The Lipstick Laws (24 page)

Although it makes me feel great to have friends who are willing to point out their flaws on my behalf, I'm still humiliated about what happened to me. I look down, feeling guilty for not feeling better.

Before I have time to say anything foolish, Melanie says, "We saved the best part for last. Mark, it's your turn."

My attention is immediately drawn to Mark, who's walking back from guarding the bathroom entrance. I look at the girls skeptically; they giggle when he begins to speak.

"So ... ah ... I guess you know my secret ... you know ... ah ... from the library..." he says, his face getting red.

I nod in acknowledgment, feeling unprepared for what's to come. He begins to unbutton his dress shirt. I shield my eyes as he takes it off, forgetting that my dress is drooping. I hear the girls whisper and laugh, and my curiosity cork pops. I take a peek and find Mark Rhinehart standing before me in a red lace bra and tuxedo pants.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim.

"I told you you're not the only one, April," Melanie states, trying to keep a straight face. "See, we all have secrets and imperfections. I bet everyone on that dance floor has something about themselves that they want to change or are trying to hide. Sure, most of our flaws weren't displayed in front of other people, but we're all prepared to go out like this—imperfections and all—and enjoy the formal with you."

"Well, all of us except for Mark," Ashley admits. "He'll get kicked out dancing in that getup."

Mark blushes while putting his white collared shirt back on. He then slips out of the bathroom, leaving me with the girls and the disturbingly humorous image of his chest cemented into my mind.

Melanie continues, "So don't let what Britney did ruin your night. She doesn't deserve to ruin your formal. You are beautiful—stacked bra or not!"

"And we love you!" Rachel adds, still hiking her dress up to show her ankles.

"Please come back out with us. We can put everything behind us and just have fun. Look, I'll even wear my Spanx over my head if it'll make you feel better!" Ashley says.

I don't know if I want to laugh or cry. I'm overwhelmed with emotion. I can't believe I was actually questioning whether these girls would be my friends if it weren't for our common loathing of Britney Taylor. They are true friends ... and I'd choose true friends over a size 34C chest any day.

They look at me anxiously, hoping I'll concede to going back onto the dance floor with them. After what they've done for me, I'm not going to let them down.

I glance down at my hopeless chest and ask, "Can you help me fix my dress?"

"You bet!" Mel leaps toward me. She takes a bobby pin out from her updo and motions for me to turn around. While she's adjusting the loose crisscross straps and fabric to fit my flat chest more snugly, someone enters the bathroom in a rush.

We look up, startled to see Jessica standing at the entrance, smiling breathlessly.

Rachel snaps, "Get out of here, Jessica! Lipstick Lawlords are not welcome!"

"But ... I'm not! I'm a Lipstick Lawbreaker now!" she responds earnestly, making her way closer to me and Melanie.

"What do you mean?" I scowl at her, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed again.

She holds up a silver thumbtack from one of the spring formal banners and smiles. "Let's just say Brit-brat Taylor isn't as curvy anymore, either. Go have a look."

Jessica points to the exit. Confused and intrigued, we all peer out from the bathroom at the chaotic scene on the dance floor. Britney is having a temper tantrum center stage. The front of her dress is streaming with water and she's grasping the top of it up while screaming like a psycho. Erin and Brianna are swarming around her frantically ... only to be met by curse words flying from Britney's mouth. As far as I can see, Matt Brentwood is nowhere in sight. I don't blame him; it seems like Britney's head is about to spin in circles.

"What happened?" the girls and I exclaim simultaneously.

Jessica smiles. "I popped her water bra."

"You didn't!" we say admiringly.

"I did!" Jess singsongs proudly, displaying the shiny thumbtack again.

"Brit's cleavage is fake?" I say, totally flabbergasted by this revelation.

"Yep. She's worn a water bra since seventh grade," Jess explains.

I shake my head, thinking this can't be true. "But, I saw her in a bikini ... and she looked perfect!"

Jessica laughs. "Her mom bought her water gel inserts to go in her bikini tops. Oops—looks like her big secret has suddenly leaked!"

