The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 23

Because if I was the direct descendant of Dead Drunk Donna, I was going to do it 150%.

Like I do everything.

I turned and ran out of the room.

Past the wall of laughing photos. Past the hundreds of books on his shelves. Past his mother and father standing there wordless in the unlocked doorway.

Heartbreak on Toast

When your heart's broken, you find comfort where you can.

* The best slice of bread in the room * b.u.t.ter * 1 nice big egg * Salt and pepper * Hot sauce Just go on and put your pan over medium-high heat and let it warm up.

Take a nice, clean little heart cookie cutter and use it to make a perfect heart in the middle of your bread. b.u.t.ter both sides of your bread (and the little heart).

Drop both pieces into your pan and let it sizzle there until they are nice and golden brown and crisp on one side. Then flip them both over and crack your egg right in that hole. Cook until the white is set but the yolk is still runny. Flip it once more, just to set the other side. Put it on a plate. Salt and pepper. Poke a little hole in the yolk and hit it up with a dash or two of hot sauce. Use your crispy little bread heart to dip and eat. Dip and eat. Warm, b.u.t.tery, toasty bread and egg. Just keep eating and eating till that heart-shaped hole is long gone.

Serves 1.

fifty.

It wasn't a far walk from Trip's.

And it wasn't a hard house to find.

Billy had once told me it was the only house on the block that looked like it would still be standing after an earthquake. And seeing as I had pretty much survived a natural disaster of my own, I figured we had that in common and me dropping by way too early in the morning might be okay.

Mace opened the door and peeked out. "What are you-"

I didn't answer.

Sometimes there are no words.

And sometimes.

Sometimes you just might be surprised by the people in your life who don't need to hear any. Mace hesitated. For just a second. Then she opened the door a little wider. And let me in.

fifty-one.

I opened my eyes.

I was in a soft bed. Curtains drawn at the window. I couldn't tell if it was day or night.

"I don't know...." Mace was talking quietly on the phone in the other room. I lay there, listening. "What do I-No... not like that. It's just... we get each other more now.... Okay. Do you want to talk to my dad again? No, that's fine. Okay. Bye, DiDi."

I heard her hang up with a soft click. And just like I knew she would, she didn't knock or bother me. She just let me be. Just like I needed. I guess maybe we did get each other.

I closed my eyes.

I was in one of the guest rooms in Mace's home. That's where I was. In clean pajamas with little flowers all over them. I pulled the comforter up to my chin and let myself sink into the pillows and back into a place where I didn't have to think.

I opened my eyes.

It was morning and the pink water bottle was on the nightstand, along with a note: Don't worry about school. We told them you're sick yesterday and today. Sandwich in the mini-fridge. Also, hydrate! M.

That darn pink water bottle.

I smiled. And then I realized it was the first time I'd smiled since...

Since.

I reached out to pick up Mace's note-then drew my breath in and looked over to where I'd left my jeans. I slowly walked over and reached into the pocket. It was still there. A worn, folded KOB with nothing written on the front. The KOB that I'd promised to wait to read.

I broke the promise.

G-So if you kept your promise and waited to open this when I asked, we are on the hill right now and you are probably looking at me funny. Haha. Just kidding. Anyway, I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before, but I'm not going to write it. I'm going to say it out loud and you're the first person I want to say it to. Okay, so you can put this down now and look at me. I'm ready. (And in case I forget to say it afterward, thank you. I'm really, really glad you moved here.) T I folded it, put it back into my jeans pocket, and crawled back into bed.

Later that afternoon, I woke up partly because I was starving and partly because I could hear Mace and her mom arguing in the hall.

"-you run away and-"

"I told you why-you just didn't-"

"I'm putting my foot down. If I'm responsible, I say she goes to school-"

"Mom, you're not even listening-"

"Just because you and your father-"

"Mom, stop! Stop it-"

I covered my ears and buried myself deeper in the blankets.

When Mace brought me dinner in the guest room, she set it on the table and paused. Then left and came back with my backpack and a small overnight bag. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "My dad picked up some of your stuff from... anyway, he got some of your stuff. I'm sorry. You have to go to school tomorrow."

fifty-two.

Mrs. Tanglewood drove us to school the next day. I could tell she just didn't know what to say to the girl who had run away with her daughter. Who was staying in her guest room. Who hadn't stopped sleeping since she arrived.

I just sat in the backseat and watched as Mrs. Tanglewood sat as far left as she could in the driver's seat. And Mace sat as far right as she could in shotgun. Though I had a feeling Mrs. Tanglewood never called it shotgun.

When we got to school, I was lost. I didn't know what to do. I kept forgetting and wanting to follow the Recipe for Success again, but I wasn't that person anymore. I wasn't Galileo or Leia or G-Girl. I wasn't anyone.

And if I didn't know who I was, how was I supposed to know what Recipe to follow?

I sat in the front row in English, concentrating on Mr. McGuire the entire time. Pretending not to see Trip rushing out with his head turned away from me when cla.s.s ended. I wasn't sure what to do when I saw Billy heading in my direction, but Mace was there. She leaned across the aisle casually, blocking him and asking about homework till I got away. I was so grateful, I forgot to be surprised.

