Fake Me To Church

Twelve Years Ago

Part Four

Lane's mother wouldn't even look her in the eye when she walked out of that stupid building.

"They need a parent signature, Mom," Lane spat through the rolled-down driver's seat window.

Mrs. Martin finally glanced back at her daughter, who was holding out a stapled set of pages and a black ink pen.

She reluctantly took the papers from Lane and scribbled her name in cursive across the bottom. "I can't believe this," she breathed. "I can't believe this!"

"Seeing is believing," Lane trilled haphazardly as her mother handed back her official acknowledgement that she and her daughter were to attend an institutional hearing the following morning.

Mrs. Martin crossed her arms as Lane turned to walk back inside EdgeWay's main school building. Cutting right after entering, Lane strutted to the front office, where Vice Principal Turner stood waiting for her.

"Here," Lane stuck the papers in her face. "My mom signed it."

Vice Principal Turner sighed and took the pages. "Yes, well, I'm assuming you at least skimmed the stipulations. You are to report to the auditorium tomorrow morning—"

"At eight o'clock sharp. Yeah, I know." Lane rolled her eyes. "I can actually read, you know." She turned, placed her hand firmly on her hip, and strode for the door.

Lane stepped into the hallway, looked left then right, saw that shrine to Ruby still standing lifelessly next to the tacky bulletin boards pinned into the wall. What a joke, she thought to herself. This school is such a freaking joke.

She turned back to the left, flipped her hair's golden strands over her shoulder, and sashayed to the double doors that led out of the building. Pushing both doors open, she pranced out onto the sidewalk, then to her mother's car.

****

At six-thirty in the morning, Lane rose to the sound of her dainty buzzing alarm clock. She slipped her feet into the pink-and-white slippers beside her bed and dragged herself nonchalantly into the bathroom.

She grabbed her toothbrush from beside the mirror and squeezed way more than a pea-sized amount onto the tiny bristles. As she scrubbed her teeth, she glanced at her unzipped makeup bag, some of its contents sitting neatly beside her creamy silk lotion while others were scattered all around the bright white facebowl.

Should I really wear makeup today? she thought to herself.

On the one hand, she knew her mother would definitely be caking her face with enough blush to make any sensible human being...well, blush. And Vice Principal Turner probably would be too—after all, you must look your best when you're falsely accusing a seventh-grader who was just trying to defend herself from a total perv.

But on the other hand, why should she have to try to impress the horde of buffoons otherwise known as EdgeWay's 'Academic and Christian Character Council?' So what if her mom wore the entire Mall of America on her face, and so what if Vice Principal Turner did the same?

It doesn't matter, Lane affirmed within her own mind. None of those losers matter.

She paused as she stood, lowered her hand slowly to grasp her foundation brush as she contemplated.

Still, I'm prettier than every single one of them. And if they think wearing mounds of facepaint makes them more attractive, it's time to show everyone what it looks like to do a lot with a little.