A/N: there are some major and not so major revisions happening to this story. If you are an old reader hope you like them, if you are new enjoy. Props again to MidnightBlue for all of you constructive criticism, it brings back memories of undergraduate school. Please keep in mind that i am in no way an english major, but that still doesn't excuse bad grammar and spelling. Ciao!

Allison's Story

Chapter 1: Spring Cleaning

Allison Reynolds leaned against the car watching as Andy stepped into his father's truck. She could still feel the sensation of his lips on hers. Her head was spinning as she looked down at the circular wrestling patch she held in her hands. 'How exactly did this happen?' she asked herself.

There were a million thoughts going through her head as she opened up the door to her father's car and stepped in. She was quite, lost in thought, which was hardly any different from how she was the rest of the time. Her father turned to look at her, almost as if he cared, and his face was questioning.

"What?" she asked him harshly. She knew she looked different but she didn't feel the need to explain herself to anyone especially her father. He never cared before why should today be any different?

Shrugging a little to himself he pulled the car out and made his way home.

Allison finally had time to succumb to her thoughts. The most salient of these was the fact that she had just made out with the one of the most popular boys at her highschool, Andrew Clark. That probably wouldn't have been so hard to believe if she herself were popular but she wasn't. No, for the lack of a better word Allison was a social outcast. She didn't have any friends, a fact that her mother was constantly reminding her of. According to her amazingly perceptive mother, it was due to the fact that Allison had "such a bad attitude" and was "always so negative." She certainly had a good way of pointing out the facts. In retrospect, Allison could, sort of, understand why her bad attitude might drive some people away. But then, as she thought about the root of her attitude it all made sense. How was she supposed to bond with people when all of their conversations were so shallow and mundane? How could she help but roll her eyes at the insensitive bashing? And how was she supposed to be positive when her father ignored her and her mother didn't ignore her enough? No, it was easier for Allison to build walls to keep people out of her life, it was also safer. But as the events of the past hours started to replay in her mind she found herself questioning everything she once was.

Sighing to herself, Allison ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly. Instead of the usual birds nest that she called her hair, her fingers brushed through soft layers and waves. Taking out a pocket mirror from her messy purse she glanced at her reflection. "Oh shit" she said softly. She had forgotten, for a brief minute, what Claire Standish had done to her back at the library. The face that was staring back at her from the tiny mirror was not one that Allison was used to. Her messy hair was actually styled! And instead of the globs of dark makeup around her eyes, there was soft color and shimmer. Looking out of the window at the passing houses Allison carefully reviewed her situation.

The makeover, was far more than just a skin effect, it was as if all her personal barriers had been broken away. Her life wasn't miraculously perfect now and it probably never would be, but after listening to four other teenagers vent their frustrations she found that she could actually relate to them. And that was something she had never really allowed herself to do. They were from completely different worlds but they all had problems. The only differences between them were the ways in which they chose to handle those problems. Claire and Andrew, from the popular position, chose to follow the crowd instead of dealing with their issues personally. Brian, the 'brain', had taken a rather dramatic approach which could have had devistating effects, had it not ended so comically. Bender, the rebel, would lash out angrily against his problems, disrespecting authority along the way. And then there was Allison who had build up her emotional walls so high she had lost all concept of basic human interactions. She dressed rather plainly, as to not attract attention and then, quite in the opposite direction, she would engage in outlandish lies and crazy stunts that would cause people to question what she was playing at.

The, truth was, Allison wasn't trying to play at anything. She was in a way, just existing, making her way through life with just the minimal amount of effort neccessary. As a result she was socially maimed. Unable to make any meaningful connections with anybody who was worthwhile. That is the way she had stepped into the library that morning but it wasn't the way she stepped out. She stepped out feeling connected with people. Real, living, breathing, and normal human beings, again, something Allison felt she would never truly be able to do. And then there was that kiss. She brushed her fingers over her lips and smiled. Her lips still remembered.

She was still smiling to herself as they pulled up to to her driveway. Because she was such an outcast very few people knew who Allison really was. Her parents made a modest living. She wasn't rich, like Claire, but she found that her family could afford a few leisures. Her house was descent and in one of the nicer parts of Shermer. Walking up the stone path her dad mumbled something about going to the range and drove off without waving goodbye. Watching the car drive away Allison couldn't help but wonder if her father would pay more attention if she were a boy. Maybe someone that shared his atletic abilities, someone like Andrew perhaps. She shook the thought away quickly as she pictuered herself trying to kiss, herself. She unlocked the front door and walked inside. Trying to avoid her mother who was in the kitchen she ran straight up the stairs towards her bedroom in the attic.

Walking into her room didn't feel the same. Normally she would have locked her door and cranked up her stereo at full blast. She didn't feel like doing that. She slowly made her way through her messy floor. In frustration she began kicking the empty coke cans and wads of drawing paper that were littered throughout. Realizing, that her kicking was only making her room messier she began cleaning some of it up. A few hours later she was finally able to walk across her room without any obstruction.

"Allison, dinner." It was her mother's sarcastic sing song voice calling from downstairs. Her voice always reminded Allison of those 1950's black and white t.v. shows with the perfect families and their perfect lives. She laughed as she pictured her mother pulling a five course meal from the oven with her evening dress on and a little lace apron tied around her waist. Her life definately wasn't a t.v. show.

"In a minute," she cried out. She looked around at her somewhat less cluttered room once again. Cleaning up her messy life was going to take longer than she expected.

