About 11 years ago, I finished uploading my first The Breakfast Club story. Then I added a short sequel a year later. And then an alternative viewpoint which remains slightly unfinished (I'm working on it again).

So before you dive in, you might familiarise yourself with:

Because of You: s/9762347/1/Because-of-You

House Rules: s/10315070/1/House-Rules

White Horse: s/10325880/1/White-Horse

If you're choosing not to, then you can just dive into this, which I began writing probably about a decade ago, and then abandoned, and then suddenly woke up with a desire to finish 3 weeks ago and bashed out about 35,000 words in a couple of weeks. It contains spoilers for all the above, particularly White Horse, given that it isn't even finished yet except in my head.

And if you're diving in, what you mainly need to know is that there weren't 5 of them in the detention that day in 1984; there were 6: the Brain, the Athlete, the Basketcase, the Princess, the Criminal, and the Invisible Girl. And she's still not over that summer 10 years later.

Saturday, July 15th 1994

As the taxi-cab pulled away, Madison took a moment to take in the view. It was so utterly familiar, as if it had been etched onto her brain: the clusters of trailers, the human-formed pathways of crushed grass and dirt. She could have left yesterday for all the changes that had taken place around here. The trailers even looked the same amount of old.

The house door opened and she turned in the direction of the sound. Because here was something that had very much changed.

'You're early!' Laura came down the porch steps like she'd done it a thousand times before. She probably had, Madison mused, unable to prevent herself from looking at the house behind her mother. The whole flight from Los Angeles, she'd tried to imagine what this place might look like, how eight years of her mother's habitation might have changed Mike's bachelor pad into something else. All that time of living here and she'd never been beyond the hallway. It was alien territory: her mother's new home.

Now she nodded. 'The traffic was good.'

'We weren't expecting you for an hour or so yet. I've not even started dinner.' There was a formality to the occasion which Madison hadn't been expecting. Naïve, she knew. This was a real homecoming, the first time she'd so much as set foot within the state lines in a decade. Other parents would have been rolling out the red carpet or killing the fatted calf. Her mom hung back, watching her daughter, waiting for a reaction. When little came, she prompted: 'Need a hand?'

Madison looked down at her single holdall, her backpack and handbag.

'Travelling light?'

'You get used to it.' Madison wanted to bite her tongue off as soon as she'd spoken. There was no need for the snippiness; it wasn't as if her mother was criticising her or judging her. Most people would see it as a compliment, especially as she wasn't going to be here for long. She had more than enough clothes for seven days, especially given that the most important outfit was already here. There was no reason to be difficult.

And even though Laura must have known that, she didn't say anything. There was something else that rarely changed: Laura Lawrence's ability to overlook her children's foibles. Although, Laura Lawrence not for much longer. Madison wondered if the name change might herald a whole new woman. The hope that it wouldn't made her instantly much kinder.

'Is Mike around?'

'Gone to collect his suit. He should be back soon. He wanted to be here when you arrived.'

Madison looked at the house again. It seemed even odder to be here without the owner present. Even walking from the car up the porch steps, rather than in the opposite direction, to where their old trailer nestled in the same pile of weeds, felt like trespassing. Without being aware of it, she hung back behind her mother, wondering if she could put this off for longer, forever.

'Mads?' Laura interrupted her thoughts, and Madison came to, finding her mother turned to face her. 'This is not just Mike's house, you know. It's mine too. And Zach's and yours. Anytime. So stop overthinking it.' She smiled then, and gave her daughter's face the briefest of strokes. 'It's so lovely to have you here, darling. Thank you.'

Madison dropped her gaze, a glow rising in her cheeks. 'I haven't done anything,' she said, studying her feet before risking a glance at her mother. The look there, conveyed in a simple quirked eyebrow, showed that Laura did actually get it, did realise that this was a big deal for her.

It made her think that maybe, possibly, this might just be alright.

One thing Madison hadn't banked upon when she left Los Angeles that morning was quite how wedding-central her mom's place would be. It might be only seven days until Mike finally made an honest woman of her, but Laura had seemed pretty chill about the whole thing every time Madison had spoken to or seen her. It was the second time for both of them, they'd been living together longer than was decent, there was, Laura had repeatedly insisted, no need for a big day.

