The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 25

At that very moment, Billy came bounding up to us, dribbling a basketball. He pa.s.sed it to Trip and then turned to me and held up one hand. I looked at him in a daze and high-fived him.

"Hey, kids! G-Girl, where you been? Better get inside, it's going to start soon...." He held his hands out for the ball. Trip pa.s.sed it back. "See ya." Billy grinned at me and ran off.

My mouth was open like a church door on Sunday morning. Trip reached out and hooked an arm through mine. "C'mon, let's go."

The Gala was in the Old Dining Hall, which is a funny name, I know. But Hill Prep is like two hundred billion years old, and back in the day, they used to have really formal meals served family style and everything. After they built the new cafeteria, the Old Dining Hall was only used for special occasions like school dances and holiday parties. It's a grand room for sure. The floors are dark and wide and there are big windows on each side. This giant oil painting hangs at one end by some famous artist who was a student here once.

At the other end, there's a big old grandfather clock that has been there since the beginning of time. I liked that clock. You could hear it tick a mile away. Though Tick wasn't really the right word for the kind of sound a big, fine clock like this made.

It was more like... Tock.

Tock... Tock... Tock.

All day long. Sure and steady.

Which makes sense to me, because that's how time pa.s.ses when you're in the real world and not on some crazy TV cooking show. Sure and steady. And always moving forward.

My heart was pounding as I looked around for DiDi. I didn't see her anywhere.

But she was everywhere.

In the tables laid out all fresh and breezy with beautiful white cloths.

In the friendly flowers bending toward you at every turn.

And in the food.

The food.

Some things I recognized right away. Others I had to guess.

The cutest little appetizers with homemade potato chips, a golden bubbling cheese sauce, and swirls of roasted red peppers. It was like she'd taken the ingredients for EZ Cheeze sandwiches and pulled them apart, putting them back together in a totally new way. A way only DiDi could have thought of.

Secret Layered Salads were stacked into elegant little towers on a skewer with a sprig of something green and pretty on top.

Madder'n Heck Smashed Potatoes were there, only not all that Mad anymore. Just golden and crispy-edged with some kind of creamy filling inside.

And rows of tiny teacups with a pastry leaf on top, baked like little minipot pies that had to be filled with Turn Over a New Leaf Turnover filling.

They were all there. Mama's recipes. Only for the first time...

For the first time, they were DiDi's.

Mrs. Tanglewood and Mace and Mrs. Davis were standing over a platter of little hors d'oeuvres. "These look so delicious," said Mrs. Davis.

"Well, I'm glad she decided to cater it," Mrs. Tanglewood said.

"I tried to tell you before, Mom. It's not catered," Mace said. "DiDi made it all, and a bunch of us helped."

I was happy for DiDi. I was. And I was so proud and so amazed by all her food, but I couldn't help the pit inside me that kept reminding me that this was supposed to be our Birthday Gala menu. That I'd promised her I would help and we would be partners, but instead I'd spent every weekend lying to her about being at the library while I was running off to do my own selfish thing.

Mrs. Davis looked around. "Is she here? Please tell her that it's all-it's all just lovely. Really." She smiled at me standing there with Trip.

Mrs. Tanglewood nodded. "It is. It really is."

"I-I'll tell her. I'll tell her when I see her."

"h.e.l.lo, Leia. h.e.l.lo, Trip."

We looked up. "Miss Homer?"

I guess I'd never seen her without one of those books of hers and dressed head to toe in mousy, mousy brown, but here she was in a flowy white dress with her hair all curled.

"You look-Why, you look just beautiful, Miss Homer," I said.

"You do," said Trip.

She blushed. "Thank you both-and thank you for all your help at the library. I don't know how we'd get along without you. Oh, I'd like to introduce you to my-my new friend." She beckoned to a man across the room.

It was like a slow-motion scene from a movie, the way he turned and walked toward us. His long hair flowing behind him. And truth is, it looked to me like the only loosening up he ever had to do was with that old ponytail.

"Hey, Kenneth," I said.

"Uh, h-hi, GiGi," he stammered. Then smiled shyly. And I have to say it was nice to know that changing your hair doesn't change who you are on the inside. Sometimes it just shows the world who you want to be.

"Have you seen my sis-" I stopped. Confused-and anxious. DiDi had asked to me to come early, and here everything was already starting.

Trip glanced at me and stepped in. "Have you seen DiDi, Miss Homer?"

"She left," said Miss Homer.

"What?" I said.

"I was just coming over to tell you. She wanted me to pa.s.s on the message that she needed you to meet her back at your apartment."

I turned to Trip. "I have to go-I have to talk to her."

Trip nodded.

At that moment, his dad walked up and put an arm around him on one side and Mrs. Davis came over to his other side and did the same.

"Can we give you a ride?" she asked.

"No thank you," I said. "It's only a minute away and DiDi always-" I swallowed the tightness in my throat. "DiDi always says the best part of living in a Walking Town is walking."

I turned and hurried to the door.

Because even though I said it was a Walking Town.

I didn't walk.

I ran.

Everything else faded away. Trip. Miss Homer. The whole Gala. Everything.

