"Do you want to know how popular I am?
I'm so popular everybody loves me at this school."
- Claire Standish
Shermer, Illinois
-1986-
1 year later…
"That's right, Louis, just runaway from your problems like you always do! Go screw that young blonde secretary we all know you've been fucking around behind my back since Rick died!"
" No, no that is not what I'm going here, Caroline, and how dare—"
SLAM!
The tiny squares of glass in the ornate door shuddered as Claire shoved the toe of her chic, leather boots into the grand Victorian house. At that moment she could care less if her mother came out then and screamed at her for causing such commotion, possibly drawing the neighbors attention. Because after her, would come trailing behind the father. A father that was annoyingly too calm as always, with the strong determination to persuade her that it was just a little disagreement they were having and everything was all fine now.
All fucking rainbows and flowers.
"Bullshit."
Down the front patio, she ran. Her legs soared over the cobbled steps, her boots hitting the sidewalk a second later before she was pounding down the sidewalk, completely ignoring the fact that she did have a car. A brand new 85' cream Convertible sat newly polished and untouched in the garage; a gift she'd received a week previous to cover up the real issue that been going on between her parents for the last several months. And now Claire wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between her and her folks as humanly possible.
She glanced at the leather strap wrapped around her wrist as she ran. The gold numerals read: 7:00. She had approximately thirty minutes before class started, plenty of time to get ready. She hadn't been able to take staying in her house any longer with her parents screaming at each other, fighting about the death of their son. Internally, Claire had reached her limit with it all. Whether they ever admitted it to themselves or not, it was getting worse; their spite, their bribery, her mother's spontaneous decision to take off to the tropics.
Personally, Claire wouldn't be surprised if she came home today to find her mother gone, again
For her ire of needing to get away from her parents, this she could blame them for. They were the ones widening the gap in their already divorce-near-relationship. They were the ones who never talked out their problems. They believed money and getaways were the fix. But they never fixed what was hurting the two on the inside.
The clear answer that was hurting them in recent years: Rick Maurice Standish.
The brother that had kept Claire's sanity intact; at least twice a week when he'd still been living, he'd called from his Chicago apartment to make sure she was okay. Sometimes, he'd drive up there, paying with his own gas money to take her away from their parent's disputes. Claire had appreciated that even after he moved out, he had still reprised his role as her comfort blanket.
Because, like she, he knew what went on behind the rich family's closed doors.
Claire recalled a time back when they had both been young. The family Easter of 1976. Between their parents, there had been a huge blowout about whom had bought them the best candy, the best baskets, and the best toys. While the two continued to argue downstairs, a huge thunderstorm had broken out. A huge bolt of lighting had cut across the sky, lighting up Claire's entire room, followed by a loud clap of thunder. It had shaken her to tears. But who should only hear her, but her brother, who had come in the next instant, scooping her up in his arms without so much as a complaint, and rocked her to sleep as it stormed on...
For many years he'd do that... until the eve of May 16, 1985... her seventeenth birthday...
Gasping, Claire came to an abrupt halt as her hand seized her chest, her other hand having thrusted out and grasped unto a tree, its rough bark sinking into the palm of her hand as the vivid images of that last birthday flooded her mind.
It didn't matter how many shrinks she saw because she'd never forget...
Blue and red. Flashes of the two colors, blinking, reflecting off the glass of their front living room window that overlooked her mother's begonias planted along the patio. Then came the shadows... Dark, brooding figures almost trampling over the carefully cared for plants... with a body. The fair, amber locks were stained with some sort of shiny substance that glistened in the light. The color was so dark against their hair. It was almost like the color of...blood. But lots of blood. Their jacket appeared coated in it. She would hate to see them try to wear that to school, the carefully tailored black leather looked completely unrepairable...
And yet her mind couldn't shake the odd feeling that was making her fresh, painted pink nails sink into the bright green wrapping paper she'd been about to unwrap, after having waited for her brother for almost an hour already. When was Rick going to get–
And that's when she heard it, a large, blood curdling scream that echoed off the walls; a cry so shrill it could only belong... to her mother.
And then the present was suddenly forgotten, her feet carrying her fast, so fast. That it wasn't until she was staring, aimlessly into a pair of dark brown eyes, eyes as dark as her's–yet filled with an unrecognizable peace...
She realized those two eyes weren't reflecting back at her...
Suddenly large, firm hands grabbed her. Voices rang in her ears. But it was too late. She saw. And when she looked up she saw outside the door and where her favorite cherry red car was parked. Except it wasn't parked. It was being hauled by a tow truck. The 'Bugg's' bright, polished exterior was totaled, the sides bent, curved, twisting the 'Bugg' into an angle that made her stomach abruptly churn. The seat was completely gone... windows were broken in...
In the far off distance of her mind, she heard someone screaming. The sound was so piercing it seemed to make her head swim. Louder than her mothers, she could feel the heavy vibration it carried as pain shot through her lower abdomen.
