A.N.: Hi, people. Welcome to my first fanfiction for the Breakfast Club and I admit that I have close to zero experience with this fandom; but was sad to see the story end when detention did. I have seen two or three other stories pertaining to the same idea but to my knowledge, none of them have been completed. This story will have at least one sequel, if not two or three, possibly more. Also, the original plan for this story was for it to be an animated web series; due to the lack of an artist and lack of time, this plan did not come to fruition. But in honor of the original plan, the chapters will be titled episodes. But that's enough of my chatter; here's the story. I hope you all enjoy it :D

Episode 1: The Monday After

In a small, rundown house in one of Shermer's poorest neighborhoods, it appeared that everyone had gone to bed; but in a tiny bedroom, Allison sat on her bed, gazing out her window at the moon. It was almost a new moon, but it was still enough to illuminate her messy room with its silver light. In her lap was her newest sketch; it was of Andrew Clark.

She couldn't believe they had kissed. She couldn't believe that they had all agreed to remain friends when school started back on Monday, in other words, tomorrow. None of them really had anything in common, other than being misfits at heart; but would that be enough to keep them all together? Allison hoped so.

But was it a realistic hope? Claire had been taught from the time she could talk that appearances were all important; that they even beat out your own happiness and well-being. Andrew was so desperate for his father's approval, would he be able to bring himself to possibly disappoint the man? Bender was so used to constantly being treated like shit that he just wasn't really a big fan of company in general. She knew she could count on Brian. He was true to his word and had a heart big enough to hold compassion for almost everyone. Bender would probably join them on the rare chance that he wasn't in trouble and felt like company.

She knew that Claire and Andrew had been sincere; they wanted to stay friends with her, Brian, and Bender. But would they be able to go through with it?

'Maybe we all have more in common than I thought. All of us have shitty families who either don't really care about us, are obsessed with our success, or, in Andrew's case, both. If we do stick together, we'll be all each other has,' she thought. This gave her a bit more hope. Surely, if she realized this then the others had as well.

With that, she turned to gaze at her room. It was tiny, barely fitting her twin bed, her bag, a small three-drawer dresser, and a desk that was so old, it would probably collapse under the weight of one of her textbooks. She mainly used her desk as a place to store her finished drawings. Her wardrobe was so lacking, that it easily fit in her dresser, even though she had a small closet. But even though most of her furniture was a reminder of how little her parents cared, she was smiling. She would have, at the very least, one true friend tomorrow. That was more than she had ever had.

With that in mind, Allison put her sketch of Andrew in her bag so that she could finish it in class tomorrow and settled down for the night.

Monday morning came, and Allison had decided to set her alarm to wake her up an hour earlier than usual. If Andrew did keep his promise, Allison wanted to look her best. But it would take while since she was out of practice. Reaching under her bed, she pulled out a black makeup bag that had mysterious stains on it. She had managed to nab it out of the garbage when her mother had decided that she needed a new one; her mother had even left all of her old makeup in it!

'I just hope I remember how to use it,' Allison thought in worry as she gazed at the beat up bag. She stared at it a second longer before walking to her dresser and pulling that days outfit. She decided to go with some of her lighter-colored clothes; she chose her light gray long-sleeved shirt, her knee-length silver skirt, Claire's ribbon, and her only pair of shoes. She then headed to the bathroom to take a very short, very cold shower. Once again, her parents had let the water get ice cold before finishing up. 'Maybe if I could stand the cold water better, I wouldn't have so much dandruff,' she thought forlornly. The water was usually so cold by the time she got to take her shower that she could barely stay in long enough to clean her body, let alone her hair.

She forced herself to stand the cold water long enough to clean her hair and hopped out, hoping the friction from drying off would help warm her up. She also raked her brush through her thick, dark brown- almost black- hair. It hurt and took fifteen minutes longer than usual because, in order to make sure her hair was clean, she had scrubbed it three times, leading to extreme tangles.

After pulling on her clothes, except for Claire's ribbon, she sat down to put on some make up. But when she opened her case, she found that most of her makeup was in such short supply that she'd be better off wearing none at all. The only thing she had enough of to be useful was her lip gloss, which she quickly applied. She had to wipe it off and redo it twice because she was still shivering from her shower. She also made quick time of brushing her teeth before moving on to Claire's ribbon.

She knew that this one little ribbon was going to give her the most trouble this morning as she had no clue how to put it on. She desperately tried to remember what Claire had done with the damn thing to make it look nice, but she never even came close. She tried for a good thirty minutes to get it right but finally decided that she need to make breakfast and pack lunch. It wouldn't be much longer before her parents left for work and Allison knew they wouldn't wait for her to get finished before leaving.

