The Lipstick Laws

by Amy Holder

  "It's a surprise concert. I've seen them do that on MTV."

  "I bet Mr. Stuart's having a satanic ritual out there."

  "It's a fight. No doubt."

  "It's probably just a senior prank."

  "I heard someone's blowing up a junker car out there."

  I quickly pass through all the rumors and meet the girls at Melanie's locker. The four of us file out the parking lot doors with a bunch of anxious schoolmates. The cold winter air takes my breath away as we walk toward the football field. Our shoes leave trails through the thin dust of snow covering the parking lot. There's already a large group of people gathered on the sideline. Britney's big mouth has made the prospect of spying easy for us. We merge into the middle of the students, crossing our fingers for a fantastic show.

  "I don't see her." My warm breath dawdles through the chilly air.

  "There she is!" Melanie points to a blonde in the middle of the endless stream of curious students making their way to the field.

  "She's armored with the Lipstick Lawlords," Rachel says as Britney reaches the field surrounded by Erin, Brianna, and Jessica. Britney shoos her loyal followers to join the mob of onlookers and walks to the center of the field. The girls and I creep farther into the mix, to ensure that we won't be spotted by Brit or her Lawlord crew.

  Looking eager, Britney tugs her Burberry scarf back and forth while scanning the mob for her Prince Charming. She smiles at the crowd, seemingly pleased with the large turnout.

  "Aw—how sweet! You're all here for me?" She giggles, waving like a princess acknowledging peons.

  "If things go as planned, she won't be smiling for too much longer," Ashley whispers to us.

  The swarm of observers chatters.

  "What's Britney Taylor doing out there?"

  "Is she the show?"

  "Maybe she's gonna strip!"

  A group of meatheads begin to cheer, "Take it off! Take it off!"

  Britney shoots them a dirty look. "Settle down, boys; Troy's not going to like that."

  Within minutes, I spot Kyle and Jamie making their way to the field, camouflaged by straggling students.

  "Look!" I point excitedly. "They're coming! And it looks like they're holding the letters!"

  I can hardly contain myself when Britney notices them approaching. Her wide smile slowly disintegrates as they march closer and closer, looking furious.

  Kyle strides up to her with his body rigid with anger and his eyebrows furrowed.

  "I'm boring?" he growls. "Not as hot as Troy? The only good thing I have going for me is my parents' money?"

  Britney stares at him like a deer in headlights.

  The girls and I try to hold back laughter. The rest of the audience grows silent, anticipating the drama.

  He moves closer to her. "You think I'm annoying, do you?"

  She rolls her eyes and looks away.

  "You want Troy?" he shouts, throwing the letters above her like confetti.

  She brushes her hair off and snaps, "God, Kyle! You're such a girl. Get over it!"

  He cringes with rage. "You can have Troy, Brit! You wanna know why?"

  "Um... 'cause you can't stop me?"

  He scoffs. "Nope! More like because I don't want your flat ass anymore! You're not half as great as you think you are!"

  "Flat ass is right!" someone from the crowd jeers.

  Rachel, Mel, Ashley, and I cover our mouths to choke back the giggles.

  Kyle shakes his head and continues, "You're in for a big surprise! And don't come runnin' back to me when Troy disses you!"

  "You wish," Brit mumbles conceitedly.

  He turns to storm off and bellows, "She's all yours, Bradshaw, give 'er hell!"

  Britney's eyes grow wide with dread when confronted with Jamie's death stare.

  "Do these look familiar, Brit-brat?" Jamie points to the letters. Laughter at Britney's new nickname radiates through the crowd.

  "Bradshaw is pissed!" a guy on the sideline yells with surprise. Jamie Bradshaw was voted friendliest in last year's yearbook. Everyone is shocked to see her looking so mad.

  Britney backs up uncomfortably.

  "So Britney, I'm fat, ugly, and an undercover scag? I'm a charity case, am I?"

  Looking around nervously for support, Britney stutters, "I—I—I just—"

  Jamie cuts her off mockingly. "You—you—you're just better than me, right?"

  Brit, annoyed with Jamie's sarcasm, resumes her usual cocky stance and mutters, "Glad you're admitting it."

