Title: Next Time
Disclaimer: I do not own the Breakfast Club…John Hughes and Universal Studios do. I only own James Bender, John's brother.
Summary: After the detention, Monday came and went and nothing came of it. When 5 mixed up teens can't build up the courage to like who they want to like, what happens when they all get stuck in detention again…one year later?
Rated: T for language, violence, drug use, suicide issues, and sexuality.
A/N: Hello there! I just wanted to let anyone reading this story know that this chapter has been completely revised! Cool, huh? There were a few character quirks and situations that I wanted to touch on, as well as a few spelling and grammatical issues that needed to be tended to. I would like to say that my writing has improved drastically over the last year or so, so I figured now would be a good time to fix it up. To any previous readers, go back and reread if you like, but nothing major has been changed. I will be working on getting this whole story touched up on, so please be patient! Thanks a lot for reading!
Chapter 1: What Did I Get Myself Into?
"Rise and shine champ; I want your ass out of bed, now!"
Andrew Clark threw his hands over his face as he desperately tried to shield himself from the murderous sun beams that slipped in from his bedroom window. He couldn't tell for sure what time it was but he knew for damn sure he was not going to be happy with the result.
"Let's go Sport! You have training! Up now!" Michael Clark grasped onto the comforter - which Andy was holding over himself like a life line - and pulled it down in one swift motion.
Andy groaned miserably and sat up. "I'm up, I'm up."
"Good, I want you down in the garage in ten minutes...not one second longer, you hear?"
Andy nodded somberly. "Yes sir."
Michael left the room gravely and slammed the door behind him. Andy could not believe how the day started already; it was bad enough that he had to spend the entire day at school, but a training session first thing at 5:30 am? His father had to have been kidding himself!
He pulled on a pair of blue Shermer High track pants that were conveniently laying half under his bed, and half under his feet. He had no idea why he was letting his father push himself to train some more; not after what he found out yesterday. His wrestling days were slowly coming to an end. What was the point of pushing himself when he had nothing to push for except false hopes and dreams? It was never going to happen for him.
Andy pulled his t-shirt over his head and glanced at the large white envelope sitting on his dresser taunting him; if he thought his dad was pissed off at him for landing in detention again he was in for it when he finds out about that small piece of paper.
He's really fucked this time.
He let out a heavy sigh and threw open his bedroom door and trudged down the stairs grudgingly. He could smell bacon and eggs cooking up from the kitchen; more than likely his mother preparing him and his father their morning breakfast. He stopped in the door way and looked at his mother; she looked just as tired and miserable as he felt.
"Good morning sweet heart," She said softly with a smile. Andy returned the gesture and sat at the table before his father came barreling in to get him.
"How are you feeling this morning?" She asked tiredly.
"Alright, I guess. Why are you up so early?"
She shrugged slightly and turned back around to face the stove and flip the frying food. "Your father wanted me to make you something to eat before you went out to train for the day."
Andy furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the floor. "You know I can make my own food. You don't have to get up early for that."
She gave him a confused look. "Your father asked me..."
Andy put up a hand. "Never mind, I get it. But just so you know if he wanted it done that bad I would have done it," he pushed a hand through his hair. "Or he could have done it."
"Honey," She put down her spatula. "You know I..."
The garage door swung open and Michael appeared with his parka on. "Andrew! Are you ready?"
"I'm right here dad, and yeah, I'm ready," Andy said standing up. He gave his mother a nod and stepped past her towards the garage door.
His father gave him a stern look and then clapped his hands together. "Alright, get stretching I will be right out."
Andy said nothing and just continued on his way. He knew the morning routine by heart; stretch, 3 laps around the block, 100 push ups, 100 sits up, weights, and then the punching bag. It was same routine he had followed almost every morning for the last four years or so to make sure he was 'in shape' for the day. He didn't really see the point of it considering his muscle mass and strength wasn't about to diminish within hours. He knew that his dad took sports very seriously, but still. He didn't see the need to live his entire life pushing himself past his limits.
But that was just the way Michael Clark had brought his son up. There were no questions asked, just obedience and discipline.
Andy felt like he was in the army sometimes.
