I don't own the Breakfast Club

Enjoy!

Her pencil created a smooth line across the blank page of paper that rested in front of her. There was nothing better than hearing pencil sliding against paper in a quiet empty art classroom. She watched closely as the graphite left its mark, some lines bolder than others. She concentrated her eyes on those lines until she pulled back and saw that she had drawn a tree. Beautiful she thought in awe. However, there was something missing. She leaned forward to the picture and shook her hair with her hands, causing the dandruff to fall onto the paper. It made the tree look like its pollen was blowing away with the wind.

"Don't let anyone steal your style Allison," Susan grabbed Allison's attention as she sat down on the table next to her. It may have seemed like an unorthodox way to incorporate dandruff into a drawing, but art didn't have any rules. Anyone that said that it did, obviously didn't fully experience it.

Allison glanced down at her artwork and felt a smile came upon her lips. It was good that some of her art was taken into consideration. Unfortunately, their teacher was so uptight in wanting these art projects done a certain way. Thank goodness that she didn't pay any attention to Allison, otherwise she would have dropped the class.

Susan reached in her bag and pulled out another sketchpad that she used for her class. "Think she'll like this or tear it to pieces?"

Allison observed the drawing that she had done. Susan had used cubism in her artwork where she had drawn an American bobcat in different hues of red. Allison was impressed by that type of art that Susan had done. Bobcats normally avoided human contact, but this one in the picture looked like it had been provoked. "Did you draw this while looking at it?" Allison asked her. She would be impressed if she did.

Susan shook her head. "Mom's polaroid camera was a lifesaver. I'm sure that if my grandmother saw me close to a bobcat, she'd lose her mind and call animal control." Such misunderstood felines. They normally go about minding their own business only to be trapped in a cage by humans and transported who knows where.

The teacher then walked into the classroom. She was tall and lanky and felt the desire to wear boots to make herself look even taller. The bracelets that were around his wrists jangled against one another as she took attendance without greeting any of the students.

"Someone seems to be in a bad mood," Susan whispered to Allison and pulled away before the teacher caught them.

After taking attendance, the teacher began to collect everyone's projects. In every table that she stopped; the teacher was vocal about her opinion on the projects that her students had done. Allison looked at the scowls that the students sent her and the middle finger gestures that they threw at her. As for the teacher, she did not notice them and Allison couldn't tell whether she had grown immune to it or that she simply did not care what anyone said to her. Allison glanced over at Susan who involuntarily straightened in her chair as the teacher began to collect their artwork. The teacher reached over to Allison's, making a face at the dandruff that slipped onto the table and then Susan's.

"And what is this supposed to be?" the teacher asked as she looked at the drawing that Susan had done.

Susan brightened up at her question. "I decided to experiment with cubism and—"

"The requirement was 'naturalistic realism,'" the teacher stated with exasperation and fixated her eyes on Susan. "You do realize what that means, right? We've been working on this for the past couple of weeks."

Allison looked from the teacher and at Susan. She could see that all confidence seemed to escape from Susan.

"I know," Susan said as she mustered a smile to the teacher, "but I just thought I'd try something else. I think it adds some character to the bobcat."

"That's a bobcat?" the teacher asked her, "I beg to differ, Ms. Quimby." She let out a sight and aligned the art projects on top of one another. "Next time, I expect you to follow the requirements, alright?"

Allison sent the teacher a glare and then looked over at Susan, who defeatedly leaned against her chair. She wondered where they hired these types of teachers in the first place. Weren't art teachers supposed to be motivators in letting their students express themselves? Art was supposed to be fun, not tedious.

The teacher walked to the front of the class and set the pile of art projects on her table. "I will be grading these and handing them to you in the upcoming week. Now, take out your canvases. We will be learning about Edvard Munch and his style of using oil in his paintings."

Susan clenched her jaw and stared at the teacher. Edvard Munch, the painter that was famous for 'The Scream.' If she stayed one more second in this class, she was going to scream! Susan had the urge to collect her supplies and leave the class, but that would only arise in a conflict, which was something that she didn't want. Instead, she looked at the teacher as she began to drone on about Edvard Munch and how they are going to use oil pastels in creating a realisitc artwork.

Ever since she was in detention, all she had done was sketch realistic drawings. There was more to art than that. Why not incorporate everything that they have learned in their work? What was wrong with using cubism and combining that with realism? Why did this teacher have to be so uptight about everything? How would her grade be affected if she hadn't followed the requirements? Apparently, a teacher's direction was law!

Susan suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest to the point where it suddenly got harder to breathe.

Ms. Quimby…Ms. Quimby! the teacher's voice sounded so distant, but Susan was conscious enough to hear her.

Susan hoped that she wasn't overreacting for the teacher to take notice. "May I be excused?" Susan asked the teacher, feeling that sharp pain in her chest beginning to escalate.