At lunchtime, I tried to walk into the cafeteria with my chin up, but I turned back and ran. I hid in the girls' room for the rest of the hour and ended up not even eating lunch. But the gnawing in my stomach was nothing compared to the empty aching in my chest.

The next morning, I got the nerve to find Mr. McGuire in the teachers' lounge before cla.s.s started and asked if I could use his cla.s.sroom during lunch. I told him I needed the quiet time to catch up and that I'd eat my lunch and not make a mess. He didn't ask where I'd been or why I was behind. He just nodded and gave me a pat on the back.

I didn't have to worry about the cafeteria, because Mace had handed me a lunch that her mom had made. It was super-healthy-looking and pretty, too. A turkey sandwich with avocado and sprouts and some kind of yummy spread on bread with all these seeds in it. Wrapped in nice paper like it was from a sandwich shop. It was delicious. At least, the few bites I was able to force down were. I tried not to think about DiDi at home. Maybe making lunch for me and then remembering that I wasn't there. And Mace didn't say a word about me not going to the cafeteria. It's not like we really talked that much. We rode to school together with her mom, who had nothing to say, either. Mace and I looked at each other when we arrived. And then went our own way.

Mr. McGuire came into his cla.s.sroom while I was staring and not eating. He nodded at me, then pulled out his own lunch and a bunch of papers and got to work at his desk. I tried not to look. To check and see if they were everyone's Truth poems. Mine was late. Before this week, I'd never handed in anything late in my life. I hadn't even started my poem. The truth was just too hard to think about.

Mr. McGuire came the next day, too. Not saying a word. Just nodding and going to work. I heard extra footsteps behind his and looked up to find Haven and Allie just kind of standing there in the doorway, looking nervous. Our eyes met and they both came rushing in.

They ran up to me and then stopped. Haven was biting her lip and Allie was looking like if she had Banky just then, he'd probably be wrapped around her head three times and tied up in the biggest knot ever.

"Are you-are you okay?" Haven said. "I mean-we don't even know what hap-"

We all glanced at Mr. McGuire, but he had settled down at his desk, busy working.

"We care about you," said Allie. "Having you join Stargazers was the best thing that happened this year...."

"And it's not just Stargazers," said Haven. "It was... you know... hanging out... becoming friends."

Allie nodded and looked at me. "Anyway... we're having a meeting now. If you...?"

Haven nudged her. "You don't have to, but if you want. If you feel like it..."

I shook my head. Eyes full. Then pretended to go back to work. The Stargazers. I didn't belong. I wasn't named after a famous scientist, and the star on my forehead wasn't a sign proclaiming my great destiny. It was a mark that I was someone who had been pushed away.

I heard the girls shuffle over to Mr. McGuire. They started the meeting, talking in soft voices. I kept telling my feet to just get up and walk out, but I didn't know where to go. I couldn't stay in the girls' room for the rest of lunch, and I refused to go into the cafeteria. The nurse's office? Maybe. I had started to gather my things when I overheard part of the conversation.

"But why does it have to be now? Can't we just wait a couple of weeks, until... you know?" Haven's voice trailed off. I glanced up and saw her looking over at me.

"Not much we can do about it, ladies," Mr. McGuire said. "Sadly, meteor showers are just outside my powers of influence."

"Wait, I thought they were called shooting stars," Allie said. "Meteor showers sounds kind of like"-she made a face-"meatier showers? Ew."

"Okay," said Mr. McGuire. "Quick review. Shooting stars and meteors are the same things-bits of cosmic debris that leave the comet they came from to go on and form their own blazing path. It may seem like a random occurrence, but I think it a n.o.ble task."

I had stopped putting my things away and was listening to Mr. McGuire as hard as I could. "Think of it this way: In the end, whether you call them shooting stars or meteors, just like everything else in this universe, they have their time and their chance to show up-and, if they're lucky, a few people willing to witness their shining moment. And what more do you need than the right few people?" Mr. McGuire's voice grew soft. "So, my drifting bits of celestial debris, are you going to sputter out? Or grab your turn and blaze through the sky? That's the real question. And that's the truth"-I looked up and saw that even though he was talking to the girls, something about Mr. McGuire's kind smile seemed to be meant for me-"about shooting stars."

I got up and made my way over to his desk. I opened my mouth to say something. Maybe that I wanted back in.

Maybe that I missed my friends.

Maybe that I didn't want to lose my moment, either.

But before I could say any of those things, I was smothered by the four arms of Haven and Allie. And I realized I didn't have to say anything.

Pick Me Up

Now, I heard that in fancy restaurants, they serve you something like a dessert in the middle of the meal and they just call it a Refresher. It's supposed to cleanse your palate and make you forget everything you already ate so you can get all ready for the next course.

* 6 cups of fresh watermelon chunks, frozen * 3 scoops of lemon sherbet * 1 cups water * Juice from 1 lemon * Mint leaves for garnish Throw everything except the mint leaves in your blender and whip it up.

Pour into a 9-by-13-inch baking dish and freeze for an hour, or till it's nice and icy.

If you have a fancy gla.s.s, I think a scoop of this would be real pretty served in it. And you know what? Why don't you stick a little mint leaf on there, too!

Eat with a spoon.

Light, refreshing, and not too sweet. Just a little something to get you ready when you know there's still plenty more to come.

Serves 810.