Disclaimer: I don't own The Breakfast Club or any of its characters, blah blah blah, I'm broke. Don't sue. I'll bite your legs off.
A/N: Holy shit, guys…I'm BACK! This really is an update, not your mind screwing with you. I apologize a million times for the ridiculously long hiatus. I don't know why, but I lost interest in this fic for quite a while. Now, though, I've rewritten chapter 3 (go check it out) and gotten this chapter out of the way. Don't forget, I've got this fic set up so that it's ClaireXJohn centric.
Warnings: What the hell did I rate this thing, T? Yeah…the rating is for language, violence, possible drug use/references, and maybe a lime. I have no idea where this fic is going. I just write down the ramblings of my brain. Read at your own risk. Don't blame me if you rip your hair out after reading. I warned you!
ClaireClaire woke up at 5:30am to the much-too-cheery sound of her mother's voice. She groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. "Mom, I was planning on sleeping in today!"
Her mother looked astonished, and laughed. "But, Claire…It's Monday! Surely you're not skipping school again to go shopping…are you sick?"
"Ugh. No, I just didn't realize it was Monday…I'll be up in a minute," Claire sighed. Monday, she thought with disgust. Wonderful. She got in the shower and let the water do its job of waking her up. As she washed her hair, Claire wondered if she would get to speak to John today – and what would happen if she did. Would she be able to stand up to her old "friends"?
Maybe…if she could just wake up…that might help.
JohnJohn awoke with a start. What in the hell…who was calling his name?
"John!" shouted his mother again. She looked up at him sympathetically from under the large, overgrown oak tree in the front yard; it was the only growing thing. He jumped down and his mother almost instinctively reached out and moved his hair. She peered at the fresh, swelling bruise.
"My poor baby…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry it's turned out like this…he gets drunk, hits you because you're in his line of sight, and then you fall asleep on the roof or in the tree…"
"It's ok Mom, don't worry about it. The Old Man's got problems, that's all there is to it." In John's opinion, his mother pretended to worry for him too much. She was always telling him how sorry she was for everything, and he was used to it. His old man was crazy, end of story. Of course, he often questioned his mother's sanity for marrying and staying with the man.
"I am worried, though. I'm a mother, I'm supposed to worry. And I am sorry. I wish I had the strength and courage to leave, but…I barely finished high school, so I can't get a job that pays enough to support the two of us, and I'm afraid your father might actually come looking for us, and…"
"Enough," John interrupted. "I wish I could believe you, but…." His mother's eyes darkened with despair and began to glisten with tears that soon cascaded down her cheeks. He swallowed. "I'm getting ready for school. I'll be back…later." He turned heel and wandered back to the house to shower and dress. I'm so sick of all this, he thought. The old man gets drunk, beats me, then beats her, and she gives me the same fucking lip-service speech every single time. She doesn't mean a word of it. If she did, she'd have found a way out for us. Besides, she's a hypocrite; one minute she's cursing me off alongside Dad, and the next she's crying for me. If it weren't for his mother, he would've left ages ago. As much as he acted like a badass, though, he couldn't bring himself to leave his hypocritical mother with that monster he called "dad." Frustrated, angry, exhausted, sore, and in an all-together terrible mood, John Bender fumed his way to school. As usual, he would be late; that was the least of his concerns.
Claire
Claire opened the car door to get out, anxious about what today would bring.
"Oh, Claire!" her mother said. "I almost forgot! Your father told me about your missing earring. Please try to get it back. Your father and I are both very upset that you would give away something so expensive."
Claire rolled her eyes. That again. "Yeah, ok, Mom. I'll do that."
"Thanks, sweetheart. I'll see you later."
"Bye, Mom." Claire climbed out of the car and rushed to class. She'd been so slow waking up that she might end up late. Already, the halls were nearly empty; the homeroom bell had rung. She dumped the books she didn't need in her locker, scanning the hallway for any friends. At first glance, she didn't see anybody, so she started walking towards her homeroom class. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a familiar figure at the opposite end of the hall, presumably heading to class. It only took her a second to realize that it was John. She smiled. Good Monday – 1, Crappy Monday – 0. "John! Hey, John!" she waved. He looked up, and she gasped. The earring was forgotten. "Oh my God, John…are you ok? What happened?"
