I DO NOT OWN THE BREAKFAST CLUB. SHOUTOUT TO POPPY471.

Sunday. March 31, 1984. Standish Family Home. Clarendon Hills, Illinois.

(Claire)

I bounced out of bed Sunday morning, feeling happy for some reason. Then I remembered Luke; my boyfriend. Right down the hall. It was already nine o'clock, so I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. I inhaled scented steam as I day-dreamed about Luke. I wondered what he'd look like, all dressed up in Chip's clothes. My scrubbing slowed down as I thought of our kisses last night. Lying cuddled together, Luke trailing a gentle finger down my arm, feeling so tenderly cared for. Those thoughts occupied me until I was dried off and ready to get dressed. I had picked out my favorite, a pink dress with a pleated skirt. Slip, camisole, stockings, dress, low pumps and finally white gloves and a pink straw hat adorned with flowers. I carried my gloves and hat downstairs, not sure where Luke was now, but eagerly waiting to see him in his Sunday best.

As I hesitated in the foyer, I heard footsteps at the top of the stairs, and Luke came hurtling downstairs. I looked at him, from his freshly brushed hair down to his shiny dress shoes. He looked great, out of his old school clothes. The dark pants, white dress shirt and subdued silk tie were spotless perfection. After my thorough inspection of his clothes, I came back to his face. He was gazing at me in a way no one ever had. Our eyes met, and suddenly he seemed bashful, maybe even embarrassed.

"Even Chip's shoes fit. You look so different, Luke."

"You're beautiful." Luke took my hand and I was sure, if my father hadn't come down the stairs at that moment, he would have kissed me. Instead he let go of my hand, allowing it to slowly slip from his, the lingering touch making my insides quiver.

My mother came up the hallway from the kitchen at the same moment and we were all assembled in the foyer, ready to go.

The service itself was uninteresting, the usual singing and repetition, but as always, I loved looking at the gorgeous stained glass windows. Luke seemed caught off guard when we rose to file up to the altar for communion. I squeezed his hand, whispered, "Just do what everyone else does."

Finally, it was over. As mother greeted her church friends, Luke and I drifted away from the crowd at the church door. I was just wondering if kissing at church was wrong, when Andy appeared and gave Luke a heavy slap on the back in greeting. Luke stumbled forward and winced.

"Be careful, Andy! He was just in the hospital two days ago."

"Hey Claire. Sorry, Luke." He gave Luke a gentler pat on the shoulder. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are the Standishes making an honest man out of you?"

"Is church always so boring?" Luke asked Andy.

"Ah yeah, but the parents say I gotta go. Can't wait to get out of this tie." He ran a finger between his shirt collar and neck. "Then training after lunch. Always training." His face turned sour.

"Your dad still on your case?" Luke asked.

"You know it. Hey, there's my mom. I have to go. See you guys tomorrow?"

Mother was finally done with her chatting and Daddy pulled up with the BMW. Luke didn't say much over brunch at the Golden Goose. Father had stopped trying to draw Luke into conversation since it plainly made him uncomfortable. I didn't say much either, but I did squeeze Luke's hand under the table a couple of times. I just wanted him to be happy.

And happy he was when we were alone in my bedroom, Daddy watching TV in the den and mother taking a nap upstairs. As we melted into a kiss, Luke's strong hand stroked my waist. I slid my hand up his back and pulled him closer.

We didn't hear him because he was in his stockinged feet. Just suddenly my father was in the doorway, looking at us.

Luke must have felt me stiffen. He pulled away, looked at me quizzically, then followed my gaze to my father standing there rigid.

"Luke, I'd like to talk to you in the living room. Please wait there for me." Luke walked out, leaving me alone with my father. He sat down in my desk chair. I had no idea what he might say. We had never had any serious conflict before. Always, the fighting was between my parents, not with me.

"Claire, we took this young man into our home to secure a safe place for him, not to let him make love to you."

My mouth opened, but I couldn't find words to express my outrage. Luke had NOT been making love to me. We were just kissing. I would never- How could he suggest? Before I could say anything, my father went on, "This is not the kind of person I would have chosen for you. He is not from our social circle. He is surly and ungrateful. And he was taking too many liberties with you."

"You are such a snob! His social circle doesn't matter! And he is not ungrateful. He just got stabbed by his father. How do you expect him to act?"

"I certainly did not expect to see him with his hands all over you."

"I'm 16, not 6. And all we were doing was kissing. He didn't have his hands all over me. That is so unfair."

"Let me make myself clear, I want no funny business under my roof. When you spend time with him, you will do so in the public areas of the house. The living room, kitchen, den and dining room. You will not invite him into your bedroom. You will not visit him in his bedroom. Do you understand me, young lady?"

He got up with a final stern look at me, and then went downstairs, to talk to Luke.

NEXT TIME, MR. STANDISH LAYS DOWN THE LAW WITH LUKE. REVIEWS NEEDED AND APPRECIATED.