A/N: Yeah two chapters posted in one day! So with this story, the chapters are going to be shorter, but more frequently put up, just because I feel it works best for the story. And once again, I own nothing except Margaret.
Chapter 2
Margaret Kelly, the thespian, hurried to the front table, throwing down her things, then looked at the other two people already in the library. Claire Standish, one of the rich popular kids that couldn't be bothered with anyone outside their inner circle. Short red hair, Ralph Lauren clothes, an annoyed expression. Snob, Margaret thought.
The other person was Brian Johnson, who was in some of her classes. Nice kid. Blonde hair; clean clothes. Simple, in a way, and friendly to nearly everyone. He caught her looking and smiled slightly, waving. Margaret waved back.
Footsteps sounded through the library, and the three turned to see Andrew Clark. Margaret knew him too. On the varsity wrestling team. He glanced at Claire, pointing to the chair next to her. She just shrugged, and he sat down. Of course Margaret shouldn't have been people-watching, but she didn't feel like she could do anything else.
Next, it was a loud banging noise, like someone had hit the door. Everyone's eyes, including Margaret's, focused on the noise to find Bender. John Bender, to be specific. Margaret's eyes narrowed, following him as he touched nearly everything at the checkout counter before taking some hall passes. Margaret knew him from around, and knew all the rumors about him.
Rumors she knew were true.
From behind dark sunglasses she could feel Bender's gaze shift to her for a moment, then go to Brian. Silently, he points to the table behind Margaret, a sign to get Brian to move. Reluctantly, he did, and Bender sat down, kicking his feet up into the opposite chair.
Lastly, a streak of black ran into the room, hiding at the back table. Margaret turned, her blonde braid hitting her back. She couldn't make out the face of the girl, but she did seem familiar. Turning back into her original position, she kicked the air with a booted foot. Nine hours, she thought, I'll be a dead cause in nine minutes. She played with the collar of her sweater, trying to ignore the feeling that someone was staring at her. Probably Brian looking into space or something. Or maybe you're paranoid. Paranoid might be better. Par-a-no-id. Jesus I'm already bored.
That bored was shot and killed in the dust the moment Principal Vernon walked in, holding a stack of papers and some pencils in his hand. His smug expression was enough to make Margaret glare at the desk as he said, "Well, well. Here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time –"
Claire raised her hand, and said, "Excuse me, sir. I think there's been a mistake. I know its detention and all but, um, I don't think I belong in here." She said the last word with distain, like she was above the rest of her fellow students. Margaret almost laughed at the fact Vernon ignored her completely.
"It is now seven oh six," he said, looking around at all of them. "You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways." There was a sickening hack, and Margaret whipped her head to see that Bender had spit and caught it again in his mouth. She shuddered a little in disgust.
Vernon continued like he didn't notice. "And you may not talk." He turned to Brian just in time to catch him slowly moving himself away from Bender, "you may not move from these seats." He rapped his knuckles on Margaret's table. "You may not study or otherwise."
Then he turned full on to the criminal himself. "And you will not sleep." Vernon quickly pushed Bender's feet off of the chair, who nearly immediately put them back up on the table as the principal spoke. "Alright people, today we're going to try something a little different. We're going to write an essay – of no less than a thousand words – describing to me who you think you are." He put a piece of paper and a pencil on everyone's desk, causing Margaret to flinch when he reached her table.
Bender raised an eyebrow at the paper. "Is this a test?"
Vernon just looked around at them and said, "And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"
"Crystal."
But Vernon wasn't done, this time veering over to Margaret. "And in proper essay format, correct, Miss Kelly?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Maybe all of you will learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you will even decide whether or not you care to return."
Margaret felt Brian stand up behind her, stuttering, "I – I can answer that right now, sir. That'd be a no, no for me."
Vernon snapped, "Sit down, Johnson."
"Thank you sir," Brian mumbled quietly, sitting back down again.
Mr. Vernon pointed over to the doors once Brian was seated. "My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?"
Of course Bender had to raise his hand. "Yeah, I got a question." There was a pause, enough for Vernon to become suspicious, until Bender said, "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"
Vernon glowered, but still stood tall. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Don't mess with the bull, young man, you'll get the horns." With one last look at all of them he left, leaving them all alone with each other.
"That man," Bender said, "is a brownie hound."
Margaret turned herself around, confused. "A what?" That was a mistake, it only caused Bender to look at her full on.
"Why don't you ask whoever gave you that god-awful sweater." She self-consciously touched the neck of the turtleneck sweater. It was big and grey, and along with her green skirt, it successfully hid her figure from everyone. She flipped her braid around her neck, playing with the scarf she had in it.
"Jackass," she mumbled, crossing her arms.
Bender leaned closer to her, cupping his hand over his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
She pretended she hadn't said anything, and just continued to stare at the wall. Just ignore everyone and I can just get through the day. Her thoughts got broken off at a sharp snapping sound. Slowly, the five of them turned to see the dark-haired girl biting down on her nails. Margaret thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her name. Subconsciously, her face curled up in disgust.
"You keep eating your hand, you aren't going to be hungry for lunch." Bender said sarcastically, causing the girl to glare at him. Margaret nearly laughed as she bite off a piece of her nail and spit it out at Bender. He didn't even flinch at it, just continued talking, "I've seen you before you know."
He pointed, then froze for a second. Margaret glanced at the door to see Vernon peering in. After he moved back to his desk Bender spoke again. "You too." Margaret turned to see his finger pointing at her. She blinked, hoping to God she wasn't blushing.
This was going to be a helluva long day.
A/N: So what did you think? Does Margaret fit in well with the Breakfast Club so far? Tell me your thoughts in that nice little review box below.
