Breakfast Club 2, a breakfast club fanfic

Saturday, May 27th, 1994. Shermer High School, Shermer Illinois.

Dear Carl… I'm not much of a writer, but I really wanted to thank you for allowing the Breakfast Club to reunite. It did a lot for me. However, I regret to say that this will probably be the last time I return to Shermer High or any of my memories from there. I think we're destined to live like this forever: to rejoin when we need each other the most and help each other out, then go our separate ways. But this is painful for me, and I don't want to say goodbye ever again, so I'm saying it now. Goodbye Carl, and thank you.

Allison Reynolds, the Basket-case

A small blue Volkswagen drove through a green wood. The day was dreary. The clouds were a light gray that teased a storm coming, even though there was no drop of rain nor sound of thunder. The road was unpaved and caused the car to shake and rattle unpleasantly. The bumpiness of the gravel road smoothed out momentarily as the car crossed a rickety wooden bridge. Inches before crossing it completely, the Volkswagen stopped. The driver's door opened to reveal a beautiful young woman in her late twenties. Her hair was black, a color that matched her eyes, and draped down over her shoulders in a style she was usually uncomfortable wearing, but hadn't much cared today. Her coat was a drab gray, but under it was a lovely pink blouse. This one spot of brightness on the otherwise dark figure was eliminated completely when she pulled her coat tighter around her. The breeze was exceptionally cool today.

Allison Reynolds left her car parked by the bridge's railing and began walking across it slowly. She kept her gaze downward, watching where she stepped. The bridge's wooden build was rotted and weather-beaten. Once she made it to the other side, she stopped. Looking down over the railing, she observed the pretty blue stream as it flowed over a bed of rounded rocks. But she did not wait there long. Lifting up her right foot and grasping the railing firmly with both hands, Allison boosted herself up onto the railing. She carefully balanced herself, closing her eyes and reaching out both her arms till she swayed no more. Finally, she looked back down at the creek. It was at least a fifteen-foot drop.

She reached into her inner jacket pocket and took out a small white box. She stared intensely at the pack of cigarettes.

Shermer High School looked a little worse for wear. Graffiti covered the lower areas of the brick building, meaning whoever had used to clean it up had stopped trying altogether. One window was cracked, though that may have happened only recently. The grass was matted like a head of long, curly hair would be after a good night's sleep. Empty soda cans and pieces of junk littered the ground. The prettiest part of the whole school was currently the white banner that was hanging over the main doors. Someone had taken their sweet time to neatly paint "Class of '84 Reunion Tonight" in a cerulean blue that made the eyes pop.

What was the difference? Whether it looked better or worse than it had when she attended, Shermer High was still socially below Claire Standish. She sat in her sports car: an expensive custom pink Trans-Am, looking drearily at the school from the view of the parking lot. "I can't believe I couldn't get myself out of this," she muttered sorely to herself. But there was no use in feeling sorry for herself now. She had to go. All her friends were expecting her, and if she were to not show up, a barrage of phone calls is what she would have to deal with come tomorrow morning. She rolled her eyes and got out of the car, taking her purse with her but not her hat.

Without so much as glancing at the dull copper Honda parked near her, she went inside.

Had she bothered to observe the sedan for a moment, she would have recognized the tall, skinny blonde-haired man inside. Brian Johnson had not aged a day, really. He still had his childlike eyes and face, complete with freckles, and would have been labeled the nerd by any random passerby. He shifted uncomfortably where he sat, talking into his cell phone with exasperation. "Yes, Lucia. No, I won't. Okay. Okay. Bye!" He took the phone away from his ear and moved to hang it up, but heard his wife hang up her end of the line first. One never had to wait for her to do that. It was as if she hated all contact with other people, and wanted it to end as soon as possible. Brian put the phone down with a heavy sigh. "Love you," he mumbled aloud to the phone.

