The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 9

I took it and nodded.

After ice cream and popcorn and a zombie movie (I covered my eyes the whole time while Trip tried to convince me to watch), we figured it was time for me to head home. It was getting pretty late, and there was no way DiDi would stand for that, no matter how much Trip used his Wish Pie eyes on her.

We were getting ready to leave when the phone rang.

Trip and I waited in this big hallway filled with fancy wooden cubbies and shelves and coat hooks and a row of matching navy rain boots. He called it the Mudroom, but I can guarantee there was not one speck of mud in there.

We overheard Trip's mom talking on the phone. "Calm down, Tish. Talk to me. Who do you want to have fired? Go back and talk to Jean. What does it look like? It can't be as bad as-oh dear..."

Trip looked at me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Tish is Mace's mom," he whispered.

The bottom of my stomach dropped faster than if I'd just eaten a triple-decker cannonball sandwich.

What had DiDi done to Mace's hair?

twenty.

Mrs. Davis didn't say a word on the drive home except for "It was lovely to meet you, Leia. I hope you have a nice year at school." Like she didn't expect me to be around much. Or at least around her son much.

I nodded at her and stared at Trip for a minute, then ran out the door and up the stairs to our apartment. I was fumbling for my keys but just couldn't dig them out of my backpack. What had DiDi done? What would school be like on Monday with frizzy-headed Mace leading the crowds against me? And would Trip still stand by me?

The door across the hall flew open and Kenneth stuck his head out."Uh-oh, hi, GiGi."

"It's Leia, Kenneth," I said, still fumbling with my keys.

"Oh, uh, how are you?"

"Fine, Kenneth."

"Would you, uh, say hi to DiDi and-and tell her if she ever, uh, needs help around the place, I'm, uh, pretty handy. They have me fixing the lights over at the library."

I dropped my keys in frustration. Great. The one time Kenneth decided to loosen up and yak, it was now.

"Hold on, I got it!" I heard DiDi call from inside. Two clicks and a clunk and the door opened. "I swear, girl, where do you keep your keys? It sounded like you were unpacking from a week's vacation out there. Come on in. You're just in time. I'm working on ideas for the Gala menu. Hi, Kenneth. Bye, Kenneth." She pulled me in and shut the door.

When I walked in, it didn't look like DiDi had been working on the Gala at all. Mama's Cookbook was nowhere in sight, and she had that darn cooking show on again. With the Mystery Basket. I don't even know why DiDi watches it. Like she's going to make anything that's not written in stone in Mama's Cookbook.

DiDi strolled back to the sofa and plopped down. "Oh, by the way. Your teacher, Mr. McSomethin'?"

"McGuire."

"That's the one. He called and left a message about a meeting after school next week."

"Fine."

Then I just stood there, ticking like a stopwatch that might explode if someone didn't get me what I needed in the next ninety seconds. You better make that ten seconds.

"What? Oh yeah. How was your evening? Cute boy, that Trip," she said. "Cute, cute, cute." She was smiling and smiling, because there's nothing good-looking people love better than other good-looking people.

When I didn't answer, DiDi shrugged. "Fine, girl, don't tell me if you don't want. Do you want to sit a few minutes and talk about the Gala and-what?"

"What did you do?" I said through shut teeth.

"What did I do when?"

"What did you do to Mace's hair?"

"Oh! Did she call you up and tell you? What do you think?"

I began to shout. "No, she did not call me up and tell me-why? Because I am the only millionaire in this town without a cell phone-not to mention she hates me! Geez, DiDi, don't you ever listen to a word I say? How many Chinese girls do you think there are in this school who hate me? I told you about her! The only reason she went to Jean's was to pick on you! And now you've gone and ruined her hair, and her mom is going to get you fired, and she is going to make my life miserable-all because of you! Why can't you be a normal person and play tennis? Why do you have to be a hairdresser?"

My chest was heaving. I couldn't breathe. I don't think I've ever shouted at DiDi like that in my life.

"What in the world are you-"

"And what about food?"

"What-what in heck are you talking about? What about food?"

"Why don't we ever get Chinese takeout? Why do we have to eat these same stupid meals every day of the week? Stupid fake food trying to be something it's not! Why is it everything we eat is trying to be something else? Why can't one thing in my life be real?"

"You wait one minute, Double G-"

"I WANT TO BE CALLED LEIA!"

There was a second of silence.

DiDi's eyes narrowed and her voice went low. "You better listen here, Little Miss Whatever Your Pants Are. Don't you ever talk to me in that tone of voice. I don't know what you think, but I do have a normal job. And what do you mean I'm getting fired? That girl, Mace, loved what I did! As a matter of fact, we spent about an hour just talking about it, and it was all her idea and I thought it was brilliant. Maybe if you spent a little time getting to know her instead of worrying about her hating you, you'd feel different."

"You-you spent an hour with-?"

"And on top of that, G, I cook a homemade meal for you three times a day, every day, seven days a week, all year long. Enough said. Just-just go brush your teeth and go to bed." She sat back down with her arms crossed. "I don't think I can stand to look at you anymore tonight."

I ran into my room, tears blinding me.

What had just happened? DiDi wasn't fired. Mace was happy. But Trip and I had heard that phone conversation, and it did not sound like anyone was happy. And what was all this about DiDi spending an hour talking to Mace about hair? DiDi listened to what Mace wanted? DiDi never had that kind of time for me-but she did for Mace? I wished I were back in Trip's room, talking to him and looking into his Wish Pie eyes.

