Brain Freeze

by Oliver Phommavanh

  Isaac comes back with a box of twenty-four nuggets. ‘You must have read my mind about these, Thao.’

  I let Isaac demolish most of the nuggets. Just as he’s finishing off the last one, a dad walks over with a tray and three happy meals. ‘Are you guys finished?’ he asks.

  I frown. ‘Um . . .’

  Isaac glances at me. ‘Actually, I’m about to buy some sundaes and frozen cokes.’ He gets up. ‘My shout.’ He comes back with two frozen cokes and two sundaes in a cardboard tray.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  Isaac flips his sundae upside down into the frozen coke. ‘Now it’s a spider.’

  I try to eat my sundae slowly, but I hate seeing ice cream melt in front of me, and it’s so lovely and cold. I end up shovelling my sundae into my mouth in record time. I look at my watch. There’s still another twenty minutes to go.

  Thankfully, nobody bothers us for the next ten minutes, then we finally leave Macca’s to head to the bus stop.

  The heat hits us in the guts. It’s like being blasted by a flamethrower. We stick to the shade on the way to the stop. I’m hoping the bus will be there so we can get straight on, but the stop is completely deserted.

  ‘It’s 1pm, why isn’t the bus here? There should be a bus every hour.’ I re-read the timetable and my heart sinks. ‘I’ve been following the weekday timetable.’

  I check the Saturday timetable. The next bus comes at 2pm. ‘We have to wait another hour,’ I moan.

  Isaac puffs out his cheeks. ‘I don’t know if I can eat any more Macca’s,’ he says. ‘I never thought I’d ever say those words.’

  ‘Maybe we can go to Woolies,’ I say. ‘Hang out there for a bit.’

  It looks like everyone has the same idea because it’s absolutely packed when we get there. ‘How about we try the other supermarket?’ Isaac says.

  ‘I can’t risk another walk in the sun,’ I say. ‘Come on, we need to find the coolest spot in the supermarket.’

  ‘The toy section?’ Isaac asks.

  ‘No.’ I walk over to the freezer aisle, where there are heaps of little kids attacking the boxes of ice cream and ice blocks. I take the long box with the chocolate rose and place it in the open freezer. Just a few minutes in there should keep it from going too soft. I look away for one second, when a grubby hand grabs the box.

  ‘Ooh, what’s this? It looks fancy,’ the little boy says.

  ‘It’s chocolate,’ I say.

  ‘Goodie! I love chocolate ice cream,’ the kid says, running off with the box. ‘Mummy, I want this one!’

  We run after him. ‘Hey, that’s mine. Come back here!’ I yell.

  The kid turns around to look behind him and smacks into a display of tuna tins. I rush over to the kid. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Um, yeah.’ The kid hands back the box and stumbles off.

  A security guard runs over. ‘What’s going on here?’ He points his finger at us.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ I say, with my eyes darting around. ‘There was this kid . . .’

  ‘I have to ask both of you to leave,’ the security guard says sternly, leading us out the door.

  Back out in the baking heat, I give a big sigh.

  ‘Maybe we can go back to the chocolate shop,’ Isaac says.

  I nod. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

  We walk back to Wild About Eve but the store is closed. I read the sign. Gone for lunch, back at 2pm.

  I can’t believe it! I don’t know what’s melting quicker, Mum’s chocolates or my sad heart. Isaac and I rack our brains for another place with air con.

  ‘We could try the library,’ Isaac says.

  ‘That’s on the other side of town,’ I say. ‘It’s too far from the bus stop.’

  Isaac wipes the sweat off his face with his shirt. ‘Maybe we can share a milkshake in a cafe or something,’ he says.

  ‘I only have enough money for the bus fare home,’ I say, ‘You?’ Isaac shakes his head.

  I open up the mini-esky. The ice packs have turned into water balloons. ‘My mum’s chocs are doomed.’

  ‘Hang on . . .’ Isaac points to a footy field across the main road where there’s a match going on. ‘Isn’t that Jonesy?’

