‘A melted choc-nut,’ I add.
‘Ah, so she’s just a nut then!’ Isaac cracks up. ‘Well, if you have any more melted chocs, pass them over to your best buddy.’
‘Nah, you only give melted chocolates to people you don’t like,’ I say.
Isaac slaps his thighs. ‘If you hate someone,’ he sings. ‘If you really hate their guts . . .’
‘You give them a box of melted chocolates,’ I sing back, clicking my fingers.
‘If you hate someone,’ Isaac sings. ‘If you want them to go nuts . . .’
‘Just give them a box of melted chocolates!’
We sing until our faces turn into tomatoes and the other kids stop and stare at us.
Isaac and I love making up dumb songs, especially ones that are catchy. The melted chocolate song is hovering in my ears like a fly over a BBQ. I’m singing the song under my breath during our morning maths lesson.
‘If you hate someone . . .’
‘What do you say, TAG?’ a voice calls from my left side.
I look up and it’s Kadir. The new kid. The first new kid since me. He’s using my old nickname, TAG, which stands for The Asian Guy. I still love being the different kid in Megulla, but it’s not such a big deal these days, especially since Kadir arrived.
‘You hate me, TAG?’ Kadir says.
‘No . . .’
‘Then why do you sing about hate?’
I look up at Kadir’s face. He’s got sad panda eyes and dry chapped lips that look like barbed wire. Our teacher, Mrs Rogers, told us that he and his family escaped from Syria. She paired me with up Kadir, like I’m supposed to be his instant buddy. But he’s angry all the time and keeps running away from me.
‘It’s just a silly song that Isaac and I made up, okay?’ I say.
Kadir grunts and goes back to his book.
I sigh. Every conversation with him is so heated and intense that I need to drink my whole bottle of water to cool off.
Later that evening, Dad helps me wash the dishes after dinner, which means one thing. He wants to talk. We finish wiping the benches before Dad shows me a supermarket catalogue. He’s marked all the chocolate specials in black texta.
‘We can get a lot of chocs with our budget of fifty bucks,’ he says.
I stare at the shiny boxes and all I see are melted chocolates. I imagine Mum’s face when she opens the box and there’s a chocolate sticking to the tray because it’s turned into soft goo. ‘I was thinking we could buy some special chocolates . . .’
‘This variety box is only five dollars,’ Dad says. ‘You can’t get more special than that.’
‘No, I mean we get her some boutique chocolates, from the city.’
‘It’s a long drive, buddy,’ Dad says.
‘Yeah, yeah, eight hours, I know,’ I say. ‘But maybe we could get them delivered.’
Dad whistles. ‘We only get the postie here once a fortnight in Megulla. I struggle to get courier packages sent to my work within a week and they’re a big mining company.’ He pats me on the shoulder. ‘We’ll treat your mum when we visit your cousins in the city, next time,’ he says. ‘Let’s just stick to these chocolates.’
‘But they’re always melted,’ I say.
‘They’re not that bad,’ Dad says. ‘Your mum doesn’t know the difference.’
I bite my tongue. That’s where Dad’s wrong but I don’t want to disappoint him. Maybe that’s why Mum hasn’t said anything all these years – she didn’t want to disappoint him either. Now I’m even more determined to give her some fancy unmelted chocolates.
The next day at school, Isaac and I teach the Melted Chocolates song to some kindergarten kids at lunchtime.
‘You give them a box of melted chocolates,’ the little kids sing.
Isaac laughs. ‘We can take this show on the road, maybe play the Megulla RSL first.’
‘I wonder if I could get a delivery plane to drop off Mum’s special chocolates,’ I say.
‘You still on about that?’ Isaac shakes his head. ‘Even if it was cool inside the plane, they’d probably melt by the time they got to the ground.’
‘How about a drone then?’ I ask.
‘Same thing,’ Isaac says. ‘Unless the chocolates are kept in a mini-esky.’
I spend the afternoon daydreaming about drones and helicopters, whizzing chocolates to my mum. I’m sure I could do it, if I had a million dollars. Then again, if I was a millionaire, I would take Mum on a private jet to Belgium to feast on their famous chocolates.
After school, Isaac and I go to Megulla cafe for their famous milkshakes. Not quite Belgium, but it’s all we’ve got, and it’s the best way to do homework. Actually, make that the only way to do homework.
