Beauty And the Brain (The Breakfast Club)

Bathroom Talk

"You have really flawless skin," Sheila commented.

Claire glanced over at Sheila with a look of surprise. "Really?"

Sheila nodded genuinely.

"Thank you," she said, smiling.

Claire's chocolate brown eyes assessed the Comedian. She had great features with high cheekbones, an oval shaped face dotted with a smatter of freckles, green eyes and copper hair. Her lips always seemed to be smirking as if she had a joke or trick in mind.

But her whole appearance was a whole other matter: very common like a bumpkin, no sense of style and in desperate in need of a makeover. Her makeup consisted of a dusky pink mauve lipstick that she probably just dug out of a bargain bin without thought. A spackle of gold eye shadow with no eyeliner or mascara. Her nails seriously needed a manicure: they were cracked and chipped with ragged islets of cheap cherry red nail polish.

"I wish my skin was like that," Sheila said. "Mine won't stop producing freckles. It's like...every morning I wake up..." Sheila made a popping noise. "...a freckle."

"Are you sure they're not zits?" Claire asked, studying the Comedian's skin.

"Nope," Sheila said. "Zits I can handle because they're easy to get rid of. Freckles are unfortunately forever."

"You could try staying out of the sun," Claire suggested.

"Believe me, I try," Sheila said laughing. "Unfortunately, the Donovan family comes from a LONG line of red heads, freckles and..."

Claire stared curiously at the last sentence. "And what?"

"Drunk comedians," Sheila joked.

"Your parents are alcoholics?" Claire said, obviously failing to see the humor.

"I was joking...sort of," she said.

"My parents drink a lot. Mostly dry martinis. After they fight."

"Same here, but my Dad usually drinks beers," Sheila said.

"I thought you had a stepdad."

"I do. But I have a Dad as well. My parents got divorced when I was ten."

"Oh." Claire said.

Then cleared her throat, thinking about Sheila's skin when she complained about her freckles.

"I have some foundation if you want," she said, looking through her endless make up supply.

Sheila was about to answer when a crunching noise coming from the stall interrupted their conversation, making them turn. Claire glanced at Sheila who looked just as confused as her.

"Um...are you OK?" Sheila asked.

No answer from the other girl. Sheila arched an eyebrow. The crunching just continued.

"Can't you talk and go at the same time?" Claire asked.

Claire looked at Sheila as if to wonder what to do, earning a shrug. Eventually Claire opened the door. The girls found the basket case standing in the stall, just eating a bag of Doritos. She looked at the two girls with dark lined eyes. It was weird that someone would even consider eating in a bathroom. Not to mention disgusting. Eating! Over a toilet!

Claire gagged and stepped back. Sheila just stared in disbelief, unsure of how to react to this situation. Unsure of what to say. She felt uncomfortable, but decided to try to talk to her. After all, she hardly knew anyone and her grandfather encouraged her to make friends. She felt bad for not talking for her in detention. She wondered what her name was. Sheila cleared her throat, looking at the disheveled girl.