The Aristobrats (5 page)

When in doubt, buy lipstick.

Some people might eat an entire box of Hostess 100 Calorie Twinkie Bites when they were feeling blue, or lounge around for days in Juicy velours. For the Lylas however, there was only one thing to do at a time like this: try on makeup at World of Beauty. Somehow everything always seemed better at the cosmetics counter. More, you know,
beautiful
.

“
Why?
” Kiki groaned in front of the mirror. “
Whyyy?
”

She wiped hot pink lipstick off her lips with a cotton ball dipped in makeup remover. It was the tenth or eleventh one she'd tried on. The residue of colors still hung around her swollen lips. It looked like she'd been kissing Popsicles.

“I think it's some kind of sick punishment,” Parker said.

“She hates me, that's for sure,” Plum said.

“Something we did in a past life maybe.” Ikea thought.

“This is worse than detention,” Plum said. “Detention doesn't last forever.”

“My life is over,” Kiki added to the cringe-fest.

“Urrrgh!!!” Parker tried not to scream her head off even though she wanted to (that generally should be done in private, two pillows over the face, inside the closet, behind some coats).

“I know. It's heinous…” Kiki whined. “
Beastly
.”

“Pure torture,” Plum agreed.

Kiki showed everybody the sleek, electric, self-curling, Anastasia mascara wand she'd been holding in her hand since they got there. It was the floor model and said “Try Me” on the side. It was the only one in the store. Honestly, the wand looked a little sweaty.

“This is absolutely
exactly
the mascara wand I've been looking for my whole entire life,” Kiki lamented. “And Anastasia discontinued it!” she gushed. “
Why?
Why would you discontinue something so totally ultra-smash? It's complete and total crap. Pure torture—I agree with Plum.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.” Parker tried to be sympathetic. And she was. She really was. “But we were talking about the webcast assignment.”

Kiki looked up. Her eyes were rimmed in the smudgy black of five different kinds of mascara. “Oh yeah,” she remembered. “That's really beastly too.”

With that, they walked silently down the eye shadow aisle. Zillions of tempting colors sparkled from their trays. Parker tried to get in the World of Beauty mood but she just couldn't. She pictured the Lylas sitting around in the dark studio with James Hunter and McDweebs Schlaterman. It was such a terrible waste.

“Can't we make up a new rule or something today?” Plum asked. “Like gladiator sandals are so out? Something like that?”

“I don't feel like it,” Parker said as she opened up a multicolor eye shadow palette then clipped it shut again.

“But gladiator sandals
are
so out, Park.” Kiki backed Plum up.

Ikea pulled out a clear Lip Venom and dabbed a teeny bit on her lips. “You know there's only one new black person at school?” She sighed as she coated the gloss on thickly and looked in the mirror.

“There's an Indian kid, I think,” Plum told her.

“Two Chinese,” Parker reminded her.

“An Italian,” Plum remembered.

“That doesn't count!” Ikea frowned. “Owww!” She yelped as the Lip Venom kicked in. She twisted the top back on the tester and shoved it back in its spot. “There's so much pressure on me to be perfect, you guys!” She wiped the evil lip junk off with a Kleenex and threw it away in the garbage, and then looked in the mirror to check and make sure the damage wasn't permanent. “You have to be perfect when you're black.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “Perfect at everything.”

“There's nothing wrong with being perfect, Ike.” Parker put her arm around Ikea. She had no idea what it was like to be Ikea Bentley but she knew what it was like to be Parker Bell. She knew what pressure felt like.

“I wish I was as perfect as you,” Plum said.

“No you don't.” Ikea closed her eyes and pressed her hands over them.

The Lylas waited for a minute until Ikea felt better enough to start walking around again. Parker ran her finger along a row of eye pencils and wondered what Tribb was doing right that second. She wondered if he was thinking about her too.

Plum picked up a tester and smoothed some Minx Glimmer over her right eye with a Q-tip. Her left eye was already done, only it was a completely different color—Acid Rain. Ikea used the tip of her finger to smooth on a layer of Pale Ocean to match her eye color. Kiki just moped around in the mascara wand aisle with her face of many colors. When Kiki got on a serious whinge-binge like that, there was just no stopping her. They were all trying to process. Or avoid processing, whichever they each did better.

Plum sprinkled some iridescent sparkle powder on Parker's cheeks. “There,” she said like that made it all better, like a little glimmer of makeup might give them their lives back.

But even World of Beauty couldn't make anything seem beautiful to Parker. They were the producers of
Wallingford Academy Today
. All the beauty had been sucked from her life. Royally.

***

“
How was school today?
” Ellen Bell stood outside the bathroom, attempting to communicate to Parker through the locked door.

“Fine.” Parker was too bummed out for any more syllables than that, and certainly too bummed out for eye contact. She'd been in the bathtub for over an hour and it was nearly bedtime. Her fingers were all pruny and her ballet pink pedicure wasn't looking all that ballet anymore. Parker wondered how long a person could actually stay in a bathtub without completely turning to mush. Like that girl who stayed up in that tree all year in protest—couldn't Parker just stay in the tub? Couldn't
she
protest the injustice? Her friends could bring her food, and the toilet was right there.

