The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 22

"No!" I cried. "You're lying!" I pointed at the crumpled paper. "That is a fake and it's not true-it can't be true and you can't be-"

"I wanted you to have your own life," DiDi said, sounding like she was begging me. "I wanted you to have something I never had-"

"And you thought lying to me about who I was and what my name-" My heart dropped. "Who is Galileo Galilei?"

DiDi went pale. "Lori dated a textbook salesman who knew a little bit about science, and he told me about the name Galileo-"

"One of-one of Lori's salesmen named me-"

"I wanted to give you a name that showed what I thought you could be-I wanted to give you something-"

I held a hand up, cutting her off. "I don't want anything from you."

I tore away from DiDi's grasping hands. Shutting my ears to her voice calling me back. I pushed through the door. Down the stairs. And into the night and a world where I didn't know who I was.

forty-seven.

I don't know how long it took me to walk to Trip's house.

An hour. A day. A month.

I didn't feel the cold. I didn't feel the night. I didn't feel anything. I stayed off the roads, and if a car went by, I slipped behind a tree. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be found. Besides, if anyone found me, how would they know who they'd found? When I didn't even know who I was?

It was still dark and the whole house was quiet. I threw a pebble at Trip's window. And another. After a few tries, I saw his face appear for a second and I knew he was coming to get me. I ran to the back door.

He opened it, looking around, and beckoned me in. "G!" he whispered. "Hurry, get in! What are you doing here? Have you seen DiDi? She called yesterday and she's freaking out! My parents are having a heart attack. I told them I didn't know where you were. But then when everyone said they didn't know, DiDi thought you must have been kidnapped." He pulled me in. "Are you okay?"

He took one look at my face and knew the answer.

He kept one arm around me as we made our way up the stairs to his room and shut the door. I fell onto his bed, shaking and sobbing.

"G-Girl. Leia. Please. What happened?"

I shook my head into the pillow. "Don't say those names. I'm not Leia. I'm not G-I'm not even Galileo Galilei. I'm no one."

"What do you mean? What can I do?" He kept saying it over and over. And then I was up and sobbing into his shoulder, and he was holding on to me, and before I could stop myself, I was Saying It Like It Is. Spilling out every terrible, ugly detail. From the train station. To that yellow-eyed dog. Fainting. Mama in the car. Dead Drunk Dawna. The birth certificate.

And finally, the truth about DiDi. And me.

When I was done, I felt empty. But almost-almost a good empty. Like a thousand germs had left my body. I wiped the tears off my face with my hands and then wiped my runny nose on my sleeve from my elbow to my wrist and back again, which was just so nasty, I had to laugh in this horrible, exhausted kind of way. Which made Trip laugh, too. Though his eyes looked more like he was crying. He went into his bathroom and came back with a box of tissues.

"You know the funniest thing out of all this?" I said, blowing my nose.

"Something's funny?"

"It means I'm a Triple, too. I'm a Third. Just like you."

But Trip was the third in a rich family on the sh.o.r.e of a beautiful harbor, and I was named after an old country song about a crazy woman let down by a man. And what my life was meant to be felt like a wide and permanent road laid out before me, and DiDi playing the name game wasn't going to change any of it.

"It doesn't matter, G. I don't care-I just-" He grabbed my hands and squeezed them hard.

I looked into those eyes and my heart felt ready to burst. Here, Trip had heard every possible horrible, ugly thing he could've heard about anyone, and he was still holding on to me and letting me know it didn't matter. Not to him.

I wanted to have something pure and perfect in the middle of this nightmare.

So I closed my eyes to this terrible, terrible day and night and week.

And I kissed him.

The Perfect Kiss

If this is your first time doing this, I have to tell you everyone wants the perfect kiss.

Sweet, light, and melting on your lips. But truth is, you're just going to have to wait till you open that oven door to find how everything turns out.

* 4 large egg whites, at room temperature * teaspoon cream of tartar * 1 cup superfine sugar Preheat your oven to 225F. Now, beat those egg whites with an electric beater till they're all nice and foamy.

Add the cream of tartar and beat some more.

When your egg whites are starting to stand a little on their own, little by little add the sugar, beating till that meringue is as stiff as a board and s.h.i.+ny as Christmas Day.

