I don't own the Breakfast Club

Enjoy!

After a while, all the students were on the same topic. Silence. Perhaps that was a good thing. The last thing that any of them needed was another fight to break out between John and Andrew and Claire. A few times, Allison found herself glancing over at Andrew. She wondered if he felt her eyes on him, even though he didn't bother turning to see.

Claire on the other hand was relieved that John was not bothering her. Imagine how devastating it would be if any of her friends found out about what was going on in here. The one thing she feared was if word got out about the people that she had detention with. She turned her head and looked over at Susan, who was doodling on her sketchpad. She had a lot of reason to spread the word about this detention and what they had been talking about.

Just then, the door of the library opened and the students looked up expectantly, aside from John, to see if it was Vernon. To their relief it was Carl, the janitor of the school as he executed his responsibilities for the weekend. "Brian, how you doing?" Carl greeted him. Brian didn't respond to his greeting, fearful of what others would say that he had previous conversations with the janitor.

"You dad work here?" John asked Brian and he shook his head 'no.' He then turned his attention over to Carl. "Carl?"

"What?" Carl asked him.

"Can I ask you a question?" John asked him, "how does one become a janitor?"

Carl lips twitched into a smirk upon John's question. He could expect anything from this student at this point. "You want to be a janitor?" he asked him.

"No I just want to know how one becomes a janitor," John clarified and then pointed at Andrew, "because Andrew here is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts."

Andrew clenched his jaw when John said that. What was this guy's problem in dragging him when he was only minding his own business? Not only that but Andrew felt slightly embarrassed when John volunteered his name into the conversation when he never had anything against Carl.

"Oh really?" Carl asked and looked at Andrew, "you guys think I'm some untouchable peasant, serf, peon you know? Maybe so. But following a broom around after people like you for the last eight years I have learned a couple of things. I look through your letters. I look through your lockers. I listen to your conversations. You don't know that, but I do. I am the eyes and ears of this institution, my friends," he glanced down at his watch and then looked at the clock on the wall, "by the way, that clock is twenty minutes fast."

Susan thought about Carl's speech. At least he was decent enough to not touch any of her artwork that she hung in her locker or touch any of her art supplies…unlike someone she knew.

After Carl's departure, John was situated back to his original seat. The silence that had taken over the library was starting to get to him. He started the first few notes of the Colonel Bogey March and had the remainder of the library following him. Allison saw her classmates joining in and she found herself joining in with them only to stop after the first couple of notes. Just then, Vernon walked into the library and everyone stopped whistling, except for John who changed the tune of the music.

"Alright girls," Vernon said to the group, "that's thirty minutes for lunch."

"Here?" Andrew asked.

"Here," Vernon answered him.

The librarian may not appreciate all the crumbs from Saturday detention on Monday morning. "I think the cafeteria may be a more suitable place to eat lunch in," Andrew explained.

"I don't care what you think Andrew," Vernon said. Even after his warnings, Vernon couldn't believe that these students had the gall to talk back to him.

Susan rolled her eyes at Vernon's words. "Do you think that Ms. Wilson will appreciate finding cookie crumbs on the floors Monday morning?" she asked him.

Vernon turned his eyes on Susan as a warning. "If you haven't noticed, that's why we have a janitor in the school."

Oh how charming Susan wanted to say. She thought it best to just keep silent before everything was out in the open.

"Dick?" John spoke up and Vernon looked over at him. "Excuse me, Rich. Will milk be made available to us?"

"We're extremely thirsty sir," Andrew said.

"I have a really low tolerance for dehydration," Claire added.

"I've seen her dehydrated," Andrew jumped in, "it's pretty gross."

"Relax," John good-naturedly said as he pushed back his chair, "I'll get it." He was about to get out of his seat when Vernon stopped him from doing so.

Vernon glared at him. "Grab some wood there bub, you think I was born yesterday?" he asked and watched John sinking back into his seat. "You think I'm gonna have you roaming these halls?"

At this point of the early afternoon, Susan could take a break and head to the art classroom to pass some time. At least she would be away from the noise that distracted her.

"You," Vernon pointed at Andrew and then looked around the room for another student. "And you," he pointed at Allison. Allison had her eyes closed and then slowly opened them when she felt a pair of eyes onto her. "Hey! What's her name? Wake up! Wake up, Missy, let's go! This is no rest home."

Allison sent Vernon a glare through her bangs as she took her bag and hung it around her shoulders.

"There's a soft drink machine in the teacher's lounge. Let's go," Vernon told Andrew and Allison as they got up from their seats and headed outside of the library.

