I truly like the film, The Breakfast Club (you should watch it if you hadn't seen it). I think it's a lovely story and shows aspects of childhood many adults don't notice or just forgot about. It always brings tears to my eyes and I have to watch it at least once a year. Enjoy and please review.

Allison was humming to herself as she slowly made her way to school. She smiled softly as she watched her feet taking steps on the sidewalk, careful not to step on a crack.

"'Or break you mother's back'." she muttered to herself.

She stopped walking, noticing a ladybird making its way across the sidewalk, too. She crouched down to examine it further, pulling out her sketchbook as she did. Allison reached for a single blade of grass on the lawn beside her and pulled it. Biting her lower lip, she carefully placed the blade beside the insect and waited patiently until she irritated it enough that it decided to crawl onto the green blade. Smiling to herself, Allison gently placed the grass on her knee and began to sketch, the ladybird kindly laying quite still.

Soon, the insect began to move again, which was fine with Allison, she was done with her drawing and simply waiting until the ladybird felt confident again. She watched as it spread its wings and flew off and away from her. Allison watched it until she couldn't make the insect out any longer and frowned. She suddenly felt very lonely. She let out a sigh and turned her attention toward school, not looking forward to the prospect.

Focusing on her feet again, Allison felt her hair fall over her face as she was walking through a particularly difficult distance of sidewalk. If she remembered correctly, there was an underground water pipe that had broken a few years back, corroded because the city planner decided spending money on her side of the neighbourhood was a last resort. Unfortunately for the planner, this particular pipe connected to four main water lines, one of which was for fire hydrant. A few doors down, a house caught on fire and when the fire brigade showed up, there wasn't any water to save the house. No one died, but a family lost a home and the city was sued.

Allison laughed at this as she danced her way on the sidewalk, enjoying herself thoroughly as she tiptoed, trying to avoid the cracks. She had done this every morning for the past year and often believed this was the best time of the day. She knew it wasn't true, but Allison sometimes thought that perhaps if she did accidentally step on a crack, her mother would end up in the hospital. She couldn't do it on purpose, because that would defeat the purpose. Allison never tried though. Why would she want to break her mother's back? Honestly, if she had that power, she'd wonder what else she could do? Fly, Allison decided. She wanted to fly.

First bell.

Allison looked up, her school waiting for her. She stopped from across the street and looked up at it, wondering what would happen if she didn't show up. Not much. Maybe. The only reason she went was to get a chance to leave her house and force herself to explore. That was her routine: school, home, work. Or home, school, work. Or even, work, school, home. She hated this part. She hated having to cross the street, narrowly being missed by the cars on the busy street, trying to push her way past the crowds of people just so that she could get inside. It made her nervous.

Come on, Allison, she prepped herself, just do it. It'll be faster if you ran.

She always told herself the same thing and she always listened, so, she ran as fast as she could. Damn, she forgot to look both ways. She heard the screech of tires, the honk of horns, and curses all in her direction. Allison covered her ears from the loud noises, trying to ignore all the looks she was receiving. She felt her face warming but it was too late to slow down; she was almost to the entrance and all Allison wanted to do was get inside.

Her eyes entirely focused on the double doors leading inside, Allison did not notice when someone stepped in front of her. She grunted from the impact and fell backwards. She gasped, as she landed hard on the concrete of the walkway leading to the safe confines of the school.

"Fuck." she cursed softly, her bag falling from her grip and its contents falling out. Laughter fell into her ears. She began reaching for her things, her face reddening even more, and her eyes watering. All her precious sketches and all her pens, everywhere, "Damnitdamnitdamnit..."

"Shit, I'm real sorry." said another voice over her. Allison ignored whoever it was, trying to gather all her notebooks and shove them into her bag. The voice continued, a hand holding her pens in front of her "You run fast. I had to sprint across the lawn to stop you in time."

Allison felt angered, not answering the son of a bitch that stopped her. She reached for the pens and snatched them away, shoving those in as well. She was about to stand when she realised the hand was still there, waiting for her to take it. Furrowing her eyebrows she looked up and her anger faded immediately.

Andy rubbed his face as he made his way down the stairs of his parents' house. On the wall of the stairs were photographs of his family, him with his trophies, his older brother, Jeff, with his wife and child and his younger brother, Ryan, hugging his mother. Andy walked past these photographs without another thought and headed into the kitchen. No one was around, but that wasn't unusual; both of his parents worked. Andy saw a note on the fridge from his mother wishing him a good day and that his lunch was inside. He frowned at the other note, however, from his father. It was a daily schedule Andy had to make sure he followed. Andy reached for it and crumpled it, placing it on the kitchen table so that his father would see it first.