  The mob absorbs the drama with quiet gasps and whispers. Melanie grabs my hand, squeezing it firmly.

  "You bitch!" Jamie explodes.

  "Jamie, don't hate me because your boyfriend wants me," Britney taunts, curling her long locks around her manicured finger.

  "Troy wants you? It's more like you want him!" Jamie circles around her, irate. "And, news flash, you're not gonna get him."

  "Just deal with it, Jamie! He wants to dump you. I'm surprised he hasn't already," Britney says.

  "Dump me for you?" Jamie laughs. "Troy thinks you're a whining, stuck-up little brat!"

  Britney looks at her nail beds nonchalantly. "Right, Jamie, don't you wish?"

  "Wish it? I know it! Who's the one that's dated him for two years?"

  Britney rolls her eyes. "Not for much longer. He'd rather be with me."

  "Who here would rather date Brit-brat Taylor over me?" Jamie asks the mobbed audience.

  Silence.

  Britney glares at her Lipstick Law followers with disapproval. "Thanks for the support, guys!" she shrieks, sending them into a panicked frenzy. She turns back to Jamie, pointing at the pack of letters she's gripping. "Don't ask the crowd, ask Troy! It shouldn't be a surprise to you ... Obviously you read our letters!"

  Jamie shoves the letters in her face. "Don't you realize this isn't even Troy's handwriting? You're such an idiot! Someone made a fool of you!"

  The crowd laughs.

  "Yes, it is!" Britney insists, grabbing the letters.

  "Read them all you want," Jamie hisses while pulling out a water bottle from her bag. "You wouldn't know what his handwriting looks like because you've never seen it!"

  The color drains from Britney's face as she begins to doubt the authenticity of the letters. While she inspects them feverishly, Jamie inches closer to her, twisting the cap off of the bottle of water.

  "Since you think you're so hot ... I'd like to help you cool down," she announces, dumping the water over Britney's head.

  Brit lets out a bloodcurdling scream. She immediately throws a toddler tantrum in the middle of the field, ripping the letters into shreds and screeching like a maniac. Her loyal followers run to console her while Jamie struts away victoriously. Ironically, the large crowd Britney enticed to the field has turned on her, heckling hysterically.

  My mouth drops open; the girls and I jump up and down excitedly—trying not to miss the action over the riled-up crowd around us. This has gone better than any of us could have ever imagined.

  "I'm soaking wet! Get me a towel!" Britney screams, spitting water from her lips. Brianna takes off her Fendi scarf and surrenders it to wipe off Brit's dripping wet hair and jacket. She immediately stains it with the dark eye makeup that's running down her face.

  Britney's attention quickly pans to the once welcome crowd watching her embarrassing display from the side of the field. "What are you jackasses looking at?"

  "A wet rat!" someone calls out from the middle of the group.

  Someone else yells, "An ugly, wet Brit-brat rat!"

  The crowd bursts into laughter. Britney's big brown eyes swell with wrath. The girls and I laugh so hard, we have to huddle together to keep each other from falling down.

  Seething, Britney stomps up to the parking lot, with her trusty followers scrambling behind her. Her mouth drops in horror as she watches Jamie climb into Troy's truck.

  Troy rolls down the window and yells, "In your dreams, Taylor!"

  Britney kic
ks a small patch of snow at the truck as it speeds away. "I never wanted you anyway! You'll be bald by thirty!" She then turns to Erin and yells, "Don't just stand there like an orange dolt! Get your car, and let's get the hell out of here!"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Even though the fake Troy sting couldn't have gone any better on the football field a couple weeks ago, and half the school is shunning Brit-brat Taylor like the plague, the girls and I are just a tad let down that no one's figured out that it was our genius plan behind the chaos.

  "I can't believe she doesn't even suspect us," I say, disappointed as we browse at Eastview Mall.

  "Why are you surprised? She has the brain of a marshmallow," Ashley says.

  "A melted marshmallow," Rachel adds.

  "Speaking of marshmallows, look! It's five-for-three at Mrs. Fields!" Melanie points to the cookie nook.

  "Craving sugar again, Mel?" I say, referring to Mel's undying sweet tooth.