  I squint my eyes and try to work out if it’s one of our classmates. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Yeah, his team’s playing the Braden Bulls today, come on . . . maybe they can help us.’

  I follow Isaac down to the footy field. He must be following his stomach because he leads me to the kiosk. ‘Hello, Mrs Pritchard.’

  ‘Hi, Isaac,’ Mrs Pritchard says. I’ve only ever known her as Jonesy’s mum. ‘What are you doing here, boys?’

  ‘Buying my mum a birthday present,’ I blurt out.

  ‘Awww, that would melt my heart,’ Mrs Pritchard says.

  I try to laugh but it comes out as a cough. All this talk about melting is turning me into a puddle of worries.

  ‘Do you have a fridge?’ Isaac asks.

  ‘You hungry, Isaac?’ Mrs Pritchard says. ‘I do have a few meat pies . . .’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘We need to keep something cool.’ I hold up the chocolate rose box.

  Mrs Pritchard nods. ‘Come around here, boys,’ she says.

  The fridge looks busted, with more dents than Isaac’s dad’s ute. It’s groaning like a whale. I open the fridge and gag. ‘It smells like off-custard.’

  Isaac pinches his nose. ‘You’re half right, something has gone off but it’s not custard,’ he says. ‘Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.’

  I don’t care, these chocolates need the cool air. I place both boxes next to the sliced oranges and sandwiches. We watch a bit of rugby league on the sidelines.

  ‘Thanks, Isaac,’ I say.

  ‘No worries,’ Isaac says.

  ‘I promise to super-size your next two Macca’s meals,’ I add.

  ‘I’m not really doing it for the food,’ he says. ‘I know you love your mum heaps and, well . . . I want to help her stay in Megulla.’

  ‘Huh?’ I say.

  ‘Well, I know heaps of people who move back to the big smoke after a while,’ he says. ‘For reasons like gourmet chocs.’

  I scratch my head. ‘Nah, we’re in Megulla because of my dad’s job. Don’t worry, you’ll have to put up with me for years yet.’

  Isaac grins. ‘I hope so. Oh, so is that super-size Macca’s deal still on?’

  ‘Of course. You delivered with the fridge here, didn’t you?’ I check my watch. ‘Okay, now the bus should be coming in ten minutes.’

  We take the chocolates out of the fridge and thank Mrs Pritchard. I’ve walked up and down Braden so many times now that I can do this with my eyes closed. Not that I would risk it with this precious cargo.

  The bus comes and we hop on board. I check on the boxes of chocolate. They look a little battered but they feel okay. The time in the fridge helped a bit. The bus driver waits until five past two.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, tapping my feet. ‘What’s taking so long?’

  The bus is about to turn into the main road when suddenly it stops and we’re flung forward. I cling onto the boxes.

  The door opens and Kadir jumps on board. He’s carrying a giant bag from Target.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Kadir’s mum says to the bus driver.

  She’s lugging a giant bag too, which Kadir takes for her, marching down the aisle to find a seat. Kadir’s sisters trail behind their mother sucking on their drink bottles. They all sit down and the bus starts moving.

  I wipe the sweat off my forehead. ‘Why is it still so stuffy in here?’ I say. I walk up to the bus driver. ‘Is the air con on?’

  ‘It’s on full blast,’ he says.

  ‘It doesn’t feel like it.’

  ‘Trust me,’ the bus driver says, with his eyes on the road. ‘You don’t want to know what’s it’s like without air con.’

  I go back to Isaac, who’s finished his last water bottle.

  I slump in my seat, hovering over my precious
melting cargo.

  ‘All of this will be for nothing,’ I groan.

  ‘Just chill, mate,’ Isaac says.

  ‘How can I chill?!’ I say.

  ‘Turn down the heat,’ Isaac says. ‘It’s not good for the chocs.’

  I sigh and try to put on a smile. ‘Maybe I just need to think cold thoughts.’

  ‘Yeah, think about having slushies while riding a polar bear in the Arctic,’ Isaac says.

