I don't own the Breakfast Club

Enjoy!

The television loudly played downstairs as the noise made its way to Allison's bedroom. One would think that her parents would be decent enough to lower the volume but they acted like they were the only people in this house. It was going to be another typical, boring day at the household. Her parents were probably going to go on a small road trip and leave her home…which was alright because the house needed a 'guard' anyway. Allison couldn't wait for her opportunity to come. There would be a day when she would disappear…and no one would care about it.

The places where she wanted to go were endless and eventually, someone was bound to notice her. She took her black satchel and held it upside down allowing every single item to fall onto her bed. One item stood out to her. It was a picture that she had taken with her parents. A Christmas picture where they sent it to their family members. Allison ran her thumb along the picture. It was one of the memories that she could think of where she believed that she had been the happiest. What the hell had happened? Why had they stopped talking to her suddenly? It was the same routine each morning, afternoon, and night. However, at night, it seemed like they were freer than the other times of the day. Was it the amount of work that they were involved in or did they do this purposefully so they didn't think that they had a child?

Whatever the case may be, Allison still had a roof under her head for two more years until she was on her own. She hoped that by then she didn't have this desperation in seeking her parents' attention. It was the same thing in school too…but this week had proven to be different. She didn't think that she would find any similarities with Susan, but deep down she was glad that she did. It was good to have someone that she could relate to and the one interest that they shared was in art. She was about to take her offer on going over her house on Sunday, until their conversation was interrupted by the fire alarm and she didn't have a chance to get her address.

Allison let out a sigh at the thought of the weekend once more. She couldn't spend another moment kept up in this house with two people that acted like she didn't exist. She grabbed onto the doorknob and flung it open. As she was about to walk out of her bedroom, the house cat jumped towards her and rubbed himself against her legs before he headed downstairs.

As she descended the stairs, the noise of the television got louder as she saw her parents' eyes fixated on the screen. Allison stood at one end of the room, which was enough to make her visible but not block the screen. No response. Allison hesitated at the thought of trying to get their attention. Her eyes glanced over to the television screen as an old Western movie played with Clint Eastwood, The Outlaw Josey Wales. Allison then headed out of the living room and walked over to a centerpiece by the hallway entrance where she noticed the house cat perched on one of the cabinets. She turned her head to the sound of bullets ricocheting from the screen and took her opportunity. She pushed one of the vases from the table and let it crash on the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Allison heard her mother ask.

"I thought the bullets came from inside our house," her father then said as he got up from his seat and walked over to the hallway to investigate.

Allison took a deep breath and hid her eyes behind her bangs of hair. As her father's footsteps got closer, she tried to think what she could say to him about what had happened. When her father finally appeared, he had his hands on his hips and his eyes on the broken vase.

"The cat did it!" Allison quickly defended herself as he cat let out a disgruntled growl. Allison turned her head towards the cat. Don't be too hard on me, you have it easy. At least they pay attention to you.

"Honey it was just the cat," her father reported back to his wife. "Now I gotta clean this up."

Ask me to clean it up, I'm standing right here! Notice me…please Allison wanted to say to her father as he walked to the hallway closet and pulled out a broom and dustpan. As her father adjusted himself to clean up the mess, Allison reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. A gasp escaped from her lips when she did that and she felt her father's hesitation.

Her father didn't move for a what seemed a mere couple of minutes. He looked over at the hand that had grabbed his wrist and then at the person to whom the hand belonged to. Standing in front of him was a young girl, all dressed in black, with a look of desperation in her eyes. The one question that came to his mind was…what did this girl want?

"I need to go to school tomorrow," she said to her father.

Her father made a face when she said that. "It's Saturday," he told her.

Allison folded her arms across her chest. So much for having a father-daughter conversation. In her eyes, he acted as if they had spoken to one another this whole week. "I am meeting with some friends from Art Club. It's for an assignment."

Her father knelt on the floor and brushed the pieces of broken ceramic onto the dustpan. "Fine," he simply said to her, "what time?"

"Seven sharp," she said to him. She watched as her father got up from the floor and disappeared into another room where he discarded the broken pieces of ceramic and headed back to the living room. At least it was some form of conversation…but it wasn't what Allison would have wanted. They talked…but she still felt ignored. Out of all of this, she felt that she had gotten her message to her father across. The funny thing about that she wasn't part of any art clubs, nor did she have any friends, or an assignments that she was working on.

In the end, a little white lie was always used to her benefit.