I don't own the Breakfast Club

Enjoy!

Over at the local diner, Claire Standish submerged her straw inside the strawberry milkshake that she had ordered. She watched the whipped cream drip down the rim of the glass and onto the table. How long was it going to get for the rest of the group to get here? Even though she had only been waiting for them for ten minutes, she felt she had been here for hours. Every time someone passed by her table Claire averted her eyes, thinking that it was someone from school was a regular customer.

How embarrassing would it be if they saw her sitting here alone with no one to talk to! Claire was trying to get adjusted to this 'new school life,' to put it lightly but it had been a struggle…and life at home was not as glamorous either. With her parents' constant arguing, Claire felt that she had reached a point where she was ready to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted them to stop fighting. She wanted them to stop using her as a catalyst between their fights. Sometimes she wished that her parents would stop giving her what she wanted and try to listen to her.

Claire let out a sigh as she looked down at the table, resting her forehead on the tips of her manicured nails. Last night's argument, Claire believed it was the one that would end it all. When she woke up the following morning, her parents were still there. Her father reading the newspaper and her mother making breakfast as if it was a normal day at the Standish household. The tension was so thick, Claire could cut it with a knife.

"I don't understand why it's so hard for you to listen to me," Linda yelled at her husband who was trying his hardest to ignore his wife's constant nagging. "I told you that next week we're going to the Watsons' home for dinner."

"The Watsons'?" Tim put down his newspaper and looked at his wife. "Linda, I already told you that I set up a dinner meeting with the Martins. Why would I want to go to my competitor's home?"

"Oh why don't you just put business aside for once and act like a decent human being?" Linda told him. "I am friends with Mary-Anne and it would be horrible if I don't go to her birthday dinner. Do you want me to ruin my friendship with someone that I have known for years?"

"Longer than you have known me?" Tim asked her.

"It doesn't matter, Tim," Linda told him as she walked over to the wine cabinet and pulled out a wine glass and a bottle. "You don't care about anything that I say or ask you to do." She took a deep breath and sipped on the wine. "You just want me to embarrass myself in front of my friends because my husband doesn't want to step foot at his 'competitor's house."

Tim's hands scrunched against the newspaper and folded it. Tonight was going to be one of those nights where he had to deal with his wife's temper. "Get it together, Linda," he told her.

"I have it together," Linda said, "more than you do." She watched as her husband walked out and she couldn't help but put her foot down. "I'm going to the Watsons' and I'm taking Claire with me."

"Like hell you are!" Tim argued. "You think that I'm going to let my daughter be with you in your drunken state?"

Their arguments were getting louder to the point where their voices were invading Claire's room. Claire tried to keep herself calm. Her hands shook as she clasped them together. Why was it when they disagreed about something, something so minor, it had to be blown out of proportion? And why did she have to be in the center of it all? If Claire had the choice, she wouldn't go to the Martins after her fall-out with Jennifer; and she wouldn't want to go to the Watsons' either. Their sixteen-year-old son was distasteful.

Claire jumped when she heard something crash downstairs. In a panic, she opened the door and flew down the stairs to see the broken wineglass between her parents. Shards of glass were scattered onto the pristine tiled floors.

"Damn it, Linda," Tim said with a shake of his head, "look at what you did."

"You made me do it!" Linda pointed an accusatory finger at Tim. "That's it. This is over!"

Claire had been strong during their past arguments. In her thoughts, she knew that both of her parents were both screwed in the head for being together for so long yet hating each other in their marriage. However when she saw the broken glass, the look of regret in her father's eyes, and the look of distress on her mother's, this was a whole other issue. "Please," Claire found herself pleading to her parents, "stop fighting."

She didn't know if her pleas were enough to stop them from these constant battles.

"Go to your room Claire," her mother told her, "this has nothing to do with you."

"Leave her alone Linda!" Tim snapped at his wife before he looked at Claire. "It's okay Claire. We're just having a discussion." He looked at the distressed features in Claire's eyes as he pulled out his wallet and took out a couple of hundred-dollar bills. "Do you want to go shopping for a little while?"

"Oh of course," Linda said as she threw her hand in the air, "buying her out of her problems. Good one Tim!"

"I'm trying to look out for my daughter, unlike you," Tim whipped around and looked at his wife, "I mean look at you! You're a mess!"

"I love her more than you do!" Linda shot back.

"You seem to like Chardonnay more," Tim said and motioned to the broken wine glass.

Claire couldn't take it anymore. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she headed upstairs to her bedroom, slamming and locking her door shut. It was the only place of sanctuary that she had in this whole house.

Claire took a sip of the strawberry milkshake. The cold liquid was enough to make her flinch, but the sweetness was a taste that she had missed. She couldn't believe that she had listened to Jennifer's 'no sweets' rule when she was part of the group.

It was amazing to see how different cliques were. Some had more freedom than others, yet they managed to stick together. She looked up when the doorbell of the diner rang and in walked Andrew and Allison. The two locked eyes with Claire as they made their way to the table. "What took you guys so long?" Claire asked them, "I've been waiting for twenty minutes."

Allison exchanged a sympathetic glance with Andrew.

That glance went unnoticed from Claire as she looked from one to the other. Her eyes slightly widened when she saw the scratch under his eyes. "What happened?" she asked.

Andrew let out a sigh. It wasn't Claire's fault for asking, she didn't know that situation. But how many times was he going to reiterate what happened between him and his father? The moment that him and his mother arrived, he could hear his parents arguing the moment he step foot in the doorway.

"He's a loser, Marlene! I don't want losers in the family!" his father had yelled.

"He's your son, damn it!" his mother yelled back.

After that, Andrew didn't linger around the doorway any longer. He didn't need to hear any of that. He had walked to the local park and stayed there, contemplating at how things came to be in his life. Everything that he did before…every match that he won, every trophy that he had, every achievement that he gained. It didn't matter. He was never going to be good enough for his father.

Afterwards, he had bumped into Allison on her way home to drop off her items. Allison, being quick to sense that something was amiss, asked him. At that moment, Andrew was overcome with emotions that all Allison could do was hold him close to her.

Andrew then shook his head at Claire's words. "Just got a lot of crap going on," he told her.

Tell me about it Claire thought and played with her straw. "That bad?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Andrew simply answered her.

He didn't expand any more than he needed to. There was no reason. The cut under his eye was evident enough. Claire took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The tension that she faced yesterday was minimal compared to Andrew's, but that didn't mean that she wasn't affected by it. "I'm sorry," was all that Claire could say.

Andrew didn't want sympathy, yet it was difficult to keep that tough exterior in front of everyone. All of them had seen his distress in detention, but he wasn't going to keep on doing that every time he felt it. "I don't want to talk about it…anymore," Andrew said. He didn't want to make this outing about himself. He would rather forget about what happened and move on, in hopes that his father would come around. He looked down when he felt Allison's hand on top of his, a sign of support.

Claire looked at their interaction. It was sweet…yet something that she also craved for.