Title: Absorbing the Spectrum

Author: Allison

Summary: Hopefully this isn't the same post detention fic that I'm sure is up here four times over, but it is after detention and all of the characters are carrying on with their lives.

Notes: I don't even remember why I clicked on the Breakfast Club link on the other day, but I did and to my pleasant surprise, there was some really good stuff there. Unfortunately, I managed to run through it all in a few days, so while waiting for the next chapters of everyone else's stories, I was bit by a few bunnies of my own. Andy and Allison are my favorite characters, but I'm not about to ignore the rest of the club members, even if they aren't all included in this first chapter.

More notes: I'd really like to have a beta-reader for this, so if anyone is interested, email me at badmotorscoteratgmaildotcom Thanks!

Word Count: 1256 (this was supposed to be a drabble, mind you)

Andy shifted uncomfortably, in more way that one, as words kept spilling out of Allison's mouth.

"…I don't think that from a legal standpoint what he did can be construed as rape since I paid him."

He was even more uncomfortable with how relieved he felt when she said it was all a lie. She was a freakazoid with some major problems, and he could actually feel her making him as crazy as she was. So he thought of other things, the proper positioning for a full nelson, how many pounds he was going to bench press tomorrow, anything. Anything but the way her lips formed the word 'nymphomaniac', and the way one side of her mouth quirked up into that smile that let them know they'd all been had, she was just teasing them.

Bender's words came back to him, "She's only a tease if what she does gets you hot."

The crazy girl was a tease. And he liked it. Andrew Clark was fucked.

Three beers into Stubbie's party, Andy was bored. He could've just stayed at home, but he didn't want to deal with his father, and though he'd made four new friends, good friends during detention today, that didn't mean he had to ignore his old crowd either. Unfortunately, half of them were drunk and that meant a whole shit load of trouble was being stirred up, and his tolerance for drama had already been met that day between shouts, tokes and tears. He just wanted to unwind and relax, but that was kind of difficult with Mia Pellolio chasing him through out the house. Normally, he didn't mind being chased by pretty girls, but today wasn't 'normally' so with a wave to Stubbie, Andy ducked through the doorway out into the cold night air.

Technically, it was spring, but that didn't mean anything this close to the lake, so he pulled he jacket tighter around himself as he set off toward the Stop-and-Go down the street. It wasn't until he picked up the receiver of the pay phone out front and was reaching into his pocket for some dimes that he realized what he was doing. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to flip open the phone book and skim the pages of Rs until he found the one he was looking for.

He had no idea what he was going to say, but calling her seemed like the best idea he'd had all night. Still, he couldn't keep his foot from tapping nervously as he waited through two and a half rings, before and older man's voice answered impatiently.

"Hello?"

"Uhm," Andy cleared his throat, "is Allison there?"

There was a muttering that sounded an awful lot like 'how the hell am I supposed to know', before he heard the muffled sound of "ALLISON!" being yelled away from the phone.

And then silence. The toe tapping resumed.

"I guess not," finally came across the line.

"Could you tell her Andy called?" he asked, but it was too late, the dial tone was already buzzing in his ear.

Hanging up the phone he decided just to go home and hope that his parents were already asleep, still, he couldn't help but wonder where Allison was, she didn't seem like the partying type, but he really didn't know that much about her. For all he knew, there was a mob of basket cases that convened and partied every Saturday night. That didn't seem very likely, so still he wondered, where was she?

Allison was sitting on her roof, leaning up against the chimney as she stared south east toward Chicago, where skyscrapers stood tall over the flat landscape, lights glittering like square Christmas trees that should have been taken down months ago.

The city was exciting, and full of promise. She could get lost there, she could get found there. She looked back over her shoulder toward the center of Shermer, in the day light, when she looked that way she could see her whole life, her whole world, and needless to say, she found it rather lacking. She hadn't been lying when she told Andy and Brian that she wanted to run away. Israel would be exciting, or maybe London, she thought she'd fit in well there, but for now Chicago was convenient, tangible. In the fall she'd start her applications for art schools, here there, anywhere that might take her.

Her fingers being itching with the familiar need to hold a pen in her hand, so she pulled one from behind her ear and looked to the pad of paper she never forgot to bring to her look out point.

Lines began forming on the page, and she heard her father yell her name from within but she ignored him, he never wanted to talk to her unless it was convenient for him, and right now, it wasn't convenient for her, so she kept drawing... Maybe she'd turn this into a painting on Monday, or an oil pastel; she loved the colors that were left on her fingers for days after holding them. Just by running her hand across a wall at school, she could decorate it in her own way.

Definitely the oil pastels.

Brian spent his Saturday night studying the Illinois Driver's Manual by the light of a flashlight. He was supposed to be asleep, and he was sure his parents were sleeping by now, but he wasn't taking any chances that his mom might be up and see the light coming from his room. She was a big believer in the benefits of sleep, and breakfast, and studying, so he didn't think he'd take too kindly to him staying up past 11:30 just to study his driver's manual. Maybe if it were Calculus she'd be all right, but which direction to position the wheels of the car when parking on a hill wasn't exactly integration by substitution.

She'd never let him drive if she found out about his shop grade, maybe he could redo the assignment, or get extra credit…

Then he could get his permit, and really start to learn how to drive. A frightening thought struck him, would his mom be the one to teach him? Maybe he could ask Andy…

Brian became aware of footsteps in the hallway and quickly shut off his flashlight, and rolled over to face the wall, pretending to be fast asleep, just in case.

It was Sunday morning and Claire Standish was reorganizing her closet, not an altogether uncommon thing, but today, instead of arranging things by color or age (which just made it so much easier to get rid of things that were totally out of season), she was lining up all of her skirts by length, shortest on the left, longest on the right, and her tops by how revealing the were, the least revealing on the left, the most on the right. She hadn't liked being referred to as a tease, and though she was far from ready to burn all of the most revealing in her wardrobe, she could at least be sure to limit the effect she had.

She did wonder though, what John would think if she took the left most skirt and right most top and went to see him, right now.

She snorted, falling back on her bed and stared up at the canopy, he'd probably take a Polaroid and put her in his wallet for him to consider. Bastard.