There were some days that his father eased up and let him have some fun; sometimes they even had fun together. But lately Michael Clark had been reminding him - ever so kindly - that his performances had been lacking and he had been pushing him harder than ever.
It had its effects on Andy too; it didn't surprise him at all that he ended up going over the edge again. The same thing happened about a year ago; he had been pushing Andy hard and Andy let it get to his head, and Larry Lester had to pay for it.
Well it was a year later and Michael was getting to him again; once again Andy let it get to him and took it out on someone else. And just like last year, a Saturday in detention was where he was going to 'suffer the consequences.'
Andy was dreading it.
Claire Standish stood in front of her full length mirror and frowned; she knew it was just a detention.
But that was just it...detention.
She had only ever gotten one detention in her life and quite frankly she just didn't want to have to go through with it again. Never, ever again, will she ever go along with her friends on anything.
She smirked at herself in the mirror; who was she kidding? She had been cursing herself for ages for going along with whatever her friends say. And for what? Her reputation? Her popularity? Lately though she had been telling herself that those things may not exactly be worth it. It seemed like her friends were always getting her to do things that she didn't want to do, follow rules and trends that she didn't exactly like or agree with, and most of all they were running her life. Claire was unhappy.
She pulled another blouse over her head and let out an angry groan; she hated the shirt, yet at the same time she hated herself for continually worrying about how she looked that day. What exactly were the chances of the detention turning out like the other one anyway?
She picked up a lavender, v-neck blouse and slid it on over her head. It went down further than her hips but fit snugly along her curves. She bit her lower lip and then turned to the side; it didn't make her look fat, didn't clash with her hair, and didn't make her look like a tease...
She stopped and stared at herself with disgust once again; what the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so damned worried about what a bunch of kids in detention thought?
She told herself to not even answer that question.
She grabbed her brown leather jacket and stepped out of her bedroom and into the bathroom in the hallway. She flipped up the light switch and took in her appearance; hair definitely needs to be done. Maybe some make-up too...
She threw her small hand bag onto the counter and rummaged through its contents until she found a brown eye pencil. Brown, apparently as well as any neutrals were very in right now. She had worn a light purple over her eye lids last week and one of the girls in her 'group', Kate, had made a comment to her and told her to get it off of her face right away. Of course, being the pushover that she was, Claire took it off and borrowed some of Tammy's. Sometimes trends just came and went so fast she couldn't keep up with them.
She dropped the eye pencil back into her purse and pulled out a tube of mascara. Mascara was nice because it couldn't really go out of style. Mascara is mascara. She looked back up into the mirror and frowned again.
Hell if it wasn't for those same damn friends she wouldn't have to feel so thankful for a lowly tube of mascara. Her life was getting pathetic; she really needed some new friends.
If she had new friends she wouldn't be going to detention, that's for sure.
Her friends had talked her into going to the school's Valentine's Day dance; of course she complied. If she didn't go to the big dance with the big 'hot' date then she would be considered so uncool. It turned out that the dance wasn't as 'cool' as they thought it would be and the girls wanted to find something fun to do. Apparently their idea of fun was to get into some trouble at the expense of someone else.
Her 'friend' Mary Jo had caught her boyfriend dancing with another girl - Claire herself didn't see a problem with that, but Mary Jo did. So of course they have to find some way to humiliate the poor girl. They had all gone into the girl's bathroom and started writing dirty things about the girl all over the mirrors. When Mrs. Munroe came in to use the bathroom, the girls had scattered and left Claire to take the brunt of the fall.
Some friends they were; at least she had enough decency not to rat them out.
Claire was still asking herself why she even participated in the activities of her friends. That was yet another question she didn't want to answer.
She subconsciously ran a can of hair spray over her styled hair as she thought; she had let her hair grow out a few inches since the last time she had to attend one of the god awful detentions, so she didn't have to worry about styling it up and all over the place. As long as it wasn't messy or flat she was fine.
She gathered up her bag and set off down to the kitchen wondering what the hell was going to happen that day and why she had such a weird feeling about it.
Allison Reynolds watched curiously as her parents rushed back and forth and gathered their belongings and brought them out to the car. Her sixteen year old sister sat across from her at the breakfast table with a scowl on her face.