The ground seemed to unexpectedly tilt just then, almost as if it were coming towards her...
Later Claire would realize it had been her screaming...
According to officers, Rick had been driving while intoxicated. He had been driving back from a friend's party. He had called an hour previous to tell Claire he'd be there he was just running late, when Claire had told him to hurry...
"Claire?"
Claire's head snapped up, resurfacing from the memory as she heard a familiar engine. A stylish, BMW suddenly came into her peripheral vision, the sun glinting off the spotless glass. Hastily wiping the few stray tears that had fallen, she blinked several times, clearing her eyes to make sure she was seeing right. Then, as soon as the sun glinted off that checkered scarf of which could only be bought in the finest boutique shops, she knew who it was.
Louis Standish.
Brushing a few long, red strands of hair that had fallen into her face, Claire quickly pushed up from the tree, trying to regain her composure. As much of a forlorn state she was in, her dad was the last person she wanted comfort from.
"Claire!"
Claire started kept walking, her fingernails sinking into the leather fabric of her school bag.
Her dad wasn't a person who gave up that easily though. "Claire, let's not make a scene, honey."
Claire almost snorted, almost. There were only a few people out, most of which were standing on their porches retrieving the morning paper. There was only one old elderly woman that looked at her.
Claire nodded, respectful.
"Claire, honey," Louis continued, "please just get into the car and I'll drive you to school."
As soon as she heard the word please from his mouth, Claire bit the inside of her cheek and reluctantly turned around. "No, just leave me alone." she stated, firm.
The door to the BMW opened. Louis climbed out of the car, a briefcase in one hand. He it set on the hood of the car. His worn, tired face looked like it had aged a couple years as he said, "Let's not make this into a big issue. Let's discuss the real reason why—"
But Claire cut him off, spinning around with her lips ushering a loud, "NO! I do not want to hear your bullshit, that's all I EVER DO! IS LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN! I'M SICK OF IT! ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, OKAY?"
Louis Standish's face remained calm, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out before he turned his back on her. Claire almost began walking again, until she heard the gold latches to his briefcase make a sharp click. Then she stopped, curiosity getting her just the slightest, before she saw what he was pulling out, the glossy words Stanley Korshak written in fine print. "You forgot your daily lunch, sweetheart." he proceeded to say.
Claire stared at if for a long moment before jutting out her chin, stubborn. "I don't want it." Then she spun on her heel and began walking again, knowing her father was going to follow her anyway until she reached the cement steps to Shermer High.
But all through the walk there, she didn't once look back.
T&B&C
The bathroom was already lit by the time Claire had entered the decorative blue and white stalls adorning the girl's bathroom. In no time the linoleum sinks were filled with cosmetics, ranging from shades of autumn to lavender.
After the long walk, her dad hadn't again protested her about letting him drive her to school. He'd followed though of course, making sure she got through the thick, swinging doors of Shermer High, before she'd heard him speed off to his business: Standish Co. It was where he worked as a business man, the company having been a family business passed down for years.
" A business that makes money off the old buildings of this old town," Claire remembered her dad once saying as she finished applying her mascara. She'd just finished touching up the lashes with the bristled wand—
When a large group of polished girls walked in, all of them wearing tweedy skirts and the layered tops that she, herself, used to wear.
"Well, well, well, look who it is." A tall blonde girl submerged from the clone of girls, all their bodies having been huddled together in a close-knit circle. This girl, at least 5"6, parted the crowd of girls as if she were parting the red seas of Egypt. She walked toward Claire with an air of aristocracy, her light yellow top matched with a tweedy black skirt reminding Claire of a banana. Her dark blue eyes flew up to her at once, fixated on her like a cat, like only Stacia Marten could when coming upon someone she disliked with great intensity. "And to think you were once the top Queen A." she finished with a sneer, her eyes scanning over Claire before she snickered.
Claire looked down at the dark, lavender sweater she had paired up with some dark jeans. Yet instead of saying anything, she merely gathered up her things and started for the door.
At least that was what should have happened.
But Stacia's was too quick. Her arm shot out against the wall, blocking Claire's exit. "Why, got nothing to say to the new Queen A of the school?"
"There are a lot of things I would love to say to you, Stacia. It's just that," Claire shrugged her shoulders, nonchalant. "I don't sink to your lame ass level anymore."
The group of girls suddenly gasped with a loud, "Oooh."
Stacia shot out one hand to silence them before her eyes narrowed, cold. "You've just become a real bitch since your brother died, huh?"
"No, I've just learned who my real friends are and who aren't."
Stacia's lips snapped close for an instant.
If Claire hadn't been in such a bad mood she would've felt triumphant. In the past, this girl facing her now, had been like leech, like rubber and glue. Since the two girls had entered Junior High, Stacia Marten had followed Claire around like a second advisee. Her attire had always been "mysteriously" close to what Claire would wear that day. It was like the girl had no identity for herself. She used to always dress like Claire, act like Claire, even try to date Andrew Clark just because Claire knew him.
