The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 3

"No, it's short for"-he made a face-"Triple. Because I'm the third. Bradford Breckinridge Davis the Third. Lame, right?"

"Oh no, I really like it. You're just like Thurston Howell the Third."

"Is he new here?"

"No, he was the rich guy from that old TV show about the boat that broke down on a desert island-you know the one?"

"No."

"Well, it was about a whole bunch of people that get s.h.i.+pwrecked, and there's a professor who's, like, the smartest man in the universe and a movie star and some farm girl who was always in short-shorts. Anyway, Thurston Howell the Third was the millionaire."

"What happens?"

"I never actually watched it, but my sister, DiDi, used to tell me about it, because it was our mama's favorite show growing up." I smiled. "DiDi says Mama was a real feminist. Like, completely ahead of her time. When she was little, she thought it wasn't fair that Thurston Howell got to be a Third but she didn't know any girls who were. So she decided right there and then to start a tradition that every firstborn girl in the family should be named Delta Dawn, like her, till there was a Third. So my big sister is Delta Dawn the Second."

Trip looked at me. "Delta Dawn?"

"It was this really famous country song the year Mama was born," I said. It's funny how names work out. Here DiDi and Mama were named after an old country song, and they were both hairdressers. And I was named after one of the most famous scientists of all time, and, well, I doubted I would ever end up cutting hair. Not that I would mind. It seems like a really cool job to me, and I'd get to hang out with DiDi more.

"And your real name's Galileo...."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess my family likes to do things pretty different. Kind of weird, huh?"

"No, I... I like different." He looked down, then back up at me again. "Does that mean your mom will ask your sister to name her first kid Delta Dawn, too?"

I was quiet for a second. Trip just made me feel so comfortable, I forgot he didn't know about my whole life. "Well, she-Mama, I mean-died when I was a baby, so she can't really ask."

"I'm sorry."

"Aw, that's okay."

"So you live with your dad?"

"Well." I looked up the hall. The cafeteria was just ahead. I wondered if we would sit together. "He was never in the picture, if you know what I mean. When Mama died, we moved away from Verity to live with our friend Lori a couple of towns over. DiDi got this job sweeping hair at a salon, but now she's a full-time hairdresser and she's really, really good. Everyone says. She never even went to beauty school, because we never had the money for it back-What?"

Trip was studying me again. "Nothing. You're just... you're really... open."

I stopped walking for a second and stood there in the hallway. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I was Saying It Like It Is, but maybe this was the kind of town where you keep your mouth shut.

But then he smiled.

And I knew.

It didn't matter what kind of pie I was, Wish or pecan. He just liked me.

I guess it was the perfect moment for another Recipe for Success zinger, but instead, I told him the truth. "Thanks. You-well, you make it really easy. To be open, I mean."

There might have been a second when we both realized that we'd only met that morning and maybe it was kind of weird to get so personal so soon, but then Trip made it easy again and nudged me with an elbow. "So, if that professor was so smart, why didn't he just fix the boat?"

"You know, I asked DiDi the exact same thing."

"What'd she say?"

I remembered how serious she had looked at the time. "She said the real question was why didn't he just build a new one."

"Right... with supplies from the desert island store..." Trip said.

"Or maybe he could have ordered one from the desert island catalog?" I added.

As we walked into that noisy cafeteria together, I made a note to myself that if I was ever stuck on a desert island, I should probably bring someone with survival skills that were a little more practical than DiDi's.

eight.

The first thing I noticed was that the cafeteria had all these big bright posters everywhere that said things like U R WHAT U EAT! and HEALTHY KIDZ RULE! I'll tell you right now, my old school had a pretty nice cafeteria. People complained about it, but it looked fine to me. It was huge and the lunch ladies were super-funny-except for this one who worked the cash register and always looked at you cross-eyed like you were hiding an extra b.u.t.tered roll down your pants. I never had to deal with her, though, because DiDi packed me lunch every single day. She said it saved money and time and I wouldn't have to bother with the cafeteria and all its distractions so I could just go on and find a nice quiet cla.s.sroom to get my extra-credit work done.

But here, in the Hill Prep cafeteria, I couldn't wait to be distracted. Everywhere, kids were talking and walking and carrying on like it was no big deal to be there. I know the reason DiDi wanted me to work during lunchtime instead of fool around and socialize was so I could get ahead. And that's what I did. Every day for as long as I could remember.

The thing is, when you get that far ahead of everyone else, there's no one left around you.