Trip! I yanked the KOB out of my pocket. Wait till you get home to read.

I opened it.

The Truth is I feel like I can be more myself with you than with anyone. T I held the note close to me, then carefully folded it back up and put it under my pillow. Who needed DiDi? I decided not to brush my teeth and just throw myself into bed to teach her a lesson. How dare she yell at me? I had never had a cavity in my life! Why was she telling me to brush my teeth? Maybe I'd just skip it tonight and get my first cavity, and she'd have to pay for it out of that precious million dollars that I was not even allowed to have a look at.

But after lying there for a minute, I got up and brushed them anyway. We'd had a lot of popcorn and sticky stuff at Trip's house. And it only takes one night of plaque buildup to cause damage to your tooth enamel.

twenty-one.

The rest of the weekend was like a stopwatch that wouldn't stop ticking.

DiDi and I barely spoke. On Sat.u.r.day, she began mentioning that we were supposed to work on the Gala ideas, but I quickly grabbed my backpack and headed for the door, mumbling I was doing extra volunteering at the library.

The next day at home, I stayed in my room and buried myself in my books. I studied. I studied. And I studied. Mostly, I studied the paint on the walls that was peeling like a summer's sunburn, but DiDi didn't have to know that.

Monday at school, I think I was more nervous than the first day.

Even though The Honeycomb was filled with people bustling around, b.u.mping into each other, busy getting where they needed to go, I felt like I was alone. Walking down one of those big empty hallways like you have in a dream. Trip ran up beside me.

I grabbed his arm. "What did your mom say? Did she tell you what happened?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in English cla.s.s." I didn't mention that we'd see Mace there, too. "I have to stop at my locker first. Will you wait for me outside the door?"

"Okay," he said. "DiDi won't get fired. Don't be scared."

I didn't bother telling him that, except for those zombie movies he loves, I've just never been the type to be scared. Of anything. There used to be a story about Dead Drunk Donna and the long-suffering manager of the trailer park where she lived and how he was scared out of his skull on Package Day. There weren't a lot of people getting special deliveries to that trailer park-except for her-and the box was always the same. Plainly wrapped in brown paper and not much to look at. Now, that manager admitted he didn't know a lot about guns and ammo and such, but it only took one peek through her window for him to learn fast. And why Dead Drunk Donna was getting a regular supply of golden bullets delivered to her, no one knew or wanted to guess. But they say that poor man shook like a baby when he had to walk past the dead bear tied to her tree, knock on her door, and have her sign for that box.

On the way to cla.s.s, I heard Mace's name murmured here and there down the hallways. I tried to close my ears so I wouldn't have to hear more, and just kept looking out for Trip. He'd said he'd meet me outside the door, but as I walked toward it, I could see he wasn't there.

I figured he had probably done the math and realized that being friends with the sister of the hairdresser who messed up Mace's hair was probably not doing him any good. I started thinking about what it would be like to find a table by myself at lunch and get extra-credit work done. I still had perfect grades. But that didn't mean I couldn't just focus on working harder. Maybe I could skip a grade. Or three. Graduate a few years early. Move out of town. Maybe even out of the country. Or off the planet.

It was still early and Mr. McGuire hadn't settled everyone down yet. I quickly looked around for Trip. I spotted him in the back row talking and-my heart did a little b.u.mpity-b.u.mp-my seat was still free and waiting for me. Maybe it would be okay. I started rushing toward him.

Then froze.

The person talking to Trip.

Was Mace.

Laughing and swinging her hair all around. It was short and choppy, higher on one side than the other, with long swishy bangs and all these cute little pieces pointing around her face. A single streak of icy blue fell across one cheek. She looked like a rock star.

We locked eyes a second; then Mace looked away.

Trip was talking on and on like it was all a big joke. It was practically the most I'd ever seen him speak. To anyone. "... And then, my mom is on the phone with yours and her voice starts doing-you know, the-"

"Not the Squirrel!"

"Yes-it was just like that time with the tomatoes-"

"Which was so your idea, by the way!"

"It was not!"

"But you started the other thing-"

"What thing?"

"The Thing."

"You did-"

"Actually, yeah. That was me-and it was awesome!" They were leaning away from me, and laughing and laughing.

Trip watched her for a second, then looked down, and his smile faded. His hair fell over his eyes and his voice went low and mumbly. "I'm sorry ab-"

Mace's smile faded, too. "It's okay."

"It was stupid-"

"Forget it."

I looked back and forth between them. What was happening?

"Cool." Billy was standing there. "Does this mean we can start having playdates in the Cave again?"

Mace laughed. "Ha! You wish. You so got kicked out."

"C'mon, I was, like, six. Your mom can't still be mad. The smell's gotta be gone by now."

Mace and Trip looked at each other and burst out laughing again.

I just stood there, staring. Trip and Mace bonding about tomatoes and squirrels and a cave? They probably had a whole life of memories and jokes together I didn't know about. I thought about the photos on Trip's wall. How many were Mace in? I knew how many had me. Big fat zero.

Mr. McGuire was clearing his throat and trying to get everyone quiet.

"Miss Galileo, if you could take your seat, you can start us off by saying something Truthful about yourself-nothing too personal, now. No confessions. Just one small thing. Something to spark your Truth-in-poetry a.s.signment. For example, I'll start: My vinyl record problem-ahem-collection is now up to a staggering eighty-one alb.u.ms."

I turned and looked at him blankly.