Author's Note: okay, sorry about the wait, just read the announcement that is posted under this section. It' isn't through this account, but through a joint one I have with a friend of mine. Read that and you will know exactly why there has been a massive wait between chapters. But the good news is that I have the story planned all the way up to chapter fifteen, and chapters four, five and chapter six (where we finally find out what happened between John and Claire) are finished! Any writer's block concerning this fic seems to be gone for now, which is good! Anyway, enjoy! Please Read and Review!
For all other author's notes and the disclaimer see
Chapter One. Please read them before reading the fic. Thanks. Send feedback to
nova_mist@yahoo.com Please read and review.
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The Altered View
Monday Can Bring
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March 26th,
1984
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Chapter Three - Allison's Triumphant Return to her Father's List of Priorities
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Allison Reynolds was still quietly fascinated by the fact
that she was letting everyone see her face, and was not uncomfortable by it.
Using the same makeup technique that Claire had shown her on Saturday, Allison
had spent at least half an hour perfecting it that morning in front her mirror.
Her thoughts over the weekend had been mainly focused on
the Saturday detention she had shared with Claire Standish, the Princess; John
Bender, the Criminal; Brian Johnson, the Brain; and Andrew Clark, the
Athlete…and she, Allison, the Basket-case, had actually made friends with these
people. Allison hadn't really had friends of any real substance since halfway
through ninth grade, when she transferred from one of the large Chicago high
schools, to Shermer High School. The guidance counsellor, Ronald Hashimoto,
told her she would settle in no time. But by halfway through ninth grade,
everyone was already formed into their own little cliques and groups: the
jocks, the brains, the drama-freaks. None of which Allison really fit into. So
she became The Weirdo, one with many acquaintances, yet no real friends. It was
now part of the way through tenth grade, and Allison was an outcast. All she
ever wanted was a friend. Then maybe the way her parents ignored her would be
bearable. If she knew she had friends – even one friend – it would all be
bearable.
But now I do have friends. Allison thought
to herself as she looked out the window of her father's car. Claire,
John, Brian and Andy…especially Andy. But are they really my friends? Or will
it be like I'm afraid of: as soon as we all walk into the school gates today,
it will all be as if Friday never happened. No, I hope it isn't. Please, don't
let it be like that! Allison pleaded, pulling Andy's
blue zip-up sweatshirt tighter around herself. Never before had Allison really
relied on anyone, even when she was back with her old friends in Chicago. But
now she was relying on these four people who she barely knew, yet knew so well.
How had Allison thought of them before that
Saturday detention? How could Allison, of all people, had thought there was
nothing more to these four people than their stereotypes?
Claire Standish. Conceited Claire. The
Princess. All she cared about was hair and clothes and nail polish. She had no
substance to her. Claire was the type that would look down on social misfits
like Allison. Yet had incredible compassion when she let herself show it. She
had stepped forward and befriended Allison when no one was forcing her to.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Allison asked
curiously.
Claire smiled. "Because you're letting me," she replied.
So even though Claire was sometimes bitchy, shallow, and
self-obsessed, there were other aspects to Claire Standish that she let very
few see.
And John Bender: The Criminal. He strolled into the room
at the beginning of that detention, calm and collected. As if nothing affected
him. As if he didn't give a rat's arse about the fact he was stuck in detention
on a Saturday, with a bunch of near-strangers, and a teacher that liked nothing
better than attempting to get a rise out of him. He made out that he was
affected by nothing, and cared about nothing.
"When you grow up, your heart dies." Allison whispered.
"Who cares?" John replied flippantly. John was lying: he
cared. Allison could hear it in his voice.
John did not have a happy home life. It was far unhappier
– or more unsatisfying - than Allison's would ever be. His parents didn't
ignore him, but his father was an abusive alcoholic. She didn't know how
abusive John bender Snr was, exactly, but she knew about the cigar burn on
John's right arm. She hadn't seen it, but from the looks on Andy and Claire's
faces, she knew that it had been bad. No wonder John was so cynical. But,
Allison knew that the cynicism and sarcasm was nothing but a mask. Beneath
that, John was a very different person, just as confused and unsure as everyone
else.
And what of Brian Johnson – the nerd, the
tech-head, the geek? Her fellow weirdo in the eyes of the in-crowd. One who had
nearly killed himself just because he got an F in shop? He was so awkward
around everyone: in awe of Claire, unsure about Andy, scared of John…and
intrigued by Allison, it seemed. Like he wondered what she was really like
under her hair, the dark clothes, and the black makeup that she used to render
herself invisible. He had spoken to her kindly, as if she were his equal.
But it had been Andy – Andrew Clark,
Super-Jock – that had been the first to speak to Allison in any way that could
be considered a real conversation. At first she had been so shocked that he was
speaking to her that she didn't answer. But by the end of the day they were
talking so well that they knew almost everything about each other's home lives.
He knew how Allison's parents ignored her; she knew of how all Andy's father
did was push Andy to his limits, while his mother drank herself into a stupor
to escape it all.
Allison knew all these people, and they
knew her. All with their own stereotype and their own clique. But they had
overcome all of that, and in nine hours, they had become the most unlikely of
friends. Some of the best friends Allison had ever had. And yet Allison knew
that if they all accessed their own inner strength, they would remain friends.
If.
Allison sighed. She was depressing herself
again. What will be, will be. She
reminded herself. It will all work itself out. Stop worrying. She told herself as her father, Bill Reynolds, pulled
into the car park. Just focus on how you can get your parents to stop
ignoring you.
She turned to her father. "Thanks for driving me to
school…Daddy." Allison said quietly, blundering over the unfamiliarity of the
word "Daddy".
Bill looked at her, surprised.
Allison smiled at him, and leaned over and kissed him on
the cheek. "Bye, Daddy." she said, smiling.
Her father was still looking at her. Then he smiled. "See
you this afternoon, sweetheart." He replied.
Allison nodded and got out of the car. "Have fun at
school, Ally." Her father said, before driving off.
Allison grinned. She was feeling better already.