I get out my phone and look up the nearest fancy chocolate place. You never know your luck with Google. I type it in and one name pops up.
‘Whoa!’ I zoom in on a picture of a chocolate surrounded by flowers. ‘Wild About Eve!’
‘Who’s Eve?’ Isaac asks.
‘It’s a chocolate store that’s just opened up in Braden.’ I’m drooling and scrolling down their website. ‘They sell luxury chocolate in the shapes of roses, seashells and animals.’
‘Luxury . . . ooh la la, sounds fancy.’ Isaac looks over my shoulder. ‘They’re just chocolates that look like things,’ he says.
‘They’re artisan,’ I say. ‘My mum loves that kind of stuff.’
‘Chocolate art. If there is such a thing, sign me up,’ Isaac says.
That night, when Mum is watching her favourite TV show in the living room, I grab Dad at the dining table and show him the Wild About Eve website on his laptop.
‘What do you think?’ I say.
‘Twenty bucks for a chocolate rose?’ Dad says. ‘That’s highway robbery.’
‘I’m happy to use my own pocket money,’ I say. ‘Just take me to Braden next week, and we can leave Mum at home.’
‘Sorry, buddy, work’s got us under the pump,’ Dad says. ‘I’m working weekends for the next month.’
I frown. ‘There must be some way to do this . . .’
If Dad can’t help me, then maybe my friends will.
‘How could I get to Braden without a car?’ I ask Isaac at school the next day. He’s lived in Megulla all his life, so he should know.
‘My family normally catches a bus,’ Isaac says. ‘But they only come a few times a day.’
I tap my chin. ‘It’ll have to do. Do you want to come to Braden with me on Saturday?’
Isaac laughs. ‘Only if you shout me Maccas.’
‘What?’ I say.
‘I’ll be your delivery guardian,’ Isaac says. ‘I’ll make sure those chocolates don’t melt.’
I shake his hand. ‘You’ve got a deal.’
When I get home, I tell Mum about hanging out with Isaac in Braden on Saturday. ‘There’s a movie that we want to see,’ I say.
‘Can’t this wait until next week for our shopping run?’ Mum says.
‘Isaac has caught the bus there a million times, it’s easy,’ I say. ‘Besides, it’s your birthday weekend, don’t you want the whole house to yourself?’
‘A whole messy house . . .’ Mum says. ‘Are you just escaping your chores?’
‘Um . . . I’ll come back in the afternoon to help out, I promise,’ I say.
Mum laughs. ‘Okay, just make sure you catch the right bus,’ she says. ‘I don’t want you to end up in Woop Woop.’
The next day, Isaac and I make a plan for ‘Operation Surprise Mum’. We walk past the bus stop on the way to school and check the timetable.
‘First bus leaves for Braden at 8.20am,’ Isaac says. ‘Which means we’ll get to Braden, just before 11am. Then we should be able to make it back on the midday bus.’
‘So, oh great delivery guardian, how are we going to stop the chocolates from melting on the trip home?’ I ask.
‘Have you got a small esky?’ Isaac says.
I nod.
‘Good, b
ring it tomorrow,’ he says. ‘I’ll put some ice packs in our freezer tonight. We’ll need all the cooling we can get.’
I wake up early on Saturday and check the temperature on my phone. It’s already 22 degrees. Wow. Summer’s overstayed its welcome, big time.
Dad lends me his lunch esky and I fill it with ice cubes, for extra cooling.
‘It looks like you’re going on a picnic,’ Mum says.
‘We want to keep our drinks cold for the movie,’ I say, filling up my drink bottle and putting it in. ‘It’s going to be a hot day.’
‘Yeah, up to 35 degrees,’ Mum chirps.
Whoa. I thought it was only going to be 29. The weatherperson should be fired, or, better yet, forced to stand outside for a few hours in case they’ve forgotten what 35 degrees feels like.
‘Grab your sunscreen and hat,’ Mum says. ‘I don’t want you to melt.’
I stop in my tracks and swing my head around. Does she smell our plan? I stare at Mum but she’s gone back to her phone.
‘Okay, see ya, Mum!’
Isaac and I meet at the bus stop and soon we’re hopping on the bus to Braden. Isaac pulls a couple of ice packs from his backpack and puts them in Dad’s esky.
‘Don’t worry, these guys last for ages.’
‘They just need to last for half a day.’
The bus turns the corner of Megulla’s Main Street and parks itself outside the other bus stop, which is near the post office. A few old ladies from the poetry club take ages to get on. They’re followed by the Mafi family – Kadir and his mum, who sit in front of us, and his twin sisters, who skip onto the bus with their dolls and sit across the aisle.
Kadir puts on his headphones and leans against the windowsill.
One of his sisters, Amira waves at me and Isaac. ‘Hello!’
‘Hellloooooo,’ says Jamal, the other twin.
We wave back. They’re in kindergarten at school and they’re cute kids.
Isaac hums the tune for Melted Chocolates.
Jamal turns around. ‘Give them a box of melted chocolates,’ she sings.
‘Jamal!’ Kadir’s mum snaps. ‘Enough of that terrible song.’
‘Oops,’ Isaac whispers, ducks his head down into his collar.
The bus turns onto the highway where it’s just a straight line to Braden, though there seem to be quite few stops along the way. I keep thinking about Mum and how happy she’ll be when she gets the chocolates tomorrow for her birthday. What takes two hours in Mum’s sedan is taking more than three hours in a bus. I forgot how slow these hunks-of-junk can be, though at least this one has air con.
‘This stop is Braden!’ the bus driver yells, as we approach the bus station, half an hour late.
We hop off the bus and head straight to Wild About Eve, which is tucked away in a new building off the main street. There are flowers painted all over the front window. No wonder Mum kept walking past it.
I already feel sticky and sweaty, and we haven’t even bought the chocolates yet.
Isaac and I enter the shop. ‘Whoooooa,’ Isaac says. ‘Aiiiirrrrr coooooonnnnnn.’
‘Can you keep time?’ I ask. ‘I want to be out of here in 10 minutes.’
‘K.’ His mouth is moving but his brain has blasted off and landed on Planet Choc.
The shop is brightly lit with white painted walls and glass display cabinets, just like the chocolate stores in the city. It’s perfect.
A lady in a fancy apron brings out a silver tray of chocolate shards. ‘Welcome to Wild About Eve. Would you like to try a sample?’
‘Yes, please!’ Isaac says, finding his voice and pushing his way past me to grab some. ‘What type is it?’
‘Lavender Dark Chocolate,’ the lady says.
‘Ooh yeah . . . it tastes like my mum’s fabric softener,’ Isaac says.
‘Are you Eve?’ I ask the lady.
The lady laughs. ‘No, my name’s Belinda. But who would visit a store called Wild About Belinda?’
I scratch my head. I’m tempted to ask her why she would want to open up a fancy chocolate store in a country town, but I don’t have time. We need to make that midday bus back to Megulla. ‘Do you have any chilli or honeycomb chocolates?’
‘Of course,’ Belinda says, leading us to the counter. ‘And lots of my chocolates are made with flavours from the bush, like wildflower or myrtle.’
Isaac helps himself to more chocolate shards from the sample plate. ‘Does that mean your chocolate could have bindies?’
‘We only hand those out to naughty kids,’ Belinda says to him with a smile, before turning back to me. ‘Now, is this for someone special?’
‘It’s for my mum’s birthday tomorrow,’ I say. ‘She loves special chocolates.’
‘Well, we better make sure we choose the best kind then.’
Belinda rolls up her sleeves and shows me her best selection of chocs. There are chocolate truffles, slabs, flowers, shells, animal shapes. I keep nodding my head. ‘How much are they?’
‘You can have eight pieces for thirty-five dollars,’ Belinda says. ‘I can pop them in a box and wrap it up for you.’
Phew, I wonder if Dad’s ears have perked up from down in the mine. Each piece of chocolate is not much more than mouthful size. He would tell me off for sure. But then, I would tell him that Mum’s had to put up with ordinary, melted chocolates for the last three years we’ve lived out here. It’s time to treat her.
‘Sounds good,’ I say.
I try to choose chocolates with really unusual shapes – ones that Mum wouldn’t have seen except in the city. I start with a beetle, a koala, a tiny sunflower, then an amazingly detailed little penny-farthing bike. But there are so many incredible shapes and flavours, it takes me ages to choose four more.
