Dear Reader,

Sorry for the wait and also any spelling/punctuation mistakes I have made and failed to correct.

Thank you to everyone that has followed/favourited. But a special Thank you to everyone that has reviewed. They truly keep me inspired.

Also, to anyone that got the Ferris Bueller reference in the last chapter, I feel like we could be great friends.

Please review?

Not far from the others sat Claire, flicking somewhat uninterestedly through the pictures in Bender's wallet. Glancing up at the boy every now and then to make sure he wasn't breaking anything that had fallen from her purse; after he had carelessly tipped the contents onto the foot rest before him, she had made quick work of arranging things neatly, checking she still had everything as she went. She had returned to her seat only to find his wallet already waiting for her to look through. Why he had wanted to look through her things in the first place, she was unsure, but she had a feeling if she had refused, he would not have left her alone until she had allowed him.

Surprisingly, though to her it wasn't really, the pictures mainly consisted of girls, some fully clothed but smiling suggestively at whoever had taken the photo. A couple of them wore bikini's that barely covered anything. She wondered as she looked up at him now, if he had asked for these photographs. Though because of the boy they belonged to, she doubted it. She had heard many rumours that once John Bender had had enough of a girl that was that. He ignored her in the hallways, pretended nothing had ever happened between them. Perhaps he had these photos because the girls within them had wanted him to remember them.

She ignored the fact that he was busy brushing his teeth with her eyebrow brush and glanced back at the photos in her hands. She wondered how she could broach the subject. But it was simple really. She would just ask the question that was in the fore front of her mind,

"Are all these your girlfriends?"

"Some of 'em." He answered instantly, putting the mirror down with a gentleness Claire didn't expect him to have.

"What about the others?"

"Well..." He picked up a bottle of perfume. "Some I consider my girlfriends and some...I just consider..." He sprayed the perfume a few times, leaning forward to get a waft of the scent as Claire continued.

Bender noted that Nory smelt better than whatever it was he had just sprayed.

"Consider what?"

"Wehter or not, I wanna hang out with 'em..." He re-capped the bottle and set it aside.

"You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?" Bender turned his head to face her, seemingly genuinely surprised at her question.

"Do you?"

"Yeah." She returned her gaze to the photos. "That's the way it should be."

"Well...not for me."

"Why not?" She was not expecting her query to be met with defence however.

"How come you got so much shit in your purse?" But she wasn't letting go of this, she had seen the way Bender had treated Elenore. You would have to be blind to miss it. Had seen the way he had watched her, held hands with her, kept her close. She clearly had to mean something to him. She couldn't ever recall any of her friends telling her about John Bender acting this way before.

"How come you have so many girlfriends?" She tried again.

"I asked you first." He stated instead. She shrugged as she thought of an answer.

"I dunno...I guess I never throw anything away..." She fiddled with the photographs in her hand, feeling slightly awkward about giving into answering him first.

"Neither do I." Bender stated, meeting her gaze.

"Oh." She was not able to hold his teasing stare however and looked away. She looked down at the collection of objects that lay in front of Bender. The only thing that wasn't make up were the mirrors (that came with different colour eye shadow or blusher) and the perfumes. She had various shades of pink nail polish that reminded her of the two different colours that currently coated her nails, (She really needed to fix that as soon as possible) at least three eyeliners and if she counted correctly, five tubes of mascara. Her statement of never throwing anything away could not have been more obvious to her at that moment. Whenever she was running low, she would simply go and buy a new one. Never bothering to rifle through the other cosmetics to find the old one and throw it out.

On the corner closest to his left leg sat a notebook. Hardly used and still looking like it had been bought yesterday. The one time she had used it had been to tear a page out, her number written down for a guy that hadn't called. After that, she had forgotten of its existence until moments before it had fallen from her purse. She suddenly realised just how much she really did carry around with her. She glanced at her purse from the corner of her eye and began to wonder how it hadn't fallen apart with everything she carried. She needed a new one anyway; perhaps she would ask her Dad to buy one for her.