For breakfast, she made herself a peanut butter, pixie stick, and captain berry crunch sandwich. And for lunch, she packed a container filled with sliced apples, bananas, and celery; a jar of peanut butter; a few cans of Pepsi; and a tiny container of pixie stick powder. She knew most people found her diet weird, and she knew it was weird, but it was born out of necessity; and the necessity hadn't changed.

Her folks were settled in the living room on the love seat, eating their breakfast of buttered toast and enjoying a leisurely conversation before work when Allison walked in to eat her breakfast with her bag packed and ready to go. They didn't even acknowledge her existence.

Determined to get a reaction out of them this morning, Allison plopped herself into the only other chair in the room and propped her feet up on the immaculate coffee table. She recalled from her earliest memories that her mother was a complete nut for health and manners so, theoretically, this should bug her enough to make her speak to Allison; after all, Allison had been doing this every morning for over a year. The woman was bound to crack soon.

Her mother turned to her and Allison felt ecstatic. Her father was far easier to annoy, so she hadn't spoken to her mother in nearly four years; and it had been seven years since either of them had addressed her by name. Her mother's eyes were glaring at her as if she was something filthy that she had stepped in, but Allison couldn't care less. Her mother opened her mouth to speak. 'Here it comes,' Allison thought, barely containing her glee.

"Alisha, get your feet off the table right now!" her mother yelled in a cold, stern voice. Allison vaguely realized that she now felt physically ill through the numbness that had filled her mind the instant her mother had spoken. "I said 'now', Alisha!" her mother yelled in the same tone as before. She slowly removed her feet from the table, her mind still in a daze at what her mother had said. 'She forgot my name; she actually forgot my name! How do you forget your own kid's name?!' kept repeating in her mind in an endless loop.

Satisfied now that her daughter had followed her order, Mrs. Reynolds turned back to her husband. "I have to go to work now, Michael. Remember, meet me at the restaurant at seven o' clock for dinner," she told him, her voice now filled with love, all traces of coldness gone. "Sure, Val," Michael responded before giving her a quick, affectionate kiss on the forehead. Allison felt pure jealousy and anger shoot through her; why couldn't they show her love and affection like that?

She didn't have time to dwell on it; her mother was leaving and Allison couldn't afford to get detention. If the kiss she shared with Andrew meant to him what it did to her, then she knew he would want her to be at the wrestling meet this coming Saturday to cheer him on. So she hurried after her mother and just barely got in the car before her started backing out of the driveway.

Once at the school, Allison rushed inside as fast as her feet would carry her, wanting to put as much distance between herself and her mother as possible. It took every last shred of her resolve to keep herself from breaking down into tears; she had sworn years ago that she would never shed another tear over her so-called parents, no matter what the did to her.

She went to the girls' bathroom; people never started using it as a hangout this early, not when it was okay with the teachers to be in the halls. Since it was first thing in the morning, she could hide away from everyone until she came to terms with the newest development in her relationship with her folks.

But no matter how hard she tried to make it not matter, the morning's events kept repeating in her mind and Allison felt tears start to pool her eyes. Before she could wipe them away, three girls walked in wearing bright smiles.

Claire was at the front of the group in her pink high tops, white skinny jeans, pink shirt with red floral print, her single diamond earring, and her leather jacket. To her right was Cecil McWorthington, a cruel girl who only seemed to thrive when she was causing someone some type of pain. Cecil was one of those people who you could easily identify from a distance thanks to her thick mass of bushy, curly black hair. Even though her hair was as messy as Allison's any day, Cecil somehow made the look look good. Her cold, emotionless sapphire blue eyes even sent chills down Vernon's spine. She had decided to wear her cheerleading uniform to school which meant a red and gold tank top and skirt with white sneakers. To Claire's left was Teresa Nickles, a small girl with pale, creamy skin and shoulder-length pale brown hair. Her wide hazel eyes had an innocent shine about them. She wasn't mean-hearted, just naive enough to do the bidding of someone cruel at the drop of a hat. She was also loyal enough to make a dog look like a deserter. Teresa had also decided to wear her cheerleading uniform, probably thinking it would be cool for her and Cecil to match.

