The Breakfast Club

January 12, 2009
By Elizabeth Buster, Prospect, KY

It snowed. Yesssssss, it had snowed the entire night before. All I could think was thank god, as my mom walked downstairs and said we had a snow delay until 9. I felt my half asleep face smile and I curled into a ball and fell back into a lovely dream of Patrick Dempsey and me getting married on a beach in Mexico. It was perfect. I was asleep instead of being in Entrepreneurship class learning about God knows what. I was on a beach in Mexico with a hunk, instead of forcing my eyes to stay open. I had a snow delay and nothing could ruin it.

“You should’ve said No! You should have gone home!” As I look back that was the only time in my life I pictured me banging Taylor Swift with her tearstained guitar in the head. My alarm clock glowed red numbers that said 8:00.Ugh. My mind slowly came back to the reality of school instead of Mexico and Patrick Dempsey. I climbed out bed and slowly began my morning routine. My brain doesn’t function correctly until at least 10:30 and that’s pushing it, so most mornings I’m basically sleep walking till I get some Cranapple juice in me. But this morning I was rushing late so I didn’t get any Cranapple juice or a blueberry muffin. This is not going to be a good day. I was putting on my brown belt as I got into Billy, my favorite car of all time. He was a red Jeep that was at any given moment could break down or possibly have his wheels collapse underneath him. He was the perfect teenage car and I loved him.
The slightly cracked clock blinked 8:47, crap, I’m about to be super late. I drove very cautiously because not only am I the worst driver of all time, Billy had a tendency to think for himself and just slowly glide in a different direction than the one I was steering him in. But I had to stay focused; there was ice everywhere, piles of snow, and about sixty other people driving 15 mph on Watterson Expressway. The fastest I drove that morning was 30 mph and I still think, to this day, that it was just Billy gliding towards school instead of me pressing the gas. But I made it, 9:00 on the dot. Yes! I parked Billy in the second row of the junior parking lot, and got my backpack and headed for the door. There was about twenty some odd kids in the lot at that time, some throwing snow balls, others trying to park their cars, and some walking towards the building.
“They’re not counting attendance until third period! That’s at 10:30!” I’ve never seen so much excitement on Erin Clark’s face as she screamed the wonderful message into the student parking lot, and in an instant a light bulb went on in her head. “McDonalds by school! Lets go!”
“Heck yeah!” I said with much enthusiasm.
The next thing I knew I was standing in line at McDonalds waiting for a large sweet tea and a hash brown with a mix of the junior class and senior class. It was perfect. Laughter and excitement filled McDonalds, just the feeling of being a bad ass and knowing that we shouldn’t be there was enough for us to get out of hand. It was one of those moments where you can’t remember exactly what the conversations you had were but you remember who you were with and the feeling of being young and free felt like a million bucks and nothing could ruin this high.

“Third period starts in ten minutes!”
Uh oh, not again. The rambunctious group of teenagers piled into their cars, and in a split second McDonalds parking lot was cleared. Looking back we were so obvious. It was a mix of the most mischievous kids from school coming in all at once with McDonalds cups in hand. Dave Wilson is a lot of things but oblivious is not one of them. Of course these weren’t the thoughts going through my mind as I signed the attendance sheet in the front office and got my pass to class. I’m home free. Hahaha they know nothing. Right then I was a brilliant schemer that no one could touch. I was a part of a secret club that goes to McDonalds instead of school; I was part of the breakfast club.

Rumors are something Male High students are extremely good at so naturally the rumors can get so out of hand sometimes. “I heard you all are not going to homecoming, and you’re going to get suspended, and you won’t be able to drive to school ever again, and McDonalds is filing charges against the school for rude behavior.” Hahaha, yeah someone really said that to me. Somewhere between taking notes on the Nazi invasion and thinking about that Mexican beach, I got a red slip. Crap, a red slip. I’m not the only person who thinks that when they get red slips. Most students are either thinking how they’re going to talk their way out or when their free for detention next when they get red slips at School. They are red because they’re suppose to resemble hell. Twenty one red slips were handed out that day, and every single one of those kids were at McDonalds with me, and every single one of those kids had ISAP with me the next day, which conveniently happened to be the last pep rally of the year, which we all missed and sat in the auditorium for the entire day.

ISAP in the auditorium was totally different feeling and moment than Macdonalds. It was basically a day in silence while the assistant principals laughed in our faces. We sat, and sat, and sat some more. Some kids sat and stared. Some kids sat and slept. I sat and counted every light in the ceiling, every chair on the stage, and every step on the riser. To me it was a day of mathematics. It was the feeling of imprisonment and feeling childish. We had timed bathroom breaks, which were also monitored so no one could talk. We had a shortened lunch so instead of talking we ate faster. To put it nicely, it was a day from hell. But it was worth it.
I will never say I wish I hadn’t left the parking lot that day because I’m glad I did. It was one of those “only in high school” kind of things. Only in high school will you get such a rush from a snow delay, a McDonalds hash brown, and the feeling of not getting caught. We all thought that when we signed the attendance sheet we were home free. We were wrong. We were simply claiming our spot in the Breakfast Club.

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