I don't own the Breakfast Club

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Black and white. Simple colors. There was something intriguing about them. Allison stood in the middle of her room, looking through a various drawings that she had made over the years. There wasn't a splash of color on any of them. Her art teacher always recommended to 'put a splash of color here…or there.' Why ruin an aura of mystery?

When it came to the competition, Allison found it satisfying that there weren't any set rules. It wasn't fair to limit one's creativity on what the judges wanted. That's what made art so special. It was supposed to be subjective. Allison would say that her life had been black and white. There were moments when she felt melancholic, those moments had been common, and there were other moments when she had felt pure euphoria. Pushing aside the somber memories, Allison focused on the ones where she felt that happiness:

Friendship with Susan

Andrew talking to her when they went to grab the coke cans

Running down the halls during Saturday detention

The rest of detention group noticing her

The new look from Claire

Andrew's kiss

Her parents noticing her with her new look

A lot of good things had happened to her since then…aside from her parents leaving her behind over the weekend and going back to their usual ways. Allison looked at the stack of drawings that she had drawn. There was a drawing of her cat, the drawing of the wooden tunnel around a snowy landscape, a drawing of a crow on a withered branch, a wilted flower with its petals exaggeratedly bowed to the ground, and many more.

Looking through her drawings, it was difficult for Allison to determine which ones she should hand to the teacher on Monday. She knew that she should be studying for the exams for the upcoming week, but she held a different view on them than her peers. She had told Susan that a bad grade was not going to matter five years from now. Who knows where they would all be by then? Even though some positive changes had gone through in her life, Allison continued to dream about being far away from this place and lost in her travels. However, she didn't want to be alone anymore. Before, having a traveling companion had never crossed her mind. Now, she wouldn't mind having someone coming along with her.

Allison fished out a fresh sheet of paper and took out a sharp pencil from her pencil case before making a single streak on the paper. She thought of whom she'd be able to take and where they'd go.

With John, it would be quite the hilarious journey. They'd try the local food, depending on how adventurous John was in that sector, they'd go to pubs, though Allison would consider herself lightweight when it came to alcoholic drinks, and probably find themselves in trouble. John would probably have to use his strength and wits to get them out of whatever situation they'd find themselves in. Such a situation made Allison smile. What was life without a little bit of trouble every now and then? The Dynamic Duo.

With Brian, Allison believed it would be predictable. She could just imagine walking past a museum that Brian would want to go into. They'd be in there for hours as Brian would looked at every exhibition, while Allison would resist the urge to steal an artifact. The Brain and the Kleptomaniac. It sounded like a good title for a comic book series. Brian the intellectual who was a museum curator by day and a hero by night. As for Allison, she'd be the Anti-Hero, the villain without a cause, stealing priceless artifacts for her own gain.

With Claire, Allison couldn't help but smirk where her imagination took her. She'd imagine traveling to France with her. After all, Claire seemed like the type who'd enjoy a country where everyone considered it to be luxurious. Of course they'd see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and Versailles. However they'd also see the boutiques that Claire would drag Allison to. Allison could imagine Claire trying to change her wardrobe and trying to help her find a new style. There'd be a selection of bright colors and nothing black. Allison turned her head from her artwork and looked at the white headband that remained on her dresser. She never thought of throwing it away. It was a part of whom she was deep inside and she'd wear it again…when the right moment came.

With Susan, that was easy. They'd be drawing picturesque landscapes together, taking photographs with one another, and just escaping the reality of Shermer, Illinois. The Tragic Artists. Why did that sound like a cheesy title for an autobiography? Cheesy or not, Allison had noticed that readers were infatuated with genres that were tragic, angsty, or pure melancholia. They'd have an interesting artistic life and probably be like Van Gogh and become famous after their deaths, or like Picasso and be famous during his life. Allison made a face at the thought of that; why did John have to nickname Susan 'Picasso' and why didn't Allison have a nickname yet? She made a mental note to pester John about it when she saw him again.

Then she had saved the best for last. With Andrew, she allowed her imagination to run wild. They'd visit every single place in the world together. She could imagine her taking him to places where he didn't deem they'd travel to and he'd take her to places that he considered to be romantic. Allison was no stranger to people believing that she wasn't a romantic. She had a heart and she was not going to let it die. She felt her lips stretching into a smile upon her imagination. She'd do everything with Andrew. Visit local spots, try local food, watch sporting events. He'd treat her to a romantic night together and they'd walk on the Rialto Bridge, listening to the water as it moved beneath them.

Allison put down her pencil and looked at her artwork. It was a drawing of a dahlia flower. The outline of the petals were bolded against a black and white background of grass blades. Allison titled her head to the side and considered taking the risk. She reached inside her case and pulled out a selection of colored pencils and colored each of the petals. There was something interesting seeing the colors protruding from the black and white background. Lastly, she colored in the pistil of the flower a bright yellow.

Allison could just imagine her art teacher stating that such a flower didn't exist, let alone the teacher's interpretation of the colors. Here was Allison's, which she believed held more validity than the teacher's:

Pink was for Claire's femininity

Red was for John's rebellion

Blue was for Andrew's chivalry

Green was for Brian's intellect

Black was for Allison's mystery

Purple for Susan's imagination

And the middle of the flower, yellow that represented friendship which Allison hoped would be everlasting. Allison took a deep breath and looked at her finished product. Even during the darkest of times that she had gone through, there was always some form of color to bring something beautiful to light. However, there was something missing. Her eyes lightened up as she reached over and grabbed a bottle of clear glue. She dabbed the product onto the paper and rubbed it with her finger along the petals of the flower. She bought her hands on her head and ruffled her hair releasing as much dandruff as she could onto the paper. She peered at her artwork through her hair and saw the snow-like effect that her dandruff gave off on the paper. Satisfied with her work, she allowed the glue to dry and scrawled her name at the bottom right corner of the paper.

Allison carefully took her drawing and placed it inside a folder. Now the next thing she needed to do was sort through her other pieces of artwork and see which one's she could enhance with some color.