"Am I Weird?"

Author's Note: I WILL be continuing with my other fics here, but I want to put up a one-shot in the meantime. Review, ok, and a new chapter of "Rain Keeps Falling" should be up soon. Maybe if I get some ideas it'll go faster? This was actually a homework assignment for cinematography class (yes, we watched this in school…lol). I got a 96 on it!

SUMMARY: Brian's POV. It's the year 2004, 20 years post Breakfast Club, and Brian works as a columnist for a local paper in St. Louis. This is one of his columns where he reflects on the events 20 years ago.

RATING: PG

March 24, 2004

By Brian Johnson

Okay, readers. For the first time today I'm not going to talk about politics or the upcoming elections or the latest shooting downtown. Today I'm going to write about something that hits closer to home than that. I'll start off with an anecdote that occurred yesterday:

I was driving my two daughters, Emma and Gillian to their dentist appointment after school yesterday, and as we stopped at a red light, Emma sighed deeply. I asked what was the matter, as any good father would. She replied with a question:

"Dad, am I weird?"

I thought about this for a minute. What did weird mean? But instead, I asked, "Why do you ask?"

Emma then told me exactly what happened. "A rich princess from school said that because I'm a nerd I'm weird! Then in gym, one of the detention regulars said I was weird too. In lunch, my friend Lisa pointed at a girl in black by herself and said she was weird. But am I weird, Daddy?"

Most fathers would have said "Of course not." But I didn't speak. And it wasn't only because the light turned green. I experienced a flashback to my high school days in Shermer, Illinois. Ok, so Emma's not of high-school age yet, but she has a lot of the same traits I had 20 years ago. She was awkward, smart, scared of stepping outside her comfort zone. Gillian is only 4, she hasn't developed yet. My wife Lilly always said that both our daughters (and the son that is due in few months) are clones of me. They have my hair, my eyes, my small bone structure.

Emma pushed for an answer as we drove. I told her I'd explain everything once we had the chance.

A few minutes later, we arrived at Dr. Pettit's office, and Gillian went in to get her teeth cleaned. Emma sat with me and asked again. "Am I weird?"

I looked down at my daughter and smiled. "You know I was in detention once?"

Emma looked confused. "You're too good for detention, Daddy!" she said.

I chuckled. "Well, while I was there, I met some people. They wree all my age, but they were different, and I was too. One was a rich girl, kind of like the princess who called you weird today. Another was a quiet girl who wore all black, like the one you called weird today. Another was ALWAYS being bad, like the detention boy in your gym class. And there was a wrestler from the high school team, and there was me."

Emma dropped her Highlights magazine and asked, "Did you fight a lot?"

I nodded. "For the morning. But by the afternoon, we were all friends!" I thought that'd be enough for Emma to settle down. I took a deep breath and sucked in the air in the waiting room, which smelled like fluoride and toothpaste.

Emma said something else, "But didn't everyone think you weren't supposed to be together?" I looked down at Emma again.

"The following weeks were hard for us. The wrestler, who's name was Andy, got beaten up because his friends didn't want him hanging around me and the quiet girl, Allison. The criminal man, Bender, was spit at by Claire's old boyfriends, and Claire was rejected from her lunch table in the cafeteria."

"Wow, that's mean!" said Emma. "Why didn't you all go back to normal that Monday?" she asked.

I thought for a minute. Then I answered, "Because we had something they didn't. We were better together!"

"What did you have?" asked Emma.

"We were able to see past each other's differences. We didn't see Claire's Ralph Lauren dresses or Allison's charcoal-coated eyes; we didn't mind Andy's Letterman jacket or Bender's long ruffled unfashionable hair, or my zits, braces and high GPA. We only saw…us."

Emma nodded. "You only saw each other!" she said as if she had just had an epiphany. Just then the dental nurse opened the door, let Gillian out and asked for Emma to come with her so she could have her turn. Gillian ran right for the tooth-shaped toy chest in the corner and ignored me nearly totally. By the time Emma was finished with her appointment; she'd forgotten nearly our whole conversation and proudly showed me the sticker that read "No Cavities!"

Looking back 20 years (god, has it been that long?) made me want to know what my friends were up to, so I hopped on the internet (technology is wonderful) and searched for their names. I found a few things on each of them luckily. The "princess" Claire Standish is married to a state senator in New Jersey and has a son named Bender (I discovered that through a politics site). The "criminal" John Bender served 2 years in an Arizona jail for robbery in 1989, but since then has shifted gears and has his own webpage, as he is a public speaker against juvenile crime. He's divorced with twins, one of each sex. I sent him an email and am still waiting for a reply.

The jock, Andy, and the quiet "basketcase" Allison married after college and moved to Canada. I know this because I found an article about them receiving dual citizenship. No kids were mentioned, that's all I found.

That day in detention with those five people changed my life. I realized the most obvious lesson there was, that we were all still somehow blind too: It's the inside that counts, not the outside. We were all the same soul, but in five different forms. A rebel, a recluse, a richie, a sporto, and a brainiac. Deep down, everyone has the same feelings. Kids today are worse than we were. Then again, they live in a different world than I did. They have many new factors to deal with. AIDS. Terrorism. Nuclear Missile threats. Crystal Meth. Inflation. Religious Intolerance. Homophobia and Hate Crime. I admire my daughter for recognizing the importance of questioning before assuming, because assuming has been the downfall of many people. I am proud of Emma just as she is proud of me.

So, Emma, in answer to your question, yes. You are weird. So am I. Your mom and sister are weird. So are the princess and criminal who told you so in gym, and so is the reclusive girl in the cafeteria. So are all your teachers, your friends, your enemies, and everyone you don't even know. I'm weird, and so is your mother and sister. Everyone is weird. That is the way is should be, Emma. "Weird" is a synonym for "normal."

If more people knew that, the world would be a better place.

Signed,

Your Friend,

Brian Ralph Johnson