“Are you liking all your classes?” Ellen asked.

“Yes.” Parker gave the simple answer. Why wasn't her mother taking the hint and leaving her alone?

But that was the thing about mothers—they always knew when you wanted them to go away and that's exactly when they stuck around and kept bugging you.

“Death Breath still handing out yellow slips?” Ellen asked.

“Yup.”

“I'm sure the new sweater was
fabulouz
as you girls say.”

“Yeah.”
Fabulouz.

“I've been at Siddie's all day,” Ellen rambled. “Some company rented out his house for the location of their new catalog, and I needed to move out a bunch of stuff. I think Sid just likes having people at the house. He certainly doesn't need the money.”

There was a long pause. Parker took a deep breath and dove under the water. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling through the shimmery stillness. She tried to drown out her thoughts with tub water. Tub water and a packet of Aveeno Bath Therapy that floated on the surface in bubbly chunks.

Parker couldn't hold her breath any longer. She popped up to the surface and gulped in the air.

“So you're trying to get the most out of school no matter what, right?” Ellen asked the loaded question.

“M'hm.”
Oh yeah. Sure was.
Parker moved the warm water around in the tub with her hands.

“Great,” Ellen said. “I can't wait to hear all about it.”

Parker finally heard her mother walk back downstairs to put away the dishes in the kitchen. Cupboards open and closed. The coffee maker was set up for the morning. Parker grabbed a towel off the rack (Egyptian cotton, folded in thirds or else) and wiped her face. The outside lights turned off. The ice maker made ice cubes. Everything in the house went to sleep.

Despite the horror of their predicament, the Lylas bagsied the good table, as in
the
Good Table: West Alcove, by the windows, under the clock in the cafeteria. And Parker sat in
the
Best Chair at
the
Best Table: wall side, slightly off center, a view of everyone. She pushed around the macaroni and cheese on her plate and tried to think of a plan.

There were Super-Screens extending the length of the wall opposite their table. Joan of Arc was the theme of the day and the three-dimensional image across from them was of the young martyr tied to a tall pillar with flames lapping at her feet. It wasn't the most appetizing of themes for school lunch (most weren't) but the Lylas had had to witness all kinds of cruelty to finally earn their spot at the numero uno table. How bad was a little more gore?

There were only three tables in the West Alcove and you didn't dare sit there if you weren't A) in eighth grade, B) in the upper forth to fifth percentile of the populadder, or C) Kenneth Accolola. Kenneth got to sit there because he was Kiki's bezzie guy friend. He'd never be in the mainstream of Wallingford but it elevated his status by
a lot
. Kenneth was kind of a West Alcove mascot.

Kenneth flipped through the pages of
Us
and stopped on the “Who Wore it Better” page. He had his hand covering the answer. “Which one do you think, Keeks?”

Parker took a peek. She honestly thought neither celebrity looked very good.

“I'm going to say…
Amanda
wore it better,” Kiki pointed to the celebrity on the left, “but that's not because I actually think Amanda wore it better…it's so obvy that Megan wore it better and that pairing that top with boyfriend-jeans is such a cringe…” Kiki chewed on the end of a carrot stick and waved it around like a Genius Pen. “But I think the sign of a true trendsetter like
moi
…and
vous,
Kenneth,” she added, “is that people as in tune as we are always get it wrong.” She crunched. “I think Megan wore it better, which definitely means
Us
mag picked Amanda.”

Kenneth lifted his hand to reveal the answer. Kiki was correct. “You're so brilliant it makes me sick.”

“I understand the audience,” Kiki gloated.

“And she snaps her fingers in a
Z
formation!” Kenneth congratulated Kiki with a fancy wave and a snap.

Kiki finished her carrot stick proudly.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…” Ikea pointed around the room.

“Stop counting white people, Ikea,” Parker said. She regretted her lunch choice. She should have gone to the salad bar.

“I've lost count anyway.” Giving up all hope, Ikea leaned on her European history book and finished her iced tea.

Sitting in the Good Chair at the Good Table, it was easy to pretend they were just having a normal lunch: Plum was adding a bikini top and cleavage to her self portrait, Kiki and Kenneth were playing “Guess the Designer” with everyone's handbags in the lunchroom, and Ikea was taking affirmative action while picking the tomato slices off her turkey sandwich. But Parker couldn't stop thinking about the true terribleness ahead given their new roles as the Ambassadors of Bleh. The depress-fest was never-ending.

She could see Allegra and the Einsteins looking for a place to sit down. Allegra squinted through her thick glasses at the Lylas like she was plotting some serious revenge. Plum squinted back, protecting the whole table with her unique eyeball powers. Allegra. Plum. Allegra. Plum. A few more minutes of this and the entire lunchroom could have exploded.