He knew he was being a hypocrite, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice and he hated himself for it. He opened the fridge door forcefully, the contents on the door rattling violently at the movement, and for some reason, this only made him angrier. He pulled out milk for his cereal, orange juice, bread for toast, an apple, and a banana and slammed them all on the table. Andy could feel himself grinding his teeth as he got his breakfast ready, angry at himself, his father, at everyone.

He suddenly got a reminder and paused. He let out a sigh and leaned against the table for a moment, calming himself. Everything is fine, he thought, you're almost there. He sighed again and with a forceful calm, he began to eat, quickly. The faster he ate, the faster he could leave. Andy took large bites and swallowed taking gulps of orange juice in between to soften the bites. He placed his dishes in the sink, washed them, cleaned off the mess on the table and ran up the stairs to dress. He began to whistle.

Andy unlocked his car, throwing his bags in the passenger seat. He climbed in and placed his keys in the ignition. His car roared and he drove backwards down the driveway, looking both ways before driving onto the street, changing gears and charging up the street toward school. He rolled his window down and let the cool air wash over his face. He vaguely wondered if he had finished his homework and realised he hadn't. He decided he would, once he arrived at the school and found a quiet spot. He drove faster.

His mind was on other things, some pleasing, others not so much. His elbow was on the windowsill of his car door, his fist under his chin. His thoughts was slowly creeping toward her father's note. After he had parked, Andy stepped out of his car before slamming it shut, his jaw clenched and his hands in fists. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled then exhaled deeply, trying to calm his temper as much as he could. He used his keys to lock the door and out of habit, pulled the handle just in case it wasn't locked. He dropped his keys in his pocket, checked to see he had his wallet on him, and re-positioning his backpack, he began to walk toward the school.

He nodded his head toward people that called his name, gave a few high-fives and smiled at passing girls that gave him a flirting grin. His mind was somewhere else though. He was looking for someone, someone that he was looking forward to seeing, he just didn't know where to look. He scanned the sea of faces on the front lawn, all waiting for school to start, but there was no one he cared to communicate with.

"An-day!"

Andy turned his head and saw his friends running at him. Shit, he thought, dropping his bag and readying himself for the impact. He grunted as the rest of his teammates lunged at him, knocking him heavily to the ground and all the air rushed out of his lungs. He struggled, using headlocks, takedowns, and avalanches before he and the others had given up or were bruised enough to stop. He enjoyed that, and guffawed and laughed with his teammates and anyone else close by that were watching them.

When Andy was calmer and was standing up straight, he ran a hand through his hair, looking around. He frowned, trying to focus his attention in finding her. He wondered if she was already inside. Yeah, he'll do that. He reached for his bag and shouldered it once more, heading toward the school's entrance.

"Where you goin', man?"

Andy hardly heard his friend calling to him and gave a wave of peace before walking closer to the entrance. His eyes stopped, there she was, just across the street. He smiled to himself, thinking how very cute she was, how delicate and soft. He was heading toward her when she began to run. His eyes widened as he watched a car speeding toward her direction.

"Fuck." He whispered, his heart beating against his chest, wondering how she had survived that, but there was no time to think about it, she was still running and he didn't want to miss her.

He dropped his bag and sprinted across the lawn his eyes still on her. He pushed people out of the way, jumping over obstacles. He just wanted to touch her and hold her. She was covering her face and didn't see him heading her way. He knew how this was going to end because he couldn't stop himself in time and collided with her.

He hardly felt her as she bounced off him, but he certainly didn't want it to be the way they would meet again. He watched her fall backwards and slam against the floor, he winced at the pain she might have felt, watching her bag spill out all over the walkway. He heard laughter around him and glared at those who dared. He quickly walked over to her and helped her with her things, apologising.

She was angry, and he understood. He gave her his hand to help her up but she didn't take it right away, staring at it. When she finally looked up, her mouth opened to a big "O".

"Hi." Andy said, smiling at her.

Claire moved a fringe of hair over her ear and off her face. Then she replaced it, then she moved it back again. She raised her arms and hit her sides in impatience as she stared at herself in her full-length mirror on the other side of her bedroom door. She didn't know what she liked more or what she hated more. Frowning, she decided to forget it and forced herself to walk away. Whatever, she'd rationalise about it later.

She walked over to her vanity and sat on the small white stool in front of it. Again, she looked at herself and the fringe. She pushed it back and reached for the compact, placing it carefully in her purse. She then found her lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner and placed those inside her purse as well. She stood up from her stool, her eyes looking over the desk to see if she needed anything else for school. Her chest gave a jolt when she noticed a lone diamond earring, sitting quietly by itself, almost hidden under her other jewlery. She blinked at it a few times, thinking hard, her heart beating. She swallowed once and shook her head. She was just about to look at herself in the mirror again but thought better of it and walk away from her vanity and the other mirror behind the door. She pulled her bag off her four-poster and placed her purse inside of it before leaving her room.