Inside the main building's lobby, Andrew Clark put on a smug grin as four equally muscular and handsome men approached him, hi-fiving and whooping like teenagers. "Andy, you son of a bitch!" one shouted cheerfully. "Ain't seen you in ten years!" Andrew laughed. "How are ya, hotshot?" "Just fine, just fine." "What's going on?" "Same old shit, man."

"Hey, guys!" the second newcomer said. "I just had a wild idea! Why don't we go into Vernon's office and give him a tongue-lashing? You know what I mean? Really tell him off!" "That's a good idea!" the first agreed. Andrew shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, why not? Been wanting to give him a piece of my mind ever since freshman year!" "Yeah, man!" From out of nowhere, Carl the janitor came strolling by. "Vernon's in chemotherapy," he said matter-of-factly. The faces of Andrew and his pals slightly darkened at this announcement. Wincing it off, they walked through the rest of the lobby inside the gymnasium, keeping a little more serious.

Inside the gymnasium, a red disco ball spun from the ceiling and cast a gentle glow over all the reuniting people. Music blared loudly from two speakers on the stage. Former friends intermingled with one another, drinking punch and listening to the songs that now seemed ancient.

Allison stood beside the back door where she had entered, holding her coat awkwardly. She had had no friends in high school. No one was there to meet up with her. But she was there to see someone in particular. Her eyes probed through the crowd of partying guys; wrestlers and football players, mostly. She strained to get a glimpse through the throng, but to no avail. All of a sudden, a snobby-looking boy who was dressed much more expensively than most of the other individuals there approached her suavely. Allison was pretty sure she recognized the richie, and wanted nothing to do with him. But the man came to a stop beside her anyway, leaning up against the wall. "How you doing?" he asked. Allison shifted where she stood, declining to reply. "Don't seem to remember you ever being at Shermer," he continued. Allison huffed. The richie tried again. "I know, it surprises me too. One would think I'd be able to recall a face as pretty as yours." Allison turned to face up at him with cold eyes. "Maybe it's because you wouldn't know real beauty if it slapped you in the face," she said firmly. "You didn't look to see what was on the inside. You never cared. So you brush it off till that same someone gets a makeover, and then all of the sudden you give a shit." The richie's already-fake smile faded, he cleared his throat and walked away. Allison inwardly groaned. Just like a typical high school stuck-up to do that to her. If she could just find the boy she was looking for...

Brian inadvertantly went right back to the spot on the social pyramid that he had started and left high school with. Two of his old nerd friends were standing by the stage. Their coats were still on, and they were looking around with a suspicion in their eyes. At least one of them was a conspiracy theorist as it was. "Hey, Brian my man!" they greeted. Brian gave them a friendly nod. "What's up?"

And that was it. Not another word was spoken. The three brains kept to themselves, and only themselves, leaning against the wall.

"You guys still into 'Science Fiction Theater'?" Brian asked. "Nah," the other two geeks replied. "You still collect comic books?" Brian shook his head. "No, not anymore."

Well, that was that. Science fiction, comics, academic clubs...everything that had once made them unpopular was gone. And with it, everything they had once had in common. Brian sat down on the stage, bummed. What had been the only thing he had looked forward to for the past few months was not starting out well.

The party ended a mere couple of hours later. The band of reunited friends, lovers, enemies and acquaintances ever-so-slowly milled out the door. It was as if with each step, the now-grown teenagers eased back into their lives and out of this dream world. Perhaps for this very reason, Andrew held back. He waved goodbye to his sporto buddies and watched them go. He downed a last cup of punch. Well, that was it. That was the high school reunion he had always wondered about. It hadn't been too bad. He only wished...

Andy did not necessarily believe in miracles. He thought life was often too cruel for that. But if ever he had found a miracle, it was just then. To answer the very thought he was thinking at that exact moment, a goddess appeared from another dimension. He couldn't even muster the strength to say her name. All he could do was think to himself over and over, "She's here. She's actually here." Allison gave him a sweet smile and held up her right hand. In it was a blue and yellow wrestling patch off of a Clark's letterman jacket.

