The Lipstick Laws

by Amy Holder

  I sit between my mother, who's bursting with holiday cheer, and Aaden, who'd much rather be sleeping.

  I assess the pile of presents as my dad rustles around the tree. He turns around holding two matching, brightly wrapped boxes. My brother and I immediately perk up when my dad hands one to each of us. There's only one present Aaden and I are both hoping for. We look at each other optimistically and tear the wrapping paper to bits.

  "Yes—I knew it! It's about time!" Aaden shrieks, doing a happy dance.

  "A cell phone!" I dash to my dad and give him a bear hug. "Thank you!"

  "Now just remember, this is a trial," my dad warns. "If you two can't control your dialing and texting, you'll be saying goodbye to your cells again."

  ***

  As soon as the phone is out of the box and in my hands, I text Haley, Mel, Ashley, and Rachel:

  Merry Xmas! OMG—got

  a new cell! TG! TTYL!

  Later that night, while sugar plums dance in my head, I have the most amazing dream. Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood is holding mistletoe over my head. I lustfully admire his bulging bicep and demand that he put his strong arms tightly around me. We fall into a passionate kiss. All the while, in the background, Britney Taylor is roasting like chestnuts on an open fire.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Winter break goes by quickly, like all school breaks do. This time, though, I don't mind because I can't wait to enforce our Lipstick Lawbreaker plan. And more important, I can't wait to see Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood!

  "How was your break?" Matt asks as he walks me to my gym class.

  "Pretty good," I say. "The real question is, how was your break? Mr. Colorado snowboarder..." I nudge him flirtatiously while we weave through the crowded hallway.

  "The slopes were amazing. I didn't want to leave."

  "You mean you didn't even want to come home to see little ol' me?" I bat my eyelashes playfully.

  "Hmm..." He puts both hands up like a balance scale. "April, slopes, April, slopes, April ... Okay, you win!"

  "Phew!" I pretend to wipe sweat from my brow. "Okay, 'nother question..."

  "Sure, but just one." He smiles.

  I'm tempted to ask him to the spring formal. But, being that it's just January, I know that would be premature. Besides, I'm crossing my fingers that he'll ask me first. Instead, I ask what's been on my mind since homeroom. "How'd you get so tan in Colorado?"

  "A tanning bed."

  I stop in midwalk and repeat, "A tanning bed?"

  "Yeah. They had one at the resort. I had to even out the ski flush on my face. Everyone's gonna think I went to the beach."

  Oh, no! I'm turned off for a second. I can't like a fake baker. Girls going tanning is fine ... but guys? I have strict rules against liking metrosexuals. My theory is that no guy should take longer to get ready than I do. I try to sneak a peek at his eyebrows to see if he waxes them. This, indeed, is a huge deal breaker in my book. However, I don't get past the adorable glimmer in his green eyes. I fall deep into his stare and decide that I'll make a metrosexual exception for him regardless.

  "This is my stop," I say, pointing to the locker room. I briefly forget the dragon wench named Britney Taylor who awaits me. Matt and I stand grinning at each other awkwardly. Should I hug him? Would that be cheesy, desperate, uncomfortable ... or some other adjective that I can't think of while staring at his delicious lips?

  As I'm contemplating my next move, my arch-nemesis emerges from the locker room in her disgustingly tight gym clothes. Like a vulture, she immediately spots us and begins to make her way over.

  "Ewwww, Matt—don't waste your time with that lezza-saurus," Britney hisses, prancing toward us.

  "Shut up," I retort, embarrassed that that's the best comeback I can think of.

  She glares at me as she inches closer.

  I immediately turn my attention to Matt to gauge his reaction. I can tell he's trying not to stare at her cantaloupe boobage. I instantly grow jealous.

  "You should be with a real woman," she says enticingly with one hand on her hip and the other rubbing his chest.

  His pupils dilate, and he gets a sleazy dirty-old-man type of a grin on his face. A major flirt festival is developing before my eyes. I'm more jealous than ever. I can't take it anymore!

  "I'm sure Kyle would love to see this!" I snap.

  Britney stops what she's doing and twirls around.

  "Jealous much, April?" She snarls, sauntering past into the gymnasium.