Claire slowly opened the door to her bedroom and peeked outside, waiting for any signs of movement or talking. Nothing. She took a step out, placing her bag on her shoulder and tiptoed out of her room, closing her door as softly as she could. She moved as silently down the hallway, heading for the stairs. She stopped once again, listening. She peered around a wall and saw the door to her parents's bedroom open, well, her mother's. Her parents haven't slept in the same room for about ten years now. She wrinkled her nose as the faint smell of spirits and wine made their way into her nostrils. Claire frowned, hating everything about the house she lived in.

She quickly made her way down the spiral staircase and toward the kitchen. It was quiet and dark. She reached for the switch and turned the light on. Three set of bulbs above her lit up the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. Claire wasn't feeling too hungry at the moment, but opened the fridge for the salad Andrea, the house-keeper, nanny, friend, had made for her last night. She wished Andrea was around more often, but the woman had a family of her own and Claire doubted any sensible person would want to stay where she lived.

Claire opened up the container of the salad to make sure it was the one she wanted, the plastic echoing loudly against the tiled floor. She winced, pausing for any sound. Nothing. She crept toward the other side of the kitchen, wondering where her father was. He was usually up by now, making himself a coffee or something before work. Was he even home? Claire dropped her salad into her purse, grabbing a bottle of water and walked to the garage, her heel s clicking against the floor.

She reached into her purse to rummage for her car keys. She found her sunglasses instead and put those one as she reached the door into the garage. She reached around and pressed the button for the garage door. As it opened she began looking for her keys again. Sighing with impatience, she shook her purse and heard the faint ingle of keys. They were definitely in there. It was only a few moments more before she found it and sighed again. She unlocked her car door, stepped in and began to drive.

When she finally arrived at the school, she made sure her appearance was as good as she believed it should be. Claire took off her sunglasses, adjusted the rearview mirror to focus on her, along with her side mirrors, and pulled out her compact as well. Three different sides, three different views. Nope, everything was fine. She smiled to herself and replaced her sunglass back on her face before stepping out of the car. She let out a sigh and began to walk. Before she got very far, Claire heard a squeal. She winced at the sound, but inside only, she didn't show it on her face at all. She turned her head in that direction and plastered her best smile.

"Steph, hey."

"Claire!" Steph squealed again, giving her friend a hug, "Are you okay? Is everything okay? You missed the party Saturday."

"Yeah." Claire said with a nod, walking again, Steph beside her, "My parents wanted to...talk."

"Talk?" Steph said, looking at her oddly, "About what? I thought they didn't talk."

"They don't." Claire said, "It was pretty weird."

"Hey, wait, don't." Steph said, moving Claire's hand out of the way. She had subconsciously moved the dratted fringe while she was listening. Her hair was tickling her nose.

"What?" Claire said moving her head back away from Steph's hand.

"It's better in the front." Stephe said, her fingers combing her hair, "There."

Claire sighed, feeling annoyed.

"Oh my god!" Steph squealed, "Well, Nicole and Marcia will be here soon. They were at the party, and you wouldn't believe what happened..."

And she continued, on and on and on. Claire nodded and and made noises of agreement and disapproval in all the right places, but she knew Steph wasn't really listening, but neither was Claire. This conversation was about as far away from her mind as the moon. And still, she continued.

Clarie sighed inwardly, as she numbly walked up the steps to the school, Steph jabbering away about absolutely nothing. Claire opened the door and walked in, holding it behind her for Steph to walk through, who wasn't really paying attention as she giggled from something she must have said, Claire didn't remember. Frowning, Claire made an excuse about saying she had a really bad stomachache and needed to head for the nurses. Steph looked slighty put out and irritated for being interrupted. Claire watched her shrug her shoulders and turn around, walking a huff.

Claire scoffed at the attitude and instead of turning left for the nurse's station, she walked straight to her locker. She turned the dial of her lock and heard a satisfying click. She pulled the lock down and opened her locker, placing the lock inside. Almost automatically, she looked at herself in the mirror she had placed on the door, frowning at her fringe, then at herself; old habits die hard. She reached into her bag and pulled out the books she would not need and replaced them others. She reached her folders to make sure her homework was done and safe. Giving herself a mental nod, she reached her lock and the locker door, again checking her appearance.

"Damn it." she whispered and quickly closed the door but not before noticing another presence that was standing directly behind her.