“Shouldn't we ask them to, you know, sit with us, Park?” Ikea said it like it was the last thing on Earth she wanted to do but would do it anyway because that was a Rule. “Champions of the under-popular
,
and that kind of stuff?”

Parker thought about it but not so hard that she ruined any brain cells or anything.

“Maybe Allegra doesn't want to sit here,” Parker said with a forkful of pudding. “The West Alcove can be a really intimidating place for most people.”

“Yeah,” Ikea agreed. “She'd probably feel better about herself in the main room.”

They all nodded. They knew they were breaking a rule, or at least bending one, but there was a humongous difference between underpopular and painfully boring.

“Hey.” Tribb stopped by the Good Table with Beaver and Kirby.

Plum quickly put her busty portrait away and gave Parker the secret signal for: “There's something in your tooth…no
that
tooth.”

Tribb looked even cuter than he had last week. Fall Social was still two months away, but Parker could already picture it. Tribb would show up at her house and she wouldn't quite be ready. He'd wait patiently at the bottom of the stairs like guys do in the movies. His heart would tumble when he finally saw her. He'd promise to bring her home by curfew but they'd still take a few extra minutes at the door.
Dot dot dot…
He'd look so unbelievably good in a tux, she thought. They'd look so good together.

“Hey,” Parker said, discreetly scratching her right front tooth with her pinky. Mental note:
mani-pedi redo ASAP.
Second mental note:
think of more clever response to “Hey” than “Hey.”

Tribb leaned on the back of Parker's chair. She was only inches away from him. He smelled like Outdoor Fresh fabric softener sheets, which was like the ultimate thing a guy should smell like. (It was even on her EGB checklist she'd made last year, along with “dimple” and “taller than she was.”)

“You coming to watch practice today?” Tribb asked her. At least two members of the Lylas, and possibly Kenneth Accolola, kicked Parker under the table. She didn't flinch but she could possibly have a bruise tomorrow.

“Don't you have a
Wallingford Academy Today
production meeting this afternoon, Park?” Courtney Wallace was standing right next to them with her lunch tray. She asked the question pleasantly, like she and Parker were second-besties or something. Courtney had always thought Tribb should be
her
EGB because they carpooled to St. Edmund's skating classes together in, like, second grade. And as Courtney had expressed on numerous occasions (though Parker had never asked her opinion), she and Tribb were more suited to each other. But everyone knew that prior to sixth, nothing counted toward EGB. And the “suited” thing was a Courtney-only opinion. Kiki even explained that to Courtney in great detail in the form of an anonymous letter that appeared in the change pocket of Courtney's Vuitton folio wallet one morning.

The following Tuesday afternoon the vote came in on Courtney's petition to be one of the Lylas. Courtney Wallace would never be a Lyla, it was agreed. And Tribb would never be her EGB.

“Hey, Tribb,” Courtney said as she twirled a pierce of her hair around her thumb.

“Hey.”

“Why, we
do
have a
Wallingford Academy Today
production meeting, Courtney,” Parker replied politely. “And that was so super-great of you to remind us. Thanks…” she said.

Courtney's new headband, Parker noticed, matched her new tote.
And she was wearing a colorful macramé bracelet, which was so two-thousand-and-late. Courtney
knew
that macramé bracelets had been replaced by silver friendship rings (even though she hadn't gotten one). What was she thinking?

Parker's mouth was following the rules but her head was not. Her head was saying a whole bunch of other stuff to Courtney Wallace that was against a lot of rules. And not just Lylas ones. “But I can't
imagine
a production meeting is going to last so long that we can't come to at least the last part of practice,” she said. “And the last part is really the best part. Right, Tribb?” Parker put her hand so close to Tribb's that they almost touched.

“Yeah.” Tribb nodded. “For shiz.”

Of course he totally agrees with me. That's the way boyfriends are.

“Double smiley face then!” Courtney shrugged and walked over to a table. “Oh, and I can't wait to see what the Lylas do with that webcast thingy,” Courtney added from her spot. “I'm sure it'll be très cute.”

“Thanks,” Parker said with as much enthusiasm as possible (which was exactly zero). “We can't wait either.”

“Is she being aggressive-passive, or what?” Kiki asked Kenneth under her breath.

Kirby leaned in and put his hand casually on the back of Plum's chair, just like Tribb had done with Parker. He didn't look nearly as cool though. He looked like he might tip over.

“That's my chair!” Plum said with a shove.

“Oh…oops…sorry…” Kirby quickly stuffed his hand back in his pocket and moved back behind Tribb.

“See! What did I tell you?” Plum whispered to Parker.

“So…” Tribb nodded. “Cool.” He popped both sides of his collar back up equally again. It seemed like maybe one of their secret signals because Kirby and Beaver did it too.

Tribb smiled before he and his teammates walked toward the back exit. (
Dimple
, check!
Outdoor Fresh fabric softener sheet smell
, check!
Taller than she was
, check!
Totally, completely, perfectly hawt,
double-check!
)

“He is distressingly fit.” Kenneth gawked as they left.

“Distressingly,” Parker agreed.