She fiddled with the chain that lay across her lap, the one that had always signified the arrival of John Bender and did a double take when something on the foot rest caught her eye. A white tube of lipstick rested on its side, patiently waiting to be used. But from the moment it had been bought for her, she hadn't used it. The colour inside offered a cherry red lipstick that she knew would not suit her, would cause her already pale face to turn all the paler with the aid of her red hair.

It would probably suit Elenore more than it would suit me. She thought to herself, instantly causing her to look up from the foot rest and up at the Bookworm.

Elenore who had at some point, sat down with the others, would certainly look different with a touch of make up on. Perhaps a hint of eyeliner would make her blue eyes stand out all the more. Some blusher would cover her freckles easily, and the red lipstick might help with a certain someone actually looking at her face instead of her chest.

It was only now that Claire looked slightly to Elenore's left, that she realised that not all of the others were there. It was now just her and Brian and they appeared to be having some form of discussion as Elenore packed away the objects currently in the messy pile next to her. Claire took a moment to eye them. And he thought I carried a load of shit in my bag. She thought to herself. At least the things she carried around with her were necessary.

She glanced to her right when she noticed Elenore glancing in the same direction every few seconds, to find that Andrew was talking quietly with the other girl.

She thought back to the photographs in her hand and Bender's words "Do you think Elenore would appreciate that?" She hadn't meant to say the question out loud, no matter how much she felt they needed to be asked. But, she had done so, and she couldn't take them back. She returned her eyes to the boy in front of her to find he was already looking at her, another bottle of perfume raised in the air for him to sniff.

"What?" He practically snapped.

"I said do you think Elenore would appreciate that?" She had truly dug herself into this one, and she only realised this when his gaze hardened into something that resembled annoyance...and-was that a hint of guilt?

He nonchalantly looked over his shoulder at the girl in question. It appeared she was trying not to look at the blonde boy in front of her, her shoulders had sagged from the stiff position they had held the last time he had glanced at her. He got the feeling she was annoyed perhaps even disappointed at the Brain, though for whatever reason he had no idea. They had seemed to get along perfectly fine earlier. He watched as she placed a few spare items into a bag that did not belong to her and turned her body away as if she were about to move.

Before her gaze could land on him however, he faced forward again, putting the perfume bottle back down, completely forgetting to see what it smelt like.

"What's Nory got to do with it?" He now picked up a tube of lipstick, pretending to inspect it but really watching to see what the girl in question would do.

"Well..." Claire pretended to think for a moment. She watched Bender closely as Elenore got up from her seat and moved towards them. How he stiffened up the closer she got with every step, and how his shoulders sagged, as if in disappointment, when she had walked past them, not even sparing them a look, to sit down on her own by the railings. His eyes had followed her every move. "Everything." Claire finally finished her sentence.

Bender watched the Bookworm for a few moments longer as she slipped a book from her bag, lay down on her back using the black bag that belonged to her friend as a pillow and began to read.

He placed the lipstick down, and snatched his belongings from the red heads grasp, causing her to jump slightly.

"That's where you're wrong." He informed her, his voice low and full of warning. He stood and moved away, leaving the Princess to clear up all the shit back into her purse.

Her arms were aching from holding the book above her face, even though she had only been in the position for a mere amount of moments. But she didn't care. She just wanted to read. The silence that she surrounded her was a delight. Though she would have preferred to make sure that Allison was alright, she had deterred from that particular action upon seeing that Andrew was still standing beside her friend. The pair of them had looked a little puffy around the eyes. She knew what that meant instantly. She had not wanted to interfere on what appeared to be a rather close and private moment.

Her thoughts were disrupted however, when she heard the familiar jingle of a chain. That wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was that fact that the jingling was getting louder as if the owner of said chain was getting closer.

