Hello :) This is a sequel to my other story 'These Children That You Spit On', so you should probably read that first, as this one does follow on quite strongly. Anyway, I got so many nice reviews on that story, and a few of you asked about a sequel, so here we go. This is set a little while after the last story ends. Just to let you know, I'm not American, and I never really grasped the whole concept of how sophomores, juniors, seniors etc can all be in the same classes, so for this story I'm assuming all the characters are seniors, because it makes my life easier! Hope you enjoy it.
I don't own The Breakfast Club!

Allison lay face down on her bedroom floor and crawled as far under her bed as she possibly could, searching through to piles of clutter and junk for that damn piece of paper.

It had to be there somewhere. Then again, maybe she wasn't important enough for her parents to have kept something like a birth certificate. It was starting to look like she'd actually have to converse with her father and ask him if he knew where it was, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Groaning, Allison rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes, choosing to remain under her bed amongst the piles of old sketch books and a few dusty year books that she had never wanted in the first place. It was as good a place as any to reflect on how much her life was changing, and how quickly it seemed to be doing so.

Just over a week ago, by some small miracle, she and her three friends had graduated from high school (Bender was the exception, but there was no surprise there). For a while, there had been a big question mark over whether any of them would graduate at all, after what had happened at Andy's final wrestling meet. To quote Bender, 'the shit really hit the fan' that day. Not that Allison had been particularly surprised- after all, that sort of thing tended to happen if you went around sticking switch blades in people. In fact, she was lucky she wasn't in police custody, never mind graduating. But as it was, things had played out a little differently.

Half of the staff body of Shermer High had come barging into the changing rooms after hearing the commotion coming from within. Vernon, naturally, headed the group, demanding to know who the hell had given Andrew Clark such a beating, and who the hell had stuck a knife into Jake Turner's shoulder. The over-dramatic soccer player was quick to point the finger at her, but Vernon was convinced Bender was the culprit (it was his knife, after all). Suddenly, Andy was pretty sure it had been him, but it was hard to say really, because- as Claire explained- everything had happened so quickly, and they'd all been pushing and shoving, scrambling around. Even Brian conjured up his best poker face and said he couldn't possibly be sure who had stabbed Jake. It became pretty obvious to Allison right then that her friends weren't going to let her take the wrap for this alone.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it), the wound on Jake's shoulder was not very deep at all, nothing a couple of stitches hadn't sorted out.

His pride took a bigger hit, when word got around that the school's toughest jock had fainted at the sight of his own blood.

Vernon quickly became frustrated by the fact he couldn't get to the bottom of what had happened.

Allison snickered to herself. What did he expect, after declaring that 'whoever beat up Clark, and whoever thought they were Norman Bates would definitely not be graduating, and would probably be looking at expulsion'? Did he think that the two culprits were going to step forward and give themselves up, just like that? Jake Turner was suddenly very quiet too, and it was obvious that no one had any intentions of giving Vernon the whole story.

Next, he had called all of their parents in to 'discuss matter.' Of course, neither Allison's nor John's parents had bothered to show up. Claire's father came and stood stiffly in the corner, looking embarrassed by the whole thing. Brian's mom was only concerned with whether the incident would affect her son's grade point average, whilst Andy's parents had similar concerns for his chances at a scholarship. Jake Turner's father was quick to point the finger, threatening to press charges against Andrew, who he was certain was the knife wielder. Suddenly, Andy's father was very good friends with Allison's (news to her), who just so happened to be a lawyer, ready and waiting in the wings to throw a lawsuit back at the Turners for Andy's injuries. Red in the face, Vernon gave up, settling for a week's suspension for the six of them, and calming Brian's mother with the reassurance that they would all graduate, if they kept their heads down for the rest of the year.

Since he knew he wasn't going to graduate anyway, Bender took the opportunity of the 'resolution' to ask for his knife back. He added another Saturday to his list of detentions.

It all seemed like so long ago, now, and in just under two months, Allison would be going to art school in NYC. At least, if she could find her birth certificate for the admissions team, she would be.

Scrambling out from under her bed, she tackled the wardrobe, with a renewed sense of determination. Her whole damn future depended on that stupid birth certificate. Getting out of this house, not having to deal with her dad and her step-mom on a daily basis, finally getting to focus on the one thing she was good at…

Those were the pros, anyway. The con (singular) was that, right then, Andy's college career was up in the air, and neither of them had any idea whether he'd be in NYC with her, on the other side of the country in Oregon, or somewhere in between.

Giving up on the wardrobe, Allison went out onto the landing, checking over the banister. The house was silent- her father was still at work.

Huffing, she opened the door of her parents' bedroom and made her way across to the closet. Peering inside, she quickly located the shoe boxes in which her father kept things 'safe.' Perhaps, she thought with skepticism, her birth certificate was in one of those.