"I kept it," she said. "I remembered you." Andy nodded and grinned. "Yeah, I remembered you too." Allison suddenly got a funny look on her face, and started running towards the door. "Come on!" she cried cheerfully. "What?" "C'mon, Andy! Let's go!" Andy began to jog over and catch up. "Where're we going?" "Anywhere!" Allison said. "It's you and me!"

Maybe it would have been better and happier for the re-discovered couple to sprint out of the school and find new life and love in one another. But fate would not have it that way. Right beside the gymnasium door, directly in Allison's peripheral vision was Brian. She stopped in her tracks. "Brian?"

Brian turned around nonchalantly, but his face was knocked into another world when he laid eyes on his old friend. Andy came running up behind Allison laughing, but he had to halt as well.

It was all the three of them could do just to take in each other's presence.

Carl came walking out of the bathroom to find this odd trio staring at one another in awe. Every memory of that past Saturday detention was in the janitor's mind, too. He decided mentally that he would leave the school open as long as was necessary. He wanted these kids to get a chance to catch up as much as they did. But they were missing one. He hurried over to the door and searched quickly through the crowd of people. He spotted a group of richie girls just getting to the edge of the curb.

"Hey, Standish! You left your purse!" he called. Claire turned about with a huffy look on her face, but Carl just held up her pink bag with a friendly smile. Claire checked her shoulder and found it empty. That was her purse. She hurried back up the stairs to retrieve it, but for some reason, Carl didn't wait for her. Instead, he closed the door and walked back inside. "Can't even meet me half way?" Claire muttered. She opened up the door and stomped inside.

Not many things could change Claire's mood whenever she wasn't feeling all too pleasant. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't gone to bed with the same bad mood she'd woken up with. But to see the faces of Brian Johnson, Andrew Clark, and Allison Reynolds, and recognize them immediately...that was a wave of relief washing over her that was nearly impossible to describe.

The last member of the Breakfast Club was there.

The Breakfast Club walked as if in a trance back inside the gymnasium. Even though not one of them knew what to say, it seemed a reflex action to sit down at one of the round, messy white tables in a circle. They could have sat there for hours. All four were amazed at the idea of actually seeing one another again.

"So," Brian said, finally breaking the silence. "How are you guys?" The other three shrugged and gave loose replies like "Fine" or "Alright". This discouraged Brian. Inwardly, he wondered if this reunion would be no different than the reunion with his other friends. Would they have nothing to talk about, even after all they'd been through? He looked back on that day every time he woke up in the morning. None of them had ever seen each other after that day till now. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A nod in the hall or a quick smile was not uncommon between the Breakfast Club. But it was like Claire had said: they weren't openly friends when they returned to school in the aftermath of that fateful Saturday. And yet it was always that day that remained the most prominent memory in Brian's mind. He could never forget it.

All of this reminiscing-through-thought brought a sudden realization to his mind. "Where's Bender?" he asked. The Breakfast Club realized for the first time since they had reunited that one of their own was missing. "Probably didn't come," Andy said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "None of the other criminals did." Claire kept her gaze away from the rest of them.

"Anybody need a drink?" Andy offered. Allison stood up. "Yes!" she said eagerly. "I'll...I'll go with you." Andy nodded and the two of them walked out of the gymnasium in search of the vending machine, leaving Brian and Claire sitting at the table.

As the two of them strolled down the hall, finding that the layout of the school was still memorized in the recesses of their minds, Allison walked slightly behind Andy. She did this mostly so she could fixate on his face without him noticing. She wanted desperately to hold his hand and act like a couple would. But they weren't a couple. Love wasn't meant to last, and for them, it hadn't lasted even a day.