  ‘Or having an ice bath, like those footy players after a match.’

  The bus splutters and the air con has the hiccups, blasting out air in puffs every three seconds, then stopping altogether.

  ‘Sorry folks,’ the bus driver says on the speaker. ‘The air con has gone kaput. You can open the windows if you want some fresh air.’

  Isaac pops out a window and it’s like he’s switched on a heater so he quickly pulls it closed again. The bus driver is dead right, the air con was making a difference. I sit in my puddle of sweat, looking for the coolest spot to sit.

  I spot Kadir, sitting away from his family and staring out the window again. He’s holding a mini-fan and aiming it at his chin. His sisters have a mini-fan too and are using it to fan each other.

  Isaac pokes me in the shoulder. ‘Come on, Thao, you need to get your mind off things.’ He starts singing. ‘When you hate someone . . .’

  Kadir sticks his head up. ‘Hey!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Isaac keeps his head down. ‘Too loud, hey?’

  ‘Yeah, that must be it,’ I say, meeting Kadir’s steely gaze, before staring at my lap. It’s a bit hard to explain to Isaac about how Kadir hates songs that mention the word hate. I have a feeling that Kadir had heard that word a million times before he came to Australia as a refugee, and maybe a few times since.

  I tip the esky upside down to drain it again, so it doesn’t make the chocolate box soggy. I lay the smaller box of chocs back inside the esky. Maybe these ones might survive, but the chocolate rose is surely a goner.

  Looking across at Isaac, I see he’s fallen asleep. I guess that’s one way to pass the time, though I don’t know how anyone can sleep in this heat. It’s one country skill I haven’t picked up yet.

  I lay the long box with the chocolate rose on my lap. I can’t tell if my eyes are getting teary or if I’m just sweaty. I sniff loudly. This has all been a waste of time and money . . .

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Kadir calls back to me.

  ‘Huh?’ I say.

  He gets up and sits across the aisle from me. ‘What have you got there?’

  I show him the esky and my long chocolate box. ‘I bought these chocolates for my mum’s birthday, but they’re going to melt.’

  ‘Why did you buy chocolates when it is so hot?’

  I laugh. ‘Because I love my mum.’

  Kadir’s eyes light up; something I’ve never seen before. ‘Ah, yes, I see,’ he says. ‘It is very good to love your mother.’

  And with that, he walks back to his seat.

  Well, that was a random convo, but it’s the first time Kadir’s spoken to me without sounding aggro.

  Then Kadir is back, holding out his mini-fan. ‘You can use this, maybe it helps,’ Kadir says. ‘I hope your mother can still eat the chocolates.’

  ‘Me too. Thanks for the fan.’ I turn it on and aim it at the boxes of chocolates.

  Kadir goes back to his seat, then a few minutes later, Amira and Jamal come back with their fan. ‘Kadir told us you needed it,’ Jamal says.

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ I say.

  Jamal pushes the fan into my hand. ‘Kadir says it’s for your mum.’

  ‘Cool, thanks,’ I say, smiling at both of them.

  Amira giggles. ‘We’re lucky that our mum is not a box like yours.’

  I stare down at the box. ‘Oh no, my mum is not a box.’

  ‘Oh, is she inside the box?’ Jamal says. ‘Can we see her?’

  I laugh. ‘She’s at home in Megulla. This is a gift for her birthday.’

  The girls break into fits of giggles and run back to their seat.

  I turn one of the fans towards the chocolate box in the esky and I focus the other one on the chocolate rose box.

  After what seems an eternity, the bus turns into Megulla’s main street and I hand back the mini-fans to Kadir. ‘I’ll bring you some fresh batteries on Monday.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It was worth it for your gift,’ Kadir says. ‘See you at school.’

  He joins his family and hops off the bus.

  I wake up Isaac. ‘Come on, mate, we’re home.’

  Isaac rubs his eyes. ‘I was dreaming about that ice bath.’ He looks at the chocolate boxes. ