The Lipstick Laws (6 page)

My only problem is that I haven't talked to Haley in what seems like forever. I know she's annoyed that I'm hanging out with Britney. Plus, Haley's new boyfriend isn't making it any easier for me to get a hold of her. She's always with him. If I could talk to her, though, she would be glad to hear that I secretly despise Britney. But I'd be crazy to abandon Brit's rock star group for ... well ... nobody. At this point, hiding my feelings of disdain for her is second nature—almost as easy as breathing. No one would ever suspect that I pray every night for her to lose her hair in a dreadful Nair hair-removal accident. If only I could devise a foolproof plan to switch out her shampoo with the balding butter.

Her constant nagging demands are getting on my last nerve. She has next-to-impossible standards for her friends:

• "Don't chew your gum like that, Jessica! It makes you look like total white trash."
  
• "Erin, you look like an orange tie-dyed freak funnel with that crap on your skin. You need to fix it!"
  
• "Your ears are too big to wear your hair up, Bri, remember?"
  
• "April, your boobs look deformed today. You really need to readjust your bra."
  

Little does she know that readjusting means emptying, refluffing, and restuffing like a pillow in a pillowcase. She'd die if she found out that my plump boob buds are stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Britney also has pretty brutal fashion tips:

• "Take off that belt, Brianna. You look like a meatball packer!"
  
• "Erin, you can so not pull off skinny jeans. You have to be skinny to do that."
  
• "Stop shopping clearance, April. Your whole wardrobe probably cost you twelve fifty. It's a total fashion crime."
  
• "That shirt should be illegal, Jessica. On a hideousness scale of one to ten, it's a fifteen."
  

Britney also loves to put negative twists on anyone else's good news:

• "Nick Malbo likes you, Jess? Yeah, he's hot ... but there's a reason his nickname is Bo. He stinks like a trucker."
  
• "Bri, just because you're moving into a seventy-five-hundred-square-foot house doesn't mean you're special."
  
• "Erin, you lost the five pounds you're bragging about in your boobs. I guess you'll need to get some new bras the next time we're at the mall."
  
• "Don't feel too proud for getting an A on your English paper, April. Mr. Bilsby gives out As as much as Darci Madison swaps spit in the boys' bathroom."
  

And she is always so right ... even when she is obviously
so
wrong:

• "Hawaii is so not a state, Jessica—God, how dumb can you be?"
  
• "April, conceited is a compliment, not an insult."
  
• "Please, Brianna, go back to first grade spelling. There's no A in beautiful."
  
• "Keep going, Erin; a flashing red light means proceed with caution, not stop! Didn't you learn anything from your driving test?"
  

Hence Erin's first traffic ticket for a rolling stop. Britney still claims that the cop was so wrong. "He was probably a total turd in high school and likes to take revenge on popular, pretty girls. We should seriously report him."

Brit is the last person who should be directing anyone on driving. She turned sixteen in August and has already failed her driving test three times. Yet she still believes she knows everything about driving, along with every other subject known to man. Ugh! She's a vile, self-obsessed, know-it-all happiness ruiner, to put it lightly. Unfortunately, not only am I addicted to bosom sculpting, I am now also shamefully addicted to the celebrity that goes along with being seen with Britney Taylor.

***

"I should call my mom to let her know I'll be a little late," I say in the back of Erin's red Neon.

"Use your cell," Jessica yells over the blasting music.

"Remember, my parents took it away this summer," I yell back.

Britney turns down the music. "Let her worry about you. She deserves it. It's her fault you don't have your cell. She shouldn't get mad if you can't call."

"You won't be that long, anyhow. You're just signing the Lipstick Oath. It will take a half hour tops," Brianna says.

My heart is beating rapidly, remembering Haley's weird warning about lipstick. I'm wondering if this Lipstick Oath is what she was referring to. I wish she hadn't left me in the dark. Furthermore, I wish I had been able to accomplish a more thorough snoop of that pink Lipstick Laws binder in Britney's room. This oath must have something to do with it.