"So," Andy said suddenly. "Where do you hang your coat?" Allison's face remained blank. "Where do you live?" Andy translated. Still no reply. "Okay," Andy said in disappointment. "Forget I asked." "Siberia," Allison answered out of the blue. Andy frowned in disbelief. "Siberia?" he reiterated sardonically. "Where do you live in Siberia?" "Wherever," Allison tossed her arms. "You lived there long?" Andy interviewed. Allison grinned. "Years." "Is that where you work?" Allison kept walking. "What do you do for a living?" Allison shook her head. "Well?" Andy pressed. "What do you do for a living?" Allison wheeled around suddenly. "What do you do for a living?" Andy cleared his throat and stepped back, leaning against the wall. "I'm...uh...I'm a wrestling coach," he informed. "At a place just like this, actually. You see, I could have gone pro, but chose not to. Felt a different calling." Allison nodded, unbelieving. "Uh-huh. That's very interesting. Now why don't you tell me what you really do?" Andy rolled his eyes and kept walking. "Forget it."

Back inside the gymnasium, Claire and Brian had not moved from the table. Andy sat down and slid them their sodas. "What's going on here?" he asked, trying to be cheerful and lighthearted. "Brian was just showing me his wallet," Claire gestured. Brian handed it to Andy. "Cool, man," Andy said. "This your wife?" Brian nodded. "Yeah. Her name's Lucia." Andy continued looking through the wallet. "What are you...a stockbroker?" "Yeah," Brian confirmed with a grin. "Any kids?" "No. Not, uh...not yet, anyway." The redhead beside him smiled as well. "Okay, it's my turn."

Claire emptied her purse onto her lap. "Damn," Brian muttered, looking over it all. Andy smirked. "You know what John would say?" Brian nodded and they both grinned. "She's got a lot of shit in her purse." "Shut up," Claire ordered. Brian found a photograph that was bent on one corner and observed it closely. "Hey, who's this?" Claire put on a bragging smile. "That's my fiancee." "Damn, he looks loaded," Andy said, leaning over to get a peek. Claire nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty cool."

She looked up with a curious raise of her right eyebrow. "What does Andy have to show off?" Andy's head jerked up at the question. "Nothing," he said quickly. "Got nothing." "Come on, Andy!" Claire and Brian urged together. Allison moved closer beside him. "I would like to see," she told him. Andy stood up forcefully and repeated, "No!" before walking away from the table and standing beside the stage. Claire and Brian stared after him in surprise.

Allison got up and walked over. Andy didn't face her. She gently put an arm around his shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing," Andy fibbed. Allison sighed. "Andy, please tell me." "Nothing to tell." Allison put her arm down. "Why are you acting like this? Why aren't you the person I knew anymore?" Andy turned to look at her and shrugged. "I dunno. Sometimes people change, okay?"

Allison began to nod slowly. Her eyes seemed to burrow through his skin and see into his soul, and she understood. "Your heart has died," she whispered sorrowfully.

She and Andy held their gaze for a few minutes, and finally Andy couldn't take it. He broke down into her arms, sobbing. "I knew it!" he shouted. "I'm my old man! I knew this would happen! The one person I never wanted to be, and I'm him!" Allison held him tightly, kissing his head and telling him it was okay. She led him away from the stage and back to the table.

"You know," Andy said. "My, uh…my knee actually did give in. Freshman year of college. I had to stop wrestling. And my old man…he just isolated me. Wouldn't even speak to me, wouldn't even look at me. And now I'm a manager at this fucking supermarket. I got no interest in doing that for a career. But it's all I got now. I got nowhere else to go." Allison blinked back tears of tremendous pity. It hurt when life didn't work out.

Brian looked up. "I was thinking: that's kind of like me with Lucia, you know? Bad relationship and all that. See, couple months into our marriage, she, um…" he paused slowly, and averted his gaze from everyone. It was plain to see his sullen expression as he stared at his shoes. "She what?" Claire asked. Brian shook his head. "No, forget it. I don't wanna talk about it." Claire put her hand on his shoulder. "No, come on, tell us," she pressed. "What's going on?" "No," Brian moved his head back and forth again. Andy leaned forward and pointed out, "You brought it up, man."