Put parchment paper on two cookie sheets. Drop teaspoons of the meringue an inch apart. Then use a knife to give the top a little swirl.

Place both sheets in the oven for 45 minutes.

Then shut that oven off and leave them there for an hour. Do not open the oven or even give them one little peek. That's the hardest part. But I've got my fingers crossed that everything will turn out just the way you want.

Makes 40 cookies.

forty-eight.

Earlier in the school year, Trip had dragged a whole bunch of us to this horror movie festival. It was crowded and we all had to split up, so Trip made me sit with him in the front row. There were only two seats left, so it was just him and me. But as much as I wanted to sit alone with him at the movies, I wasn't exactly thrilled. I am not a fan of blood and guts and all, and I told him I couldn't even watch horror movies from the back row, blindfolded and wearing a potato sack. He laughed and said I just had to trust him.

So there we were, looking way up at that big screen, just waiting for this werewolf zombie to jump out of nowhere and rip the heck out of someone the way things do in the movies.

I had both hands over my eyes.

"Okay, listen," Trip said. "Hear that music? Cla.s.sic Something Really Bad Is About to Happen Music. So, G-stop. It'll be okay. When I say, just turn around and look behind us-now!"

And without even really understanding what he was saying, I whipped my head around and saw the entire audience behind us, screaming and reeling back in horror. It was probably the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life. This one guy, who was all big and brawny in a muscle s.h.i.+rt, made this high-pitched shriek and threw his soda all over his date. She started yelling at him and stormed out. He followed, b.u.mping into people and apologizing and swearing that it hadn't been him squealing like a little girl-that it'd been someone else.

But Trip and I had seen the whole thing. That big muscle-y boy had practically cried like a baby. I grinned at Trip and he grinned back. And even though there were blood and guts flying everywhere, we were together and we had popcorn and candy, and the movie wasn't scary anymore, and, just then, that moment was perfect. A pure and perfect moment in the middle of the nightmare.

Kissing Trip was exactly like that.

Just not the perfect part. Our lips touched for about one millionth of one second, and, suddenly, there was nothing but air. I opened my eyes.

And the way he was reeling away from me with that look of horror on his face, you'd think he was watching the highlight film of every werewolf zombie movie ever made.

forty-nine.

My cheeks went hot. I scrambled up and started for the other side of the room.

"Wait-" Trip said. "G, please wait-"

I couldn't think. I was tired and hurt. And mad. Madder than I'd ever been in my life. I spun to face him.

"What, you can kiss Mace and not me?" My voice cracked, which made me even madder.

"I never-"

"You did-Allie said you did in Spin the Bottle last summer."

"That didn't count. It was just a stupid-"

"You like her better-"

"I don't-"

"You do, and you abandoned me when I needed you and made me go to South Carolina with her-her of all people!"

"But I didn't-"

"And I am so sorry I'm not wrapped up like a perfect little cookie with your moms who are neighbors and best friends and-"

"No! Mace and I grew up together, but-but you're my best friend, G. And I'm sorry-but I don't like you-like that-"

"Why? Because I'm some dumb hick? And you are Perfect Boy? Mr. Trip Something-Something Hedgeclipper the Fourteenth? Because I'm trash? My whole family is trash all the way down to the very first Delta Dawn caveman!" I was yelling now and I didn't care who heard me.

"That's not it, G-"

"Then what?"

"It's just that I-"

"What?"

"I don't-"

"WHAT!"

"I don't"-his voice broke-"like any girl that way."

There was quiet. And breathing. But nothing in the quiet made sense.

I shook my head.

"What are you saying?"

"I think-no-G, I know-"

"What does that even mean? What do you mean you know?"

"I-I know this about myself, G-I know what I know."

I shook my head again.

He reached out, but I pulled away.

And I couldn't stop shaking. Shaking and shaking my head at him, sitting there telling me he knew what he knew when everything-everything!-in my whole life that I thought I knew was a lie.

I jumped up. "Do you want to know what I know? I move here and you keep hanging around and inviting me over, pa.s.sing me notes and making me-making me foolish and stupid enough to believe that you-and then tonight, after-after everything-"

Then, just like that, it was too much.

And I pushed him.