'All we need is you, Zach, each other, some friends, and an officiant,' she had said as soon as the date was set. 'The rest is just a party.'

And by LA standards, this was a very small big day. Fuelled by celebrities and gossip columns, the weddings of Madison's friends and colleagues in the Golden State tended to err on the side of extravagance. Laura had been adamant: one bridesmaid, a simple dress, no fripperies.

Even so, wedding paraphernalia seemed to be everywhere, from DIY decorations to the odd wedding gift which had somehow snuck past the strict 'no-gift' policy. It somehow helped to take the edge off being in a space which was so very much her mom and so very little Madison.

'So, everything's in hand then?' Madison ventured to tease as she looked around at the half-finished decorations and what looked like a seating plan. Gesturing towards it, she said, 'Small and simple?'

Laura swatted at her with a cloth as she busied herself at the oven. 'Not a word or you'll be helping. Mike's washed his hands of almost everything and I doubt your brother will be any great help when he finally shows up.'

'Zach's not here?'

'No. Why?' When Madison didn't immediately reply, Laura turned to face her, and that old anxiety had appeared on her face, the etched lines seemingly never too far away. 'Were you expecting him to be?'

She had been. The last time she'd spoken to her younger brother – which, admittedly, was several weeks ago – he was planning on flying in from New York the day before. Having spent so much of his life locked into hospital schedules and on drug routines, Zach had pretty much abandoned all timetables as soon as he'd hit his twenties. After a few hair-raising experiences, where he'd gone AWOL for a couple of months, Madison and, grudgingly, Laura had adapted. His unpredictability was almost a treat, as he'd pop up whenever he was least expected – and sometimes, when he was most needed. His changing his plans without a word to anybody was hardly unusual, but Madison did think he might have made a little more effort for their mom's actual wedding.

'He probably got the day wrong,' she said now, giving Laura an overly bright grin.

Laura pursed her lips. 'Well, as long as he gets here in time for the actual ceremony.' She turned back to the oven, slamming the door shut with rather more force than was necessary. 'Now, shall we get you settled in?'

There was an uncanny quality to the house. In amongst the unfamiliar products of almost a decade of cohabiting, there was the odd flash of things Madison knew of old: a blanket, a lamp, a photograph. Remnants of the life they'd led before Mike, even before her father walked out on them. It made for a very disorientating experience, only more so in the room Laura introduced as 'your room'.

It was very much Madison's room – or at least, the Madison she'd been the last time she and Laura had shared a house. It was precisely what the seventeen-year-old her would have wanted, featuring items from her childhood which had been packed away in boxes and all but forgotten about in the time they'd lived in the trailer. There were added touches here and there, which had Laura all over them, but it was truly a room which was more Madison than even she was.

That Mike and Laura had produced this room, for someone who never visited, was more than Madison could take in. Crossing the room, she looked out the window. 'What a view!'

Laura joined her, smiling, seemingly not offended by her daughter's lack of manners. 'It looks quite different from this angle, doesn't it?'

Madison glanced at her. Those years had been hard, really hard, on Laura perhaps more than anybody else. Madison had moved halfway across the country to try to put them behind her, and here her mother was, day after day, looking out across the scene of all that angst and pain. Not for the first time, Madison was in awe of her mother's strength, but, also not for the first time, she found she couldn't say anything to that effect.

Instead, she asked, 'Is there anyone in our old trailer?'

There was a moment's hesitation before Laura spoke, and it struck Madison at the time as something unusual; her mother rarely sounded quite so caught out. 'Nobody permanent.' Turning abruptly, she said, 'I'll let you get freshened up.'

Whilst Laura's reaction left her somewhat baffled, freshening up was also exactly what Madison wanted to do. The intercontinental flight had left her feeling sticky enough without touching down in a Chicago summer. A decade of west coast temperatures hadn't made her any more able to deal with Midwest humidity and she stepped into the cool shower with relief. By the time she stepped out again, Mike was home, and she greeted her new stepfather in a fresh set of t-shirt and shorts, albeit with damp hair.

'Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?'