Everything except for the steady sound of that grandfather clock behind me, beating a sure and steady rhythm along with my heart.

Tock... Tock... Tock...

I ran out of the school that DiDi moved us 800 miles to get to.

Through the town where she worked day and night to give us the life we had.

Up those creaking stairs to the home where I had the one bedroom, while she slept on the sofa.

I ran, thinking of all my What Ifs.

Of everything that I had wished and hoped for in my whole life. And how if the host of that TV cooking show put a Mystery Basket in front of me, right then and there, if I had DiDi with me, I would be willing to face anything-even chicken feet and pancake mix.

Tock.

I opened the door.

DiDi's pretty curls swung free and loose as she looked up. The second our eyes met, I could feel my face running away from me, but this time-this time, I let it run to see where it would go, and it led me all the way into DiDi's arms and she was holding me and talking like we had never been apart.

"I wish I was smart like you, Double G. I wish I could say I had a recipe for everything that's happened in my life, but I don't." She squeezed me harder. "Truth is, I was just a silly girl who thought she knew what was what. Snuck into some bar one night, looking for fun and lying about my age. Fell hard for some sweet-talking college boy out for a good time. I thought it was love, but when I-I got pregnant and he found out how old I really was, he took off. Lied to my face. I never heard from him again. Mama-she went crazy. She was drinking so much-she didn't care-she didn't want to hear about my silly broken heart. Figured I was out chasing every man in the county and-and accused me of stealing her lowlife boyfriend next...." DiDi took a big ragged breath.

The tears were spilling out of me. "Oh, D-"

"She wasn't there for me, G-not for a second. But of all the things I didn't know, there was one thing I did: I wanted to be there for you. No matter what. I didn't want you wasting time being ashamed of who I was and what your history was like. I didn't want you stuck being Delta Dawn the Third. I just wanted... I wanted you to grow up believing you had the most amazing mama in the world-with the biggest dreams-and that you could be just like her...."

"I do, DiDi-I already believe it-and I already know it. I think you're the brains in the family," I said into her s.h.i.+rt. "If I could be anything like you, I'd never wish for anything more."

"Dang it, where is a darn tissue when you need one-don't you dare wipe your nose on your sleeve, girl!" And we laughed and DiDi pulled some paper napkins out of somewhere and wiped my face.

"I was at the Gala, D. I saw what you did-everything-everything was beautiful and-and I'm so sorry I didn't help you. I know I promised, and I wish I had been there-"

"Shhh." DiDi tucked the hair away from my face. "I told you we'd do it right this time, didn't I? And none of it ever would've happened without all your yakking and bothersome suggestions all this time."

"Hold on, I'm the yakky one?"

DiDi laughed. "Come here, G. I have something I want to show you."

I looked over to where she was leading me.

A beautiful cut-gla.s.s punch bowl stood on the counter. I looked back at DiDi and she nodded. I stepped closer.

Through the sparkling gla.s.s, I could see beautiful layers of red fruit and golden cake.

Topped with a snowy-white blanket of whipped cream.

"D?"

She held out a brown paper bag. "I got them at the Super Saver. I wanted to wait till you were here. I just... I couldn't make it without you, G...."

And she tipped the bag onto the counter, sending a jumble of ruby-red fruit bouncing across the top, rolling every which way. Some off the counter and some to the floor and some right into my outstretched hands.

I whipped back around to face her.

"Well, it is supposed to be our own personal Birthday Gala," she said, and through the tears that were starting again, I could hear a famous DiDi babble coming on. "There isn't pudding or bananas or Nilla wafers, so we can't really call it Twinkie Pie anymore, but then Mr. McGuire was talking about your cla.s.s and how poetry was a way to take things from your past and-and make them into something beautiful-on your own terms-and I thought, well, if it was okay with you-maybe we could give it a new name-"

And then I was laughing and she was laughing or maybe we were both crying, but it didn't matter, because I could feel the words rising up in the air, lighter than anything, as we said them together: "Cherries in the Snow."

I threw my arms around her. "Get out."

She held me close. "If you let me back in. Happy birthday, Double G."

I pulled back so I could look her straight in the eyes. "Happy birthday, Double D." And I said it loud and I said it proud, because if we were going to be darn bra sizes, at least we were the biggest ones there.

And truth is, at that moment, I didn't know exactly who I was or who DiDi was, and mostly, I realized I didn't have to. Life had handed us one heck of a Basket of Mystery Ingredients, and we were just going to have to figure out what we wanted to do with them. Keep some things, change others, and the recipe-well, we'd just make it up as we went along, and whatever we ended up with, the most important thing was, we would make it together.

Cherries in the Snow.

This is our version of Cherries in the Snow, but DiDi and I think you should make your own.

You'll need two 3-ounce packages of soft ladyfingers-though if you want to use pound cake or your own cake, I say why not?

Whipped Topping Layer.

You can buy your favorite whipped topping at the store or make it yourself.

* 2 cups heavy cream * 1 teaspoon vanilla * 2 tablespoons confectioners sugar Beat the cream until it just starts to make peaks, then whip in the vanilla and sugar.

Like anything else in life, for heaven's sake, don't overwhip it. Cover it and put it in the fridge.

Cherries Layer.