"Oh, look girls; it's the basketcase. How much do you want to bet that she's hiding in here so that nobody respectable has to see her ugly mug?" Cecil asked the moment she saw Allison. Claire quickly replied with a hard slap to Cecil's shoulder, giving her a glare that clearly said 'what the hell is wrong with you?'. Cecil just stared back at her dumbfounded; Claire had never challenged anything she said before. Well, she had once when they were eleven, but Cecil had nipped that habit in the bud immediately. Claire had gotten the message then, so why was she doing this now?

However, Teresa seemed oblivious to all of this. She gasped, her innocent eyes shining, and ran to Allison's side. "Oh my gosh, look at you!" she squealed. "I always told everyone that you're a beautiful girl, but nobody would listen. And now look at you; you look so much better today! You are going to knock this school dead out of pure shock! What's your name again, 'cause I really don't want to have to call you basketcase." This was why Teresa was so loved; she didn't even know everyone's name and yet she could always give everyone at least five compliments without taking a breath.

And what did Teresa receive for her kindness? A slap to the back of her head by her supposed best friend. "Shut up, nitwit!" Cecil growled at her through clenched teeth. "Why'd you do that?" Teresa pouted, holding the back of her head with both hands.

"You just don't compliment people like her; they don't deserve it!" This reply just confused poor Teresa even more. "Oh, forget it. Come on, girls. Let's go find the guys," Cecil said, stalking off. It always frustrated her to no end when someone couldn't see the brilliance of her logic; but her boyfriend, Matthew Young, always made everything better.

"You two go ahead, I'm going to stay here and hang out with Allison," Claire told them. Cecil was once again dumbfounded. She had one rule for her girls: 'Don't give any losers the time of day unless it's to make them miserable. Don't follow this rule and I will make your life hell.' Claire had seemed just fine with this on Friday; what had gotten into her over the weekend? And why did she know the basketcase's name?

'Something very wrong is happening here,' she thought. But she wouldn't put much thought into it now; a yelling match this early could be bad for her complexion. Besides, what was the harm in Claire hanging out with one loser? As long as everyone else followed her rule, life should remain picture perfect. With this in mind, she led Teresa out of the bathroom. 'It's probably best to let Claire work through this weird phase of hers.' Because that's what it had to be, right? A phase of taking pity on the lowest of the low.

While they were walking out, Claire gave Allison a hug. "It's good to see you; I've been looking all over for you and the others," Claire told her with a smile. Then she noticed the tears pooling in Allison's eyes. "Oh, Allie, don't listen to Cecil. She's an ice queen if there ever was one. I swear, she lives to make people miserable. You're ten times the person she is; you can't let her and her lackeys get to you. Besides, you look beautiful," she soothed misinterpreting the cause of her friend's tears.

"I don't give a damn about Cecil." It was true; the words of Cecil and people like her had ceased to mean much to her.

"Well, what happened?" Claire was feeling a bit helpless; how could she help Allison if she didn't know what was wrong?

Allison felt horrible. Claire was looking at her with such worry; she didn't want to make her friends worry. She wanted to make them laugh, to be the one to cheer them up. She felt enraged as a tear slide down her cheek; no-one was ever supposed to see her break down over those bastards she had had the misfortune of being born to.

She tried to answer Claire, to tell her not to worry, but her throat had gone tight and it was hard to talk. Finally she was able to gasp out the root of the problem. "She forgot my name."

Claire's face drained of color as she understood; there was only one person who Allison could mean. "Oh, Allie," she breathed as she wrapped Allison in a tight, comforting hug. Allison quickly returned it as sobs started to overtake her; the realization of just how little her parents cared about her cutting her deep.

'Oh, Allie,' Claire thought. She wanted to help Allison but how do you force someone to care about someone else? All she knew was that she had to find a way to get Allison out of that house. But where would she go? The only person in their group who came from a family with enough extra money to support a second child was Claire; and she knew that her folks wouldn't take Allison in unless CPS had removed her from the Reynolds' home first. That way, they could swoop in and make themselves advocates for unfortunate kids everywhere; thereby bettering their reputations even more.

'I just have to figure out something,' Claire thought desperately as she held her sobbing friend. True, Allison was far from insane, but how much longer could she take the mental stress of living with those people?

Andrew was smiling as he gazed out the window of his father's truck. His father was still lecturing him but Andrew had managed to tune him out pretty well by now. It was the same lecture he'd heard a thousand times before: "Get tougher. Don't blow your ride. Show how good you are; show that you're to be respected. If the other guy gets hurt it's his fault for being weak. In fact, you'll be helping him by hurting him; show him he needs to toughen up." Basically the same spiel he'd been hearing since he was old enough to join school sports.