Her heart skipped a beat and she jumped, not scared, but very surprised. She turned around slowly and unconsciously moved her fringe of stray hair over her ear.

John moved as slowly as he could off his bed. His feet found the floor before he turned his head to look on the other side. There he saw his baby brother, Mark, sleeping soundly under the covers, his small thumb in his mouth. John reached over and placed his covers closer to Mark's neck and tucked him in. He opened his bedroom door and peered out of it. He could hear the television across the hallway blaring. Either his mother was watching it or had fallen asleep in front of it. John crept into the hallway and walked toward his brother's room, looking for his stuffed animal, Ducky. John found it and picked it up before creeping back into his room. Mark was still asleep, his small eyes fluttering and his mouth moving to whatever beat he had in his dreams. John hoped to fucking god it was a good dream. He tiptoed closer to his baby brother and carefully placed Ducky under Mark's arms. He turned around and closed the door behind him.

He headed for the kitchen, passing by his parents' bedroom door, giving it only a passing glance. It was his mother sleeping in front of the television. Again. He made a sound under his breath and frowned, as he entered the kitchen. Dishes were piled in the sink, take away had over-filled the bins and there were flies. John was normally a very neat person and if he let it, this would bother him to no end, but there was in no fucking way he was going to clean up after his goddamned parents. Fuck. That.

He opened the fridge and peered inside. Nothing. Beer. Beer. Oh, look, vodka and beer. A carrot. Old milk. And was that...a rotten orange. Shit. John continued to curse under his breath and looked at the clock on the wall. He had less than two hours before school started, and for the first time in a long time, he wanted to be in school, today. For an idealised reason, perhaps, but a reason. He had planned well and everything seemed to be going perfectly.

He slammed the door of the fridge angrily, startling is mother who made a sleepy noise from the hall but he ignored it and walked out his back door. He made his way past the broken tires and broken toolshed. John climbed over the old rusted car that was parked and hopped over his fence into his neighbour's backyard. The store was about ten blocks away and he needed to get there fast. Quickly, he jumped over multiple fences, ignoring the shouts from his other neighbours that happened to be out that morning at that precise time.

He had made it ten blocks in fifteen minutes. He was sweating and panting as he walked into the store, he knew others were looking at him but he didn't give a shit and glared. It was that needed to be done, he knew he looked scary; that was the fucking point. He headed down the aisles for a small carton of milk, bottled fruit, bread, and a few juice-boxes he knew Mark liked. Piling all these things in his arms he moved through the aisles again, to see if there was anything else he might be able to get. He paused, staring at a pastry. It looked good. He grabbed it.

John walked over to the cashier and dropped all the things unceremoniously on the counter, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a messy wad of cash and coins. The girl behind the counter kept her face down, staring at the food, and avoiding his gaze entirely. John laughed at this, unable to keep it quiet, and it only made the girl nervous. Her hands trembled whe she lifted her hand and mumbled something.

"What?" John asked, loudly, making the girl jump, "Can't understand a word you're saying...Agnes."

"10.15...please." The woman said louder. John handed over the money and she dropped the coins on the ground from her trembling hands.

John scoffed and shook his head as he bagged his things and walked away. He had given her a dollar more but he didn't really care. He took the same route back, but a little more carefully. There were no neighbours out back which he was more than happy about. He made it to his fence and hopped over it, landing heavily on the roof of the old car. He hopped of into the grass, nearly tripping on broken tires. He kicked it before walking into the house again through the back. He paused before moving in any further however. He heard nothing, but that didn't mean anything. He took another step forward and waited. He did this until he was inside his room and had closed the door again.

He heard movement. He looked up and saw Mark starting to stir. John dropped the groceries on his bed and started taking the contents out. He heard a yawn and from the corner of his eye he watched Mark rub his eyes vigorously before opening them and sitting up.

"Hey, buddy." John said, looking at him.

"Hi." Mark said sleepily, pulling Ducky to his face to chew on a foot. He looked at John then at the groceries with interest. He pushed the covers off his feet and twisted himself over them, crawling toward his brother and the food, "I'm hungry."

"I know." John said, laying out all the food he bought, "Where do you think I went this morning?"

Mark shrugged, still chewing on Ducky.

John opened the milk carton and handed it Mark, ordering him to eat it. His brother did and watched as John opened the plastic cup of fruit and the package of bread. Mark knew he couldn't eat anything else until the milk was finished and he did quickly, making a mess of himself, but he finished. John pulled out a few tissues in his jacket to wipe up his brother while handing Mark the fruit cup. He finished that quickly too.