I try to calm my nerves ... How bad can it be? Supposedly, it's some big honor and final rite of passage into their group. Britney explained it as a promotion from a "friend in training" to a "certified friend." I'm not half as excited as she says I should be. I don't trust Britney, and wouldn't put it past her to think up some imprisonment game where I'm locked in a closet for a week and forced to eat nothing but lipstick. My mouth becomes dry and gummy just thinking about it.

We pull up to Britney's cereal-box development. She's clearly in denial about the size of her house. This wouldn't even matter if she wasn't such a bling bragger. Erin made me promise not to tell Britney that I know Britney's father is the only one with money ... and he left six years ago to start a new family with some chick in Texas. I guess his guilt obligated him to buy her the brand-new BMW in the driveway. With the luck she's having on her driving tests, she'll be ninety-three before she gets to drive it legally.

Erin jerks the car into park. "Get out, biatches."

"Aren't you so excited?" The girls giggle as we walk to the front door.

Excited—no. Nervous—yes. I strain a smile.

Jessica grabs my hand with enthusiasm. "This is a huge compliment, April! Not everyone gets this, you know."

"Yeah," Brianna agrees. "It took me way long to get invited to sign it."

"That's 'cause you were a skeez before you met us, Bri," Britney snaps as she keys her way into the house.

Every time I'm in Britney's room, I immediately think of a drag queen's dressing room. Not that I've ever seen a drag queen's dressing room ... or even know what one would look like, for that matter. But I just assume that it might look like a glitter fairy threw up pink sparkles and sequins all over it. And that's exactly what Brit's room looks like—a pink glitter fairy's vomit factory.

"Don't just stand around, guys. You all have asses; use them!"

The four of us sit down halfway through her sentence. We've all developed quick reflexes in order to fulfill Brit's constant demands. I find myself sitting on the uncomfortable red high-heeled chair.

Britney skips to her dresser and pulls out the mysterious pink binder she scolded me about weeks ago. "Here it is, guys."

The girls clap. She removes a pink piece of paper from the three rings.

"Read it, Brit."

"Well, duh, Erin! What did you think I was going to do, eat it?" She walks over to me and clears her throat. "April, do you know what I'm holding right here?"

She doesn't give me time to answer.

"This is the
holy
Lipstick Oath. By signing it, you pledge your loyalty to the Lipstick Laws."

"What are the Lipstick Laws?" I ask cautiously.

"They're seven sacred laws that you have to follow if you want to be friends with us—or else!"

Or else? Or else what? Or else I'll be banished to Taiwan with only a raincoat and a piece of salami to survive? Oh, God. I'm doomed.

"You can only be invited to sign the Lipstick Oath when we think your popularity stock is high enough to benefit the group as a whole. You weren't ready when you tried to get your paws on this weeks ago," Britney says, swinging the paper. "You were a mess then. Really."

The girls shake their heads at me sympathetically. I'm embarrassed by their overtly condescending pity.

"But, other than a few fashion faux pas, you've cleaned up nicely since then," Britney adds. "And we think it's time now. Congratulations, April Bowers! This is your day!"

The girls clap and giggle while I hunch over with nerves on this hideous red chair.

"Thanks," I manage to gurgle out.

"Awww—she's so happy, she's speechless!" Jess sighs.

"Don't worry, April—I was the same way! It's like a dream, isn't it?" Brianna says.

I don't have time to respond before Britney persists with her well-rehearsed speech. "The Lipstick Laws cover the seven categories most important to our group." Her expression turns serious as she asks, "Are you ready for me to read them?"

Do I really have a choice in the matter? I nod in agreement.

"Lipstick Law One—Beauty. You are only as beautiful as your mirror tells you, so check it every hour."

I squint with bewilderment.

She elaborates. "It means never go an hour without checking your hair, makeup, clothes, and shoes. Head to toes!"

She rubs the length of her body up and down as if it's a prize on a game show.

"Okay," I say, thinking this is utterly ridiculous.

Britney adds, "You see, April, you may look great when you leave the house in the morning, but you could look like a scag three hours later ... and wouldn't that be tragic?"

"I guess." I shrug.

She continues. "Lipstick Law Two—Fashion. Never sacrifice style for comfort."

"That means sweats are totally out," Jessica explains.

"That's
so
obvious, Jess! April isn't an idiot. Do you like insinuations that you're an idiot, April?"