As the pair of them walked down the hallway, Allison walked behind Andrew and kept her eyes on him. Out of all the days that they spent in school with one another, she couldn't believe that Saturday detention had given her the opportunity to be this close to him.

Andrew had his mind set on grabbing those drinks, but when he turned around to look at Allison, he was met with that mysterious aura that she exuded. "So," he said to her, "what's your poison?" Silence. He wasn't sure if she had heard him so he asked, "what do you drink?" Silence again. "Okay," Andrew said, "forget I asked."

She was not going to let this opportunity get away from her. She was sure that guys like Andrew worked out, got together, and got drunk during their parties. "Vodka," she answered him.

Andrew turned around and looked at her. She surely had to be bluffing. How could a girl like her even handle the effects of alcohol. "Vodka?" he asked her, "when do you drink vodka?"

"Whenever," Allison simply answered and confidently walked in front of Andrew.

Andrew sensed a change in her behavior when she opened to him about her drinking habits. "A lot?" he asked.

"Tons," she answered.

A thought crossed Andrew's mind. She was the basket-case of the school and it wouldn't surprise if she had bought vodka to school and Vernon discovered her for that. "Is that why are you here?" he asked her. When she didn't answer, Andrew prodded, "why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Allison asked as she turned to face him.

This was the closest that they stood with one another. Normally Andrew would be a couple of feet away from her but this time, he was able to make out the color of her eyes hidden underneath her hair and he could how clear and soft her porcelain skin was. For someone that the school considered to be a basket-case she had quite the beauty…but hid behind it for whatever reason. Andrew took a couple of steps back and leaned against the wall. "I am here today because my coach and my father don't want me to blow my ride. I get treated differently because coach thinks I'm a winner. So does my old man. I'm not a winner because I want to be one. I'm a winner because I got strength and speed, kind of like a racehorse. That's about how involved I am in what's happening to me."

Allison listened attentively to his story. There was no detail that Andrew mentioned of what he did to get in here in the first place. Either he was very good at hiding it or he was just a bad liar. "Yeah?" Allison said and gave him a small nod of her head, "that's very interesting. Now why don't you tell me why you're really in here."

Andrew let out a scoff. It was not worth reliving the moment that he had already lived to get in here. "Forget it," he said as he moved away from the wall and walked away from Allison.

Allison kept a small distance between herself and Andrew. Something was going on with him if he was willing to lie. It took one to know one. If he was willing to keep that personal, Allison respected that. After all, she wasn't one to randomly open to people either.

Back at the library Claire, Brian, John, and Susan were waiting for Allison and Andrew to come back. The four of them were grouped together in corner with Claire feeling uninterested and the fact that time was going so slow. John had a book open in his lap but he couldn't peel his eyes away from Claire. Another moment where they had at least some proximity to one another. He could smell her light perfume diffusing towards his nose. It had an aroma of sweetness and wealth. Two things that he had been deprived of ever growing up. The latest fashion trend she wore, those boots, that perfectly kept hair, and those diamond earrings. All sources of materialism and a wealthy income. She was the perfect and untouchable…and yet John couldn't help but bother her with the pages that he had opened from the book.

Claire let out a sigh at John's attempt for this conversation. "Can't you just leave me alone?" she asked him. Her eyes then fell upon Brian and Susan, who seemed to be having a conversation of their own. At least their conversation seemed to be better than the one that she and John were having.

"Can I see?" Brian asked and pointed to Susan's sketchpad.

The only person that Susan had shown her artwork to, and with reluctance had been Allison. John on the other hand was a different story. "I don't normally let anyone see my drawings," she said to Brian.

Brian raised an eyebrow at her words. "So I gotta have special permission for that?" he asked her.

Susan didn't like the way he sounded when he said that. It wasn't that she considered her artwork to be untouchable but she hated the criticism that came along with it. She looked at Brian and then concluded what she ought to do. She held her sketchpad closely to her and flipped to one page where it showed a couple of lined sketches. She turned the sketchpad over for Brian to see.

Brian leaned closely to the sketchpad and squinted at some of the details that Susan had done. Even though some subjects were missing critical details, he was able to make out which subject was which. "So I take it that's Bender," he said pointing to the subject sitting on the front desk, "Andrew," he pointed to the other one stretching by the rails, "Claire," he pointed to the one sitting at the desk, "and…me?" he pointed to the subject that was standing by the wall. "You drew all of that?"

Susan nodded her head. "It was just a quick sketch. I like to experiment with different types of drawings. Sketching helps when I want to get the right structure of the subjects. I fill in the details later."

