by Pat Flynn
Chapter Five
Kayla’s dad eventually comes home from hospital and life kind of gets back to normal. I say ‘kind of’ because Kayla has been acting weird. She hasn’t dumped me or anything, but things aren’t quite the same.
For one, she hasn’t eaten any tuckshop food since her dad’s heart attack and if you knew Kayla you’d know that’s as strange as an ice-cream cone in hell. She nibbles on healthy foods like grapes and crackers and sometimes she doesn’t eat at all. She’s started wearing baggy jumpers to school, even though it’s not cold, and she also goes to the toilet a lot. It seems like half our relationship is spent with me waiting for her to come out.
That’s what I’m doing when two of her friends approach. Jasmine and Nina flutter their long eyelashes at me.
‘Matthew, darling.’
‘We need to talk to you about something.’
Like always, they’re joined at the hip and finish each other’s sentences. I don’t mind them, though. For skinny people they’re not too bad.
‘We’re worried about Kayla,’ says Nina.
‘Really worried,’ adds Jasmine.
‘What about?’ I say.
‘Well, this morning I offered her food and she said no.’
‘It’s true,’ says Nina.
‘Maybe she wasn’t hungry?’ I answer.
‘It was chocolate.’
‘Ohh.’ Kayla is never too full for chocolate.
‘And have you noticed that she’s got this distant look in her eyes?’ says Nina.
I nod. It’s as if her body is here but her mind is somewhere else. Like on another planet.
‘And her diary was open in class and Nina saw an acrostic poem on one of the pages,’ says Jasmine.
That’s not surprising, Kayla likes writing poems. Unlike me. My mind never seems to be able to find the right rhymes.
Nina nods and takes up the story. ‘The title was SLIM. I couldn’t read it all but the S was for Skinny, the L for Lovely and the M for Mystery.’
‘Hmm,’ It’s a mystery all right. I was hoping the M would be for Matthew.
‘There’s something strange going on,’ says Jasmine.
‘And we want you to find out what it is,’ says Nina.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you,’ they both say.
‘How?’
‘Well, we want you to ask her out for dinner,’ says Nina.
‘Like, on a date,’ says Jasmine.
‘And then tell us what she eats.’
‘And whether she acts strange.’
‘Hmm.’ A date? It’s not the worst plan in the world. Kayla and I haven’t gone out in ages and I’m always up for some dinner. I’m not sure if her mum will be too keen on the idea, though. ‘I can try.’
‘Thanks, Matt. You’re the best!’
‘Kayla’s lucky to have you.’
They both give me a hug. I don’t squeeze in case I snap them in two.
Surprisingly, Kayla’s excited about the idea. And even more surprisingly her parents say yes as well. We agree to meet at the food court in the mall on Friday night. It mightn’t be a gourmet restaurant, but it’s cheap with lots of variety.
Kayla takes my breath away when I see her. Not from punching me in the stomach, but from how she looks. She’s wearing a long flowing black skirt with a red top and around her neck is a silver chain with a love heart on the end. It looks pretty darn fine, even if I do say so myself.
We hug and she gives me a nice smile. Things seem good again.
‘You ready to eat?’ she says.
So much for small talk. And so much for Jasmine and Nina’s worries. I think the old Kayla is back.
‘I’m always ready for food,’ I say. ‘What do you want? Something healthy?’
‘Not tonight.’
She puts her hand on my arm and starts speaking. I find it hard to concentrate on what she’s saying.
‘Matt, do you ever feel like just forgetting what your mum and doctor tell you to do and eat whatever you want?’
‘Well, all the time. But—’
‘Me too. Mum is always telling me to study and train for dancing and watch what I eat in case I end up like Dad. For one night, why don’t we just do whatever we want?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I mean is, you versus me. Eating competition.’
‘An eating competition?’
This is sounding like the Kayla of very old. We used to stuff our faces all the time before I fainted while running around the oval. But that’s another story …
‘Yep,’ she says, ‘I’m sick of everything at the moment. I just feel like letting go and forgetting all my worries. Are you in?’