Brian buried his face in his knees for a moment. When he came back up, his cheeks were red and his eyes let flow tears of shame. "She abuses me! My wife abuses me. She beats me up, all the time. She shouts and cusses." Claire's eyes widened in obvious shock. "Your wife abuses you?!" she repeated in a tone stained with disbelief. Brian gestured toward her with an open hand. "See, that's why I didn't want to say anything, right there. It sounds so stupid for the girl to abuse the guy. But it can happen, and it happens with me, cause I'm such a fucking weakling. She abuses me." He put his face back down on his knees and kept crying out the pain.

Andy and Claire made eye contact, then just as quickly looked away from each other. Allison swallowed a lump in her throat, then asked, "Have you tried to put a stop to it?" Brian wiped his eyes and huffed. "Yeah, like what?" Claire threw up her arms. "Well, just tell somebody!" "No!" Brian snapped, nearly shouting. "Don't you get it? She'd get in some sort of trouble. Arrested for domestic violence or some shit." Andy tossed his shoulders, trying to understand. "So what? She deserves it, if she's making your life a living hell."

Brian shook his head stubbornly. "No, I can't do it. I can't hurt her back."

"Why not?" Claire questioned. Brian didn't answer, but he didn't have to. Allison said aloud what the others could see just by looking at their friend. "Because he still loves her. No matter how much she hurts him, he still loves her." Brian nodded sheepishly. "She's right."

Claire frowned. "So what, you're just going to live your whole life in pain? That's not fair. You deserve better, Brian."

Brian shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't have to keep living in pain, you know…if I just didn't keep living." Claire looked up sharply, knowing just where he was going with this. "Oh God, no." "Not suicide again?" Andy asked. Brian admitted, "I've been considering it. I mean, my whole life sucks. My wife hates me, I hate my job, there's all this extreme pressure on me… Some days I wake up and think how easy it would be to just put a bullet in my mouth, or jump off a tall building or something." Claire leaned forward and stared firmly into Brian's eyes with an almost maternal tone to her voice. "No, Brian. Don't you see? This is just like that time you got the 'F'."

"Yeah…" Brian agreed. "So what did I tell you then?" Claire reminded him. "I told you that killing yourself is never the answer. Never, Brian. Never." Brian nodded. "I know."

Claire sat back against the wall again. "And it's not just you," she told him, her voice picking up. "My life isn't such a blast, either. I mean…I've got all this money and all these material things, and nobody values me. It's like all my friends are just my friends because I'm rich."

Andy scoffed and muttered lowly under his breath, "Oh, cry me a river." Allison looked at him sternly, but Claire had already heard. "What?!" she nearly screeched. Andy should have let it go, he knew so in his heart. But he couldn't and didn't. "Come on! I don't care how shallow your friends are, you expect us to feel sorry for you after the story Brian just told?" Claire groaned. "I was just trying to make him feel better, Andy! You know that none of our lives are the way we'd like them to be." "Whatever, I think it's a load of crap," Andy retorted. "You've got everything, Claire, even when you have nothing. So forgive me for failing to be very sympathetic."

"Oh yeah? Well you just remember this, Andy: having a good life doesn't mean having a happy life!"

"Same goes for the other way around, you know!"

"Okay," Brian said, trying to calm them down. "So there you go. Neither one of you is any better than the other."

"That's not all," Allison suddenly said, predicting. Claire affirmed, "No, it's not. I'm engaged to someone I'm not in love with. My fiancee? He's real nice, but I just don't like him at all. Kind of the opposite of your problem, Bri."

"Yeah?" Brian asked. Claire nodded. "Yeah."

There was a momentary pause, then Andy suddenly leaned over to Brian and cupped his left hand over his mouth, whispering something. Brian grinned and he tried to hide a laugh. Andy crawled back to his spot chuckling, and Brian began, "You know what John would say..."

"HE'S DEAD, ALRIGHT?! JOHN IS DEAD!"

Brian, Andrew and Allison could not have been more in shock. Hearts skipped beats, jaws dropped, and they each found they could hardly move. All that was to be done was sit as if hypnotized, staring at Claire.