  I watch Matt's eyes tune in to her perky butt.

  "You should get going, Matt; the bell's going to ring," I say, feeling defeated by a pair of melon boobs and a toned hind end.

  Grrrrrr. Once again, Britney has stolen my moment ... and all I can think about is implementing the Lipstick Lawbreaker plan.

  ***

  After stewing on my disdain for Britney for half of the day, by lunchtime I'm more than ready to begin our Lipstick Lawbreaker plan to dethrone her.

  "Today in gym, Ms. Hoops kicked Brit out of the volleyball game for aiming every serve at my head," I rehash as the girls and I sit down at our table.

  Rachel claps. "Good for Ms. Hoops! I love that little lady!"

  "And," I say, "Brit made another pass at Mr. Hottie-Body."

  "She has nerve. Why does she think she can get any guy she wants?" Ashley complains.

  "'Cause no one's ever said no," Melanie explains.

  "Except Troy Hoffman!" I remind them excitedly.

  We all look at Ashley. "Did you bring the letter?"

  "Of course! It's the only reason I wanted to come back to school today," she says, pulling the crisp sheet of paper from her bag. We all helped dictate the letter last week, and Ashley jumped at the chance to transcribe the fake Troy letter to paper.

  The girls and I glance around suspiciously, making sure no spying eyes are on us. When the coast is clear, we hover around the letter guardedly:

  BRITNEY,

  I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T BE WRITING THIS, BUT I CAN'T HELP HOW I FEEL. YOU'RE ALWAYS ON MY MIND, AND I'M HOPING YOU FEEL THE SAME WAY ABOUT ME. I KNOW WE'RE BOTH IN RELATIONSHIPS RIGHT NOW, AND I DON'T WANT TO HURT ANYBODY, BUT I HAVE TO FOLLOW MY HEART. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN ME. IF YOU ARE, AND WANT TO WRITE ME BACK, LEAVE YOUR REPLY IN LOCKER 223H. I'D LIKE TO KEEP THIS UNDER WRAPS FOR NOW, UNTIL WE FIGURE EVERYTHING OUT. I HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU SOON. UNTIL THEN, I'LL BE THINKING OF YOU.

  LOVE,

  TROY (AKA HOFF)

  I squirm excitedly on the plastic cafeteria chair. "Good job, Ashley! It really looks like a guy's handwriting!"

  "Thanks. It's called chicken scratch." She laughs.

  "His nickname at the end is perfect," Melanie adds.

  "Do you think Britney will be able to keep her mouth shut about this letter? That could blow the whole thing for us if she doesn't," Rachel points out.

  Melanie scans the letter again. "Troy's asking her to keep it under wraps, remember? She's obsessed with him. She'll do whatever he tells her."

  Smirking, I say, "If that's the case, maybe Troy should ask her to jump off a bridge in his next letter."

  Ashley nods, her brown eyes shining between her long eyelashes as she tucks the letter into a scented envelope. "Not a bad idea, Apes. I like that!"

  "Is that cologne?" Melanie asks, sniffing the envelope.

  Ashley nods. "I thought it was a nice touch."

  "Definitely," Rachel says. "We should slip it in her locker now while we know where she is."

  "Good idea," I agree. "Do you want to go while we all keep an eye on her here?"

  "Sure, I'll be right back." Rachel grabs the envelope and dashes out of the cafeteria. We watch Britney and her followers from afar. We look away for a minute when we notice Erin pointing to our table.

  "They're probably playing the Rank-a-Skank game," I say.

  "Well, we know we're all a five on that scale now," Melanie replies with a shrug.

  ***

  Ashley has class with Britney sev
enth period, and I can hardly wait for her to text me about it. First, however, I have to sit through Mr. Gonzales's lecture on Spanish pronouns. I catch Jessica looking at me; she smiles before I look away. Why is she acting so friendly lately? She has to be up to something.

  When the bell rings, I rush to my science class. I'm excited for two reasons: one being Ashley's text ... and the other being that I'm super curious to see if Delvin McGerk's makeover translates as well in person as it did on the Christmas card.

