madeline, right?' He saw immediately he'd struck gold as doubt and something very like shame crossed her face. Compassion made a brief bid for freedom – she didn't want this kind of notoriety. He'd done similar things himself, at home, letting his dad accuse him of all kinds of things just to get it all over with more quickly. But that was him. That was his dick of a dad. Who the hell let some two-bit cheerleaders who'd spread their legs for a new pompom call you by the wrong name?

Here was a response he recognised, as she tried to step around him. He knew running, and she needed to get better at it if she thought this was going to put him off.

'Oh, so now you're blowing me off too? Nice to know I'm not being left out.'

He couldn't have predicted the anger which burst forth from her.'I've not blown anybody off!'

This he could work with. 'Not what I've heard.'

'Then you heard wrong!'

'Like Cheerydee and Cheerydum heard your name wrong?' Home run. Her anger dissipated instantly as he gave her a smile which he knew said he'd won. When he'd turned this into some kind of competition, he had no idea. Was it a competition if the other person wasn't really involved? That was the kind of question for somebody like Brian to deliberate on. John was merely concerned with defeating the enemy, which right this moment seemed to be a blonde girl with an ass of a dad.

It took Madison so long to find a reply that John was only made more assured of his victory as she muttered, 'It's nothing to do with you anyway. Any of you. I didn't ask to be your friend.'

True. Absolutely one-hundred per cent true. Madison had bolted before they'd had that conversation on Saturday, disappearing to brood on her deadbeat dad, or her sick brother, or hell, her lousy virginity story. Put together like that, she had a lot to justify her licking of her wounds. John knew he wasn't the only one who had had a shit life so far, and shit lives came in a variety of shapes: Brian, for instance. He didn't have a monopoly on pity.

'Is this pity party invite only or can anyone join in?'

Fuck her. He was surprised with the violence behind his thoughts. Whether she knew it or not, she'd promised something back there in the library. For one tiny moment, she'd dragged him back from the hell of his thoughts. She'd been kind. He didn't know why that made it seem like she owed him something more.

'Good, cause you're making a shit one so far.'

'Why do you care? Don't tell me you're buying into this Breakfast Club crap?' Her momentary pause didn't give him time to formulate a response. 'I don't even know why I'm standing here talking to you.'

'Because you're buying into it too.' He spoke before he thought, and was surprised to find it was the most honest thing he'd said in the past few minutes. Hell, maybe the most honest thing he'd said all day. Considering who he'd spoken to today, that was the kind of disturbing he didn't want to probe too hard.

For an instant, it looked like she was going to say something, and John found he was waiting on her, desperate for something dynamic and witty and real to come spilling from her mouth.

When she turned and walked away, he was unable to avoid a smirk crossing his face. Of course. Naturally.