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 buttered 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 classroom 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 shiny 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 class 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 class 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.

“Passing 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 class 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 scholarship 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 scholarships, 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 grass and hay sandwiches or the hot lunch—which, if you asked me, pretty much looked like broccoli à 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 grass 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 classroom, 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

Pimento Cheese

• 3 cups finely shredded EZ Cheeze brand cheddar

• 2 ounces softened cream cheese

• 3 tablespoons jarred diced pimentos

• 4 tablespoons mayonnaise

• 3 shakes of hot sauce

• Best white bread in town

• Your favorite potato chips

Now, everyone has her own ideas about pimento cheese. Like my good friend Amanda, who just about snorts at this recipe and insists that all a body needs is cheddar, mayo, and a couple little specks of pimento. Well, I say to each her own, but anyone who’s had my version L, O, V, E loves it.

Put the first 5 ingredients in a nice bowl and work them over with a big wooden spoon till they’re mixed together, but still nice and chunky. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit in the fridge overnight. I am serious. These things take time.

The next day, take the bowl out, and please do not tell me I have to explain how to make a sandwich.

Just spread that cheese on a piece of bread and then pile on chips and top it with another slice.

And don’t forget to serve it with a nice pickle.

Also good with crackers or in grilled cheese sandwiches.

Makes 3 cups. Keeps for up to one week in the fridge.