  I put my cell on vibrate and shove it in my front pocket as I sit down. Delvin strolls into class soon after. Surprisingly, I have to admit, he's definitely looking better these days. I mean, he's no A-list actor, but more like an awkward, halfWay-decent-looking stagehand. I only hope that his lopsided glasses are in a dumpster somewhere and not being worn by another fashion victim.

  "Hi, April Bowers!"

  Ah—yes. Same old Delvin.

  "Hi," I reply unenthusiastically.

  He stumbles on his untied shoes as he walks past my desk.

  Halfway through class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I wait until the teacher isn't looking to take a peek at Ashley's text:

  UR not gonna believe

  this. It's on her desk.

  She keeps reading it.

  LOL! I think she might

  B writing him bck now!

  Slipping the phone into my bag, I look around, smiling triumphantly. She's fallen for it—hook, line, and sinker! Delvin meets my eyes as I scan the room. He waves with a cheesy smile from across the class. Oh, no ... he thinks I'm smiling at him.

  It doesn't surprise me when he follows closely behind me as we're leaving class. I try to dart from him, but a varsity linebacker from the Penford football team blocks my escape.

  "Hey there," he attempts to say smoothly.

  "Hey. Nice new look, McGerk," I say, trying to be nice.

  "Y-You ... noticed?" he stutters elatedly.

  Of course I noticed; you got rid of ten pounds of metal from your teeth and Coke-bottle glasses the size of Detroit. In spite of the obvious, I decide to censor my response. "Yeah, I can hardly recognize you."

  He laughs, sounding like a donkey giving birth. "Thanks, Miss April Bowers."

  "Just call me April," I remind him for the three hundredth time.

  "Right." He nods.

  "Well, gotta go! Bye," I blurt, making a swift getaway around the corner, leaving him stuck behind the wide linebacker.

  I'm dying throughout eighth period, wondering if Britney has left a reply letter in locker 223H yet. I obsessively examine my cell for texts until my teacher yells at me to put it away.

  I finally get the text I've been waiting for when I'm walking to history class. This time it's from Rachel:

  Checked the locker &

  found letter.

  See U after school 2

  read it!

  ***

  The four of us crowd into Melanie's car after school. Guarding the letter, Rachel says, "Let's go somewhere else to read it. I don't want anyone seeing it."

  Mel drives to the gas station down the street, and Rachel reads Britney's response.

  Troy,

  I was so happy to get your letter. You're on my mind all the time too! I always thought you had feelings for me.I can tell by the way you look at me. I know we'd make a much cuter couple than you and Jamie.You deserve a girl who's as hot as you are Write back ASAP. I'll be waiting!

  Love,

  Brit

  "Barfo!" Rachel exclaims, putting her finger down her throat as she finishes.

  "She's so conceited!" Melanie fUmes.

  "It's no surprise that you love me; everyone does! I'm the hottest girl in the school, didn't you know? Write back ASAP. Love, Brit!" Ashley mimics in a bratty voice.

  "Can I see it? She didn't even mention Kyle!" I gasp, reaching for her letter.

  ***

  Later that evening, we have a Lipstick Lawbreaker meeting to create the next letter from fake Troy. We're bubbling with ideas.

  "Maybe we should take this in a whole new direction and leave her a really mean note from Troy," Rachel says. "That'll devastate her!"

  "No, no," I say. "If we stick it out with the love letters, the ending will be so much more rewarding."

  "True," Rachel agrees. "I just hate feeding her ego."

  Melanie scoffs. "Her ego is already fed by the air she breathes."

  "I still like April's idea of having Troy suggest that she jump off a bridge," Ashley says nonchalantly while doodling in a notebook.

  Eventually, we agree on a letter that (fingers crossed) will force Britney to talk crap about Jamie and Kyle:

  BRIT,

  I'M SO RELIEVED THAT YOU FEEL THE SAME WAY. JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER GUY IN THE SCHOOL, I'VE WANTED TO BE WITH YOU FOR A WHILE NOW. WE'D MAKE A HOT COUPLE. IT'S TOO SAD THAT WE'RE STUCK IN OUR RELATIONSHIPS. HOW SHOULD WE WORK AROUND THEM? DO YOU THINK I SHOULD BREAK UP WITH JAMIE? WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO BREAK UP WITH KYLE FOR ME? REMEMBER TO KEEP QUIET ABOUT EVERYTHING FOR NOW. IF I HAVE MY WAY, WE'LL BE TOGETHER SOON ENOUGH. I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR SACK FROM YOU.

