twenty-five

When we got to the soccer fields, it looked like there was a whole big hoopla going on. Tables and cars, tents and little mini-grills set up everywhere. Coolers with iced sodas and probably champagne and caviar, too. Everybody looked pretty excited for the game, and I guessed they must be, to get there two hours before it even started.

“Looky, there’s Trip!” DiDi waved and headed for this big tent with lots of people. “Yoo-hoo! Hey there, Double B!”

I watched as DiDi hurried over to where Trip and Mace were. She gave them a huge three-way bear hug without even putting down her giant basket.

“What’s with DiDi and all the double stuff?” Allie asked. “What’s Double B?”

“Trip’s initials,” I said. “His real name’s Bradford Breckinridge.” I slowed down. Haven looked back and came to my side.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. “Do you want me to tell them you don’t feel well or had to go home or something?”

I gave a little smile. “No, I’m all right.”

And then I heard Billy’s unmistakable voice shouting, “G-Girl!”

I rushed over and, after a quick high five, I introduced Allie and Haven, who seemed shy but really pleased to be there.

“Hey, Star Girls,” said Billy.

I looked over to where DiDi had gone and saw her laughing with Mace. Trip looked up and waved.

I began studying the grass like I had to memorize how many blades there were, but I could tell he was walking toward us.

I turned to Billy and laughed as loud as I could.

“Uh, G—what’s so funny?”

“You are,” I answered, sensing Trip behind me. “You are probably the funniest person in the entire northeastern part of the United States.”

Billy raised his arms above his head in victory. “Yes! The Best of the Northeast!”

“Right. Northeast corner of the parking lot, maybe.” Trip was there, looking like his sweet and beautiful self in his soccer uniform—like this was just another day. “Hey, G.”

I didn’t know what to do or say. It’s not like I could do what I actually wanted—which was to ask Trip if he liked Mace better than me now. And why he hadn’t given me a KOB that week. Instead, I just shrugged.

“Come over for a sec, okay?” he said. “Billy will entertain everyone.”

Billy went right into a series of muscleman poses that had the girls in giggles. I began following Trip to his parents’ tent. Haven looked over her shoulder at the same time I did and nodded like everything was going to be okay. Maybe it would be.

As we got closer, I noticed this blond woman standing next to Trip’s mom. And glaring at DiDi. I slowed down. Who was she?

“DiDi, is it?” The woman’s voice was low, but somehow it cut through the chatter.

“Why, yes it is,” DiDi said. “You must be Mrs. Tanglewood, Mace’s mom, and Mrs. Davis, too, right?” DiDi held out her hand. “So nice to meet you both.”

The blond woman was Mace’s mom. So I guess Mace was adopted.

I knew what it meant when a little girl was adopted from China. People have to fly around the world to get those babies. No wonder she was so stuck-up. Being whisked away by rich people to go live in a big house with her very own bomb shelter. She’d been made a fuss over since the day her parents got her.

DiDi didn’t seem the least bit surprised. Mace had probably told her all about it during one of their marathon girl-talk sessions.

I looked at Mace’s mom. Well, adopted or not, it looked like shooting daggers with the eyes runs in the family.

“I have to tell you what great kids you both have,” said DiDi. “Trip is such a gentleman. And Mace—well, we have just been hitting it off since she came in for her little makeover—and I really appreciate your letting her stay on after school at the salon this week, helping me sweep and such.”

I froze. Trip walked a few more steps before he turned and looked back at me.

“Sweeping hair at the salon?” Mrs. Tanglewood’s voice rose for a second. Then she glanced around and quickly lowered it, smoothing her hair back as she turned to Mace. “You said you’ve been taking the late bus because of Young Entrepreneurs Club.”

Mrs. Davis had a hand on her shoulder. “Tish, let’s stay calm.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Mace lifted her chin. “I’m just hanging out and helping DiDi and talking to her about things.”

Mace was with DiDi every day this week? Sweeping up and yakking away? And that was not a big deal? DiDi would never let me set a toe in her work space. I used to beg her to let me stay and hang out and talk, but she always made me go home early to shut myself up in a room alone with my books.

DiDi was looking back and forth between Mace and her mom. “Macy?” She bent down so she could look her in the face. “You didn’t let your parents know you were hanging out at the salon with me?”

“Of course she didn’t!” Mrs. Tanglewood said between her teeth. “Do you think I’d let Mace sweep up the hair of our friends? And who are you to dye a child’s hair without permission?”

“Mom, stop it,” Mace said. “It’s a clip-in. I can take it out anytime I want to—I just don’t want to. I tried to tell you, but you were too busy shouting at me!”

“Lower your voice, young lady—”

“No, I won’t, and maybe for once you’ll hear me. You never listen! DiDi listens to me. DiDi asked me what I wanted to look like—the real me—instead of… of just telling me like you do!” Mace was crying. “She’s the first person around here—the first grown-up to listen for five seconds to what it feels like to be me!”

DiDi pulled a rumpled tissue out of her pocket. “Here, baby girl, take this—”

Mrs. Tanglewood shoved it back at her. “Mace, we’re going home—”

“No!”

“Yes. Where’s your father?”

Mrs. Davis looked upset. “Maybe if you and Mace just took a moment to talk—”

“I’m not going anywhere with her!” Mace said, and she pulled away and ran off the field.

“Mace!” called Mrs. Tanglewood. “Come back!” She turned to DiDi. “Look what you’ve done. Couldn’t you find anyone else to lavish your precious time on?”

I gasped and tried to pull my arm away from Trip. I hadn’t even realized he had grabbed me and was trying to hold me still. “Let go! Let go of me!”

“G,” he said. “Wait—”

“No—”

DiDi looked our way and saw me. “G?” She came rushing over.

“No.” I finally wrenched myself away from Trip and faced DiDi. DiDi with her pulled-back curls and tilty nose and curvy lip. DiDi, who had all the time in the world for Mace. And none for me.

I looked her in the eyes like she taught me, so I could Say It Like It Is. “I wish Mama had never died and left me alone with you.”

There’s a word I learned in science class:

Implode.

It means to sort of blow up and collapse. But, like, quietly, from the inside. I knew what it meant in science class. I had just never seen it before in real life—till I saw it in DiDi’s face.

Pull-Aparts

This is what you call Pull-Apart Bread. Everyone wants a piece of it, so when it shows up, you better just get in there and grab what you want.

• ⅔ cup white sugar

• ⅔ cup light brown sugar

• 1 tablespoon cinnamon

• 4 cans of Mayflower refrigerator biscuits

• 8 ounces cream cheese

Preheat your oven to 350°F.

Put your sugars and cinnamon in a big plastic bag and shake it up. One can at a time, toss in your refrigerator biscuits and shake them all around till each one is completely coated with sugar. Lightly butter the inside of a 12-cup Bundt pan. Line the bottom and sides of the pan with 3 cans of the biscuits. The entire inside of the pan should be covered in biscuits, leaving a circular ditch.

Cut your cream cheese into cubes and fill the entire inside of the ditch. Sprinkle some of the leftover sugar mix over the cream cheese. Use the last can of biscuits to cover and seal the top of the ditch.

Bake at 350°F for 40 minutes, or till everything is golden brown and a toothpick comes out clean. Let the Pull-Aparts cool for 5 minutes, then flip them onto a plate. Sprinkle the last of the cinnamon sugar over the soft oozy top.

Oh, and please eat while it’s nice and warm! Whenever I serve this, folks go crazy pulling that bread apart looking for the best piece. But the truth is, there’s no need to pull so hard. There’s enough for everyone.

Serves 10–12.