This same lecture had been pissing Andrew off for the last few years; his father honestly believed that those who were considered losers, or who simply didn't want to fight, were weak, worthless. He thought that those who were picked on and bullied, like Brian and Allison, had brought their torment at school on themselves somehow. He thought Larry Lester had deserved what Andrew had done to him.

'Poor Larry.' Andrew's smile slipped at the thought. He had found out at Saturday night's practice that Larry wasn't going to come back to Shermer; he had decided to be home schooled from now on.

Andrew couldn't blame the guy. He still remembered every detail from that day.

It was the start of another Monday afternoon practice. The last game had been a disaster, especially for Andrew; he just couldn't catch a break. It hadn't helped any that he, along with half of team, was still getting over a cold. Coach wasn't that upset; half the school had been out with this cold and they'd had a perfect season until this last game. Andrew's father was another story; one would think Andrew had just killed every puppy in town and then damned the entire world to Hell with how his father was yelling. His mother had tried to intervene, something she hadn't done in years, but it had been useless. All she had received for her efforts was a very harsh tongue lashing that had left her standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling ashamed of herself, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Andrew would have his chance at redemption two Saturdays from now and he going to work his ass off to make sure he didn't waste it.

While he was taping up his knee, he looked across the locker room. There was Larry Lester with his small, skinny form and his thin, hairy legs. The only reason he was even on the team was because so few people had tried out this year. Matt Young and many of the other jocks in the school looked down on him, calling him weak. Weak... that was what Andrew's father had called him after the game. To Andrew's father, weak meant that you were worthless, doomed to live a life where your biggest accomplishment would be drowning in debt because you would never be able to even keep yourself fed, let alone pay bills. If you were weak, you would never be able to beat anyone out of anything; a job, a girlfriend, a respectable place in life... none of those would ever be yours if you were weak.

'He thinks I'm weak?! At least I earned my place on this team; Larry was just convenient!' he thought in rage. He felt rage at himself for never being enough, rage at his mother for not being able to stop her husband's constant stream of hateful words, and rage at his father for being obsessed with weakness and strength.

His rage continued to build as he taped his knees. By the time he was finished, his rage was so great that he was barely capable of thinking, he was barely aware of his surroundings. Still not really thinking, he grabbed his tape and went over to Larry.

'He wants to see me be strong?' was the only thought that went through his head. His memories of what happened next were a bit cloudy, but Andrew knew most of what happened. Larry saw Andrew coming but didn't suspect that anything bad would happen; true, he could see Andrew was angry, but Andrew was also the only person on this team who was decent to him. Andy didn't take his anger out on others; that was Matt's thing.

When he reached Larry, Andrew shoved him against the locker. Realizing that Andrew was going to do something terrible to him, Larry swung his leg back, kicking Andrew. The kick had hit just above his knee and Andrew had to stumble back to keep himself upright. Unfortunately, the kick did nothing to bring Andrew back to his senses.

In response to the kick, Andrew had sent a fist flying. The punch sent Larry's head snapping to the right. Before he could recover, Andrew grabbed a handful of Larry's dirty blonde hair and slammed his head against the locker, leaving Larry only semi-conscious. Cheered on by his friends, who had gathered to see the one-sided fight, Andrew preceded to tape poor Larry's buns together, still operating on his blind rage.

Larry was just starting to come back to awareness when somebody grabbed Andrew's arm in a vice-grip and yanked him away from Larry. Andrew came face to face with the Coach, and boy, was he pissed. His face was red, his eyes so wide that they looked like they would pop out of their sockets, and Andrew could see a bulging vein in his forehead. Their Coach, while stern, was very well loved throughout the school. He looked out for the students and was almost like a grandfather to them, especially to his sport teams as he coached both wrestling and baseball. It saddened everyone who knew him to know that, since he was sixty years old, Coach Schmidt would be retiring in the upcoming years.

Seeing the normally kind face of his beloved Coach this angry with him was what snapped Andrew back to his senses. He started looking around and quickly put two and two together. "Oh, God, Larry..." he gasped.

"Clark," Coach snarled in a low, dangerous voice, "wait for me outside." Andrew all but ran out of there.

'How the hell could I do that to poor Larry?' he silently asked himself. How could he? True, Larry wasn't really cut out for wrestling, but he was an okay guy. He didn't deserve this. His father may think that this is the kind of thing that proved strength, but Andrew had never felt lower in his life.

He heard Coach coming out of the gym but he kept his gaze on the ground. "Explain," was the only thing Coach said to him but you could tell by his tone that he was still pissed.