It was the strangest thing, but their ex-landlord's barriers had all crumbled down the minute Laura had accepted his request for a date. Theirs had never been the most tactile family, but Mike had gone from standoffish reserve to the chief purveyor of hugs, kisses and general physical affection. Madison had expected to hate it, and had been caught off-guard the first time he'd given her the kind of hug which would break ribs. Now, though, years later, she found it was one of the things she loved most about her mother's fiancé, and accepted it gratefully.

'We thought you weren't getting in until later.' Holding her at arms' length, Mike scrutinised her face as he declared emphatically, 'We're so pleased you're here.'

'Where else would I be?' Blushing, Madison turned to her mother. 'Do you need help with anything, Mom?'

'All in hand.' Laura bit the end off of a carrot stick. 'Suit all collected?'

Mike held up a bag. 'I picked up Zach's too. No word?' He barely hesitated in response to Laura's headshake. 'Well, you know what Zach's like.' In the next breath, he said, 'I picked the post up,' and slapped down a pile of envelopes.

'Oh! I nearly forgot!' Laura dropped the carrot stick and pushed past the two of them to a kitchen drawer which seemed to be filled with odds, ends, bits and bobs. 'This came for you a few weeks ago.'

'Me?' Madison frowned at the envelope being offered to her. She didn't like to state the absolute obvious – that she didn't even live here. With an awkward laugh, she asked, 'Who'd write to me here?' It was only once she'd asked it that she answered it herself, silently, with a host of names, none of whom she wanted to think about. The envelope suddenly took on a toxic air and it was all she could do not to back away from it.

Still, Laura held it out. 'It's from the school. This must be your last known address as far as they're concerned.' With a shake of her hand, she said, 'Come on, Mads, at least open it.'

The school. That only made the envelope slightly more attractive, because Madison could think of no reason Shermer High would want to contact her. No good reason anyway; there had never been a good reason for the school to contact home. This, at least, was addressed to her and not her mother. Only marginally less wary of it than before, she ran her fingernail under the seal and tugged it open.

The invitation which fell out bore more than a passing resemblance to those her mom had picked out for the wedding. The card was cheaper, the print slightly less fancy, but both had that unmistakable sense of An Event. It took Madison a few seconds to realise quite what she was holding.

When she spoke, it was with a barely held-back scoff. 'It's an invitation to the ten year reunion of my class.' Then, after another quick glance, the scoff escaped. 'It's this Saturday! When did you say this came?'

Laura shrugged. 'I don't know. A couple of weeks.'

Madison snorted. 'Yeah, cause everyone can drop everything for some stupid reunion a couple of weeks after Independence Day.'

Mike took the card from her hands and looked it over. 'I saw something about this in the newspaper. It might be a nice thing.'

It was the first time he'd said anything which reminded Madison precisely how little he knew or understood about her life before LA. For some people, a high school reunion might indeed be a nice thing. But there was a reason the school hadn't even had a forwarding address for her.

Now he looked up at her. 'Not tempted even a bit?'

'No!' Madison bit her lip, aware how abruptly she'd spoken. This was not how she usually talked; back in LA, she was known to be one of the more reasoned of her friends. 'I mean... I'll be too busy by Saturday. I'm here for your wedding, remember?'

'Which isn't until next Sunday,' Laura put in. She gave her daughter a meaningful look. 'Don't use the wedding as a reason. If you don't want to go, fine. But... don't rule it out just yet.'

For a long moment, Madison stared her mother down. The thing was, Laura knew exactly how high school had been, all the reasons why it wasn't a time Madison particularly wanted to revisit. She knew how lonely it had been, how isolating ever since they'd moved to the trailer park and the friends she'd had drifted away. She also knew how different it had been after that Saturday morning, when she'd been thrust into the spotlight against her will, surrounded by an athlete, a brain and a nut case, tucked under the arm of a criminal. And, more than anything, she knew how it had ended, with Madison's clothes flung into a bag, a pale-eyed drive to the airport and an absence of a decade. Laura knew.

Madison folded the invitation firmly into quarters, even as the less-cheap-than-she'd-expected card sprang back into shape. The pedal bin shot open on her first request and she dropped the invitation in. She broke the silence which followed the clatter of its lid by saying, 'So remind me of the plans for the week.'

Because Laura also knew when to stop pushing.