The teacher stopped talking and squinted her eyes at Susan as if to see if she was still alive. "Fine, go," she said and rolled her eyes at her student.

Susan felt like her hands were going numb as she attempted to put her supplies under her desk. She stopped when Allison's hand rested on hers and urged her to leave. Taking a deep breath, Susan slung her bag over her shoulder and may her way out of the classroom.

Allison hadn't heard from Susan before lunchtime. She sat at an empty table and looked around for Susan. Guess she was still at the nurse's office. Allison went ahead and took her seat and waited to see who else would join her. She pulled out her bag of lunch, which consisted of gummy bears.

"You are not having that," Andrew's voice floated over to the table and he pulled away the bag of gummy bears from her.

"Hey!" Allison exclaimed as she looked at Andrew. "Give that back."

"You're not eating this junk," Andrew said as he held the bag at an arm's distance and she tried to reach for it.

"Says the guy that ate a whole bag of cookies yesterday!" Allison shot back.

Andrew laughed as she tried to reach for it. This girl ate the strangest things for lunch and it made Andrew concerned. Why couldn't her parents at least make something that was nutrients for the whole family? "Okay, okay," Andrew surrendered, "I'll give this back to you after you eat this." He plopped a sandwich and an apple in front of her.

Allison looked at the food in front of her. The first time, he had offered her his situation. The last couple of times, he had made extra food just for her. It touched her that someone cared. She was grateful for his kindness and she savored every bite that he had made for her.

Across from their table, John raised his chin in the air in greeting as he looked at Andrew and Allison. He took his seat across from them and noticed the bag of gummy bears. "Someone left their snack there."

"It's Allison's," Andrew spoke up, "I confiscated it from her so she eats this sandwich."

John raised an eyebrow at Allison. "Homeboy's taking good care of you." He glanced over at the abandoned bag of gummies and pulled it over to him. "Don't mind if I do."

Suddenly, the sound of heels made their way to the table as everyone looked up to see Claire Standish. She looked more relaxed and composed than the last couple of times that she sat with them. "Hey," she greeted the group and took her seat next to Allison.

John slowly chewed onto the gummy bear as he looked at Claire. "Good to see you joining us again…Claire."

Claire's fingers hovered above the tray that was about to open. At least his tone of voice didn't sound sarcastic as she would have expected and he didn't call her princess.

Afterwards, Brian walked over and took his seat with the group. He looked at the table curiously when he noticed that someone was missing. "Hey guys," he greeted them. "Anyone seen Susan? I thought she was going to be here," he inquired.

"Nurse's office," Allison answered him after she had finished the last bite of her sandwich.

Brian's eyes widened. "What happened?" he asked her. Surely it wasn't anything serious that could have happened.

There was no denying that Allison had gone through the same symptoms that Susan had, only Allison's were a lot worse. The tightening of the chest, shortness of the breath. It had taken a while for Allison to work with her therapist until she was able to manage it.

"Allison, what happened?" Brian asked her once more.

"We were in art class and the teacher started to criticize her work," Allison explained, "then she started to not feel well. I haven't seen her since."

Brian pushed away his lunch bag and got up from his seat. "I'm gonna go see her."

As Brian walked away from the group, John looked over his shoulder until Brian disappeared. It would be a shame to have all this lunch go to waste. He rolled an abandoned apple from Brian's lunch bag over to him. "Wonder what had gotten Picasso all worked up?" John commented and then bit onto the apple.

Claire looked at John with disapproval. "Taking Brian's lunch…that's nice, John," she commented.

"Who knows when he'll be back," John defended his actions, "for all I know they could be smothering each other at this minute."

Andrew was glad that he had swallowed his water after he burst out laughing at John's comment.

"Anyway," John said as he bit onto the apple again and pointed at Allison, "I actually wanted to ask you about something."

"Oh?" Allison said as she looked at John through her bangs, "what can I do for you?"

John wished that Brian hadn't abandoned the table so quickly. "The dork and I need to use a spare garage to work on a project that we're doing. You're the first person that came to mind."

That caught Allison off guard. She had expected to be the last.

"You a Brian and partnered up?" Claire jumped in and asked John before Allison had the chance to respond. I'd love to see how that works out she thought.

John threw his hands in the air before they landed on the table. "He's the lucky one; I have a decent grade in that class."

"That's surprising," Andrew mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah I'd like to see you pick up a hammer and smash against a nail that doesn't involve your finger," John shot back at Andrew and then set his eyes on Allison. "You alright with that?"

Allison never had anyone over to her home before. The only people that she had seen were the friends that her parents bought over, and Allison mostly kept to herself when those people were around. "My parents aren't home on Sundays in the morning," Allison told him. It was perhaps one of the many perks that she had for parents who dedicated their lives to going at a friend's house to have brunch every week. "I guess it's fine."

John was fine with that. Now he just needed to check in with Brian about it. "Good. Let's hope that the dweeb is free. Both of our grades depend on it."