Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned more than a VHS copy of the movie, The Breakfast Club.

The car door creaked shut, and the driver pealed away without so much as a thought to the person now in the back seat. Allison and her mother drove in silence all the way home, but Allison hadn't expected much different anyway. Her mother turned off the engine and went inside, not saying a word; Allison waited a moment before venturing inside herself.

Andy. Well, it sure didn't hurt to look at him. She wasn't exactly sure what to expect out of him, but she decided she liked it better that way. Some things are just better left up to chance. Figuring she might as well go to her room to think about these things, she opened the garage door to the kitchen and squeezed inside. The back stairs in the kitchen emerged right beside the garage door, and she slinked up them quietly, unnoticed as usual.

Her room was the only room in the upstairs portion of the house, which meant she had all the privacy she wanted. Not that her parents would bother her if her room was right next to theirs either, but sometimes she told herself that they gave her that room for her benefit, to give her space. 'Well sometimes too much space isn't good for a person,' Allison mused bitterly. She collapsed on her bed and stared at the Christmas lights stapled to her ceiling. Whenever she felt so overwhelmed that she couldn't think straight, it helped to stare at the ceiling. It was vaulted, with a fan at the apex that hadn't been turned on since October, due to the nasty Chicago cold season. Her drawings covered the walls, at least the ones she deemed worthy at one point or another; the rest were safely stashed away in her journals. She looked at them now, landscapes mostly, some surreal, thinking how they would change now that she knew what having friends was like. Maybe she would start using color…She snorted in laughter at the idea, shaking her head. Her, use color! She wouldn't even know what colors to use.

Red. That's what color she would use if it ever came to using color. Red was fire, red was blood, red was birth, red was death, red was beauty, light, passion, zeal, sex…emotion. Red was a color that told everything and yet concealed everything. Without knowing it, she had cut her arm on her window ledge and she felt a warm liquid slowly making its way down her arm. It dropped on her sheet and instantly dyed the latter a deep, beautiful crimson. That settled it, she would use color in her next piece, and that color would be red.

She cleaned up her arm and put a Band-Aid over the cut, surprised about how much it didn't hurt. Just what would Andrew think about her having a bandage on her arm though, he would ask questions, and probably not believe the answers. That is if he spoke to her at all. She got so used to people ignoring her; she just figured Claire was right. Things would go back exactly to the way they were before Saturday, and her spontaneous red piece would be overlooked.

xxx

He sniggered to himself as he thought over his actions today. You gonna give her the hot beef injection? No, but it's a fat girls name. Fuck you! You lost? …. Wouldn't I be amazing in that capacity? God, he enjoyed himself today. At the end he even got a little bonus for his efforts. All in all not a bad day, well except for bearing his feelings to total strangers, being threatened by Vernon, and the eight extra Saturdays he had earned for just being his charming self.

He walked through his back yard and up the back steps, slamming the screen door behind him. His house was dingy, but not unlivable, at least not by normal standards. The only things that really gave it its 'unpleasant' atmosphere were his parents, and the constant lack of a central heating unit. Most of the time he didn't stay there anyway, so neither bothered him much. His parents were only a problem if he was at home for extended periods of time, and he wore enough layers to stay warm even in the coldest of winters.

John's room was very obviously identifiable by the door, which held such catchy slogans as 'Stay the fuck out', and ' Come in and you're dead', but all that was inside was a mattress on the floor and a few girly posters on the wall. His attention was quickly drawn to the window as he heard a rapid knocking on the sill from the outside. Peaking through dirty blinds, he saw a girl with dark makeup and very dark hair banging on the window while trying to see inside.

"Jesus, slim you scared the shit outa me."

"Sorry Bend man, it's just my brother caught me an' Mikey uh… indisposed again. He looks like he's out for blood this time man."

"No prob, Slim. Hey, where were you an' Mikey that he caught you guys anyways?"

"I dunno what I was fuckin' thinkin' man. We was up at the plant. You know how those machines turn me on."

She smiled and sat down on John's mattress, pulling a beer from her bag. John leaned back against the wall and lit up a cig before leaning his head back and letting out a smoky sigh. Slim was his first. She was two years older than him, but had always acted like the little sister of every guy in the group, except him. He remembered her saying that she wanted to teach him how to do it right, not like a lot of the other guys or 'boys' she had been with, as she called them. They hooked up every once in a while now, when they were both drunk and looking for an easy time, but mostly they were friends. If she wasn't with John, she was always with her on again off again boyfriend, Mikey, and old friend of her older brother's. They were always getting caught by her very protective brother or one of his equally protective friends, mainly cause every guy in the neighborhood watched out for her as their 'lil sis Slim', and any guy who dared come near her had to bear the consequences. Most learned the hard way, but luckily for John there were no feelings attached to their random hookups, and therefore the guys never gave him a hard time.

He still didn't know what to do about the Claire situation. Would he try to diminish his 'considerations' to just her, or would she not expect that of him? Exactly how much trouble would this cause for him, for both of them? Would she even consider them as 'together', or would she just keep up her teasing ways with every guy in the school? Would he be cool with that if she did? Too many questions, and not enough answers. Not yet.

xxx

"Hi, honey, who was that?"

"Who, daddy?"

"That boy I saw you with just before you got in the car."

"Oh, him. Well, his name's John. He's a friend."

"Oh, okay then sweetie."

She could tell he was unnerved; he had arrived just as she kissed John goodbye. Still, she couldn't help but smile to herself…Short, but sweet, just the way she liked it. He was a dick, but that made him irresistibly sexy in a way. She remembered what he had said, 'Wouldn't I be outstanding in that capacity?' Yes, he would do just fine. Claire knew he could probably care less about exclusivity, but that meant he wouldn't care too much if she still had her own fun, right? Actually, to think about it, he probably would care, because his guy brain would label her as his. Oh she could see it now, him beating some guy up for looking at her. Come to think of it, that wouldn't be too bad. Maybe she really was a tease, but at least once, she wasn't all talk; she didn't go in that closet to make John think about her.

Chiding herself for being so superficial, Claire got out of the car after her father turned off the engine. Without a word, she went inside and into her room. Once she arrived, she evaluated her surroundings… spacious, coordinated, stylish, and completely her. She liked it the way it was, clean and neat, with plenty of closet and drawer space. Maybe she was a bit on the shallow side, but she liked things the way she liked them, and no one would tell her otherwise. Speaking of which, she hadn't decided whether or not she would go to Stubby's tonight. If it was a big party as Andy said, she would want to go for the free beer and to see her friends; still, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to risk getting in trouble, not to mention not wanting to see her friends right now. Who gave a shit what they thought anyways. All of a sudden, a memory popped into her head. One of John's friends had sold her an eighth of pot once, and she still had his number… She decided she would get dressed and see what happened, maybe she would go to the party, maybe she would go and leave, or maybe she would just go out. It all depended on what happened and when.