Allison never really understood that look; what was she so unhappy for anyway? She was the smart one, she was the pretty one, and she got all the attention and everything that she wanted.
She was the star of the family.
Erin ate her toast angrily and glared every time her parents barked an order at her. Allison frowned and took a large spoon full of her cereal and dumped the contents into her mouth. Apparently, her sister had a dance recital today and her parents were going crazy getting the film ready, her make up, her outfit, their outfits; they hadn't even invited her to come.
Her parents had long since given up on their oldest daughter. Years ago they would hound her with comments like, 'Why can't you be more like your sister?' or 'Why can't you act more like your sister?' or 'Why can't you look more like your sister?' Allison hated it. She wanted to be her own person and do her own things, but her parents just wouldn't have it that way.
The years went by and she brooded more, she dressed darker, and did things that they didn't approve of; they simply gave up on asking anything of her.
There was one point in her life about a year ago that she thought maybe she would try and change and do things to make them happy. She got a real nice make over, and decided to have a conversation with them.
It didn't really turn out as expected.
Ever since, Allison had brooded more than ever, became darker and sadder than ever, and felt completely lost. It seemed - to her - that no matter what she did or who she tried to be, she would just get hurt and depressed.
She wasn't exactly sure what pushed her to that point; she wasn't sure if it was her parents, or if it was all of those bullies at school, her lack of friends, or her lack of trust in people. Whatever it was, she was starting to scare herself. She used to consider herself carefree, and free from the leash that was the norm of society, but now she was really started to ask herself if she was crazy.
That past Wednesday had started off just like any other day; she got up, watched the sunrise, showered, dressed and headed off to school. She had gone to first period - with her least favorite teacher, in her least favorite class - of math. Her teacher had called her up to the front of the room to do a question on the board that she just didn't quite understand. At first she had just sat there and pretended she hadn't heard her, but then the old hag told her that there was no getting out of it. Mrs. Casey handed her the piece of chalk and tapped her foot impatiently as she tried to figure it out. After a few moments and no numbers on the board, she began to hear her classmates snicker behind her back. That made Allison very uncomfortable and nervous and she turned around and asked if she could sit down.
"You can't get out of it that easy, you don't even try! All of your other classmates have to do their work on the board, what makes you think you are so special that you don't even have to try and do it? I want to see at least one attempt before you go back to your seat, Ms. Reynolds."
At that point Allison was beginning to feel panicked and turned her back once more on her classmates. She was inching the chalk closer to the board when she was hit it the back of the head with a balled up piece of paper. One of her classmates whispered:
"Look at the witch girl! She's probably trying to use her powers to kill us all!"
The panic had reached a breaking point and she dropped the chalk down to the ledge and turned to go back to her seat.
"Where do you think you are going Ms. Reynolds? You didn't even try!"
"Look at the freak!"
"Poor witch girl is gonna cry!"
"What makes you so special?"
"Why can't you be like your other classmates?"
"Why can't you be just like your sister?"
Allison had had enough; she wasn't normally someone who had an outburst, or even disrupted the class, but she wasn't a very socially stable person. She got anxious, nervous, even hurt easily. She had stared at her teacher long and hard and told her to go fuck herself with the biggest fist dildo she could find.
At least it shut everyone up.
It also landed her in detention. For the first time in her entire high school career she found herself assigned to detention. Sure she had attended them before, but she had never been told that she had to go. She guessed those were the rules in an institution; teachers can harass students all they want but if she so much as debate a peep she was to be condemned to Saturday prison.
At least she didn't have anything else planned that day.
"Allison are you ready yet?" Her sister asked, annoyed.
Allison nodded her head slowly and picked up her bag to head out to the waiting car. At least her parents cared enough to give her a ride to the school. She climbed into the car and tuned out the sound of her parents bickering back and forth about who was going to drive. The last time she had gotten into this car on the way to detention she wasn't expecting anything special to happen. Well something happened, alright, that she wasn't about to forget, no matter how much she wanted to.
She was hoping it wouldn't be that way this time around.
For Chapter Two: Brian is in hot water with his father, John can't keep his boots on his feet, and Richard Vernon has an unsettled grudge burning on his mind.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and please don't forget to push that button down there and leave me a review!