"You seemed to have filled in one already," he said as he pointed to the sketch of himself.

A slight blush came upon Susan's cheeks as she tried to hide it against her blond hair. "I tend to work clockwise with my drawings," she lied, hiding her real intentions as to why she drew him first.

As Brian was about to flip to the next page, Susan gently grabbed onto her sketchpad and pulled it away from him. She held her drawings close to her chest and walked towards her seat.

Brian watched as she walked away from him and then looked over at John and Claire. Both were looking at him, John with an expression that Brian was not able to comprehend, followed by a wry smile. As for Claire, her lips tilted into a small genuine smile. Taking a deep breath, Brian made his way towards the table where Susan sat. "So," he said as he took a seat across from her. "Why don't you let people see your drawings?" he asked her.

Susan beheld a small smile upon her lips when he asked her that question. "It's not for everyone to see."

Brian would beg to differ. After seeing that sketch, even though it was the first one he had seen, he assumed that she had other ones that were just as good. "But the one you showed me was very good," he said to her. He may not have his own artistic ability, but he knew what type of artwork to appreciate.

A feeling of warmth spread inside her upon his comment. He had no judgement or any form of unconstructive criticism, unlike her family. Her grandmother did not care much for her drawings much to Susan's relief but her uncle…he was judgmental and believed that she could do something that he believed had more worth. "Thank you," Susan simply said to him.

Brian let out a small scoff. "I wish I had that type of ability," he said to her.

Susan looked up at Brian when he said that. "What do you mean?" she asked him. Could that be one of the reasons as to why she hadn't seen him in any of her art classes?

"I will be honest," Brian said, "I can't draw to save my life."

Susan let out a small laugh and looked down before looking up at Brian again. "Art isn't just about drawing. It can be painting, sculpting, building something from scraps…it can even be writing and all other kinds. Just as long as you put your imagination at work," she said and tapped her temple.

No matter how much Brian had used his imagination for that lamp, he had not been successful with it. "Eventually people are going to see those art pieces," Brian directed the conversation towards her, "isn't that what you normally do in art classes?"

"That's different," Susan said, "if it's for class, I have to do what the teacher says. And it kind of sucks too because I would rather draw what I want."

Freedom of expression. Brian could understand that there were some teachers very uptight towards the rules and some that allowed their students to flourish with their creativity. "But why though?" he asked her and when he received a perplexed look, he elaborated, "why don't you break away from what the teacher says?"

"It's for my grade," Susan said to him, "artwork is one of the subjects that I like. Everything else it just…there. If I let my grades slip, my uncle will take away my art supplies."

Brian furrowed his eyebrows at that. "Does he know about that?"

"It's not the first time," Susan said, "he took them away before and when I was able to bring them up, he gave them back to me. Told me to stop wasting my time with such nonsense."

Nonsense? Brian thought. Why did her uncle sound like his parents? "What does he know about artwork?" he asked her.

"Practically nothing," Susan gently chuckled, "he even went nuts when he caught me with this blue streak," she pointed to the distinctive blue streak in her hair.

"Sounds like he runs a tight ship," Brian commented and he wasn't one that was foreign to that concept.

"At least I am able to live with my grandmother," Susan expanded.

At that moment, Brian looked up at her. "What about your parents?" he asked her.

"My mother is dead, my dad is practically nonexistent," Susan said with a shrug of her shoulders. When she saw the look of sympathy in Brian's expression, she simply said, "it is what it is."

Brian let out a small sigh. There were days when he wished that he was far away from his parents, but he couldn't imagine what his life would be without them. Perhaps less stressful…but that was such a grim future to think about. Curiosity took over his mind and he looked at Susan. "How did…I mean…there's no good way to ask this…" he struggled to find the right words.

"How my mother died?" Susan asked him and he gave her a reluctant nod of his head. "Heart attack."

Brian was caught off guard when she revealed that. He expected an external factor but something natural that she couldn't control? "Was there something that caused it?" he asked her.

"Not that we know of," Susan said, "my uncle thinks it's probably her overdosing or smoking weed, which she never did any of it." She shook her head at her uncle's assumptions and it made it hard for her to appreciate him as a family member.

"I'm sorry," Brian sympathized, "you're uncle sounds strict."

"Like a principal," Susan said.

Brian looked over at her, thinking that he had misunderstood her. "What?"

"Vernon is my uncle," she told him and at that moment, she heard footsteps coming towards their direction and Andrew and Allison walking into the library.

John looked at Susan and Brian with a smirk upon his lips. Susan stared back at him, wondering what words he was formulating in his head. "The meeting is over, it's lunchtime," he said to them.