Up until this point, Stacia had been considered: 'A bitch who didn't know how to think for herself'.
Ever since they'd met up in the sixth grade, almost everybody in the top social pyramid of Shermer knew Stacia had been royally jealous of Claire. The envy she had pented up for years had finally erupted after Claire was selected as the junior prom queen of Shermer High of last year. Yet, as quick as the world evolves, her envy had grown into something increasingly nastier.
When Claire had been abruptly dropped, dead, from their group.
The beginning of her popularity end had begun after she stopped attending every single party. Especially when she'd stood up to Stacia after the girl kept dissing Alison Reynolds for no apparent reason. Really, it had gotten old. Yes, she hadn't stayed friends with Alison, but that hadn't meant she was going to be nasty to her afterwards. Just because she hadn't talked to any of the Breakfast Club members since that Saturday—beside Andy once in a great while—didn't mean she'd forgotten that detention.
There were a lot of good things that had come out of that one, single day; and a few things she noticed afterwards.
A.) How conceited she was. After Brian had told her that, Claire had started to unsubconciously step outside of herself. Little by little, she had begun to see the way her friends were and how they treated the classes they considered 'lower than them'. Of course, the outcome was not a sudden miraculous 360 degree turnaround where she dropped everything and became a brand new person—but it had been enough for her to realize some of the things the members had been trying to get through her head. It was like what the infamous John Bender had been saying all along, however much she hated his bluntness.
B.) Quote on quote: She was a bitch. If she'd earlier admitted to herself, she was just like a follower. In some ways it could be called hypocritical; she said one thing to their face and then dished out on them with her so-called friends. Just like her mother had once been at Claire's age.
After Ricks death thought things had really shifted...
"Hey you, Red."
And when that moment had come, it was like her status of popularity became an induced memory. From that point on, people had avoided her like the Black Plague. It was only when Stacia had been deemed as the new 'Queenie' of the school, had it been the ultimate turning point in Claire's High School career.
Ever.
"Aw, little miss ex-popular still brooding over her brother's death? What has it been now, four months since the accident?"
"Go to hell, Stacia."
Stacia's lips turned into a fake pout, "Aw, is little Clairy going to cry now? Did I strike a nerve?"
"I mean it, Stacia. Enough!" Claire warned.
The girls behind Stacia giggled, cruel.
"No," Stacia began again, her eyes gleaming, "that's where Rick is, isn't it? Hell, he was drinking at the time was—"
But that was as far as Stacia got.
The next second was followed by a loud SMACK! with Claire's hand connecting with Stacia's skin, shoving the preppie so hard by the shoulders the two abruptly lost their balance. With a loud BANG! both girls were thrown through the bathroom doors, Claire scraping her elbow against the tiled floors of the school's hallway as she wrestled Stacia to the ground. Ignoring the crowds of onlookers abruptly forming, she grabbed the yellow Ralph Lauren shirt clothing Stacia's torso. "Don't you ever say that about my fucking brother!" she screamed.
Stacia's shriek turned into rage. Then one of her long, red nailed fingers sliced into Claire's cheek. "Get the hell off me you freakoid!" Her body weight shifted, turning her waist so Claire lost her balance, Stacia gaining top where she yanked at Claire's sweater.
Claire grabbed a fistful of her hair, beginning to taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.
Stacia shrieked, smacking Claire across the face.
The crowd was getting larger. People had begun to chant. "Cat fight, cat fight, cat fight!"
"Oh, THAT'S IT!" Claire cried. Before Stacia saw it coming Claire kicked Stacia's legs from underneath her. She grabbed her shoulders and pushed her off her with all her might, before lunging at her once more.
"FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!"
"ALL RIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH!"
The crowd suddenly grew silent.
Claire knew that voice, but before she could do anything about it, two strong arms hoisted her up from the ground.
Oooo
There, I hope you guys liked the add on! More in next chapter w/ all the BC Members. I know there wasn't a lot of mention about them, so you'll be surprised where they are now. Oh! And I also wanted to tell you this:
I chose Claire b/c she'd like the shorter end of the stick people hate. So I've decided to indulge into her life with her problems and well, you'll see what becomes of this once mean girl...ha-ha.
Tehe, please review they always make me smile and I'll give you cyber cookies!
Don't be shy, the button is just right down there!
Preview:
Bender: Lets just say things get a little promiscuous.
Alison: Hmm, so is your quiet girl so quiet anymore or has she changed?
Andy: Has he changed at all since the BC ended?
Brian: Is he still the innocent boy everybody thought was a little cutie?
Hmmm... What could possibly happen? Oh the possibilities.
Ha-ha, personally, I can't wait to bring back John Bender. He rox!