Stacking the boxes on top of each other, she carried them back to her own room. Opening the first one, she tipped it upside down and allowed its contents to spill out onto her bedroom floor.

Reams and reams of paper. Receipts and guarantees, stupid cards and old photos. She'd never had her father pinned as the sentimental type. Sighing, she began to sort through them, keeping an eye out for any official looking documents.

And then something caught her eye. Neat handwriting on good quality letter paper. Her name at the top. Unfolding it to full size, Allison let her eyes skim across the page. And then her mouth fell open in shock.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Andy had jogged the several blocks to Allison's house that day.

It was a little far, even for him, but he was still on a 'privileges ban' since turning down a full scholarship at UIC, and privileges meant everything from the use of his brother's car and the games console in his room, right through to the 'privilege' of his father speaking to him. Some might say that was a bonus, he had concluded.

Not that any of that mattered today.

No, today was a good day. He couldn't wait to get to Allison's house.

Finally reaching the front porch, Andy knocked on the door and let himself in, just as he always did when her parents were out at work.

"Ally! It's me!" he called, checking the lounge and the kitchen, but finding no sign of his girlfriend, he went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. "Ally! Where are you? I've got something to tell you."

There was still no reply, so Andy put his head around Allison's bedroom door.

Sure enough, she was sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed.

"Hey. There you are. I was calling you," he said, opening the door properly.

Allison glanced up at him, but she didn't respond, and it was then Andy noticed that she was surrounded by several stacks of paper.

"What's wrong?" he frowned, sitting down beside her, suddenly feeling very concerned.

Over the last few months, they had gotten so close that he could almost read her like a book. He could look at her face and know exactly what it was she was feeling. The crooked smile she gave him when she was nervous, the way she chewed her bottom lip when something was worrying her. The distant look in her eyes would tell him when she was having a particularly rough time at home, and he knew he was in trouble when her bottom jaw set. But today… Andy had never seen Allison like this before, and he didn't like it.

Reaching across, he took hold of her hand.

"Ally? What's the matter?"

When Allison still failed to reply, Andy gave her hand a gentle shake, as if trying to get her to notice him.

"Come on, Allison. Don't go back inside your shell. Not now. Talk to me," he urged.

Finally, she looked up at him again, but then her gaze fell back down in the direction of the papers in front of them.

"What's all this?" he asked, guessing it was something to do with her current state.

"They're from my mom," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Andy frowned, confused. "Your mom? Your real mom?"

She nodded.

"I thought you said she never got in touch after she left?" he recalled. "So where did all this come from?"

"My dad's closet," she said simply.

"Your dad's closet?" he repeated.

"I was looking for my birth certificate. For college. The admissions thing," she said, as if trying to explain herself. "He's been hiding them from me, Andy. For years."

Picking up the nearest pile, Andy shuffled through the numerous birthday and Christmas cards, and the neatly folded letters addressed to Allison. It certainly looked as though her father had been doing a very good job of making it seem like her mother didn't care.

"Oh, jeez. Ally…" he began, unsure of what else to add.

"All this time she's been trying and trying, and it's like I've been ignoring her. All this fucking time…" Allison said, the anger suddenly making its way to the surface. "All this time I thought… I thought that she…"

"Didn't want you?" he guessed.

Suddenly, it wasn't anger he could see in her eyes anymore. It was something else. She looked lost. Like a lost child, he decided.

"C'm'ere," he sighed, pulling her closer. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, and he could feel her tears against his bare skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I know this sucks. I can't even imagine… But it'll be okay now. You'll see."

"You think?" she murmured, sounding unconvinced, as lifted her head up to look at him again.

He nodded, drying her tears. "I promise. You can contact her now, huh? If that's what you want."

"Yeah, like she'll want anything to do with me after she thinks I've been ignoring her for the last 14 years," Allison muttered.

"That's not your fault. And you can tell her that, when we find her," he said.

"'We?'" she repeated, unsure.

"What, you think I'd let you deal with this on your own?" Andy asked, raising one eyebrow.

She shrugged, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

"Not in a million years," he assured her, kissing her forehead and pulling her a little closer.

It was quiet for a moment then, before Allison spoke again.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Huh?" he asked, absentmindedly rubbing small circles on her back.

"You said you had something to tell me."

"Oh," Andrew smiled, suddenly remembering the reason he was there in the first place. "Yeah. I got accepted at LIU."

"What's that?" she asked, her mind obviously still elsewhere.

"Long Island University, Ally," he grinned. "Guess we're going to NYC."

For the first time since he'd arrived, Allison smiled. It was her biggest smile, Andy knew- the one she kept for times when something made her day a little better.

"Looks like you're stuck with me. Sorry," he teased.

"I'll find a way to cope," she said, kissing him and letting her worries melt away, if only for the time being.