The princess began to cry.

"Ever since the day we all met I've been dating him," she explained. "He was so devout you wouldn't believe. Nothing like the Bender we thought we knew. He even followed me to college. Then one day, he went to pick me up from class on his motorcycle. He never made it there. I stood in the rain for an hour, finally deciding he wasn't coming. I didn't get the call till late at night. Apparently his last words were "Call Claire Standish."

"Son of a bitch," Andy whispered softly. His fists were clenched till his knuckles turned white, and his jaw was tight. His eyes betrayed nothing but rage. "Who?" Allison verified. Andy gave a turn of his head. "Life."

Life was the bitch. Of all the hellholes any one person could ever endure, it was life itself that was the worst. Andy's thinking had not been wrong. There were no miracles.

"The accident wasn't his fault," Claire continued. "The other guy was drinking and driving."

"I can't believe I've gone so long thinking he was still alive," Brian murmured. It was just something one assumed. You never woke up in the morning and thought of old friends long gone in the manner that they might actually be gone.

"I wouldn't have been able to live with it, except that…they found a Bible in his jacket. I just wake up every day and tell myself that before he died…he was trying to straighten himself out." Through her sorrowful expression, a barely-reassured smile escaped Claire as she thought of the only token of hope she'd held onto for all this time. "When did this happen?" Andy demanded. Part of him thought he shouldn't do that to himself; that knowing everything would only make it worse. But he couldn't help asking.

Claire informed, "About five years ago."

Brian choked out, "Oh, God!"

Allison suddenly let out a cry and launched herself forward onto the ground, wailing quietly. The image of their friend breaking down into an act that only the basket-case would have done seemed to punch in the realism for the two young men, who started silently shedding tears as well. The four of them may have sat there blubbering hysterically for an hour or a day; it would have made no difference to any of them. The moment of silence lasted for years, it seemed. A whole lifetime, even. After all, it was the loss of life they were weeping for.

Andy tried to get control of himself, feeling suddenly like the responsible leader. If he could get through this, the rest of them could. "I'm so sorry, Claire," he offered. "Not half as sorry as I am, Andy," Claire replied between sobs.

Brian noted for the first time that only one of Claire's ears was decorated with a diamond earring. He knew where the other one was.

"You wanna know what I do for a living?"

Andrew, Brian and Claire turned their attention to Allison. In the midst of all the depressing things that had come to be told that day, the last hope for relief seemed to be in the basket-case's sweet voice.

Brian nodded. "Yeah." Andy agreed, "Yeah. Yeah, what do you do?"

A strange grin began to creep over Allison's face. "I write erotic novels anonymously. I'm a three-time bestseller."

A revelation like that took a few seconds to sink in. All Brian could think to say was, "I thought you weren't a nymphomaniac?" Allison smirked. "I'm not. I'm just really good at acting like one."

The Breakfast Club couldn't help themselves. They began to chuckle, one-by-one. "You're laughing at me," Allison accused, though she too, was doing the same. "No, no. We're not," Claire lied uselessly. "Yeah, you are!" Allison giggled. "Sorry," Andy apologized needlessly. "It's just...well...I think I may have read one of your books."

"I've really missed you guys," Brian informed. "A lot." "Yeah, me too," Andy agreed. Claire nodded. "Of course I have. You're my best friends."

Finding the stereo, Brian looked through the cassettes. The Smiths, A-ha...there was the one he wanted. He put it into the player and turned up the volume.

As the music blared, the four young people let the lyrics of the song be their own words and the soul-freeing notes soothe them. The Breakfast Club danced out their troubles; lost in their own world for a beautiful four minutes.

They were no longer incomplete, even in spite of the criminal's absence. They were still the Breakfast Club.