Andrew kept silent for a few minutes. What could he say? He couldn't justify what he did; hell he didn't

want to justify it. Nothing he thought of sounded acceptable, but he knew Coach wasn't going to let him go without an explanation.

"I don't know, Coach," he finally got out. "I was just taping up my knees and I was thinking about my family, my dad, and I just so angry. I didn't have a beef with Larry, I just wasn't thinking."

Coach Schmidt softened. "Andrew, you're a good kid so I'll work with the principal on not expelling you. I've heard how your father talks to you; I wanted to deck the bastard. If he talks to you like that all the time, then it's perfectly natural for you to have some anger issues. But you got to get help for them, son. They aren't healthy for you and they sure as hell aren't healthy for anyone around you," he advised. He then led Andrew to Vernon's office and managed to get Andrew's punishment downgraded to Saturday detention.

Andrew knew that Coach was right; it had taken everything he had not to do something similar to Bender in detention. The only thing that had stopped him was the fact that Bender had stayed still, giving him a few moments to calm himself down. In Andrew's mind, Bender had started acting like his father; and Andrew had started seeing red. That was all it took now to make Andrew see red, seeing someone act like his father.

As for his actual father, things had nearly come to blows after detention; his father had insulted Allison. He had approved of her until Andrew told him how she usually dresses. Then he said things like 'She probably gets a lot of grief then.' and 'You shouldn't have someone who's probably a weakling for a girlfriend.' The only thing that kept Andrew from giving his father a right hook was the fact that they would probably crash if he did.

He would talk to his mother after school; she'd understand and get him some help. Maybe he could convince her to get herself some help to; Lord knows, she needed it. The woman talked better about garbage than she did about herself. Andrew tried to tell her that the horrible things she said about herself weren't true, but he could tell by the look on her face that she never believed him. She had been around Andrew's father for so long that she believed his hateful words.

'Bender was right; our dads should get together and go bowling,' Andrew thought bitterly. His father and Bender's were the same; Bender's dad just used fists where Andrew's used words.

'Maybe, after we get some help, Mom will get the courage to kick him out,' he thought in amusement. His mom was actually pretty cool whenever his dad wasn't around; they could both be happy if it was just the two of them.

He vaguely realized that his dad was still lecturing him from the driver's seat. 'Does he ever shut up? Why was I ever worried about making this guy proud, anyway? He's as sick as Bender's dad.' Andrew was upset that he let his father get to him. He was upset that, like his mother, he had started to believe his father's words.

But after talking to Allison and the others in detention, he realized how wrong his father was. His friends were stronger than any of the school jocks. Shermer's jocks liked to think they were the toughest guys around, but Andrew knew that they wouldn't be able to handle the strain of what his friends went through on a daily basis for even half as long as his friends had.

Andrew marveled at the fact that two days ago, he woke up a jock who was, basically, just going through the motions and trying to make everyone else happy at the same time. Then, he walked out of detention as a guy who had true friends. He knew that his group would always support each other.

'We're going to be a group of misfits trying to get by in a world where misfits aren't tolerated,' he realized. But he knew that their group was one to fight for. Hanging out in detention, had been the first time Andrew had truly been happy in years. His jock friends, if one could call them that, never actually cared about Andrew; they knew he didn't share their views on the school's less popular and sporty. They only stood by him in school out of obligation; the jocks and cheerleaders had to present themselves as a unified front to the school so that everyone knew who was on top.

His teammates and the other jocks hadn't spoken to him in years about anything other than sports and girls; nothing truly important. If he had tried to tell them about how his home life was, he would've been laughed at or told to shut his mouth. But his new friends, they cared about how his home life was. Hell, they just cared about him in general; whether he wanted to hangout after school, if he had a good day, and they would be there in a heartbeat if he needed someone to talk to. 'We may be misfits, but we'll look after each other. We'll be the family that our own families can't provide. None of us will ever have to stand alone again; not against parents, teachers, or jerks from school,' he realized with a broad smile.

Just as he finished that thought, they pulled up to the school. "I'll see you later, kid," his father said to him. Andrew merely gave him a nod in acknowledgment before rushing out of the car and into the school; he barely remembered to shut the car door.

In his rush, Andrew couldn't stop himself from running into somebody when he rounded the hallway corner. The impact took Andrew and whoever he ran into to the ground. "Watch it, Clark!" was what Andrew heard as he got back up.