  She joins the short line of fellow cookie-cravers and smiles back at me. "What can I say? TOM is in town."

  We follow her to the sugar haven.

  "That creeper drives you to sugar rampages every month," Ashley says.

  "Periods suck ... period," Mel says, inspecting the delicious morsels behind the glass counter.

  I change the subject. "Hey, Ashley, does Britney still think it was Brandon Smith?"

  "As far as I can tell. She thinks Brandon didn't want Kyle dating her anymore. I guess she and Brandon got in an argument shortly before the first fake Troy letter appeared. I overheard her telling Erin that she'd like to strangle him in his sleep."

  We shake our heads in disbelief.

  "Brandon has a hard enough time passing his classes; he could never pull off an elaborate hoax like that," Rachel says.

  "I almost want to tell her," Melanie says after placing her cookie order.

  "I know," I agree. "Half the fun of pulling something like that off is taking credit for it afterward."

  "And getting the praise," Ashley adds. "I mean, we made dreams come true for countless Brat-ney Taylor haters!"

  "And there are millions of them," I confirm.

  Melanie peers into her cookie buffet bag happily.

  "You going to share?" we ask.

  "Of course, but I get two."

  "Remember Lipstick Law Three, Melanie! You better watch it!" Ashley teases, flipping her long dark hair like Britney. Her shiny highlights reflect the lighting above.

  Mel laughs. "If I were still following those, I would've been kicked out four pounds ago."

  "If we were still following those, we'd be in strict violation of our MPOA right now," I say, pointing to the "restricted" food court area.

  ***

  By the middle of February, we decide that we have to take credit where credit is due. The school has been buzzing over who was behind the Britney Taylor freak show ... and we can't let Brandon bask in the glory any longer.

  We begin our admission-of-guilt plan by purchasing a sympathy card that reads:

  When times of sorrow fall upon good people you

  know that you can depend on your friends

  to help get you through.

  We scribble out the wordsgood and friends and replace them with STUCK-UP and LIPSTICK LAWS. The girls and I gather in my bedroom, where our midnight black lipstick emerges from hiding after a short hibernation period. The four of us giggle deviously as we sign the card under its text with our Lipstick Lawbreaker smooches. Ashley pens a nice note in fake Troy's handwriting on the blank side of the card, opposite our kisses:

  DEAREST BRIT-BRAT,

  WE'RE SO SORRY THINGS DIDN'T WORK OUT BETWEEN YOU AND HOFF. YOU MAY NOT HAVE HIM. BUT REMEMBER, YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE THE LIPSTICK LAWS!

  KISSES,

  THE LIPSTICK LAWBREAKERS

  "I wish I could see her face when she reads this," Melanie says as we approach her locker to make our confession deposit.

  Rachel reaches the card to the top of Britney's locker. She hesitates before taking the plunge. "This might start a Lipstick war."

  The rest of us assert, "Do it!"

  She slips the card into the locker vent, which we've found doubles as a perfect mail slot. We prepare for battle the rest of our lunch period.

  ***

  In the middle of Spanish class, I notice Jessica reading a text on her cell. She gasps loudly, making Señor Gonzales jump at the chalkboard.

  "Problemo, Jessica?" he asks.

  "No ... no, Señor."

  She looks over at me when he turns back around. I smile at her.

  She mouths, "Did you?"

  I know what she's talking about, yet I can't help but pretend that I don't understand. "What?" I mouth dramatically.

  She whispers, "Did you set Brit up?"

  "Set Brit up?" I shrug my shoulders, looking confused.

  She rolls her eyes and mutters softly, "You know what I'm talking about."

  Shaking my head, I whisper, "No comprendo..."

  Once class is over, Jessica follows me out to confront me in the hallway.

  "Were you behind the Troy letters?"

  "Me? Behind them? No. In front of them ... well, that's a different story," I say sarcastically.

  "Did you set up the whole football field episode too?" she asks with her hand perched aggressively on her size zero hip.

  "Did Britney put tampons on my locker and a huge hole in the crotch of my favorite jeans?" I say back curtly.

  She stares at me quizzically, tucking her shiny black hair behind her ears.

