The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 2

five.

I had my new name.

I had my locker combination memorized.

I had new paper and new pencils and a new eraser that smelled just like new erasers are supposed to.

But best of all, I had a brand-new uniform with a gray skirt and white shirt with a little tie thingie, and a nice navy blazer. For the first time ever, I had things that had never been pa.s.sed down from anyone or bought on sale at the church thrift. It made me think that this new private school just might have something to it.

Now, DiDi almost got killed getting me into my old school, so I'm not sure why she wanted me to leave it. I'm dead serious. My old school was in a different town pretty far away from where we lived, but every year, they'd let fifty students send in applications from outside the district-first come, first served. When the date came up, DiDi borrowed a tent and spent the night on the District Office steps in the pouring rain with thunder and lightning. In the middle of the night, a tree across the way was. .h.i.t and brought down a telephone pole. But DiDi wouldn't budge. The next day, she was the first one in. Crazy, if you ask me. I'd get top grades no matter where I went, but DiDi said it was the best school in South Carolina. She didn't care that she had to haul me back and forth, forty-five minutes each way, twice a day. She was over the moon about that school.

Well, now she was over the moon about Hill Prep, with its advanced cla.s.ses and fancy teachers. Yakkity, yakkity, yak. But I didn't care about any of those things. I took one look at my new uniform and knew I'd never have to wear the sad old things DiDi used to send me to school in. Looking like a ratty tomboy. A ratty tomboy who hid in the library every day behind a pile of books, that is. Not quite belonging with the rough kids. Not quite belonging with the fancy ones, either. Not really belonging anywhere.

But those days were gone.

For the first time, I would look just like everyone else.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant I would look like someone's friend.

Now, I had gotten the school map the week before and traced paths to all my cla.s.ses so I'd never be late for any of them. It had this big old-fashioned-looking crest with the school name stamped on it, and when I first stepped on that campus, I understood why. Those big grand buildings looked like they would be positively offended if you didn't put a crest on them. My old school was big, too, but it was more like a big fat square.

The buildings at Hill Prep had balconies and chimneys and wavy-gla.s.s windows. Pretty gardens and hedges and benches scattered everywhere just in case someone might want to stop in their tracks and relax. I read that the whole thing used to be some big old estate that some big old rich guy decided to make into some big old school.

A few years ago, they needed to expand the middle school, so they added this section. The kids named it The Honeycomb. The center was shaped like an octagon with a ceiling that reached two stories high. The first floor was completely lined with stacked cubbies and lockers, all pale golden wood and shining like little beehives. The top floor was cla.s.srooms, with a big center balcony so you could look all the way down. And the whole thing was filled with windows. I peeked around while I put my books in my locker and saw that a lot of the kids had theirs decorated with paper and notes stuck on them.

Welcome back!

I missed yoooooo!

How was your summer?

Scribbled hearts and smiley faces and stickers everywhere. I felt a little bad that I didn't even know anyone to give a note to. Or get one from. But that was going to change.

Because along with my new uniform, I had my new Recipe for Success, and today it was telling me to march right across that Honeycomb with my chin way up, all fast and confident and, most importantly, looking like I was in a rush and that was the reason why I wasn't talking to all those hundreds of people I didn't know.

Now, I'm good at math, but I must have miscalculated my chin angle, because three seconds into that Honeycomb and-bam!-I slammed into some kind of force field and landed sprawled out on the floor.

"Sorry! Sorry, are you okay?" I heard the force field say.

I guess I got hit pretty hard, because when I opened my eyes, I forgot how to talk. All I could think about was how I never liked it when people used the word beautiful to describe a boy. Even if he was. Like at DiDi's old salon, she used to work with this man she always referred to as Harley, My Beautiful Gay Best Friend.

"Uh, h.e.l.lo... are you okay?"

See, I think when you describe people, you can't just say stuff like Beautiful or Ugly. You need to get down to the truth of it. For example: Jakey Renssler had a Face Like Yesterday's Dog Food and that Joey Feldman? Dumb as a Bag of Underwear.

"... should I call the nurse?"

That snapped me out of it. "Huh?"