I tried to keep myself from bouncing nervously as we walked in. Everything was s.h.i.+ny and new. The lunch ladies looked like they should be working at a restaurant. They had on these visors with the school crest on them. There were big windows looking out to fields and trees. And the food...

"That's some salad bar," I said.

Trip wrinkled up his adorable nose. "All these parents complained and got rid of all the junky stuff like Tater Tots and pizza."

"Did someone say Tater Tots?" Billy stuck himself between us, putting an arm around our shoulders. "Tripper, I would disown you for having a mom who led the attack on our beloved deep-fried potato-"

"Except your mom is also on the Healthy Revolution committee."

"Yes," said Billy. "Except for the fact that our moms are working together in this evil plot against a growing boy's right to junk food."

I laughed. Being the new me in this new school was a heck of a lot more fun than I ever imagined it would be.

Billy scanned the room. "C'mon, let's grab a table, before the mutants descend."

Trip looked at me. "I'm buying-are you buying, G-Girl?"

I held up my brown bag.

"Save me a seat, okay?"

"Okay."

I turned to face the crowd, smiling. I was saving sweet, beautiful Trip a seat. I wasn't sure which way to head, but Billy went straight to a table in the back. I followed him, wondering what was it with these boys and the back of the room.

I raised my chin and put a big smile on my face. "Recipe for Success," I whispered to myself. "Recipe for Success."

Billy turned. "You say something?"

"Just... nothing." We had stopped at a table.

"Hey, guys. This is Leia. Aka New Girl. Aka G. Be nice, now. She's got a mean tackle."

I waved. "Hi, everyone."

There were a bunch of boys and girls sitting there. I recognized the girls from cla.s.s that morning. Chase and Laney. And the one who had been giving me dagger eyes. Mace. Mace Tanglewood. Even though her name didn't sound like it, she looked Chinese or something. She had this crazy sandwich with green sprouts sticking out all over the place and a little toothpick with a flag that said HEALTHY KIDZ R KOOL! She stared at me but didn't say anything. I sat down a few seats over where I wouldn't have to make eye contact.

I snuck a peek up and down the table, just taking in the buzz and excitement of being there. My very first time sitting with a bunch of kids my age in a cafeteria.

I carefully tore my brown bag open down the center and flattened it out to make a place mat while I listened to the talk around me.

"We're definitely in the best cla.s.s group this year," Laney was saying. "B Group is so boring. I don't even know anyone in C Group. And D is just-whatever."

Chase was nodding and nodding, her eyes darting between Laney and Mace.

I cleared my throat. "It does seem like a really great group," I said.

There was a second of silence. Chase nodded and smiled at me, then quickly glanced at Mace and Laney like she was checking for permission. Laney looked at me and half-smiled. Mace just stared at her crazy sandwich.

"Yeah," said Billy, unwrapping his lunch. "At least we have the best lunch hour-C group doesn't eat till like one thirty."

"You'd never make it." Trip was standing there with his tray, looking at Billy's row of three giant sandwiches from home.

Billy grinned. "Hey, I'm a growing boy."

Trip sat in the seat I'd saved him. "What's that?"

I looked down at my lunch. On top of my sandwich was a small folded square of paper. "Oh, that's just a KOB from DiDi."

"A cob?"

"Yeah, but spelled K, O, B. It stands for 'Kindness of Bearer.' It's a way to send an important message that's private."

He pointed. "Why does it say this?" Wait till after lunch to read.

"Oh, DiDi says the nicest thing you can give a person is something to look forward to." Though I'm not sure why she thinks her KOBs are any great gift. They're the same every day. Keep up the great work and you will really be something one day! Or Study hard and you will be on your way! For some reason, she thinks telling me that someday, way in the future, I'll turn out okay is something to look forward to.

"Will you show me how to make one?"

"Well, sure. It's easy." I reached into my backpack for a couple of pieces of notepaper. Our heads came close together as I showed him how to do the folds.

"Pa.s.sing notes, really?" a nasally voice said. "Isn't that kind of immature?" Guess who that came from. Dagger Eyes.

Trip looked at me. Then at his lunch. Then down at his half-folded paper. Everywhere but at Mace.

Billy picked up his second sandwich. "So Trip's hanging with the new girl, Mace. Big deal. You can't always have all the attention."

Mace turned red. The other girls looked at each other, and the boys coughed into their food. I didn't know what to do. We'd only been sitting there for five minutes. The last thing I wanted on my first day was to be in the middle of some New York private school lunch drama.