  "The answer's yes," I admit. "But I wasn't the only one."

  "Melanie Elmer?" Jessica inquires with narrowed eyes.

  "Ashley Mitchell and Rachel Johnson, too. We mustn't forget them," I say in a patronizing tone, looking down on her domineeringly.

  Jessica looks completely stunned. Her golden glow turns pale. Slipping her hands into the pockets of her True Religion jeans, she rocks her petite body to and fro. She looks around nervously, as if she doesn't know who to trust anymore.

  "What?" I say. "You Lipstick Lawlords didn't think we could pull something like that off?"

  "I just ... I just," she utters quietly.

  I'm amused by her speechlessness.

  "You just what?"

  Her dark eyes pan up and down over me, clearly reevaluating my aptitude. "I just thought you were too nice to do something like that."

  "Too nice?" I repeat, put off by her response.

  "Well, yeah. You always seemed nice ... all of you," she reiterates.

  Is she mocking me or being sincere? I can't tell, and it's aggravating me.

  I glower. "If you thought we were so nice, why didn't you side with us in the first place?"

  "Because..." She pauses, looking down. "Well, I don't know."

  "Don't talk to me again until you figure that out, Jessica!" I say, walking away briskly.

  ***

  Within a couple weeks, the majority of appreciative classmates have affectionately crowned us the Con Queens, which Melanie insists is a much more prestigious title than prom queen. Our newfound popularity comes as a surprise, mainly because I never realized just how many people detested Britney Taylor. I mean, I always knew she was loathed by a decent amount of people ... but I had no clue that the Brat-ney Taylor hate club was swarming with members. The girls and I have been immersed with thank-yous, rounds of standing applause, and genuine butt-kissing. We're suddenly propelled out of the misfit-dom that the Lipstick Laws tried to sentence us to. The one person that I care about, however, has a different perspective.

  "I just think it's all pretty shady." Matt frowns as we poke our way through the jammed hallway.

  I study his face to see if he's joking. He's not.

  "Matt, you just don't understand—she's evil! She totally deserved it!"

  "She's not evil, April ... but even so, what about the others?" he asks.

  "What others?"

  "Like Kyle, Troy, and Jamie. Those others."


  "Oh. Ummm ... what about them?" I say.

  "Well, did you guys think about what they'd think of all this?"

  I bite my lip apprehensively.

  "I don't mean to put a damper on your new royal status," he says. "But I'm sure it had to suck for them."

  "Ummm..." I pause, considering the fact that he definitely has a point. Feeling bad, I say, "Well, no ... I guess we didn't really think about that."

  I wrinkle my face into a nonverbal oops. I feel his disapproving eyes sucking out my sinful soul.

  "But, I'm sure they don't mind." I try to minimize the situation. "It was the only way to show her true colors. They're probably thankful like the rest of the school."

  I look at him for some reassurance. Instead, I'm sucker-punched with silence. I have a nagging feeling that this means he won't be asking me to the spring formal anytime soon.

  "I talked to Kyle yesterday," I fib. "He thanked me."

  "As long as you're cool with it," Matt says cynically as we part for class.

  Crap, is he siding with Brat-ney? This isn't good.

  Several students salute and bow to me when I enter the classroom. I smile awkwardly as I sit down at my art table. Sure, the Lipstick Lawbreakers may be hailed as underdog heroes now, but what good is that if I can't share our success with Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood? I can barely concentrate throughout class.

  Mrs. Duffy makes me an example, commenting on my use of dark paint colors and jerky hand movements. "See, class, painting can be great therapy!"

  ***

  Later that night I call Haley. She was more than delighted to find out how successful our Lipstick Lawbreaker plan had been, and has insisted on being given regular updates since. Of course, I immediately tell her about my weird conversation with Matt today.

  "Do you think he likes her?"

  "I don't know. It kind of seemed that way," I say gloomily.

  "Why would he be concerned with Troy, Jamie, and Kyle? He's not friends with them, is he?"

  "No, it's like he was trying to make me feel guilty ... and it worked. He's probably working for Britney now. I bet she hypnotized him with her large chestoid," I grumble, blowing a curl from my face.