He looked and saw Matt Young pulling himself off the ground. 'Matthew Young… he'll make mine and Bender's fathers look like saints when he's older; I'm sure off it,' Andrew thought in disgust.

Matt had been dating Cecil before he even moved to Shermer. There had been a rumor, one that Matt and Cecil did nothing to deny, that Matt had been expelled from his last school for nearly killing a student, who had done nothing but annoy him, with a metal baseball bat. According to the rumor, the only reason Matt wasn't behind bars right now was because Cecil had gotten her parents to buy out the jury.

Andrew wouldn't be surprised if the rumor was true; even the teachers were scared of Matthew and the look of complete calm and lack of interest written on his face whenever he threatened someone. It was common knowledge that the bleached blonde was dangerous.

His girlfriend wasn't much better; she was constantly threatening people with their jobs, or their parent's jobs if she was threatening a student, and any hope for a future job if she didn't get her way. The one time someone had called her bluff, they ended up homeless in two weeks. The last time anyone had heard from that student, they still hadn't been able to find work. And Cecil had the money to keep it up; her family was the richest in Shermer, beating out even Claire's parents.

Speaking of the wicked witch, there she was, standing behind Matt as he picked himself up.

"Sorry, Matt. Sorry, Cecil," Andrew muttered before taking off again. He hadn't wanted to say anything civil to that asshole and his bitch of a girlfriend but he wanted to keep Matt's anger to a minimum for when he found out about Andrew's new friends. Although he wouldn't leave his friends for anything in the world, he wanted to avoid Hurricane Matt if at all possible. It was so easy for Matt to make someone's life hell, it was scary.

Hoping against hope that Hurricane Matt wouldn't be too awful, Andrew sought out his friends, specifically his girlfriend. It hadn't been until after he had left detention that he realized that he had forgotten to get Allison's phone number and address. He was going to correct that mistake as soon as he found her. But how would he find her? He didn't have her locker number and he was fairly certain they didn't share a class. 'Well,' Andrew thought, a little annoyed with himself and his lack of forethought, 'I guess I'll have to wait till lunch to find her.'

Andrew continued trying to find his friends while Matt stared after him. Cecil just stared at her boyfriend in annoyance before sighing and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Come on, baby," she whispered in his ear. "We still have ten minutes before class starts and we could always skip first period; who needs personal finance anyway?" she continued as she started rubbing his shoulders.

Matt, however, was not amused. "Not now, Cecil," he warned in an impatient tone, still staring after Andrew.

"You shouldn't worry about Clark," she whispered to him as she placed light kisses along his jaw. "He's always been a weird one," she chuckled.

"I said not now, Cecil!" he yelled as he violently jerked away from her. His tone was so frightening that several of the students who were near them turned and ran. Cecil had to stop herself from taking a step back. Even she knew to be afraid of Matthew Young; a fact that Matt was well aware of.

"I just don't see what the big deal is," she mumbled, half hoping he didn't hear her lest he think she was challenging him. Nothing made Matt angrier than a challenge to the authority he believed he had.

Matt sighed, softening his features. In a seemingly tender gesture, he reached out and cupped her chin. Cecil was suspicious but allowed the touch anyway. When Matt didn't do or say anything hurtful, she relaxed. As soon as she did, Matt tightened his grip so much that Cecil knew she would have bruises.

He leaned down to where he was almost kissing her before hissing, "You complete idiot! Your money really is all you have going for you, isn't it? And it's not even your money; it's Daddy's." He pushed her to the ground in disgust before following the path Andrew had taken. Cecil hurried after him, not willing to face a crowd of people who didn't like her without her girls or the jocks behind her.

"Andrew's never liked me, but that back there wasn't dislike; that was nervousness. First your story about Claire and the loser in the bathroom, and now Andrew's jumpy enough to run the other way the second he notices me. I know they both had detention on Saturday. Put two and two together, Cecil; what do you get?" he asked as way of explanation.

"Four?" her answer was more of a question itself. Where in the world was he going with this?

"I didn't mean literally!" he snapped before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. "I meant, put the pieces together. Claire and Andrew both had detention on Saturday and now they're both acting strange. Something happened in detention and we need to find out what."

A.N.: Ooooooh, Matt is plotting. How do you all think he and Cecil are going to react to the news of our five favorite characters standing by each other? And do you think Claire will figure out a way to help Allison and Bender? Why am I asking you guys these questions? XD But seriously, what did you guys think of the chapter? I would really appreciate some feedback. The second chapter is in the works and I hope to have it up soon. I'll see you guys then. :)