The Breakfast Club Short Story

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“So I’m hanging there, butt-ass naked, waiting for someone to help me down and no one will, when Veronica just schwing-” Wallace mimed the flipping of a pocket knife, “whips out her little Swiss-Army-Barbie knife and cuts me down from the flagpole. Instant bonding agent.” Laughing, Wallace couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to tell that story; years after the trauma, it actually was pretty funny.

“You carried a knife to high school? I’ve never actually been to public school, but it sounds way more dangerous than the Breakfast Club lead me to believe.” Logan smiled, having a really hard time trying to picture Veronica Mars tinier than she already was.

“Yeah, only when V’s around. Think less Breakfast Club, more Outsiders.” Wallace teased, giving Veronica a nudge.

Sitting around the picnic table, Veronica shook her head smiling, noticing that it’d taken all of two hours and a cheeseburger to have Logan, Wallace, and her dad ganged up on her. The introductions had been a little awkward, since they’d already all known Logan’s name, and face. It was weird introducing a celebrity into your childhood home, to the people who were your family. But after the initial awkwardness, things had picked up normally, and Veronica was grateful her family was as incredible as it was. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior, Back Up even settled on Logan’s feet to lay on, and things were going exceptionally well, until Logan had gone rogue on her, asking about
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