Disclaimer: I don't own the Breakfast Club.

Summary: Saturday detention never happened. Andrew Clark is just a star athlete and Allison Reynolds is just that freaky girl in the back of the room. At least that's how they see each other. But what happens when Andy and Allison are paired for a school project? Will they look past their differences or will they still be controlled by the stereotypes of Shermer High School?

Author's Note: This is my first Breakfast Club fic, but don't go easy on me just because of that. If I'm doing something wrong let me know. I love suggestions and reviews! This fic was written as part of deal with my friend Kristen (TWbasketcase). If she wrote an Outsiders story I would write a Breakfast Club story. So here it is.

Fate

Fate n: 1. the supposed force, principle, or power that predetermines events. 2. the inevitable events predestined by this force.- Webster's Dictionary

Chapter One

Allison Reynolds shuffled into her third period English classroom unnoticed. She made her worn black Converse sneakers squeak on the tiled floor as she walked. It was a little game she played with herself to see how long it took for someone to become aware of her. This time it took thirty seconds of the noise for someone to look at her. Brian Johnson, one of the smart kids in the front row, glanced up at her from his notebook, looking annoyed that she had disturbed his work.

Allison stared at him with raised eyebrows as she walked past him to her desk, squeaking her sneakers every step of the way. At her desk in the back of the room she pulled out her composition book.

Allison had kept one of these composition books with the black and white splotched covers since she was in the fifth grade. They lay stacked under her bed; hidden from view by the dust ruffle. She never ripped out pages or threw them away because even though some of the things she wrote were silly and embarrassing that was who she was at that exact moment in time. They were as much a part of her as her right arm or her liver. She always carried one with her, so she would never be bored. She had, had this one for about two months now, and it was over halfway filled with poems and doodles, scribbles and drawings.

She was putting the finishing touches to a drawing she had made yesterday of a mountain scene when Ms. O'Conner, the English teacher, clapped her hands, trying to get the attention of the 25 teenagers seated before her. She was one of those teachers who are fresh out of college, that are still excited about sculpting young minds. She put stickers on tests if you got above a 90 and drew a sad face if you got below a 70. Allison hated her, even if she did like English.

"Class!" Ms. O'Conner said, attempting to raise her voice over the din. Her voice was so soft, like velvet, that Allison doubted she could have gained the students attention if she shouted at the top of her lungs. Finally most of the students quieted down, except for a few of the school criminals who were sitting in the back of the room near Allison. They were playing a game of poker, betting cigarettes. This was, of course, going unnoticed by the teacher. Allison rolled her eyes at how inept Ms. O'Conner was. "Now today I have a special surprise for you!" Ms. O'Conner said in her soft peppy voice.

A groan came from the middle of the room, where the jocks and the princesses sat. Those were the most coveted seats in the classrooms of Shermer High because they were far away enough to pass notes without the teacher seeing, but close enough to get out the door quickly so they could stand around chatting in the hallway before their next class.

"We are going to be starting our poetry projects today," Ms. O'Conner announced pretending she hadn't heard the groan as she passed out papers to the people in the front rows. "Take one of each sheet and pass them back." The beefy linebacker of the football team who sat in front of Allison dropped the papers on top of her notebook, not turning around to look at her. Allison blew her bangs out of her eyes as she continued working on her drawing, pushing the papers aside.

She didn't listen to a word Ms. O'Conner said about the project until she started reading off the partners. Allison hated when she had to work in partners with someone because that required talking to them. She would much rather work on the project alone. She balanced her chin in the palm of her hand as Ms. O'Conner read the names.

"Andrew Clark you will be working with Allison Reynolds," the young teacher announced. Allison let out a squeak. Andrew Clark was the most popular boy in school. Andrew Clark was the star of the wrestling team. Andrew Clark didn't know she existed, despite the fact that they had been in the same classes since freshmen year.

Allison glanced over at him. He was looking around confused, whispering something to the football player who sat beside him. The football player shrugged and Andy looked around the room again.

"Ms. O'Conner?" he asked, raising his hand as she was pairing Claire Standish, the school's Queen Bee, with John Bender, one of the potheads in the back of the room playing poker. Neither party looked to happy about the assignment.

"Yes Andrew?" she chirped, looking at him over her pink framed reading glasses.

"Who's Allison Reynolds?" he asked. John Bender and his thug friends laughed.

"Hey jock strap, she's right over there." Bender said pointing to Allison, who glued her eyes to her notebook, letting her dark hair fall in her face. She could feel her classmates' eyes on her and it made her uncomfortable. "Maybe you would have figured that out if you hadn't been lobotomized."

"That's enough Mr. Bender." Ms. O'Conner said clearing her throat, trying to regain control of the room. Andy looked to the girl Bender had been pointing at. Her messy brown hair was in her eyes and she wasn't looking at anyone, instead she was bent over her notebook, scribbling. Andy didn't even realize she was in this class. "Alright now go sit with your partner for the rest of the period. Plan out who's doing what when we go to the library tomorrow," the young teacher said.

"Hey," Andy said, coming over to her. He sat backwards in the desk in front of her so he could face her. Allison looked up from her drawing and stared at him. When it was clear he was waiting for a reply she simply raised her eyebrows.

"Okay then…" Andy said. He glanced at the papers Ms. O'Conner had handed out. "So we have to pick a poet and write a biography about them and pick some of their most famous poems. I guess we should pick a poet, huh? Any ideas?"

Allison blew her hair out of her eyes and shrugged. "Whatever," she mumbled. Her voice sounded almost gravely, like it wasn't used very often. Andrew sighed, already exasperated with her when the bell rang.

"Okay, we'll figure it out tomorrow. See ya." Andy said, standing up immediately. He grabbed his books and walked out the door talking to one of his friends about the basketball game that was on the night before as Claire Standish complained to one of her fellow princesses about how John Bender kept calling her "Cherry".