"Damn, kid, you're going to eat me 'till I'm poor." John said with a smile. Mark smiled back and handed his brother cup back, wiping his face with the back of hand, "Full?"

Mark nodded his head, found Ducky again and fell back on the bed, yawning again, "Can I have dinner, too?"

John paused, about to put the pastry in his pocket. He bit the inside of his mouth and then placed the pastry high on his desk, where Mark couldn't reach it along with the bread. "Yeah, of course, I even got desert. Okay. What are the rules?"

"No leaving the room." Mark said, staring at him.

"Right, and?"

"Stay quiet."

"What else?"

"Hmm..." Mark said, thinking, "play with Ducky? But what if I have to go to the bathroom?"

John hesitated, "That's the only thing you're allowed to do outside this room. 'Kay?"

Mark nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, good kid." John said, feeling relieved. He reached over for his brother and tickled him who giggled and struggled silently away. John kissed him on the forehead and said, "Love you."

"Love you." Mark replied, humming 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' and making Ducky dance on his stomach.

John watched him for a minute, before opening his window and squirmed through it. He pushed to the window closed and pushed it tight so Mark wouldn't have the strength to push it back up. He hated leaving his brother alone and he cursed everything around him.

When he arrived at school, John had already smoked his last three cigarettes. He wanted to stop. He had to stop...he should stop. He walked slowly and without purpose through the school grounds, glaring at anyone who dared to to even look at him. He smiled inwardly as the whispers continued behind his back. Threats but he doubted anyone would act on them. Not without a posse anyway. That happened often, especially when he instigated it. He knew he was an idiot, but he was also a fuck up. It went with the territory.

He squinted toward the entrance, something familiar catching his attention. Smirking, he followed her into the school from a fair distance, watching and waiting. He watched her shrug her friend off and then followed her to her locker. The hallways were almost deserted as he walked and leaned against the wall behind her. He looked at her, drinking her in and anticipating the look she'll give him when she realises he's right behind her.

"Brian! Brian!"

"Yes, Mom?"

"You've left your homework on the table! How many times have I told you not to do that? Move it! Now! Before you lose it!"

Brian ran down the stairs with his backpack on his shoulders, before his mother could yell anymore. He quickly made his way to the table and wrenched open his backpack, stuffing his books and papers inside.

"There's no need to throw a tantrum, Brian." His mother said from the kitchen, "If you would have listened in the first place, then I wouldn't have to tell you about these books."

Brian looked at her, "I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Don't talk back, Brian." was his mother replied.

Brian sighed, frustrated and concentrated on the organisation of his backpack, anything to keep his mind off his demanding mother.

"Brian...?"

"What, Mary?" Brian said to his sister who was quietly eating cereal in front of him.

"Are you going to be late for school?"

"How should I know, Mary?"

"Brian, stop with that attitude." His mother said, glaring at him, wiping her hands on her trousers. Brian didn't say anything and she seemed satisfied, "Are you ready?"

"I've been ready." Briant muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Yes." Brian said, turned on his heel and walked out the front door, Mary close behind.

His mother, Mary, and Brian were seated in the front of the car. Brian was staring out the window, trying to ignore everything his mother was saying. Her screeching voice was penetrating his ears, and it was difficult to filter her out. She was a constant on his brain and the only thing that even gave him the slightest relief was school. But just slight.

"...that grade up in class. I don't care if it's shop class, art class, or gym. If your final grade is anything lower than an 'A' your' G.P.A will lower and then what are you going to do? You know that, at least I hope you know that. Right, Brian? You cannot lose any of your scholarships. You don't have that much time any more and I don't appreciate you slacking off, just because your high school days are nearly over. And it does not look goo that you just had your first detention. Detention, Brian! Of all the things - Brian? Brian? Are you even listening to me? Brian!"

The car had finally stopped in front of the school, and Brian took that opportunity to open the car door and tumble out, not bothering to close the car door behind him. He could still hear his mother calling to him, but he didn't care and didn't bother turning back. He walked onto the lawn of the school, a sea of faces in the front of the school, waiting for the first day of the week to start. He didn't know whether his mother had left yet, and he didn't really care. He opened the doors to the school and walked straight to his locker. Before he could open it, he felt someone slam him into the lockers. He looked over his shoulder noticing the usual bullies. They gave him the middle finger and laughed at him, daring him to do something.

Brian worked his jaw and tried opening his locker, hesitantly looking around him to make sure no one else was going to push him maliciously. He pulled out his math and science books and stuffed them into his bag before closing it with a slam. He walked down the hall to his first class. There was no one inside and he liked it that way. He pulled out a book and a piece of paper and started to study.

Favourite character, so far?