by Amy Holder
***
"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:
APRIL ELIZABETH BOWERS
LIVED TO THE GRAND AGE OF FIFTEEN.
SADLY, SHE WAS STARVED
BY LIPSTICK LAW THREE.
"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."
Well then, that pretty much sums it up. I'm either doomed to follow their ridiculous Lipstick Laws, or I'll be condemned to misfit-dom for the rest of my life. I sit in silence, weighing my options.
The girls gather around me.
"Are you going to sign?" Britney inquires, holding up bright red lipstick. I have a sinking feeling that this is the lipstick Haley warned me about.
My heart races as I contemplate my doomed choices. I could either have a first-rate social life but be controlled by these crazy laws ... or I could have Britney on my bad side, making sure I'm the laughingstock of Penford High School. I picture being tortured and laughed at through the halls. I picture Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood running away from me in repulsive disgust ... and ... I give in. I just can't risk the alternative to the Lipstick Laws.
"Yeah, okay—I'll sign." I quickly apologize to Haley in my head. "So, what do you want me to do, sign my name in lipstick?"
"No, silly," Britney says. "First you have to pledge your loyalty. Put up your right hand."
Reluctantly, I follow her order and raise my right hand.
"Repeat after me: I, April Bowers."
"I—I ... April Bowers," I choke out stiffly.
"Pledge my commitment to the Lipstick Laws and fellow members."
Feeling somewhat helpless, like a car stuck on the tracks of an oncoming train, I repeat it word for word: "Pledge my commitment to the Lipstick Laws and fellow members."
"I promise to follow all seven laws strictly, knowing that my popularity is dependent on my ability to fulfill them," Britney says slowly.
I repeat it all word for pathetic word, kicking myself with each syllable that escapes my lips.
She smiles, hands me the lipstick, and says, "Good! Now, put the lipstick on your lips and kiss the bottom of the paper—underneath the Lipstick Laws. Then we'll all do the same."
"It's like a blood oath, but with lipstick ... same color, cuter idea," Erin says.
I smear the hideous blood-red lipstick over my lips and grab the paper in contempt. I don't want to go through with this, but with Britney's wicked eyes staring me into a coma, coupled with my fear of mass rejection at school, I bite the bullet and smooch the bottom of the paper. Yes, that's right; I kiss my rights away into the hands of a sadistic popularity nazi.
The girls follow my lead. One by one, their kisses join mine underneath Lipstick Laws One through Seven.
"Now, April, is there anything you want to tell us?" Britney says aggressively. "Remember, your secrets are our property now."
She taps her designer shoe on the dull hardwood floor. I immediately picture my manic bra-stuffing and thousands of innocent tissues being shoved into my boobicle cubicle bra cups. I begin to panic behind my frozen stare. To buy myself some time, I ask, "Wouldn't you guys like to share your secrets with me first?"
I smile and nod at them hopefully, thinking this is a perfectly normal request. They stare back at me in bafflement.
Britney rolls her eyes. "April, don't you get it? Sharing your dark secrets from before the Lipstick Laws is part of your initiation. We all had our initiations long ago."
"So, this is a one-way secret street today? Isn't that sort of unfair?" I say.
"Life isn't fair. It's not our fault that you're joining our group after us. You'll get to know our secrets over time, but it's your turn to fess up right now, not ours." Brit smirks.
"Make it good!" Erin adds, her muted blue eyes wide with anticipation.
My bottom lip quivers with dread. Oh my gosh ... Haley was right. They are evil circus clowns, aren't they? I have to divulge something, because the bottom line is that I need friends ... even if they're evil circus clown friends.
"Well?" the girls urge impatiently.
"Okay," I yelp out of frustration. "I have a secret."
But I just can't bring myself to tell them that I'm a bosom sculptor.
"I ... errrrr ... I like Matthew Brentwood!" I blurt out.
Britney sighs. "Please, April, that's not a secret."
"Tell us something juicy!" Brianna prods.
"Ummm ... well ... I kind of made up this name for him." I put my head down. "It's sort of stupid, though."
"Tell us! What is it?" they beg.
"It's ummm ... Mr., errrr..."
"Mr. what?"
"Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood," I divulge in sheer embarrassment.
Erin and Brianna burst into laughter.
"That's pathetic!" Erin derides.
Great, that's particularly compelling coming from a girl who could pass as a tall Oompa Loompa.
"How juvenile," Britney ridicules. "You shouldn't tell people that; it's totally embarrassing!"
No kidding. I mean, it's not like I was enthused about telling them or anything. They had to practically beat it out of me.
"What else, April? There has to be something else. Don't tell me we just inducted a boring chumpnut into our group." The look of disgrace on Britney's face is pressure enough.
"Okay, I have something else," I say, trying to impress her.
The girls creep in to me as if I'm going to reveal a huge, juicy scandal. I take a deep breath, wondering if I'll muster the courage to confess my true secret.
"I'm a ... I'm..."
"You're a what?"
Ugh! I just can't do it! So, I say the first thing that pops into my mind that sounds halfWay decent: "I'm a virgin!"
Britney shakes her head and laughs.
"April, April, April ... What are we going to do with you? That's all you have to tell us? You're a virgin? No kidding? I woulda
never guessed it," she says sarcastically. "Well, at least we know you're not a skeez. You could probably teach Brianna a thing or two."
I glance over at Brianna, who's grinding her teeth with spite.
"Hopefully you're not keeping anything from us. 'Cause we can kick you out at any time," Britney warns. "So, I'd strongly suggest that you follow all of the laws all of the time. If you do that, we'll be your BFFs."
"Best friends forever?" I ask, feeling relieved.
"No, April! Unconditional acceptance leads to letting yourself go. We'll be your best friends til you F up!" she barks.
Gulp. I feel my heart pounding out of my chest. Yes, it's a fact; I have sealed the deal. I stamped, certified, and lipsticked my life in a package sent through Priority Mail directly to the devil herself ... and there's no turning back.
Chapter Six
Three and a half hours later, my mom is having a conniption fit.
"Mom, I don't have a cell because you and Dad took it away!" I argue. "That's why I couldn't call!"
"Oh—so this is my fault all of a sudden? You're telling me it's my own fault that I thought my baby was taken by a hooligan?"
"Aren't you being a tad dramatic?" I reason with her.
"Dramatic? Next, I suppose you'll tell me that Britney lives in the backwoods and has no phones in her whole home. Do you go to the bathroom in an outhouse there too?"
"No, Mom." I huff.
"And look at your face! Look at your lips! Since when do you wear cheap, tacky bright red lipstick? It's like I don't even know you anymore!" Her eyes become glossy. She grabs a few tissues and blows her nose. I feel really bad for making her upset, but I also can't help but cringe at the fact that she's using up my boob bud fillers.
"Mom, please ... don't cry," I plead. "It's really not what you think. It's not even my lipstick!"