After the dance, Brian needed to get a drink of water. He walked out of the gymnasium doors and spotted the old water fountain. He'd always hated getting drinks from it. It looked poisoned, and sometimes the water itself did to. As he walked toward it, his eye caught the door of Vernon's old office. He might have just let it go and given it a smug look, but a framed paper inside the office attracted his attention further. Forgetting about the water, Brian went over to the office. Finding the door unlocked, he went inside and examined the frame. With a spontaneous laugh, he realized it the paper was his own: the letter he had wrote to the principal all those years ago. The one he had signed "The Breakfast Club".

"Vernon was changed forever by that letter, you know," a voice said. Brian nearly jumped. Turning, he saw Carl leaning in the doorway. The janitor was older now, his hair brown hair streaked silver. "He...he was?" Brian questioned, surprised. He never would have imagined that letter to actually have any effect. "Yeah," Carl nodded. "He saw kids in a different way from that day on. He became a better principal, and a better teacher." Brian grinned. "I never knew that," he said. Looking back at the frame, he reached over and straightened it out. With a proud smile he gave himself a congratulatory punch on the shoulder.

Inside the bathroom, Allison stared at herself in the mirror. She suddenly felt an ache in her chest. The reunion was almost over. An idea popped into her head before she knew what she was thinking, and once she had thought it, she couldn't get it out. She immediately brushed herself down, checking her hair in the mirror. She wished she had on some high heels. But this was short notice, and the boy she needed in this moment wouldn't care. She rushed out of the women's bathroom and made a sharp right turn, directly into the men's.

Andy was inside, washing his hands. He didn't see her at first. She slowed down immediately after she entered, leaning against the door and moving forward ever so slowly, so that it closed with her. She cleared her throat. The athlete looked up in surprise.

Andy furrowed his brow. "Shouldn't you be in the other room?" he questioned. Allison gave him a sly (in fact, seductive) grin and shut the door the rest of the way.

As the Breakfast Club walked through the lobby, Carl stood up abruptly from where he had been sitting in a chair by the doorway. "You fall asleep?" Andy smirked. Carl shook his head. "Nah, get outta town, Clark." Andy tossed it off and gave Carl a wave. "Well...keep your eyes and ears open." Carl nodded. "You bet."

The old janitor stood watching the four young people until each one of them was out of sight. Then he sighed, smiled, and picked up his broom. Time to clean up the remains of the party.

The Breakfast Club reached the concrete steps outside. All four slowed to a stop. The knowledge that now was the time they had to part finally began to sink in.

Andy and Allison embraced, now as true lovers. "How can I keep in touch with you?" Andy asked. Allison ran her fingers through his hair gently. "Andy...you know we can't be together," she said sadly. "We just can't. We're not meant to." If they were, then they would not have parted the first time. Deep down, Andy knew this too. Part of him wanted to beg her. There had to be a way. But how could someone cut off every thread of their old life just because of one other person? It couldn't be done, could it? "I'll write about you in my next book," Allison promised, though perhaps such an offer didn't really mean anything to either of them. It was just another way to hold onto a memory. "Yeah," Andy nodded. "That'll be cool." As he ran his hands down to her waist, then up to her midsection again, he felt something in her pocket. He looked inside her jacket and noticed a small white pack. "You shouldn't smoke," he advised simply.

There was no good way to say goodbye, especially not for a second time, and Andrew was about to leave it at that. But Allison desperately pulled him back into one last long and lingering kiss.

Brian and Claire stood by awkwardly. Brian shuffled his feet on the ground. "What's wrong?" Claire asked. Brian explained, "It's just…I consider you guys my friends, remember? And now…John is dead, and you guys have to leave again. It just depresses me, you know?" Claire reached out and put her hand on his shoulder again. She found it seemed to comfort the both of them when she did that. "Brian. We all think of you as a friend too. And we're always gonna be there for you. This doesn't have to be our last meeting." Brian's head perked up; not a lot, but with enough hope to notice. "You mean that?" Claire managed a smile. "Yeah."

