✓ | the breakfast club ( teen wolf )

( 02. from confrontations to explosions )

        "Eat my shorts," Allison muttered when she thought the principal was out of earshot. Evidently, he wasn't.

        "What was that?" Kensington spun around once again so he was facing the five teenagers.

        "Eat. My. Shorts," Allison repeated loudly.

       "You just bought yourself another Saturday, missy!" Kensington hissed.

        "Oh," Allison scoffed, "I'm crushed."

        "You just bought one more, right there!"

        "I'm free the Saturday after that, but beyond that I'm gonna have to check my calendar." Sarcasm crept into Allison's voice as she slouched back in her chair, staring the principal in the eye as he pranced around her table.

        "Good! 'Cause it's gonna be filled. We'll keep going. Say the word, just say the word. Instead of going to juvie, you'll come here! You through?"

        "No," Allison declared.

        "I'm doing society a favor!"

        "So?"

        "That's another one, right there! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch out! You want another one?"

        "Yes." Allison crossed her arms and scowled, desperate to keep her defiant façade alive.

        "You got it! You got another one, right there! That's another one, missy." Kensington danced around Allison's table, clearly getting a sick type of joy out of bullying the girl.

        "Cut it out!" Scott shouted, mouthing 'stop!' at Allison. She gave him a slight nod, but didn't stop arguing with the principal.

        "You through?" Kensington asked.

        "Not. Even. Close. Bud," Allison snapped.

        "Good! You got one more, right there!"

        "Do you really think I give a shit?" Allison was just tired at this point and she wanted all of this to be over. But she had started this fight so she'd goddamn finish it, even if it caused her a thousand Saturday's worth of detention.

        "Another."

       "You through now?" Mr. Kensington was getting slightly irritated as well when he realized that his student wasn't giving up anytime soon.

        "How many is that?"

        "Well, that's seven including when we first came in and you asked Mr. Kensington how his wife felt about his tuna breath," Stiles answered.

        "Now it's eight," Kensington growled. Then, he turned to Stiles. "And you stay out of it!"

        "Excuse me sir, but it's seven!" Stiles frowned and held up seven fingers. But Kensington and Allison were ignoring him yet again.

        "What can I say? I'm thrilled," Allison said. She didn't even try to hide the sarcasm lacing her words anymore.

        "Oh, I'm sure that's exactly what you want these people to believe," chided Kensington. "You know something, Argent? You ought to spend a little more time doing something with yourself, rather than trying to impress people. You might be better off."

        Allison swallowed thickly, desperately trying to think of a comeback. The principal started talking again before she could come up with one. "Alright, that's it. The next time I have to come through those doors, I'm cracking skulls." He stalked out of the room, but just before the double doors closed Allison yelled a loud—