Still not over her embarrassment from when he had been under the table, she bought the book closer to her face, hoping she wouldn't even be able to see him from the corner of her eyes.

Finally, the jingling stopped. But she could feel his presence. And it was very close by.

"What are we reading?" He was standing next to her head. She visibly stiffened, though she forced herself to relax as she turned a page. At least he wasn't standing with a foot either side of her waist. She blushed when she imagined him doing so, but sitting down so he was straddling her. Then she would have been well and truly trapped.

"I am reading The Three Musketeers, if that wasn't obvious from the title. You are reading..." She spared him a glance. "Nothing, apparently."

She listened, as she pretended to read, as he took a seat a few feet away from her. His feet resting mere inches from her head as he dug something from his pocket.

"Here." Something landed with a thud next in the space between his boot and her head. But she could only make out a square of black.

"What is it?" She tried to make her voice less curious than she actually was. But she noted the smirk on his face, and realised she had failed.

"My wallet."

"Your wallet?" Now, she fully turned her head to look at him. "So, you're letting me steal your money or something?"

"No." He reached over her to grab her bag now, watching her face as her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you doing?" She quickly sat up as he began to rummage around in its depths. There was really nothing worth stealing in there, save for her books, but she wasn't worried about him taking those. "What are you looking for?" But she didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she grabbed the bag back from him and tipped it upside down. She probably looked a lot like Allison at that moment.

"You didn't have to do that." But it was apparent he did. If he wasn't willing to tell her what he had been looking for, it was likely he could have been there all afternoon. Her raised eyebrow told him as much, and so grumbling something about impatient females under his breath, he began to search through her belongings, until he found what he was looking for.

"What's the point of a wallet if you don't keep anything in it?" He sounded disappointed as she looked over at him. He was watching her, the wallet open in his hands. She had gone back to lying down, book above her head, not interested in seeing what he carried in his wallet.

"My Gran got it for me. She thinks if I had one, I'd actually use it." She shrugged. "That's what pockets are for. You keep everything in one place, like in a wallet, and it gets stolen, you're screwed. But if you separate things into different pockets, you've got something spare."

"What if you're being robbed?"

She glanced up at him seriously. "You kick 'em in the nuts." Her answer made him laugh. She looked over at him, slightly in awe. She had just made John Bender laugh, a genuine laugh. She decided she liked it when he laughed. Even if what she had said wasn't supposed to be funny.

"Aren't you going to look through my wallet?" He rummaged through all the pieces of paper that had escaped her bag; it was mainly old pieces of homework, or essays that had been graded, long forgotten. He thought about trying to decipher what she had written, (the paper was so crumpled he could barely make out her name) when he caught sight of the books.

There were six in total. All but one were tatty.

"Do I really have to?" Her tone was bored.

"Don't you wanna learn all about good ol' John Bender?" She looked up and caught his eye as he reached forward to pick up one of the books. She had to admit to herself, yes, she did want to learn about John, but not because he caused her face to flush with practically every sentence he spoke to her.

"I'll look through your wallet if you don't tear my books up." She tore off a corner of paper and used it as a bookmark, placing The Three Musketeers on the floor beside her as she turned over so she was lying on her front.

He placed his hand across his chest, feigning hurt at her words but smirked when he caught a flash of cleavage as she readjusted her friend's bag to hide her chest.

A moment of silence passed as John read the backs of the books and stacked them none too neatly next to him. It really was a variety. The Outsiders, Dracula, Shakespeare, Sherlock Holmes, the Three Musketeers. But there was one that particularly caught his eye.

The Scarlett Letter. "Really?" He held it up so she could see what he was talking about. But she only rolled her eyes and turned back to the photographs she had found.

"My Gran's idea. Like the wallet, she thinks if it's in my bag, I'll go ahead and use it. Or in this case read it." She looked to the next photo. One girl standing in nothing but a bikini was swiftly followed by another girl scantily clad in a bikini.