‘Hmm.’ I’m no Einstein but I’m smart enough to know this is a bad idea. ‘I’m not sure …’
‘Come on. I bet you I win.’
‘You beat me? At eating?’
She crosses her arms. ‘For sure.’
She’s dreaming. No one can beat me in an eating comp. ‘What’s the bet?’ I ask.
‘If you win, I’ll give you a kiss. A big one.’
‘Hmm.’ She’s certainly got me interested. ‘And if you beat me?’
‘I’ll tell you that later. When I win.’
She sure is cocky.
‘How much money you got?’ she asks.
‘Fifteen bucks.’
‘I’ve got twenty. What’s the most food we can buy for thirty-five dollars?’
It’s too easy. ‘All-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. Fifteen-fifty each which includes soft drink and dessert.’ I used to order it all the time before I went healthy.
‘Mmmm,’ says Kayla. ‘I feel like some sweet and sour tonight. Don’t you?’
Actually, I do. I can’t believe I’m considering this but I’m a sucker for beautiful girls and junk food. Put them together and I’ve got no chance at all.
‘Get ready to come second,’ I say.
‘Bring it on,’ she replies.
Let the eating begin.
Chapter Six
One thing I’ve learnt about a buffet is that you have to treat it like a marathon and not a sprint. This suits me fine because I never sprint. If you make the mistake of tucking into your favourite food straightaway, then before you know it you’re as full as a crocodile after tourist season. But if you start with nibblies and slide into main courses and end up with a yummy dessert, you can practically eat all night.
Unfortunately, Kayla takes the same approach. She did learn from the master, after all.
We start with dim sims and spring rolls and I have a bowl of won ton soup to wash it down. Kayla doesn’t have the soup and I’m now thinking that was a smart idea. The won ton is heavy in my stomach, like it weighs one tonne.
I burp it out and move onto mains. You can’t go past the old sweet and sour. I stay away from too much rice because that will fill you up, just red sauce and chicken flying down my throat. After I chow down some beef chow mein I finish my mains with a plate of moo goo gai pan – which isn’t even dead cow, believe it or not, but chicken and mushrooms. Those Chinese have a funny sense of humour.
Kayla has kept up with me until now but I figure she’s about to hit the wall. The wall’s not too far away, even for me. In fact, it feels like the Great Wall of China is being built inside my guts, and if I’m full Kayla must be bursting. I’m an eating professional, after all, even if I am a touch out of practice. And she’s a skinny girl.
‘I need to go to the toilet,’ Kayla says, licking the last bit of sauce off her fingers. ‘Don’t eat anything while I’m gone.’
I raise my eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t.’
Kayla’s gone for ages, long enough for me to start feeling guilty about what I’m doing. At my last appointment, Doctor Morrison told me how proud he was of me, saying that I’ve turned the corner from fat to fit. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve just done a U-turn and started accelerating back up Chubby Street.
Why? Because Kayla asked me
to. Well, that’s one reason, but another is because a part of me really wants to. Being healthy just doesn’t come naturally to me. As much as I want to be in control, every day without eating junk food is like a day in healthy jail, and sometimes I just want to break out.
Kayla’s shimmying back my way and she’s looking a lot better than I feel. What’s unfair is that while my tummy is the size of a beach ball, hers is like a tennis ball. I have no idea where the food she just ate went because it doesn’t seem like it should fit inside that body.
‘Dessert?’ she asks. She’s smiling with her mouth but her eyes are steely. Surely she doesn’t think she’s actually going to win?
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Let’s do it.’
We each have a bowl of fried ice-cream. The warm batter makes the ice-cream extra cold and sweet and normally I’d eat it in two seconds. Tonight it takes more than two minutes. With all I’ve packed away it’s not so easy to get down and the last mouthfuls taste more like fried worms than fried ice-cream.
‘Another?’ Kayla says when we finish.