Belinda puts them all carefully into a pretty box, which she skilfully ties up with lush red ribbon. Then she takes out a small, long-stemmed chocolate rose from the display and puts it in a separate long box, finishing it off with another beautifully tied ribbon.
‘Because you’re my first customers,’ Belinda explains. ‘Bring your mum with you next time.’
‘I will,’ I say. ‘Once she gets a taste of these, I’m sure this will be her favourite place in Braden. How long will these chocolates last for?’
‘A few seconds,’ Belinda says.
I feel myself melting in my shoes.
‘They’ll melt in your mouth and then they’re gone!’ Belinda laughs and Isaac joins in.
Belinda must have read the lines on my forehead because she stops laughing and pats my shoulder. ‘Look, as long as you keep them in a cool place, they’ll be fine,’ Belinda says.
I was going to ask if she’s lived out in the country long, because only a city person would say something like that. But that will have to wait until our next visit.
‘What’s the time?’ I ask Isaac.
He checks his phone and his eyebrows shoot up. ‘11.55!’
‘Argghh!’ I thank Belinda and quickly pay for the chocolates. Juggling the packages, I head outside with Isaac. ‘Quick, we’ll sort out the esky when we get to the stop. We have to be on that midday bus.’
‘But what about Macca’s?’ Isaac protests.
‘Too late. I’ll shout you a burger at Megulla cafe later this arvo,’ I say.
‘I can get that any day,’ Isaac says. ‘Come on, you promised.’
‘I’ll owe you two meals then. These chocolates need to get home before they melt,’ I say. ‘The next time I go to Braden with my parents, I’ll buy you Macca’s and deliver it straight to your house.’
‘It’ll be cold.’
‘Hasn’t stopped you before.’
Isaac taps his chin. ‘True. Make that three meals and you’ve got a deal.’
‘Only if these chocs don’t melt.’ We run down the path, trying to stay in the shade. We can see the bus waiting at the stop in the distance.
I wave my hands in the air. ‘Hey . . . hey . . .!’ We bolt down towards the bus. The o
range indicator lights on the bus are flashing. ‘Wait!’ I yell.
The bus moves out onto the street. Its wheels are moving quicker than our legs. By the time we get to the bus stop, it’s turning onto the road.
Isaac looks like he’s sprained half his body. The lower half. He’s sunk onto the pavement with his legs spread out, heaving for breath.
I walk over to him, sucking in big mouthfuls of air. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think I left my guts back there,’ Isaac says. ‘Can you get them for me?’
I look at my watch. ‘The next bus should be here in an hour.’
‘Excellent!’ Isaac says. ‘Now we can have lunch at Macca’s. It does have air con . . .’
I sigh. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
When we hit Maccas, it seems half the town is getting away from the heat in here. I let Isaac order my meal while I sort out the chocolates. The box still feels cool but I was really hoping to be on a getaway bus by now. I open the mini-esky and my ice cubes under Isaac’s ice packs have melted into water. I quickly duck into the toilets to tip the water into the sink, then I carefully place the main box of chocolates onto the ice packs in the esky. I try to fit the box with the rose on top, but it’s too long.
I come back out and jostle to find us a seat, just as Isaac brings over the tray with two large Big Mac meals. Isaac shoves half of his fries down his throat in one go.
‘Whoa, we need to eat slowly,’ I say. ‘We have to be here for a whole hour.’
Isaac gulps down his fries. ‘We’ll be fine.’
He smashes his meal and watches me eat. As much as I’d like to eat in slow motion, my hands have other ideas, and before I know it, I’m done too. No wonder they call it fast food. I go to the toilets again to wash my hands and come back to see a couple of teens in their footy gear hanging around our table.
‘Are you guys finished?’ the older one with a beard says.
‘Um, no,’ I say.
The bearded guy points at my tray. ‘Looks like you are.’
‘We’re going to buy a box of nuggets,’ I say, handling Isaac some money. ‘Go on, mate.’
Isaac licks his lips and walks off to order the nuggets.
I check on my chocolates again. The main box is fine for now, but I’m not sure how the rose will go, out of the esky.
Brain Freeze Page 13