Don't Wait Up by Liz Astrof

Author:Liz Astrof
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

Little Royalty

* * *

I stayed on the straight and narrow for a while after I was paroled from fat camp. Choosing fruits and vegetables, with proteins no bigger than a deck of cards, all washed down with water instead of an entire gallon of milk, I’d talk myself off a chocolate fudge cake ledge over and over, armed with my “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” mantra.

But like any junkie, I could avoid the siren song of junk food for only so long. Soon I was once again making my way on my Hanukkah bike to 7-Eleven, my pockets full of change I’d lifted from the tennis ball can on my dad’s dresser, always making sure to leave a layer of quarters on top so he wouldn’t become suspicious. I’d learned to appreciate the bike—it served as a sort of equalizer for the copious amount of snacks I was consuming. Also, riding a bike was easier than walking, especially since I found a way to coast downhill both ways.

Whatever I couldn’t eat before I got home I’d save for later, although since my dad and Cathy had taken the dust ruffle off my bed in an effort to keep me honest, I could no longer keep food in my room.

But Camp Sha(m)e had honed my inner savvy, and I’d taken to hiding my stash along the side of the house behind the garbage cans. As long as I moved it before garbage day, I was golden as a classic Twinkie.

One morning on my way to school, I went to grab a piece of candy for the four-minute walk. I remember pondering if it was a Starburst Fruit Chew or Twix kind of morning. Maybe both? Both.

I reached behind the garbage can and unrolled the brown paper bag—only to find that one Twinkie was missing from a package of two.

I knew this wasn’t the work of an animal, because an animal would have eaten all of it and torn the bag to pieces. It wasn’t my parents either, because if it were, I’d be standing there dead. It couldn’t have been my brother, because Jeff would have finked on me immediately.

So, who stole my Twinkie?

I circled back to Jeff. Maybe he was working on how he would “out” me—he was super smart and did shit like that. Maybe he was advancing the assault on our thorny relationship up to extortion levels. I was wondering what I might be forced to pay, what indentured servitude he could exact from me. I figured he’d turn me in via one of his award-winning essays and was imagining a story being published in the school paper about what a fucking pig I was when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my neighbor Rubin standing frozen in his driveway.

We locked eyes, and, in that moment, I knew he was the culprit. He had that telltale look of shame—the same one I had when my hand was caught in the cookie jar. He scurried away, busted and embarrassed.

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