I can't help but smile at the irony of this moment. Little did I know, Britney and I had more in common than I ever thought. All along, I've been putting her on this beauty pedestal ... thinking her body is completely flawless ... jealous of her cleavage ... wishing I had a chest like hers. Meanwhile, I've been envious of a water bra this whole time. Britney's a bosom sculptor just like me!

"I guess what goes around comes around! Karma just bit 'er in the butt ... I mean, boobs," I say, before bursting into uproarious laughter with the rest of the girls.

Feeling a heightened sense of euphoria once Britney and her followers leave the formal in a frenzy, I decide that it's time to celebrate with my friends, including our newest member of the Lipstick Lawbreakers.

We're dancing, laughing, and having a better time than I expected until someone taps my shoulder. I can recognize his cologne from anywhere. Abercrombie Fierce is a scent that sends me into ecstasy. However, the whole "Boobless Bowers" incident is still fresh in my mind, and I turn around with angst as I—adorned with my newly flattened chest—face Mr. Hottie-Body Brentwood.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asks over the DJ's music.

"Sure."

We walk to the closest wall to get some privacy. I cross my arms over my chest to hinder his view of the damage.

"I've been wanting to talk to you all night. You look gorgeous," he says with a smile.

What? He still thinks I look gorgeous after everything that went down? Does he not care that I'm flat as a chalkboard?

"Thanks," I say. "I've felt better."

"I'm sorry, April; you were right about her," he says expressively. "She shouldn't have done that to you."

I feel my face getting red just thinking about it. "Yeah, well, it wasn't a bucket of fun. It's not your fault, though. Honestly, I just want to forget about it."

"Ditto. I just want to forget about her. I feel like I haven't been myself since she asked me to this formal. She's been so obsessed with changing me, I don't even think she knows who I am."

"What do you mean?" I ask, relieved to depart from the Boobless Bowers topic.

"That girl has been trying to tell me what I can and can't do for the last month. She's a controlling nutcase."

"Yep, that's Britney," I say sympathetically. "She's crazy."

"She even got me to wax my eyebrows!
Wax my eyebrows!
Can you believe it? I don't even know how she talked me into it."

That's what looks different! My friends were right! I look at his freshly waxed eyebrows and shudder. She probably did that because she knows it's my pet peeve.

"I wouldn't make that a habit," I say.

"I don't plan on it. I'm staying away from hot wax and Britney from now on."

"You'll be much better off," I say. "She tries to change everyone around her to fit her crazy standards. She wants robots, not friends. It's pathetic."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Delvin McGerk sitting by himself, looking bored to pieces. He sees me and waves graciously. Then, like a racing comet, it hits me—oh my gosh, I've been just like Britney Taylor! I've used Delvin for selfish purposes just like Britney used Matt. I've tried to change and control everything about him just like Britney does to everyone. I've completely dismissed his feelings to make myself look and feel better. How can I be so stupid? How could I be so Brat-ney Taylorish? Guilt overwhelms me immediately.

I'm reeling with disgust for myself when I hear Matt asking me to dance to the slow song that's just come on. "So, what d'ya say? Wanna dance?"

The timing couldn't be worse. I want to feel him holding me, but I just can't dance with him knowing that Delvin is miserable in a corner because of me—especially after all he's done for me. I walked into this formal too much like Britney Taylor ... and I want to leave as April Bowers.

I may kick myself for this later, but with a newfound willpower that I would have never had an hour ago, I say, "I'd really love to, Matt, but I already have a date. I'm sorry. I should dance with him."

And then, without a second thought, I leave Matthew Brentwood wanting more. I've been chasing Mr. Hottie-Body all year. It's about time for him to start chasing me. A girl has to play hard to get sometimes. After all, guys like a challenge, right?

As I approach Delvin, I feel all the negativity that's surrounded me this last year melt away. A rush of positive energy paints a smile on my face.

"Come here often?" I say to him with a cheesy grin.