"Allison!" her mother exclaimed when she walked into the kitchen. "What have you done to your hair?"

"What?" Allison answered as she took a plate from the cupboard. "It's just hair it's no big deal."

"No big deal?" she told her wide eyed. "Why Allison, I've been telling you for ages to change that awful hairstyle of yours!" She reached over and tried to touch Allison's hair but she jerked away. "I just hope you keep it up." The singsong tone in her voice was gone. Her mother's face was stern as she began digging through her plate.

That was just like Mrs. Reynold's always able to find something wrong with a situation, no matter how good it was. But as Allison began spooning the pasta onto her plate she thought about what her mother had said. Was she going to keep up with her knew look? The old Allison would have laughed at the thought. The old Allison would have messied up her hair, thrown on a baggy sweatshirt, and put on her globs of dark eyeliner as soon as she had walked into her room. Well she still was the old Allison but now she had the attention of Andrew. She didn't feel like giving that up just yet.

She spent the rest of the night working on her room. It had been a complete disaster before. Her therapist had once mentioned that a person's personal space reflected their mental state. Allison had, in fact, felt as though her life was somewhat disorganized. She had a bad self image, she didn't have any friends, she hardly spoke to her father, and had a pretty irregular relationship with her mother. If any of that was going to change she figured her room was the first place she needed to start with. At least it was going to be the easiest.

The next morning while her perants were at church Allison blasted her favorite Cure record and put the finishing touches on her room. She took down the heavy drapes that had covered her windows. The blinds she had left allowed more light into the room. She searched her garage for extra bed spreads and found some that were decent. They were pale blue and they would add a little bit of color to her once dark room. Almost all of her things had been tucked away neatly into their corresponding places. There were a few things, however, that Allison decided to keep out in the open.

There were the journals that her therapist had suggested she try. She had started them in junior high and they were filled with poems, drawings, and daily complaints. She set these in a big plastic container along with a few of her drawings that had been pinned up on the wall. The container she set in her closet maybe sometime in the future she would visit those little tidbits of her life. When she was finished she looked around. She also left up all of her Cure posters and prints of her favorite artist Salvador Dali they at least gave inclination as to the rooms inhabitants taste. In the end of it all, her room was spotless. It was brighter and even felt larger. She smiled at her job well down and then headed to the kitchen for a soda.

While she drank in the quite room she had time again to think about what had happened to her the previous day. When Allison confessed to the group that she was there because she had nothing better to do, she had been telling the truth. She hadn't wanted to listen to her mother's constant complaints so she decided that she would much rather spend the time doing nothing. So she made up some bogus lie and convinced her father that she had recieved detention, he hadn't seemed to care.

When she first walked in to the library she felt as though she had made a huge mistake. She thought she would be in the company of a couple of students but there seemed to have been more. She had quickly taken a seat in the back and refused to look up. When, at last, dingbat principal Vernon had left she sized up the group. There was last year's sophmore prom queen, some jock, a total geek sitting right in front of her, and the school rebel that she had seen smoking out a couple times behind the football field. She had not known them so she was filled with the same prejudice attitudes as they were, she had even labled them.

Allison knew she fit a label as well. She was, as Brian had later written in the paper they had been assigned, 'a basketcase'. And because she felt that they were judging her, as she was them, she had tried to meet thier expectations. She made a spectacle of herself during lunch, filling her sandwich with strange combinations. Then she had dumped her bag in front of Brian and Andrew. What had she expected out of this, she didn't know and when Brian called her on her 'running away' business, she got extremely defensive. Later, by the bookcases she lashed out at Andrew. And even though that moment was filled with tention, it had been real. She had opened herself up to a complete stranger. And then later telling those lies. which came out so easily, and forcing Claire to confess something extremely private. Allison had managed to fit her role quite effectively. But as the day dragged on, a change started to occur. Allison's layers began peeling and she started feeling a subtle, or not so subtle closeness towards those five people. And then there was Andrew.

She felt butterflies as his face popped into her mind's eye. A smile broke out on her face and a slight chill ran through her body. He was an amazing person, even if he was a jock. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the patch she had taken from his jacket. The one she had ripped out, was more like it. She thought she had taken it as evidence of her time at the library, but now lost in thought, she realized that it hadn't been a romantic fairytale. It had been real. And with reality came a price, facing the consequences of your actions. What exactly, was to happen to her now. Would things just go back to the way they were?

"Shit if I know," she said to the empty kitchen. Feeling rather nervous she went back upstairs to her room.

Later on that night she stood in front of her closet with a big dilema. Tommorrow she would be going back to school. And while normally she would wake up two minutes before she had to leave the house and throw on whatever clothes she could find, this situation wasn't going to be that easy. Her closet was filled with baggy sweaters and long black skirts and black pants. In fact almost everything she owned was black. She bit her thumb nervously and shifted though her clothes. It simply wouldn't do. Frantically she began forcing her way towards the back of her closet, coming upon a cardigan sweater her grandmother had sent her for Christmas. Her mother had said it was darling and that was enough for Allison, who vowed never to wear it. She had hid it in her closet. Now she took it out and examined it, it certainly was not something she was used to but it wasn't bad either. She found a pale yellow tank to go underneath it and decided she would wear some light blue jeans with it. She even considered asking her mom for a yellow scarf she could tie around her hair. A little more relieved Allison put on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She was taking the first step, and tommorrow it was back to school.