Jawbreaker Page #2

Ms. Sherwood.

Miss Shane.

I forgot to pick up Liz's homework.

Right, you were tardy.

But, thankfully, Fern Mayo stopped by my office.

She's on her way right now.

Mayonnaise?

Liz hates her.

Hate is a very ugly word, Miss Fox.

Fern Mayo is a dependable

young woman.

She may not be pretty like you,

but she gives as well as receives.

We could learn a thing or two from the

Fern Mayos of the world, couldn't we?

We have to get there before Mayo.

That is no 105 pounds.

God, she's so stiff.

No more aerobics for this girl. Ugh!

Panties on or off?

Rip them.

Let's see. If I were being choked,

I'd claw the sheets to smithereens.

Should we shred them?

No time.

Hi, Liz.

Hi, Liz. My name's Fern Mayo.

Like hold the mayo?

You don't know me,

but I know you.

Help me get her legs. Ugh!

What're you doing to me?

Oh, my God.

What're you doing to me?

I'm so sorry.

It's from last year's prank.

It's one of those cards.

You push a button, record a greeting.

You open it--

What're you doing to me?

Oh, my God. Stop it!

It's like she's in here with us. Alive.

Don't touch anything.

Let's just do this and get out.

I love your hair.

I love the way it shines.

What?

She looked at me.

I swear to God,

she looked at me.

Her eyes are open.

She has to look somewhere.

My God, Marcie, she's dead. Relax.

Liz?

How's that?

Very natural.

Thank you.

Liz?

Jules?

Jules?

I need your seal

of approval here.

Now come over here

and check it out.

Does it look real?

- I can't do this. No!

Liz?

Did you hear that?

You're being paranoid.

Will you relax?

I killed Liz, the teen dream.

Deal with it.

I have to get out of here.

What?

What's wrong?

You don't understand.

I'm not doing this.

I don't want anything to do with this.

- It's a little late for that.

Courtney, please. I want to go to

the police, tell them it was an accident.

We didn't mean to kill her.

The police will come

when her parents find the body.

She was raped.

You can't just say that because

she's in bed with her legs spread.

I can't believe this!

I am looking after us.

I am saving your ass,

and you sh*t on me.

Go to hell, Courtney.

Fern?

You're Fern Mayo, right?

I'm Courtney.

I don't think we've officially met,

what with the cruel politics

of high school and all.

Hi.

May I introduce Marcie Fox?

Foxy.

Fern, I need you to be

completely honest with us.

And I know you will be, because

you're an honest kind of gal.

Tell us, did you hear anything?

And let's not lie.

I have this gift. I can smell a lie.

Leave her alone,

Courtney.

Fern is a big girl, Julie.

She can speak for herself.

Fern, come on,

I'm gonna take you home.

Homework.

What?

I was sent with Liz's homework.

Isn't that nice? Heh, heh.

And you heard us?

It's okay.

Fern.

No one's gonna hurt you.

I don't know.

She doesn't know.

We're all girlfriends here.

It's just between us.

What do you know?

She doesn't know anything.

Come on, Fern.

Say what you heard.

Come on, Fern. Say it!

What did you hear?

Marcie, get her!

Let her go.

Have a little scare, dear?

- Boo!

I'll come clean with you, Fern, because once

our bloated boo-boo floats to the surface,

it'll all become clear

in that little head of yours, anyway.

And we wouldn't want you

to do anything rash, would we?

No. Uh-uh.

You knew Liz Purr, right?

I know of her.

Knew of her. Past tense.

She's dead, Fern. She died.

But we've got a bit of a problem

because you know we did it.

You heard us. That gives you

a little something called power.

The power to tell. And you're

the kind of girl that tells.

A tattletale.

A rat.

I know you.

I know all about you.

You're the one in the corner that the geeks

won't dance with because they're at home

f***ing old pervs in cyberspace,

thinking they're doing some hot babe.

There's nothing to hide, Fern.

You're nothing.

We're everything.

You're the shadow, we're the sun.

But I'm here to offer you

something you never dreamed of.

Something that you were

never meant to be, but will be.

Because today, Fern, my dear,

fate has decided that you are cool.

We're gonna make you...

one of us.

Beautiful, popular,

loved, feared.

All you've ever dreamed of.

If, and only if, you never,

ever tell anyone what you heard.

Think of it.

This is sick, Courtney.

You don't own someone

by making them beautiful.

A makeover can't hide the truth.

Liz is gone, Fern.

Take her place.

You know you want it.

Think about boys.

Think about prom.

They'll be lining up

for you.

Not with oil.

But with drive.

Watch the eyes come alive.

- You as me, as us.

A dash of magenta.

Lashes bold, black.

- X-rated gloss.

- Lips full.

- Hair frames the portrait.

- Some gilded.

Color, the secret to not growing old.

We cut, layer and curl.

- For a look that is you.

- For the hair of a dead girl.

We use model glue.

- Lips full and dark.

- Lush.

A fine line that

traces a deep, crimson heart.

- Rest now, sweetness.

- Till the day all shall see

the beauty we molded

from sheer misery.

Elizabeth!

Honey, we're home.

Stand straight.

Stop shaking.

- I'm sorry.

I still can't get over myself.

Oh, fresh meat!

To think, my 2nd-grade teacher

said I had no artistic potential.

It's like a dream.

I made you and I'm God.

That's all you need to know.

No.

Oh, my God, Julie is

sitting with the body-art rejects.

Is she tweaking?

- It's a beautiful thing.

To make someone fall so far, so fast.

Look what the kitty dragged in.

Meow.

You look really great, Fern.

Thank you.

I thought you should know that Liz's

parents came home this morning.

$0?

So I think we should tell

someone what happened.

There's nothing to tell.

I made cocksure of that last night.

What does that mean?

Girls, why don't you run ahead?

Listen, b*tch, one word

and you're over. I mean that.

I'm not scared of you any more.

We saw you.

We all know you did it.

No one will ever believe you.

Ask Fern.

Ask Marcie.

We saw everything.

F***ing liar.

One word and you perish.

I promise you that.

Toodles.

Fern, no!

What are you doing?

God. Tuna munch?

But my mom always--

We never eat at lunch.

Do you understand me?

For some damn good reason we did,

we would never, ever eat

out of a brown paper bag.

I don't care if there's

a four-star culinary masterpiece in it.

Get rid of it.

Sorry.

If I get a zit because of this--

I'm sorry.

I'd better never have kids.

I have zero patience. Ha, ha, ha.

Don't think we're anorexic, we're not.

That's for the Karen Carpenter table.

We're not stupid. We eat.

And we eat well.

We just don't eat in public.

Well, at school, at least.

We don't want people judging us by what we eat.

It gives them ammo,

and the only ones with ammo are us.

Food's cool and all.

You need it to live.

But the mere act of eating

invokes thoughts of digestion,

flatulation, defecation, even,

shall we say, complexion defection.

I wouldn't be caught dead

eating a greasy pizza.

Not even in front of the ultra-special

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