five
I had my new name.
I had my locker combination memorized.
I had new paper and new pencils and a new eraser that smelled just like new erasers are supposed to.
But best of all, I had a brand-new uniform with a gray skirt and white shirt with a little tie thingie, and a nice navy blazer. For the first time ever, I had things that had never been passed down from anyone or bought on sale at the church thrift. It made me think that this new private school just might have something to it.
Now, DiDi almost got killed getting me into my old school, so I’m not sure why she wanted me to leave it. I’m dead serious. My old school was in a different town pretty far away from where we lived, but every year, they’d let fifty students send in applications from outside the district—first come, first served. When the date came up, DiDi borrowed a tent and spent the night on the District Office steps in the pouring rain with thunder and lightning. In the middle of the night, a tree across the way was hit and brought down a telephone pole. But DiDi wouldn’t budge. The next day, she was the first one in. Crazy, if you ask me. I’d get top grades no matter where I went, but DiDi said it was the best school in South Carolina. She didn’t care that she had to haul me back and forth, forty-five minutes each way, twice a day. She was over the moon about that school.
Well, now she was over the moon about Hill Prep, with its advanced classes and fancy teachers. Yakkity, yakkity, yak. But I didn’t care about any of those things. I took one look at my new uniform and knew I’d never have to wear the sad old things DiDi used to send me to school in. Looking like a ratty tomboy. A ratty tomboy who hid in the library every day behind a pile of books, that is. Not quite belonging with the rough kids. Not quite belonging with the fancy ones, either. Not really belonging anywhere.
But those days were gone.
For the first time, I would look just like everyone else.
And maybe, just maybe, that meant I would look like someone’s friend.
Now, I had gotten the school map the week before and traced paths to all my classes so I’d never be late for any of them. It had this big old-fashioned-looking crest with the school name stamped on it, and when I first stepped on that campus, I understood why. Those big grand buildings looked like they would be positively offended if you didn’t put a crest on them. My old school was big, too, but it was more like a big fat square.
The buildings at Hill Prep had balconies and chimneys and wavy-glass windows. Pretty gardens and hedges and benches scattered everywhere just in case someone might want to stop in their tracks and relax. I read that the whole thing used to be some big old estate that some big old rich guy decided to make into some big old school.
A few years ago, they needed to expand the middle school, so they added this section. The kids named it The Honeycomb. The center was shaped like an octagon with a ceiling that reached two stories high. The first floor was completely lined with stacked cubbies and lockers, all pale golden wood and shining like little beehives. The top floor was classrooms, with a big center balcony so you could look all the way down. And the whole thing was filled with windows. I peeked around while I put my books in my locker and saw that a lot of the kids had theirs decorated with paper and notes stuck on them.
Welcome back!
I missed yoooooo!
How was your summer?
Scribbled hearts and smiley faces and stickers everywhere. I felt a little bad that I didn’t even know anyone to give a note to. Or get one from. But that was going to change.
Because along with my new uniform, I had my new Recipe for Success, and today it was telling me to march right across that Honeycomb with my chin way up, all fast and confident and, most importantly, looking like I was in a rush and that was the reason why I wasn’t talking to all those hundreds of people I didn’t know.
Now, I’m good at math, but I must have miscalculated my chin angle, because three seconds into that Honeycomb and—bam!—I slammed into some kind of force field and landed sprawled out on the floor.
“Sorry! Sorry, are you okay?” I heard the force field say.
I guess I got hit pretty hard, because when I opened my eyes, I forgot how to talk. All I could think about was how I never liked it when people used the word beautiful to describe a boy. Even if he was. Like at DiDi’s old salon, she used to work with this man she always referred to as Harley, My Beautiful Gay Best Friend.
“Uh, hello… are you okay?”
See, I think when you describe people, you can’t just say stuff like Beautiful or Ugly. You need to get down to the truth of it. For example: Jakey Renssler had a Face Like Yesterday’s Dog Food and that Joey Feldman? Dumb as a Bag of Underwear.
That snapped me out of it. “Huh?”
“Hi… are you okay?” The force field looked a little worried. Like maybe he was wondering about the side effects of a blow to the head.
Was I staring? I tried to get up and slipped. “Ow—I mean, uh, hi, I’m G—”
Darn it.
“G?”
I made this noise. DiDi calls it a guffaw. It sort of sounds like you’re choking on your own snot but enjoying the heck out of it. I tried to follow it with a little laugh, but that came out mostly guffaw, too. “Oh no—not G. It’s—I’m Leia. Leia Barnes. Hi.” I held out a hand.
The force field took my hand and shook it. “I’m Trip.”
I liked how his tie was kind of loose and rumpled… and how his hair kept falling into his face. He pushed it back. Brown eyes. Not too dark. Not too light. Just perfect. Like Wish Pie.
“Huh?”
“Trip.”
“Oh no, I didn’t trip. I think you knocked into me—”
“No—my name is Trip. I’m really sorry, I was going to English and you kind of came out of nowhere.…”
“English? Me too. First period. Mr. McGuire. Room 18.”
He looked down at my hand, which was still gripping his. Then smiled and pulled me up. “Well, you’re going the wrong way.”
And that’s how I ended up walking to my first class on my first day of school, side by side with this—this—okay, fine—this Beautiful Boy. Along the way, Trip stopped every few steps. Waved to people. Introduced me around. Talked to practically every single person in existence. Laughing and saying things like “Okay, okay, I tripped the new girl.” Everyone seemed to want to smile at me just because I was with him. They’d hear the story and then pass it on.
Pretty soon, all these kids were yelling out things like “Hey, New Girl! Don’t trip!” But I didn’t mind, because it was all good-natured.
See, gossip can go either way. It can be friendly and fun like with Trip. Or it can be like those mean stories we used to hear back in South Carolina about Dead Drunk Donna. They said she was this crazy old lady who took all her gold and melted it down to make a box of golden bullets. Then she sat outside, waiting and waiting. Till finally one night, when she was Dead Drunk, she shot a bear. Left it tied to a tree to scare everyone off.
When we arrived on the second floor, where our classroom was, I stopped and looked over the balcony. Down to that place in the middle of The Honeycomb where, with one fateful fall, I’d left the old me behind. I didn’t have to walk into that classroom as boring old freckle-faced GiGi from South Carolina, because there was a new girl in town now.
The Girl Who Tripped Over Trip.
I was practically famous.
And I didn’t need golden bullets or a dead bear tied to a tree.
All I had to do was trip over a Beautiful Boy.
Love at First Salad
Better watch out, now! Some things are just so beautiful, all it takes is one look and you’ll feel like you’re falling in love.
• A 21-ounce can of cherry pie filling
• A 20-ounce can of crushed pineapple, drained
• A 7-ounce bag of sweetened flaked coconut
• A 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk
• A 16-ounce container of whipped topping
• 2 cups mini-marshmallows
• 1 cup pecans, plus more for garnish
• A small head of curly leaf lettuce
Mix all your ingredients except for the lettuce in a large bowl in the order they’re listed. Then pour it into a 9-by-13-inch baking pan and freeze overnight.
When you’re all ready to serve, line little glass bowls with leaves of curly lettuce, to make a pretty cup for each guest. Then put a nice fat scoop of your frozen salad on top. You can put a couple of pecans on top, too.
Now, I’ve seen a lot of beautiful salads in my day, but the best thing about this one is that not only is it beautiful, but it’s also sweet as can be. Through and through. And if you ask me, that’s what makes it everyone’s favorite.
Serves 10–12.