  LOVE,

  HOFF

  ***

  It takes Britney a few periods to respond to the new letter the next day. We all gather in the school library to read it before heading to lunch.

  Dear Hoff,

  Of course you should dump Jamie! I've never liked her. No one does! No offense, but she's an undercover scag. Guys like you shouldn't be stuck with charity cases like her. As for Kyle, I don't want to be with him anymore, anyway, ties starting to annoy me. He'll just have to get over it. I promise this is our secret until the time is right. Write back soon.

  Love,

  Brit

  We all look at each other with our mouths hanging open.

  "Wow!" I say. "She let it all out!"

  Rachel cackles. "Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! The sea of evidence is building up around her ... Soon enough, she'll drown in it!"

  "Kyle and Jamie are gonna be livid when they get their hands on this!" Mel squeals.

  "We could probably close up shop right now with this letter," I say.

  "And stop the fun?" Ashley grins. "No way!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  By mid-January, Britney and "Hoff" have exchanged twenty-five letters, give or take. She has completely word-butchered Jamie and Kyle like we had hoped, but we're getting worried, because she seems to be frustrated with Troy. This is especially evident in her most recent letter:

  Hoff,

  I'm waiting on Kyle untill you dump Jamie. Why haven't you gotten rid of her yet? Also, I don't know why you hardly acknowledge me when I try to talk to you. I'm not desperate, so stop acting like you have all the time in the world to make what we have together public! Vm sick of keeping this a secret. You need to figure things out soon, or I'll take your letters to Jamie myself. You have my number, so CALL me.!

  —Brit

  "Look, she didn't use the L word at the end this time," Ashley points out.

  Shaking my head, I say, "Told you guys we should've stopped when she wrote the letter saying Jamie's fat and Kyle's boring."

  Melanie paces around my room nervously. "Okay, guys, we can't let her go to Jamie before we do," she says. "We'll have to make copies of her letters tonight and give them to Jamie and Kyle tomorrow."

  We all nod in agreement.

  "Girls, it's time to enforce Operation Destroy Britney Taylor!" I say. "This is what we've been waiting for..."

  ***

  The next day, we go to school with a couple important packages in tow. We skip the first half of lunch to deliver them. First, we slip fake Troy's last letter to Britney in her locker.

  BRITNEY,

  SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG, BUT I'M READY TO GO PUBLIC WITH OUR RELATIONSHIP. IN FACT, I WANT TO PROFESS MY LOVE FOR YOU THIS AFTERNOON! MEET ME ON THE FOOTBALL FIELD AFTER SCHOOL. I DON'T CARE WHO SEES US—INVITE THE WHOLE SCHOOL IF YOU WANT. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU, BEAUTIFUL.

  LOVE,<
br />
  HOFF

  Next, we drop the manila envelopes containing copies of Britney's incriminating letters into Jamie's and Kyle's lockers. Along with her letters, the envelopes also include a detailed explanation, an invitation to confront Britney this afternoon on the football field, and instructions to avoid her until then. If all goes well, she'll be waiting for Troy to profess his love when in reality, Jamie and Kyle will be professing their wrath.

  We're brimming with nerves and excitement once we've planted all of our evidence.

  "Do you think Britney will fall for it?" Melanie asks, biting her lip.

  "Of course she will; her arrogance won't allow her to think this is a prank," Rachel says confidently.

  We all look at each other, smiling spitefully as we walk to the cafeteria to finish out the rest of lunch.

  ***

  By ninth period, my palms are sweaty and my heart is racing like crazy. Ashley's seventh-period text had been really promising:

  Brit is digging her own

  grave. She's telling every 1 2 come 2 the

  football field after

  school! She's making it

  sound like some big

  event is gonna go

  down. LOL!

  But I'm still really nervous that things might go wrong. I prepare myself when the final bell rings. Fear sizzles in my throat as I make my way out into the jam-packed hallway. Everyone's bustling with gossip. Britney's random invites have erupted into curious rumors spreading rapidly throughout the halls.