I stare at her. There’s a drop of white in the dimple on her chin. Surely she’s joking?
She gets up, plate in hand, and heads for the buffet table. I hate that – I like to be in the lead as it gives me a psychological advantage.
She fills up her plate with more ice-cream and I do the same.
‘Did you know the Chinese used to make ice-cream out of snow?’ she says.
‘No.’
I can’t believe this. Now she even knows more about food than me. It’s like the apprentice has become the master.
We return with full bowls and although my mouth chews, I have to use my brain to force my throat to swallow. I think my stomach must have shrunk in the last year.
Kayla is wolfing down her food like it’s ice-cream. Hang on, it is ice-cream, but after seven courses my stomach doesn’t want an ice-cream bar of it.
‘Geez, you’re slow,’ Kayla says, licking her last spoonful. ‘You’re not full, are you, Matt?’
‘No way,’ I reply, forcing more into my mouth. ‘Just taking my time so I can really enjoy it.’
She sniggers. ‘Well, slow coach, I’m going back for more.’
She’s not serious.
She stands up and walks to the buffet. She is serious!
I’m tempted to hide my half-full plate underneath the table, but I don’t believe in cheating. I also don’t believe in losing. I stuff the rest into my mouth and swallow without chewing. For a second the lump gets stuck halfway down my throat, but I give the top of my chest a hard slap and it drops into my tummy.
Slowly getting to my feet, I waddle to the buffet carrying my plastic bowl.
Kayla passes me on her way back, cradling another bowl of fried ice-cream. She wiggles her tongue at me as I walk past. ‘See you soon, boyfriend.’
That’s if I make it back without exploding.
I heap some more dessert onto my plate while trying not to look at it too closely. I’m worried what the sight of all that fried ice-cream will do to my stomach. For some reason I don’t think the next person would enjoy the combination of fried ice-cream spew.
Only spilling a little bit, I eventually make it back to our table. As I sit, the button on my jeans pops open, but I’m too stuffed to do it back up. Literally.
I put a serviette over my lap and look at Kayla.
‘Yummy,’ she says.
It’s impossible to believe but she’s almost finished her third bowl of fried ice-cream. I have two quick spoonfuls to try and catch up, but it was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
Blahhhhhh!
There was no time to run to the toilet so I aim at my bowl. Luckily, most of it goes in, although not all. Some lands on the plastic table and some drips onto my shoe.
A little kid sitting at the table beside us goes, ‘Aww, that’s disgusting!’
For a few moments Kayla and I just look at each other.
And then she speaks. ‘I think I won.’
I get up and run to the toilet. I think she’s right.
Chapter Seven
After five plastic cups of lemon soft drink, most of the regurgitated all-you-can-eat-Chinese-buffet-taste is out of my mouth – except for some bile stuck deep in my throat. I never thought I’d end my dinner-date heaving my dinner down a toilet. I much prefer seeing my food only once in a night.
I also never thought I’d lose to my girlfriend in an eating competition. It’s been a night to forget.
The only good thing is that now I feel a lot better. And a lot lighter. I’d like to say I’ll never eat that much again, but I’ve said that so many times that it’s getting hard to believe myself.
We have a look around JB Hi-Fi without saying much. Kayla leafs through her favourite boy band CDs while I check out the latest computer games.
She taps me on the shoulder. ‘Mum’s picking me up in twenty minutes. Let’s go outside.’
We escape the bright lights of the mall for a boardwalk that looks down over a dirty canal. Kids used to be able to hire pedal boats and ride around the river wetting themselves, but ever since one kid fell in and nearly drowned they put a stop to it. I don’t care much because I never tried it. Looked like too much exercise.
We sit on a bench overlooking the water. The moon is full and a few stars keep it company. Most stars, though, are hiding behind clouds.
‘I feel bad,’ I say.
‘What for?’
‘You know.’
She touches my arm. ‘Don’t worry. Everybody throws up sometimes.’