"Your girlfriends?" She briefly showed him the pictures she was referring to.

"So what if they are?" He decided to try.

"You date more than one girl?"

"So what if I do?"

"Answering the question with another question is hardly an answer." She mumbled.

"I consider them." Her eyebrow rose again.

"You 'consider' them? On what? Wether they're hot enough for you? Wether or not they'll smoke pot with you?"

The silence she received was more than enough of an answer for her.

"You date them all at once?" He became very interested in a piece of paper that could have possibly been a shopping list.

"Some of 'em." With the paper practically touching the tip of his nose, eyes squinted and head tilted slightly to the side, he thought he could make out the word 'Icing Sugar.'

"They're very pretty." She informed him as she studied his ID.

"You don't think guys should date more than one girl?"

"That's called cheating." She shrugged. "If you're not happy with someone then just leave, don't insult them by doing stuff with someone else behind their backs." He watched her as she pushed the photographs and his wallet across the floor towards him with her pointer finger.

"How come have so many books?" This time, unlike how he had snapped at Claire, his tone was calm.

"I like reading." Her feet began to swing back and forth as she wondered if she was really having a conversation with John Bender.

"Why?" She sighed and glanced around the room at the other detainees. If there was ever one time when she wanted them to interrupt a conversation, it would be now. Though she couldn't help but feel at that same time, that little flutter of something that he had come over and started to converse with her. Ok, so the chances of him doing the same thing on Monday morning were nonexistent, but while his friends were not around to tease and judge, she figured why the hell not? She looked down at the floor and focused on a particular spot before she spoke.

"Reading can take you into thousands of different worlds. You get to meet characters, no two are the same, and sometimes if you're lonely enough they become your friends. Their worlds become your own. They become a place to escape to when reality bears down on you." She took a deep breath and looked up from the patch of grey chewing gum that had been trodden into the carpet over the years. He was watching her curiously, as if taking in every word she spoke, a piece of paper raised halfway in the air.

If she hadn't been looking so closely, she would have missed the look that crossed his features. It was a look that only lasted a matter of seconds, almost like it hadn't happened at all. But she had been looking closely. She hadn't missed it.

She didn't know John Bender very well, so she couldn't be one hundred percent certain. But she thought she had seen understanding. She quickly remembered the scar on her leg and the one on his arm. No, they weren't there for the same reasons, but they told a similar story, a story of parents that didn't really seem to care.

But his face quickly turned into a mask of boredom.

"Boring." He muttered and continued to try to analyse the writing on the piece of paper.

She sighed and shook her head disappointedly. She had truly had enough disappointment for one day.

"I guess you just wouldn't understand." With that, she took her belongings away and began to stuff them back into her bag. She could feel tears behind her eyes, but she would not let him know that his one word had hurt her so deeply. The stack of books that had been made along with the Tupperware containers were the last things to be put away. But she left one book out.

He had made to reach out for it, but with even more ferocity she snatched it away from him, his fingers almost getting caught in the rush.

She allowed the piece of paper she had used as a bookmark to flutter to the ground and made a promise to herself; she would not allow John Bender to affect her anymore than he already had. There was after all, only a little longer left that she had to be in his presence. And like she thought earlier, it wasn't as if he would talk to her on Monday morning.

Bender took one last glance at her determined face and leant back against the pillar behind him. He finally looked away over her head to the bookcase on the other side of the room. If ever there was a time for John Bender to make things right after saying something wrong, it was then. But no words sprung to his mind. It was probably for the better anyway. After all, she wouldn't want to talk to him come Monday Morning, or indeed as soon as she left the room when detention had finished.

And so, the pair began to ignore each other; she, reading her book, finally able to concentrate now that he had upset her.

He, staring off into the distance, not sure, (for the first time,) if he wanted detention to end.

Neither of them paid any mind as the others, two by two, slowly joined them.

Sincerely Yours,

A Fanfiction Writer.