The Pretty Boy (Breakfast Club)

"Neither do I."

     Brian put on the sunglasses that Bender gave Alan, sporting goofy expression before laughing at himself. Wow,  he thought. It seemed like life was so much better with a joint between his lips. Bender lit a match with nothing but his teeth and lit Claire's blunt, making her get into a coughing fit once she took the joint out of her mouth. "Chicks can not hold de' smoke! That's what it is!" Brian said, making the others laugh. "Do you know how popular I am? I am so popular, everybody loves me so much at this school," Claire said before taking another puff. "Poor baby..." Bender said, trying to contain himself. "C'mon, gimme a hit!" Alan begged. "Okay, okay, here ya' go," Bender lit Alan's joint. "Woo!" the pretty boy shouted with glee. He began taking his shirt off. "Oh my god..." Claire said to herself. "I'm sweatin' like a group of nuns at a cucumber field!" he boasted, making Bender snicker to himself. Andrew came out of the foreign language classroom, high off his ass. He took off his jacket and started dancing around the room like nobody was watching. Everyone, however, was watching. Brian and Alan whistled at him, meanwhile Bender and Claire just sat and stared in awe at Andrew's antics. He finished off by dance-walking back into the classroom, and screamed so loud that he actually managed to break the glass of the door. Through all of this, the girl in black just sat in her seat, jaw to the floor at what they all were doing.

    After they all had came down from the high, Brian, Alan, and Andrew were telling each other jokes, and Claire and Bender looked through each other's bags. "You got a middle name?" Andrew asked Brian. "Yeah, guess." "Uh-" "You're middle name is Ralph, as in puke." The three turned their heads to face the girl in black, she had finally spoken for once. She started to approach them. "Your birthday is March 12th, you're five-nine and a half, you weight a hundred and thirty pounds, and your social security number is 0-4-9-3-8-0-9-1...3." she sat down in-between Alan and Brian, shocked expressions on both of their faces. "Wow, are you psychic?" Andrew asked. "No," she answered. "Well, do you mind telling me how you know all this about me?" she reached into her bag. "I stole your wallet." she held it in her hand and grinned. "Oooh, you seein' this? That is some bad bitch energy right there!" Alan said, pointing to her. "Give it  to me." "No." "Give it!" she sighed before handing back the wallet. "This is great, you're a thief, too, huh?" Brian said, looking through his wallet. "I'm not a thief!" she insisted. "Multi-talented," Brian corrected. "What's there to steal? Two bucks and a beaver shot!" "What?" Andrew and Alan both asked, almost in unison. "He's got a nudie picture on there, I saw it, it's perverted..." "Oooh, I gotta see that!"

     Bender, from the other side of the room, brushed his teeth with one of Claire's cosmetic brushes, while Claire looked through Bender's wallet photos. "Are all these your girlfriends?" she asked. "Some of them," he replied. "What about the others?" "Well, some of them I consider my girlfriends, and some I just consider." "Consider what?" "Whether or not I wanna hang out with them." "You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?" "Do you?" "Yeah, that's the way it should be." "Well, not for me." "How come?" Bender hesitated, but in the end decided to ignore the question. "How come you got so much shit in your purse?" "How come you got so many girlfriends?" "I asked you first." Claire shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I never throw anything away." "Neither do I," Bender said, smugly.

     Alan listened to the chatter between Claire and Bender and sighed. See? This Is just what happens when you let yourself fall in love like that, you get your heart broken. Besides, even If Bender didn't have a bunch of girlfriends, he wouldn't fall in love with some bitch like you. Alan thought. "This is the worst fake ID I've ever seen," Andrew said, making Brian laugh nervously. "Do you realize you made yourself sixty eight?" "Oh, I know, I goofed it." "What do you need a fake ID for?" "So I can vote, duh." 

     "You wanna see what's in my bag?" The girl in black asked. "No." Andrew, Alan, and Brian replied, nearly at the same time. She glared at them before spilling the contents of the bag onto the couch they all were sitting on. Underwear, maxi-pads, tampons, clothes, all fell out of the bag. "Holy shit, what is all that stuff?" Andrew asked. "Do you always carry this much shit in your bag?" Brian questioned. "Yes, I always carry this much shit in my bag. You never know when you might have to jam." "Are you gonna be like a shopping bag lady? Y'know like, sit in alleyways and like, talk to buildings and wear men's shoes- that kinda thing?" Brian asked. "Honey, you don't even need to ask, of course that's what's gonna happen." Alan answered. "I'll do what I have to do." "Why do you have  to do anything?" Brian inquired. "My home life...is unsatisfying." she said, genuinely sad. "So you're saying you'd subject yourself to the violent dangers of the Chicago streets because you're home life is 'unsatisfying'?" "I don't have to run away and live on the streets, I can run away and go to the ocean, I can go to the country, I can go to the mountains, I can go to Israel, Africa, Afghanistan..." Brian leaned over towards Andrew. "Andy, you wanna get in on this? Allison here, says she wants to run away because her home life is unsatisfying." "Well, everyone's home life is unsatisfying. If it wasn't, people would live with their parents forever." "Yeah, yeah, I understand. But I think hers goes beyond what me and you consider normal unsatisfying." "Nevermind, forget it, everything's cool," the girl, apparently called Allison, began putting her stuff back in the bag. "What's the deal?" Andrew asked. "No...there's no 'deal', Sporto. Forget about it, leave me alone." "Wait a minute, now you're carrying all that crap around in your purse, either you wanna run away, or you want people to think you wanna run away." "Eat shit!" Allison yelled before walking away from him. "Hey, hunkie," Alan sat next to Andrew. "Shut up," he said, looking away from him. "Be honest. You like her, don't you?" "What? I mean, yeah, I guess so...what does that matter to some fag like you?" "I'm just sayin', if you like her, you should go and talk to her, don't ya' think?" Andrew sighed. "C'mon!" Alan pushed. "Okay, jeez..." Andrew said, getting up to walk over to the silent girl.

     "Hey...you wanna talk?" "No..." "Why not?" "Go away." "Wha-" "GO AWAY!" she yelled, cutting him off. Andrew threw his hands in the air and started walking off. "You have problems..." Andrew turned back around. "Oh, I  have problems?" "You do everything everybody ever tells you to do, that is a problem!" "Okay, fine, but I didn't dump my purse on the couch and invite people into my problems, did I?"  A slight pause ensued, and Allison began crying. "So, what's going on? Is it bad? Real bad? Parents?" Andrew asked. "Yeah..." she responded with a shaky voice. "What do they do to you?" It took a bit for her to answer. "They ignore me..." her response was so simple, yet it still made Andrew tear up. The room, once again, was silent.