the girls get together in my uncle’s bedroom and collectively produce thirty-seven tubes of Bonnie Bell lip smacker: bubblegum, cherry, raspberry, banana, kissing potion etcetera. We count the huge smackers – the five inch smackers – as two. Silently, each of us selects her lip gloss. The flavour we will represent – like it’s a nation, or something – for the evening… or at least 'till the flavours are shuffled again.