Title: Of Shop Class, Flare Guns, and Heavy Metal Vomit Parties
Author: D.L. SchizoAuthoress
Rating: R
Warnings: Profanity, references to suicide and drug use
Summary: Brian and Bender-before, during, and after that fateful Saturday detention.

Important Notes: I don't know how long it will take me to update or finish this story...my inspiration comes and goes, and even though I have a lot of the backstory (hell, I plotted things out for the parents and created family trees for every Club member) it can be hard to wrest things from my brain into a readable format. Thank you to everyone who has read, reveiwed, and said kind things to me. It always means a lot. Isolated italics are memories.
Italics with 'single quotes,' indicate thoughts.
Bolded "double quotes" denote writing.
Underlines are for emphasis.

Friday, March 23, 1984

When it happened, it happened really fast. One moment, Brian was in World History, working with his assigned group on a World War II presentation - Gerald Kline was telling him about Larry Lester's run-in with some stupid jock yesterday (the reason why Larry wasn't in Trig class as usual) - and the next, a loud alarm cut off all coversation.

Mr. Ryan stood and spoke loudly to be heard over the alarm. "This is not a fire drill. Everyone, line up in an orderly fashion. Leave your things. We have to get to the football field."

Though the teacher's voice was calm, the expression on his face was deeply serious, which Brian and the other students realized right away. They hastened to do as they were told. The sound of other classrooms being emptied came through the closed door. Mr. Ryan nodded to Angeline Barnes, who was closest to the door, and she opened it. The class streamed out into the hallway, eager to join the rest of their schoolmates as the school was evacuated.

"You don't think MacMillan and Scott really did blow up the chem lab?" Gerald demanded.

Brian stumbled over his own feet. "What, what? What?"

"Remember, the two sports that Larry was tutoring in Chemistry?" Gerald reminded Brian as he helped his taller friend keep to his feet. "Lare said that they were so hopeless, they'd blow up the chem lab if he wasn't there to keep an eye on them."

"Keep moving, gentlemen!" Mr. Ryan barked out. "Miss Barnes, to the left!"

There was a loud 'bang!' that echoed in the hall. A girl screamed, and the remaining students began to panic and shout. Brian managed a look back over his shoulder, only to freeze in horror at what he saw.

Mr. Ryan was staring at the smoking, destroyed remains of a locker. A charred textbook and a melted hunk of plastic that might have once been a calculator fell to the linoleum floor, followed by blackened shards of ceramic. Brian bit his lip. Even with the thing in pieces, he recognized his hideous non-working elephant lamp.

"Brian Johnson." Suddenly, Mr. Ryan was right next to him, gripping his arm tightly. "You stay with me. We're going to find Mr. Vernon when the fire alarm situation is sorted out," Brian gasped at that, even as he was pulled along by one arm down the hall, "and discuss your punishment!"

As it turned out, the fire alarm was a fake. Brian heard a couple of girls talking about it as they passed Mr. Vernon's office, where he sat in shame - rumor had it that John Bender had pulled the alarm and earned himself a Saturday detention. Brian hunched his shoulders, gloomily thinking that he'd be lucky to get a detention... he would be lucky not to be suspended... expelled... drawn and quartered by his mother...

Carl, one of the janitors, had brought the remains of the flare gun and the destroyed contents of Brian's locker to Mr. Vernon's office. Vernon had glared at Brian in silent but obvious disgust for a few moments, and then gone behind his desk and called Brian's father. Now they were just waiting for Mr. Johnson to arrive so that they could discuss Brian's punishment. Vernon's dark eyes were filled with anger, and Brian kept his head lowered to avoid the vice principal's accusing gaze.

"It...it was a gag...a gag gift." Brian stammered, thinking fast even under the eyes of his disappointed father and an angry school administrator. Kyle Meyer in Math Club had just recently gotten his drivers license. "Kyle from Math Club passed his driver's test."

"So you got him a flare gun?" Mr. Vernon asked, disbelief practically dripping from every syllable.

"His girlfriend lives in the other town over...actually, out in the country near the next town," Brian explained quickly, the story crystallizing in his mind even as he spoke. "I thought it would be funny... you know, like he has to signal that he's there because there aren't any streetlights near her house..."

Mr. Vernon snorted.

"Well..." Brian's dad said slowly, in that measured, considering way he had, "Perhaps it would be, but it wasn't very funny... or smart... to bring a loaded gun to school, even if it was a flare gun, Brian."

Brian sighed, and hung his head again. "I know."

"Now, Mr. Vernon," his father turned toward the assistant principal, "I'm still not exactly clear on what happened to set this all in motion. Could you explain, please?"

Brian's ears burned with shame as Mr. Vernon recounted everything, including his suspicions that Brian had had something to do with the false fire alarm. When Mr. Ryan had called out directions to Angeline Barnes he had, out of habit, gestured with his hand and struck Brian's locker. The contents must have shifted in just the wrong way and set off the flare gun. He felt his father's eyes on him as Mr. Vernon got to that part of the story, and his heart seemed to beat even louder, nearly drowning out every other sound.

"It's lucky that no one else was hurt!" Mr. Vernon was saying, "We would have had no choice but to expell him!"

Brian's head shot up at that - he stared at them with a look of absolute horror. That seemed to be the reaction that Mr. Vernon was hoping for; vindictive triumph glittered in his gaze, and for a moment, his scowl seemed to twist into a sadistic smile. Brian blinked a few times, trying to convince himself that he'd imagined that.

"Ahem, well..." Brian watched as his dad pulled off his glasses and polished them on his shirt, and wondered if his father had seen the same look on Mr. Vernon's face. "I appreciate that you and Mr. Rooney reconsidered."

"Well," the assistant principal appeared somewhat mollified by the deference in Mr. Johnson's tone. "This is the first offense, serious as it was." He looked toward Brian again. "And it had better be the last, mister."

"Oh, yes, sir!" Brian replied, nodding earnestly. At that point, Brian would have agreed to come to school riding a unicycle, wearing a pink dress and lipstick, reciting the Gettysburg Address, for the next month... anything to get out of that little corner of hell.

"In light of that fact," Mr. Vernon finished, "I'd say that a Saturday detention will be a suitable punishment."

The drive home was tense and silent. They were nearly home by the time that Dad gave a little cough and said, "I'll speak with your mother. You're to go up to your room immediately."

Brian bit his lip hard, trying not to let his relief show on his face. "Yes, sir," was all he replied. That was safe enough to say.

Dad pulled into the driveway of their home. Brian moved to get out of the car right away, but then Dad spoke again, quietly, "Brian, wait."

"Yes, sir?" Brian responded, keeping his fingers hooked around the square plastic latch that would open the door.

"Brian... that was my flare gun. The one we take when we go camping. Wasn't it?"

Brian swallowed hard. He couldn't seem to make his vocal cords obey, so he nodded silently.

Dad was quiet for a long time. Brian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watched as Dad opened his mouth to ask another question, but after a second, he closed his mouth again. Something flickered in the man's eyes, but whatever he was thinking, his voice was neutral when he finally said, "You'll have to pay for a replacement."

"R-right," Brian stammered slightly when he replied. "I will. I... I'm sorry, Dad."

"Go on," Dad ordered, "Up to your room."

Brian yanked open the door and ran into the house through the garage.