"I fell. I'm fine. Peachy keen. Fuckin' fabulous. I've never been better," John said, biting sarcasm spewing from his lips. "I've got a split lip and a bruise the size of an orange, but I'm great. Hell, I'm even in my second favorite place in the entire world: school."
Claire hesitated, taken aback by his harsh words and icy glare. "John, I don't believe you fell," she said, remembering his reenactment of his father's beatings. "What happened? You can tell me," she offered.
His glare softened for a moment, but quickly hardened again. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about it. Don't you have backs to stab or something?" he shot back, pushing roughly past her. "Just leave me the hell alone," he muttered.
Claire stood there and watched him walk away, shocked and confused. What had happened to the teasing, amusing trouble maker she had talked to on the phone only days before? He'd transformed into a sarcastic, morose, mean-spirited jerk. What an asshole, she thought, turning around and continuing to class. Who does he think he is, treating me that way? We're barely friends for a day, and look at us; we're fighting already! And over what? Looks like it's a tie between Good Monday and Crappy Monday. She would have to look for him during lunch and see if she could convince him to talk about what was wrong. No! her mind scolded. He needs to apologize to me before I go to him. He can find me. With that, she settled into class, her mind anywhere but on school.
John
John stormed into class and plopped heavily into his seat, not caring whose shit he kicked out of the way in the process. He turned the seat/desk combination in front of him around, stuck his feet on it, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the class, daring somebody to object. When nobody did, his thoughts turned to the encounter he'd just had with Claire. His anger was tinged with guilt. He felt bad for snapping at her. Why should I feel sorry? I have enough problems without a girl following me around and interrogating me like it's the Goddamn Spanish Inquisition. It's none of her business. Why does she even care? Nobody else does. And it's not her face that's all swollen and sore. I don't need her in my face about my life. Still, though, something in the back of his mind was nagging at him. The back stabbing comment, he thought. That had taken it too far. He felt sorry for saying it. Maybe I should catch up to her later and apologize. That thought shocked him; John rarely if ever apologized to anybody, much less somebody who he had despised until recently. Talk to her. Tell her what happened, his mind whispered. Whatever, he told himself. Who cares? He shoved his problems to the dusty back corner of his mind and concentrated on sleeping. He'd be damned if he let his usual problems and one overly-curious girl disrupt his near-daily routine of falling asleep in class.
XXXXX
Refreshed after napping in his last four classes, John made his way to lunch. Having decided to talk to Claire, he looked for the red-head in the noisy, stinking cafeteria. Spotting her on the other side of the room with a friend, he briskly walked past the students trying to decipher what sort of mystery meat they were poisoning themselves with today and was at her table in no time.
The girl Claire was with, Ashley, turned and looked at John in disgust. "What do you want?"
"Nothing involving you, sweetheart." The two glared at one another; Ashley looked away first. John turned his attention to Claire. "Hey, Cherry."
"Hey back," Claire said, wondering what he wanted. He didn't seem to be acting cold, as he had before.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked, and then mumbled, "I, um, wanted to take you up on your offer."
Claire smiled. "Yeah, sure. Outside?"
John nodded. "Cool."
"Whoa…hold on a second!" Ashley exploded. "Claire, hun, where are you going with this loser?"
"Outside," Claire replied coolly. "To talk to John." With that, she snatched his hand and hurried towards a door.
"But when did you become so friendly with a dope head like him?!" Ashley sputtered after their disappearing figures. "What the hell? Ugh!" She scurried off to spread the word that Claire, Prom queen nominee, was hanging around with John Bender, joint-rolling extraordinaire.
XXXXX
A/N: And the 6th chapter has come to a close. I know it seems short, but at a little over 4 pages in Word, it's the longest chapter I've ever written. Yeah, pretty pathetic. I can't force myself to keep writing and make it any longer, though. I'm running on 10-12 hours of sleep this week, and yet here I am at 2:00am finishing and posting this chapter. I realize I don't deserve them, but I would appreciate reviews. When I'm actually posting stories/chapters, I live off of reviews. Seriously. I get giddy every time I see a new review. They're my inspiration. Chapter 7 is already underway and shouldn't take long to finish. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!