"Umm..." I utter.

"That's what I thought," Britney says. "Anyhow, you need to work on this new fashion niche of yours."

After a few disastrous fashion Frankenstein flops (specifically one involving a plaid vest, a bedazzled rocker T-shirt, leggings, a head scarf, and platform shoes), Britney agreed that I should change my "pairer" fashion niche. I chose "casual chic" as my new niche, which is so much more me; I don't know why I didn't think of it to begin with ... but Britney hasn't been too supportive of the idea.

"You need to focus more on the chic part rather than the casual part. You don't want to look like a hopeless homemaker. You'd be violating Lipstick Law Two. Got it?"

I nod my head in agreement, and she moves on. "Lipstick Law Three—Health. Never gain more than three pounds in a year."

"With the exception of PMS water bloat," Erin insists.

Brit looks up from the page in disgust. "No one gains three pounds of water bloat, unless you're an undercover heifer."

Erin's face flushes. I suddenly understand her constant battle with food temptations.

"Lipstick Law Four—Social. Never socialize with any creatures from the geek kingdom." Britney glares at me. "We'll make an exception for your nerd herder brother. It's unfortunate, but you can't totally ignore family."

"Er ... thanks," I mumble.

"Lipstick Law Five—Secrets. Your personal information and top secrets are sole property of the group, and must be shared immediately upon signing the Lipstick Oath."

"You might as well tell us, 'cause we're gonna find out anyhow." Brianna sniggers.

The image of a Kleenex box—my deepest addiction—floats into my head. I almost choke on my own spit.

"Guys—God! This would go so much quicker if you shut the freak up and let me read!" Britney shouts, resuming her composure instantly. "This next one's the cardinal girl rule and should be a no-brainer ... but, as we've found before, some girls have no brains."

Brianna laughs hysterically at this statement before Britney continues. "Lipstick Law Six—Love. All ex-boyfriends, current boyfriends, crushes, love interests, and flings are strictly off-limits to the rest of the group."

I immediately think of Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood. It's taken me weeks to get his attention off of Britney and back on me. He's mine, and she'd better know it!

"And last, but definitely not least!" She raises her voice for added drama. "Lipstick Law Seven—General. Every individual decision must be made for the good of the group to benefit our popularity stock as a whole."

Is that it? Well, they're not asking too much ... just for me to sign my life away, that's all. What have I gotten myself into?

"Do you have any questions?" Jessica asks eagerly.

"Well ... so ... you want me to check the mirror twenty-four/seven, put up with pain as long as it's fashionable, starve myself if I start to gain weight, ban all conversations with less popular people, share my deepest secrets—however embarrassing they may be, follow the cardinal girl rule by not associating with any past or present flames of others, and base all of my decisions solely on how they will affect the group?" I yap, completely out of breath by the end.

Impressed, Erin utters, "Whoa, you're a totally fast learner."

"That's why I like her so much, Erin. She's a jumbo-me. April, I couldn't have summed everything up better myself!" Britney professes proudly.

"Well"—I pause in thought—"what happens if I choose not to sign the Oath?"

Gasps of disbelief circulate the room like swarming mosquitoes.

"I mean, not that that's what I'm going to do," I say. "I'm just curious."

Erin gulps in shock. "That's never happened before—everyone signs the Lipstick Oath!"

"You'd be nuts not to sign it!" Brianna adds. "It's like the Academy Award of popularity—only the best are chosen!"

Looking at the girls suspiciously, I wonder ... where are all the other Lipstick Law followers? They make it seem like hundreds have signed the Lipstick Oath and millions more are waiting to sign it. Yet there are only four of them here. I picture a mass Lipstick Law graveyard—with one lipstick gravestone that reads:

A
PRIL
E
LIZABETH
B
OWERS
L
IVED TO THE GRAND AGE OF FIFTEEN.
S
ADLY, SHE WAS STARVED
BY
L
IPSTICK
L
AW
T
HREE.

"I know girls who would
die
to sign the Lipstick Oath!" Jessica reveals, confirming my fear.

"What will happen if someone decides not to sign?" Britney repeats my question, looking appalled. "Well, we'd make sure that scag would be a social misfit for the rest of her skankful life."