"I-I thought you ditched me. I thought for sure I'd be driving home alone," he says.

Teasing playfully, I say, "Well, let's see, if you're a good dancer, maybe I'll let you escort me back home in your
new
Camaro."

He jumps to his feet. "Are you asking me to dance, April Bow—" He covers his mouth instantly and looks at me like he's ruined his chances. "Sorry, I know I'm not supposed to say your full name in informal conversations."

"Don't worry about it, McGerk. It's kind of catchy. I don't mind anymore. April Bowers it is. Now let's do this thing before we miss the song," I say, pulling him to the middle of the dance floor.

It turns out Delvin's a decent dancer ... and he's actually pretty funny when I'm not trying to pick him apart. The formal turns out to be a blast. I don't think about Britney Taylor or the Lipstick Laws for the rest of the night. I'm surrounded by people who love me—true friends ... and yes, now that I've put Delvin through the wringer and he still talks to me, I consider him a friend, too.

It's crazy, but I'm not even sure that anyone (other than the witnesses of the Boobless Bowers incident) noticed my new flat look. I think I was making my sesame seed chest into a way bigger issue than it ever should have been. The people who matter don't care what size bra I wear ... and the people who do care ... well, I guess they don't matter. I wasted way too many tissues over the last couple years being a 34C-obsessed bosom sculptor—and I think that now it's more important to focus on being me.

When Delvin pulls into my driveway at the end of the night, I'm positive that the whole neighborhood has been awakened by the screeching of his brakes.

He puts the car in park, and I grab his digital camera.

"How 'bout a picture to end the night?" I suggest.

"Really?" He smiles.

"Yeah, say cheese!" I say, putting my head next to his, smiling for the flash.

We take a few more pictures before I decide that it's time to go inside. I reach for the door handle.

"No, no ... wait. I wouldn't be any gentleman at all if I let you get out on your own. Stay right there," Delvin says. He scurries out the driver's side and around the car to open my door for me.

"Thanks," I say, accepting his hand to help me out.

He walks me up to the door, and we stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Delvin."

"Me too," he says, inching closer.

I know he wants a kiss ... and no, I'm not going to
make out
with Delvin McGerk ... but I
do
decide to kiss him on the cheek. His eyes stay closed for a moment after my peck. His face lights up, and we both smile clumsily.

"Well," he says, "I guess I should let you get inside for the night. Thanks for being a great date."

"No—thank
you!
" I say genuinely.

And then, after a goodbye hug, I walk into my house, where I'm met by a beeping cell phone. A text message from Matt appears:

Can I get a rain check
4 that dance?
I'd
LOVE
2 see
U
tomorrow!

Smiling to myself, I realize that it's definitely better to be wanted than to be the one wanting. And with that, I go to bed a proud Lipstick Lawbreaker and an ex-bra-stuffer.

Writing isn't always a solitary feat, especially when there's a group of
encouraging people cheering you on. It's a delight to be able to extend
special thanks to those who have helped me the most:

Mom and Dad, your unwavering support and faith in my aspirations
and talents make me believe that my hard-to-reach goals are reachable.
You've given me unconditional love from day one, and for this, I am
lucky and forever grateful.

Todd, thank you for helping me on my road to publication. I am
eternally thankful for all you've done, and for the many laughs you've
provided me through the years.

Kim, your positivity is infectious and your pep talks are unparalleled.
Thank you for never letting me doubt myself.

Mike, you've believed in me and my dreams since we met.
I will always remember and appreciate your encouragement.

To the many family members, friends, special teachers, and fellow
writers who remain nameless here, I will always be thankful for your
positive presence in my life.

I also want to send a huge thank you to the wonderful people at
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for acquiring and guiding my manuscript
to publication. This is especially relevant to my amazing editor, Julia
Richardson. Your guidance and enthusiasm have made the publishing
process both enlightening and enjoyable.

Finally, I'd like to thank
you
(the reader) for choosing to read this book.

I hope you enjoy it and I'd love to hear from you!
www.amyholder.com