As she started walking away, and Andy and Allison parted from their kiss, Brian suddenly looked to the football field, which lay far beyond the parking lot. There, by the faded yellow goalpost, he saw a figure. The sudden appearance might have caused alarm in most people, but Brian was completely calm, as if he fully expected such an apparition to appear. Yes, John Bender had not changed a bit. Same coat and scarf, same jeans, same torn boots. Long hair and Wayfarer sunglasses exactly identical to his look ten years before. And he ought to look that way. After all, it wasn't as though he had to age any longer. Perhaps that was a good thing. Bender had never seemed the kind of person to grow up. Maybe that was why he had died: so he could live. Brian wished he could call out to Bender. Hell, even sprint all those yards over and hug the jerk. But he knew he couldn't. All he did was offer a small wave. The vision kept staring for a short moment, then turned and walked away across the field. Brian decided it was best to not even wait till it disappeared, but to just leave now. He nodded in satisfaction and smiled.

All four Breakfast Club members waved goodbye to each other.

Inside the gymnasium, Carl paused from his sweeping at the sight of a folded piece of white notebook paper left on one of the tables. Opening it, he looked it over carefully, then smiled fondly. Dropping what he was doing, he marched into Vernon's office and tacked the paper next to Brian's framed letter. Another one for the ages.

She reached into her inner jacket pocket and took out a small white box. She stared intensely at the pack of cigarettes. To let them go, as Andy had suggested, or to hold on selfishly to her addiction, and her guilty, sinful pleasure? The longer she waited, the stupider her decision would probably be. How hard was it to just open up her palm and let the little cardboard box fall slowly down to the stream? She started by uncurling her fingers slowly. Now the box was only staying in her hand by its position. Should she turn her hand, the box would be taken by gravity. Her hand began to tilt ever so slightly. Almost...almost...

The box moved. Panicking, Allison closed her hand back up. It had almost gotten away from her. Did that mean she wasn't ready to let it go? Well, she wasn't ready to let a lot of things go, but she just had. She had just let Andy go. Andy. She closed her eyes and pictured him. Not how she had found him yesterday. Not even when they had reached the culmination of their relationship. No, she thought of him the way she had first found him, on March 24th, 1984. And there he was. Young and handsome, and she was with him. It almost brought a smile to her lips. Yes, there was a happy ending for both of them in her imagination, and no cigarettes to accompany them. When her eyes opened up, her hand had tilted completely. She had barely even felt the pack leave her palm. She dared to look down, straining to see where it was. To no avail. Already, it had splashed into the creek and been carried away by the current. That was just as well.

Allison let out a loud breath; a sigh of relief. She jumped cautiously off the railing and back onto the bridge, which creaked lowly upon impact. Keeping her gaze upward, she walked back to her car, independent again.

Dear Carl,

I'm not much of a writer, but I felt pressed to give you something of a thanks before I left. I really wanted to let you know how good of you it was to allow the Breakfast Club to reunite. It did a lot for all of us. However, I regret to say that this will probably be the last time I return to Shermer High or any of my memories from there. I think we're destined to live like this forever: to rejoin when we need each other the most and help each other out, then go our separate ways. But this is painful for me, and I don't want to say goodbye ever again, so I'm saying it now. Goodbye Carl, and thank you.

Sincerely yours, Allison Reynolds of the Breakfast Club

...

Well, here's my latest fanfic: a sequel to 'The Breakfast Club'! I had a blast escaping into my own world with this story, and I hope you guys enjoy it too. I tried to stay as true to the characters as possible, and really do the barely-explored universe that Hughes created justice. Despite the depressing subplot of John's death, I hope you can still enjoy the tale (there is a history behind what happened on the set of the movie, what John Hughes' plans for the sequels were, and some deleted scenes from the final cut of the film that all sort of pointed me in the direction I thought this story should go. I do still doubt that I would have been able to do the character of Bender justice anyway, so I think that coming up with this plot-line fixed that). Thanks for all your support, everyone! Movie Riggs out.

P.S. If you've read 'Communication Breakdown', you know I like to add my own "soundtrack" to my stories. For this one, it is of course: 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' - Simple Minds, as well as 'Take On Me' - A-HA and 'Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want' - The Smiths