Read Online Lipstick Apology by Jennifer Jabaley - Free Book Online Page A

have to know my exact history. My mind raced and the words just sort of fell out of my mouth. “Well, in love ?” I hesitated. “Not exactly . . .”
    â€œWhat do you mean not exactly ?” Lindsey whispered, and inched closer.
    â€œThere was this guy, Steve McCaffity . . .” I started.
    They held their breath.
    â€œWe were pretty into each other.” The words just sounded good.
    They nodded, unblinking and eager.
    â€œBut then it was over,” I said, waving my hand casually.
    â€œWhat happened?” Andi asked. “Did he cheat? Was he a jerk? Did you catch him with a friend?”
    â€œNo,” I said, concocting a story. “He, um, Steve was just really busy.” I spiraled away from a little white lie to the full-blown pathological kind. “He was the varsity quarterback, and I just felt like I was always second best to football.”
    I could see their growing admiration, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was because he was a popular athlete or that I had the courage to demand my importance.
    â€œWow,” Lindsey said. “A breakup and losing your parents. You poor thing.”
    â€œSo,” Andi said, “was he there for you—after the accident—even though you broke up with him?”
    â€œWell,” I said, gazing out the patio doors toward the school terrace. “It wasn’t exactly an easy breakup. He didn’t take it well.” This was getting ridiculous.
    Lindsey and Andi looked intrigued.
    â€œSo,” Andi said, smiling in her natural flirtatious way. “A girl with a past.”
    I faked a yawn. “It’s a really long story. I’ll tell you everything another time.” And with that, I picked up my bag, waved goodbye, and headed to my next class, leaving them with their mouths slightly open, an expression of surprise written all over their faces.
    I’ve told lies before, of course. Yes, Dad, I took the garbage out, or, No, Georgia, I didn’t forget to TiVo Rhapsody in Rio. But this lie tasted different. It left a cool minty feeling coursing through my veins that made me feel energized. But why? Why couldn’t I just look Andi and Lindsey in the eye and tell them, No, I didn’t have a boyfriend?
    It was just too addictive being the new me.
    When I got home from school, I called Georgia in the safety of my room.
    â€œHey,” Georgia answered on the first ring. “I was totally just thinking about you.”
    â€œReally?” I asked.
    â€œYeah,” she said. “I’ve been dying to tell you what happened in history today.” Georgia went on to explain in elaborate detail how Mr. Peterson’s lesson had sweeping parallels to last season’s Rhapsody in Rio cliff-hanger where the Rodrigues family plotted revenge against the Santos family.
    I listened silently.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Georgia asked.
    I didn’t know what to say. I missed my parents, I missed Georgia, I even missed Mr. Peterson’s stupid history class. But I didn’t say that. Instead I said, “I don’t fit in. I mean, I do fit in, but that’s the problem. I fit in because Jolie makes my zits go away with hemorrhoid cream, and Trent gave me highlights, and I have an interesting story to tell. But if any of these people met me four months ago, he wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
    â€œWho’s he?” Georgia asked.
    â€œI meant they .”
    â€œYou said he .”
    There was silence.
    â€œOkay,” Georgia said. “I’m not even going into why you’re using hemorrhoid cream, but I detect a Freudian slip, and I want to know who HE is.”
    â€œWell,” I said, “there is this guy, Owen. He’s tall and has these amazing green eyes and his skin is golden . . .”
    â€œSounds like he goes tanning. I mean, come on, it’s almost October.”
    â€œShut up!” I said. “Seriously, his eyes, they’re