So I recently watched the Breakfast Club for the 1,687th time and I realized that this was a great idea to play with and modernize... I do not own the Breakfast Club or MR but I hope you guys like this story!

MAXINE

"Don't forget your phone, honey. You're going to be late!"

I ran down the stairs, paused, and ran back up. I remembered to put on my socks, but not my phone! Where were my priorities? "Mom, it's detention. We're not allowed to have phones, hmm?"

Valencia Martinez, my mom, sighed as I tucked my iPhone into my back pocket anyway. "So this school is making you go to detention on a Saturday for eight hours? What is wrong with the California school system?"

I shrugged as I slipped my shoes – fake Converse, because real Converse were too mainstream (read: expensive)–on. "Dr. Gunther-Hagen wants the kids in detention to actually ponder about things. He wants them to realize who they are." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

My mom sighed. "Just… one week in your new school and you already have a detention under your belt."

I looked at my watch. "Crap! It's almost seven! I gotta go!" I flew out the door and dived into my blue VW Jetta.

…

NICK

"WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT'S LESS DANGEROUS! HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US! I FEEL STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS! HERE WE ARE NOW –"

"Can you turn it down?"

I turned around and glared at the girl in the silver Mercedes convertible next to me, who was looking at me like I had physically assaulted her. Smells like Teen Spirit continued to blare out from the stereo of my vintage black Camaro. "No." I said, pushing my shades higher up on my face.

The girl honked at me and I took the shades off to glare at her. She was wearing about three inches of makeup, really tight clothes, and had six-inch long nails. I hated her instantly. "Listen, emo boy. I did not get stuck in this traffic jam to listen to some emo music –"

I smirked. Emo music? Clearly she didn't understand what real music was. I closed the window on her and turned up the volume to eardrum –shattering.

As the light finally turned green, I continued singing along.

"I'm worse at what I do best, and for this gift I feel blessed. Our little group has always been and always will until the end…"

…

JASON

"You sure you'll be okay?"

I shrunk down in my seat in the hopes that no one I knew would see me. "I'll be fine." I muttered.

"I packed your lunch. Tuna sandwich on rye bread, just the way you like it."

I shrank down further so that all anyone would be able to see was my forehead, which was brilliantly red. "Fine, Mom." Jeez. You get detention once, and your parents think you're magically a delinquent. What they didn't understand was, I couldn't be a delinquent even if I tried. I mean, my mom's dropping me off at detention, for God's sake!

I shrank down even further as a black Camaro pulled into the school parking lot, stereo blasting at max volume. My mom winced as the dude inside performed some major asshole parking, taking up two parking spots, and slammed the door of his car. He stepped out and I saw that this dude was literally the measure of what a kid in detention should look like. Black leather jacket, some obscure band on his t-shirt, hair so black it had to have been dyed, and shades. He smirked when he saw my mom's minivan and I shrunk down so much farther that I slid off the seat.

"Jason, is he also in detention?" My mom asked worriedly, watching as the badass dude walked nonchalantly towards the school door.

"Well, I doubt he's here to dust the furniture." I grumbled, taking the sack lunch my mom packed for me and shoving it in my pocket. I opened the door to leave and looked at her worried face. "Mom, I'll be fine, okay? I'm sixteen. I can handle myself."

…

MONIQUE

I pulled into the school parking lot, fuming. That asshole at the traffic light had just, like ruined my day. I mean, who doesn't even have the courtesy to lower the volume of their fucking death metal music which sounds like trash?

On top of that, I only got 72 likes on my latest Instagram post. I posted that cute pic of my new shoes last night! Almost twelve hours ago! Why don't people like cute shoes? Are they not cute enough? I looked down at my feet, at my new Gucci stilettos. Yes, it was hard to drive in heels, but it was worth it to look fab.

I closed the door to my pride and joy –my silver Mercedes –and frowned up at the school. Gross, school. I couldn't believe I had detention. I had to go to school at freaking seven in the morning to ponder about myself? What kind of punishment was that?

I mean, I could've been sleeping. Or I could've been getting a manicure and a nice massage. I pulled down my miniskirt, which was starting to hike up. You want to show off your legs, but not your ass.

I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the school, towards eight hours of hell.

…

JAMES

"Whatever you did to get detention, don't do it again," my dad said sternly, pulling up in front of the school.

"Obviously I won't do it again. Next time, it'll be because of something else." I joked, faltering at my dad's no-nonsense expression.

"I mean it, James. Tomfoolery is not tolerated in our household."

"Bad haircuts are not tolerated in our household, either, but that didn't stop you." I muttered under my breath.

"What did you say?"

I hunched down in my seat. "Nothing."

He unlocked the door of his truck for me. "Behave. When this is over with I want to hear that you've actually learned something from detention, instead of you spending every Saturday here for no apparent reason."

I bit my lip to refrain from saying something that would get my ass kicked into next Tuesday. "Yes." I muttered, pulling open the door and stepping out.

…

CELESTE

"Remember you have cheer after detention!" my mom yelled out the window of her red VW Beetle. "Make sure no one finds out where you were. Remember to be –"

"Perfect, I know." I said, standing outside the door, rolling my eyes.

My mom gave me that look. That look that said plainly, You're not good enough. I hated that look so much it made me want to punch a tree, or something. And I didn't even have anything against trees. "You have a strand of hair out of place, Celeste."

I tucked the stray hair behind my ear. Bite me, mom. "I'll fix it."

"You –"

"I said, I'll fix it." I snapped.

My mom gave me one last patronizing look and sped off in her car. I was left to stare up at the imposing walls of my school, the hell that was my home seven hours a day on weekdays, and apparently on Saturdays, too. I saw a red-headed guy getting out of a monstrous-looking truck, looking harassed. I smirked and climbed the stairs of Newton High School. I put on my best smile as I entered. I was a cheerleader, after all.

I'm open to suggestions about characterization so PM me or review if you have ideas!