"Hi... are you okay?" The force field looked a little worried. Like maybe he was wondering about the side effects of a blow to the head.

Was I staring? I tried to get up and slipped. "Ow-I mean, uh, hi, I'm G-"

Darn it.

"G?"

I made this noise. DiDi calls it a guffaw. It sort of sounds like you're choking on your own snot but enjoying the heck out of it. I tried to follow it with a little laugh, but that came out mostly guffaw, too. "Oh no-not G. It's-I'm Leia. Leia Barnes. Hi." I held out a hand.

The force field took my hand and shook it. "I'm Trip."

I liked how his tie was kind of loose and rumpled... and how his hair kept falling into his face. He pushed it back. Brown eyes. Not too dark. Not too light. Just perfect. Like Wish Pie.

"Huh?"

"Trip."

"Oh no, I didn't trip. I think you knocked into me-"

"No-my name is Trip. I'm really sorry, I was going to English and you kind of came out of nowhere...."

"English? Me too. First period. Mr. McGuire. Room 18."

He looked down at my hand, which was still gripping his. Then smiled and pulled me up. "Well, you're going the wrong way."

And that's how I ended up walking to my first cla.s.s on my first day of school, side by side with this-this-okay, fine-this Beautiful Boy. Along the way, Trip stopped every few steps. Waved to people. Introduced me around. Talked to practically every single person in existence. Laughing and saying things like "Okay, okay, I tripped the new girl." Everyone seemed to want to smile at me just because I was with him. They'd hear the story and then pa.s.s it on.

Pretty soon, all these kids were yelling out things like "Hey, New Girl! Don't trip!" But I didn't mind, because it was all good-natured.

See, gossip can go either way. It can be friendly and fun like with Trip. Or it can be like those mean stories we used to hear back in South Carolina about Dead Drunk Donna. They said she was this crazy old lady who took all her gold and melted it down to make a box of golden bullets. Then she sat outside, waiting and waiting. Till finally one night, when she was Dead Drunk, she shot a bear. Left it tied to a tree to scare everyone off.

When we arrived on the second floor, where our cla.s.sroom was, I stopped and looked over the balcony. Down to that place in the middle of The Honeycomb where, with one fateful fall, I'd left the old me behind. I didn't have to walk into that cla.s.sroom as boring old freckle-faced GiGi from South Carolina, because there was a new girl in town now.

The Girl Who Tripped Over Trip.

I was practically famous.

And I didn't need golden bullets or a dead bear tied to a tree.

All I had to do was trip over a Beautiful Boy.

Love at First Salad

Better watch out, now! Some things are just so beautiful, all it takes is one look and you'll feel like you're falling in love.

* A 21-ounce can of cherry pie filling * A 20-ounce can of crushed pineapple, drained * A 7-ounce bag of sweetened flaked coconut * A 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk * A 16-ounce container of whipped topping * 2 cups mini-marshmallows * 1 cup pecans, plus more for garnish * A small head of curly leaf lettuce Mix all your ingredients except for the lettuce in a large bowl in the order they're listed. Then pour it into a 9-by-13-inch baking pan and freeze overnight.

When you're all ready to serve, line little gla.s.s bowls with leaves of curly lettuce, to make a pretty cup for each guest. Then put a nice fat scoop of your frozen salad on top. You can put a couple of pecans on top, too.

Now, I've seen a lot of beautiful salads in my day, but the best thing about this one is that not only is it beautiful, but it's also sweet as can be. Through and through. And if you ask me, that's what makes it everyone's favorite.

Serves 1012.

six.

I've always been what you might call a Front Row type of girl, but Trip led me all the way to the back. I slipped into the seat next to him, smiling. I couldn't believe it. My Recipe for Success was already working. I was Leia. New Girl. Sitting in the back row next to a boy with Wish Pie eyes and floppy hair who was friends with the whole school.

And then it happened.

"Well, now. I think roll call is going to start with a big bang. Are you present, Miss-Galileo Galilei Barnes?" Mr. McGuire looked up from his sheet.

There it was. My full name in all its embarra.s.sing glory.

For a brainy person, I can be pretty dumb. I had completely forgotten about roll call. I halfway raised my hand.

"Um... here," I said.