That sounds like the name of a bad country song. ‘It’s not that,’ I say, looking at the moon. ‘I never thought I’d eat like that again.’
She gives my arm a squeeze. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure I feel worse than you.’
That’s hard to believe. ‘Why?’ I say. ‘You’re not the one who couldn’t hold down their Chinese. Besides, you’re skinny.’
She’s still touching me and goose bumps rise out of my arms and legs.
‘Don’t you ever wonder how I can eat this much and not look like an elephant?’ she says.
‘Yes, I do. You’re the luckiest person ever.’
‘Luck has nothing to do with it.’
‘What do you mean?’
She takes her hand away. ‘Don’t worry.’
We’re quiet. A cloud drifts over the moon.
‘So, you haven’t asked me what I want?’ she says softly.
I turn my head and squint at her.
‘For beating you,’ she explains. ‘You owe me a favour.’
I forgot about that. No matter how much I like winning, I pride myself on being a good loser. ‘Tell me what it is and I’ll do it.’
She touches my arm again. ‘It might sound a bit weird.’
‘You’re talking to Mr A Bit Weird, remember?’
‘Okay, then. But first promise you won’t think I’m strange.’
I grin. ‘I can’t promise that …’
She folds her arms. ‘I’m not telling, then.’
‘I’m only joking. Of course I won’t think you’re a loony. You’re my girlfriend.’
‘Okay. Well …’
A pause.
‘Tell me!’
‘I want you to write a poem. For me.’
‘A poem?’ That’s strange, but not too strange.
‘A special type of poem,’ she adds.
I’m flat out writing any type of poem, let alone a special one.
‘I want it written like a recipe, with lots of yummy ingredients,’ she says.
‘A recipe poem?’
‘Yep. Give it to me in an envelope, in your best writing, and I’ll write one back to you.’
My best writing is like Kayla’s worst writing. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Thanks, Matt. It means more than you know.’ She gives me a hug.
And then it’s time to go.
It’s Monday morning and we’re in the library choosin
g our novel of the week. It’s proving to be a difficult task because Jasmine and Nina have cornered me in the non-fiction section.
‘What happened Friday night?’ Nina asks.
‘We want every detail.’
‘And we mean every detail.’
They chuckle.
I tell them that there’s nothing to worry about because Kayla ate heaps of food, even more than me.
‘More than you?’ Nina says.
‘No offence, but how is that possible?’ says Jasmine.
I shrug. I’m still trying to figure that out.
Jasmine raises her eyebrows. ‘What exactly did she eat?’
I tell them, leaving out the moo goo gai pan and the fried ice-cream. Listing so many dishes was starting to get embarrassing. Plus it was taking too long.
‘Something’s fishy,’ says Nina when I finish.
‘Very fishy,’ says Jas. ‘Anything else we should know?’
‘Umm …’ I’m about to tell them about the recipe poem but hesitate. I’m not feeling too flash about spying on my girlfriend and don’t want to tell them all her secrets. Besides, they might want to see the poem I’ve written and I’d rather they didn’t. ‘No, that’s it.’
‘We’ll get back to you with another assignment,’ says Nina.
‘Very soon,’ says Jas, giving me a wink.
They slip into the fiction section through a tiny opening in the shelves, while I have to walk all the way around. By the time I make it the librarian’s yelling, ‘Hurry up!’ so I grab the first book I see. It’s got a picture of a worried-looking skateboarder in midair on the front cover. Even though I couldn’t fly like that in a million years, I think I know how he feels.
‘Do you have it?’ Kayla asks at recess.
I know what she’s talking about but I play dumb. ‘Have what?’
‘You know. The thing you were going to do for me.’ She looks around in case someone is listening.
‘What thing?’
‘You know. The thing.’ She’s starting to sound annoyed.
I sigh. I was having second thoughts but now it looks like I’m going to have to hand it over. ‘It’s in my bag. I’ll give it to you later.’
‘Let’s get it now. I’ll walk with you.’
