A/N:

I know that Allison actually walked into the classroom last, but in this, I needed her to be first. I hope you like it. :) It's my first attempt at a multi-chapter, so be nice! ;)

Allison walked into detention that fateful Saturday morning with one thing on her mind - her newest drawing. Her father disapproved of her hobby, and her mother always backed him, though when she was younger, Allison remembers having her drawings pinned all over the house. So detention was her one escape. Although Allison was ignored at home, whenever she got a pencil out, her dad seemed to magically notice her, and take the pencil away, along with her other art supplies.

Kids in school were under the impression that she didn't talk, and that was fine by her, though it irritated her that they didn't even try to engage with her. She had never refused to speak to someone - it's just that no-one bothered. It had now become habit and someone even looking in her direction made her squirm. This Saturday should be no different - a safe haven for Allison to draw in. Hear the speech about being a delinquent, knowing your place, you sit around for a while, listen into the other kid's conversations, make a mental note of their weaknesses, just in case, have your lunch, and then you wait to be dismissed, where Allison's own private hell waited for her at home.

Allison sat in her normal space, and watched the other kids around her. She had been going to detention on and off for about two months now, and she thought she'd seen it all. She had never seen anyone there who knew who she was, and she liked it that way. Usually it was the younger kids who got Saturday detention. So when four other kids from her year strolled in one by one, Allison's heart rate began to pick up.

She forced her face to remain blank and expressionless while she scoped the situation. None of these kids knew her, she thought, quietly taking off her bag and making herself as small as possible in her warm coat. She watches the next event unfold, the kids taking their own places.

Great, she thinks, that Bender kid is here. I'll probably be the one he decides to torture. Allison sighs and keeps quiet still, looking down at her desk and concentrating on the lines drawn on the table by other kids here before her.

A redhead took her seat at the front, slipping off her gloves and jacket, and drumming her fingers on the table. One of the popular jocks ambled in next, shaking his head and making noises of irritation. Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes - he was in detention, not prison. He should just shut up and get over it.

Next through the door was a geeky looking kid. Allison had seen him in the cafeteria with his friends. He seemed nice enough, she supposed, if not a little annoying when he stuttered and stumbled over his words like a child would. Not that she had the upper-hand when it came to being perfectly eloquent, she reminded herself, shaking her head minutely at her own ignorance.

Finally, Vernon stalks into the room, his face a picture of disdain, and stands, hands on his hips, in front of the group of teenagers.

"Well, well, here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time."

"Excuse me, sir," the redhead pipes up, "I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention but I don't think I belong here." Allison again resists the urge to roll her eyes at her entitlement.

"It is now 7:06. You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about why you are here - to ponder the error of your ways. You will not talk...you will not move, from these seats. And you," he says, pulling the chair out from Bender's legs, "will not sleep!"

He continues on, "All right people, we're going to try something a little different today. We are going to write... an essay... of not less than a thousand words... describing to me who you think you are. And when I say 'essay', I mean 'essay', not one word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

"Crystal," Bender replies, not bothering to look up. Allison wonders why she ever chose to come to detention today. She was sure it would be the worst yet and it hadn't even started. Usually, this place was her haven. Now people she vaguely knew had invaded it. Allison didn't react to any of the happenings around her. Once more, she decided that ignoring it would make it go away.

"Good. You might learn a thing or two about yourself. You might even decide whether or not you'd care to return." At this, the geeky looking kid stood, shaking his head.

"Excuse me sir, I can answer that right now. That'd be no."

"Sit down, Johnson."

"Thank you, sir."

Allison kept her head turned and suppressed a giggle. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad. The princess would be, though, she was sure, ditto with Bender.

"My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?" Vernon finally asks, and Allison breathes out. He was finally leaving.

That was true, until Bender nodded his head. "Yeah. I got a question. Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

"You'll get the answer to that, Mr Bender, next Saturday."

Breathing a sigh of release as Vernon exited, Allison found herself chewing her nail, a nervous habit she'd never been able to break since childhood. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and caught herself being stared at by four other students, all open mouthed. Choosing to ignore them, her anxiety grew, and so she continued to chew on her thumbnail, her heart pounding at the attention.

"If you keep eating your hand, you won't be hungry for lunch," Bender says, and Allison feels the anger rising inside of her. How dare he?

Allison's temper gets the better of her, and glaring at him, she spits a bitten nail in his direction, and turns away. "I've seen you before, you know." Bender says.

And that's when Allison begins to remember that day, months ago, that she swore she'd never talk about again.