"What?" Mace tossed her hair. It flew over her shoulder just like in those shampoo commercials. "She's the one who's dying for all the attention. She gives a whole big speech in cla.s.s about having a mama who's a hairdresser, and she's wearing shoes from the Dollar Store. How did you even get into this school? Are you a scholars.h.i.+p case or something?" She tossed her hair again on the other side.

She was acting like she hated me, and she didn't even know me. I knew what DiDi paid for my education. She'd shown me the bill. We'd applied for scholars.h.i.+ps, and I'd received half off the tuition, but what we were still paying was almost half of what DiDi made in a year.

Maybe the old GiGi might not have known what to do, but today, I let Recipe for Success Leia stare Mace down. "Maybe you shouldn't presume what a hairdresser makes. They stay pretty busy with people whose hair"-I did an exaggerated imitation of Mace's hair toss-"is the most important thing on-or in-their heads."

Billy snorted, then stood up. "Okay, weapons down." He leaned in for a quick high five. "Sweet comeback, though, G-Girl-but seriously, time for a new subject: G, what's for lunch? Looks good."

I looked around the table. Everyone else had these big fat gra.s.s and hay sandwiches or the hot lunch-which, if you asked me, pretty much looked like broccoli a la broccoli. For the first day of school, DiDi had packed my favorite sandwich in the world. Mama's EZ Cheeze Crunch. It wasn't exactly something you'd find on a Healthy Revolution menu, and for the first time, I found myself wondering if it was an okay thing to bring. I looked over at Trip. He was still focusing all his attention on his half-folded KOB.

This slow smile was spreading across Mace's face as she watched me twist my KOB in my hands. "Wow, I hope it's nothing gross and socially unacceptable," she said. "Like your shoes."

Mama's special sandwich unacceptable? I raised my chin. First day or not, the new Recipe for Success did not let high-and-mighty shampoo-commercial girls put my mama's food down. I pulled my sandwich out and held it up to Mace's face. "Actually, it's the best sandwich on earth. EZ Cheeze with pimentos and potato chips on white, and, last I heard, potatoes were a vegetable. So, you got another one of your little flags for me there? That is, if my sandwich is cool enough for kool to be spelled with a K."

There was a second of silence at the table. I guess everyone was busy trying to figure out if eating a lunch that probably violated all Ten Commandments in the Healthy Revolution Bible was bigger than the fact that I was friends with Trip and Billy.

Then Billy slowly raised one arm in the air. It took me a second to realize he was trying to give me another high five-which was probably the seventh one that day. "YES. Thank you. Finally, someone on our side to fight the fight! Today EZ Cheeze, tomorrow Tater Tots! Bring back the junk food. Tater... Tots. Tater... Tots! Tater... Tots!" Everyone, except for me, Mace, and Trip, started banging on the table and chanting in unison. "TATER TOTS! TATER TOTS! TATER TOTS!" It caught on for a few seconds around the cafeteria, till everyone broke down, laughing. Billy punched Trip in the shoulder. "Dude, you tripped the right girl."

"W-well, my mom would never let me eat that junk!" Mace said. "EZ Cheeze? That fake orange stuff? It's disgusting. Joke all you want, but-" She pointed at the closest poster. "U ARE WHAT U EAT. Which I guess makes you as fake as your cheese."

The laughing stopped. Mace's eyes were like black ice. Then she glanced toward Trip and her face fell for a second before she caught it. I don't know why, but something inside me suddenly thought about how I knew what that was like. Trying to catch a falling face, I mean.

She shoved her gra.s.s and hay sandwich away and stood up. "Wish I could stay and talk more about your junky food, but I'm the president of the Seventh Grade Young Entrepreneurs Club-oh, haven't heard of it? Not surprised. It's for people who are going to really make something of themselves. At least something more than a hairdresser." Then she turned and marched away from the table. The two other girls glanced at each other. Chase gave me a quick nervous look, and then she and Laney both ran after Mace.

Trip glanced over at me. Like he was checking if I was okay. Inside I felt like fake cheese melting in the sun. But my Recipe for Success was telling me to sit up straight, look him right in the eyes, smile, and take a huge bite of my sandwich. I chewed and chewed and swallowed hard.

Like nothing was bothering me at all.

Like I was used to high drama.

Like I hadn't spent every single day of every school year of my life either sitting alone in a cla.s.sroom, studying during lunch, or hanging out with grown-up librarians who seemed to be the only people interested in getting to know me.

Which kind of made me wonder if that meant I really was as fake as Mace said.

EZ Cheeze Crunch