Disclaimer: I don't own the Breakfast Club *sigh*
Hello, I have returned! I am really happy this story has over 2,000 views, that's awesome! I've never had a story with so may views…. Finally I'm updating, I know! I've been distracted by a new OC idea...ANYWAY, sadly updates are going to be slow as I am about to start at a new school. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story so far!
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John
He studied the girl out of the corner of his eye, watching with curiosity as she spoke so openly and easily to the nerd. A few short minutes ago she had been avoiding speaking or ever catching anyone's eyes. She seemed to be amicably describing someone they both she and the nerd knew about, he was laughing softly at her as she stood up to emphasise her point. Her hair fanned out behind her, the silky strands coming back to rest against her neck, framing her face. In that instant her eyes flickered to John's and away. He felt his breath catch in his throat, she sure was easy on the eye. Maybe after he'd gotten first prize, he would go for second as well.
His mind whirred at the endless dirty possibilities, ones you would only expect from a teenage boy with too much time on his hands and a particularly good imagination.
Andrew
Andrew had never been particularly good with anything outside of sports. Feelings and friendships where simply a distraction, his father's favourite motto. His father really was good at being negative about anything outside of football. His father's entire life revolved around the his next match, sometimes Andrew wasn't even sure who was fighting anymore. It certainly wasn't him.
If only his knee would give way.
He could picture it all clearly. Agony, intense, screaming pain from his knee and spreading through his body. The flashing hospital lights. A shrill ambulance siren. Sharp, antiseptic soaps stinging his nose. Mr Clarke Sr shrieking at the doctors, outraged when they tell him that he won't be able to walk for the next six months, let alone wrestle ever again. His mother would smile at him weakly, tuck the blankets under him tightly before leaving. The rest of the wrestling team and his coach turning away, disappointed.
Recovery would be painful, but rejection even more so. Andrew knew that if this, this fantasy he had ever became a reality he would be rejected both at home and in school. He would cease to exist to his father, another child who had failed to live out his father's dream of being a sports star. His 'friends' would poke fun at him, mock his wound and his lack of talent for anything else. Classes would become torture, instead of being the assailant he would become the target of paper planes and spit balls. Cast out from his friendship group he would be dismissed from joining all other groups, it would be social suicide.
But, even with all of the hurt this would bring him he would be free. Free of everything except his own decisions. After all of the upheaval of this injury, his father would have no more interest or control in his life. High school would only last for a few more years anyway, then, maybe, just maybe, he could leave Shermer High behind and create a new life for himself. One day he would be able to visit museums and art galleries on Saturdays, when he would otherwise be training. One day he might even find a new group of friends who wouldn't ridicule him for wanting to read a book.
Andrew contemplated his life and his circumstances, while stealing glances at the others around the room. He would bet that the girl with the shiny black hair, sat next to Johnson, never had to follow her parents rules, she didn't turn up to school anyways. The same as Bender, they were both clear of any expectations from their parents, unrestricted to wander around as they pleased, unsupervised. What did they do with their time? What would he do with his time? How he would give anything for his parents to not care.
Thanks for reading, hopefully I'll post again soon. AZEX