Trip looked at me and mouthed, "Galileo?"

Mr. McGuire leaned back on his desk. "I think we may have to interrupt this important roll call to bring you a message from our sponsor. Does this name have some kind of special significance or story you'd like to tell us about, Miss Barnes?"

I glanced at Trip and took a deep breath. I wasn't used to being around people who didn't know about Mama and my name and me. But like I said, DiDi has this thing about Saying It Like It Is.

So I did.

"Well, my mama was a hairdresser, but she had this big dream that what she really wanted to be one day was a-an astronomer. You know, like, the kind of scientist who studies the stars." There were a few giggles in the cla.s.sroom, which Mr. McGuire hushed right away. "And when I was born, she saw I had this birthmark." I pointed to the little white star on my forehead. "So she named me Galileo Galilei after this, um, scientist guy who I guess was really into studying stars and stuff...." I didn't want Mr. McGuire to think I was dumb on my very first day. I had all As in science; it's just that I'd always been so mad that Mama couldn't find an astronomer named Kaylee or Alyssa that I never wanted to read up on that Galileo. As I waited for Mr. McGuire to say something, I added, "But everyone calls me G-"

Darn it.

"G?"

"I-I mean Leia."

Mr. McGuire looked pleased, like maybe he had made a scientific discovery himself. "Well, thank you, Miss Barnes, for your charming and articulate introduction." He gave me a nod. "There's a club you should look for when the Club and Activities Fair rolls around. You'll know it when you see it-and let me know if you want to borrow some books on that Galileo guy. He did a lot more than study 'stars and stuff.'" He went back to his list. "James Benton?"

Trip was studying my face like there was going to be a quiz on me later.

"What?" I whispered.

"Nothing-just..." He pushed the hair out of his eyes and looked at me again. "I-I liked your story." Then he smiled. "Cool name, G-Girl."

Before I could stop myself, I was smiling back from one side of my head to the other. Then I remembered my new Recipe for Success. Always have a little zinger ready. "Yeah, but not as cool as being named after what happens when your big toe meets a crack in the sidewalk."

The boy sitting in front of us turned to give me a high five. "Hah! Sorry, bro-but you are named after an accident."

"Shut up, Fender," Trip said, but he was laughing.

"Mr. Billy Fender, is there anything you'd like to share with the cla.s.s?" Mr. McGuire called out.

"No, sir," the boy answered. "Just extending salutations to the new girl who tackled my best bud this morning."

"Ah! Well, in light of your always-impressive vocabulary, Mr. Fender, I will allow this small disruption." He tipped an imaginary hat to the boy, who tipped one back.

Trip shook his head, smiling, then peeked over at me a couple of times. As he leaned back into his seat, the girl who was sitting on the other side of him suddenly came into view. She had the longest, prettiest hair I'd ever seen in my life. It fell straight down to her waist like a dark curtain.

Perfectly matching her dark eyes, which were glaring right into mine.

I kind of mentioned before about how DiDi is a stickler when it comes to messing around with Mama's recipes. Well, there is this thing I do that makes her all-out crazy. I will sneak the Love at First Salad out of the freezer before it has sat overnight, which DiDi swears is the key to making it perfect. But it's because I like to pick out the pecans. I do this thing where I plug up my ears with my fingers so I can hear the sound of them echoing around in my head while I munch away. Whenever DiDi opens the freezer and finds her salad with little holes poked into it, she shoots me eyes like daggers.

Well, this girl next to Trip?

The look she was shooting me put DiDi's to shame.

seven.

Where did you get the name Trip?"

We had been in every cla.s.s together that morning, and now we were walking toward the cafeteria for lunch. I didn't catch Trip's real name during roll call, but it had sounded like Something-Something Hedgeclipper the Fourteenth. I always thought nicknames were interesting. Like, GiGi obviously stands for the Gs in Galileo Galilei. And I knew this boy back home whose real name was Buford b.a.l.l.sy, only everyone called him The b.u.t.t on account of how he loved nothing better than to moon you from the school bus window. Though if you ask me, it's a pretty sad situation if your real name is worse than being called The b.u.t.t.

"Did you used to trip a lot as a kid or something?"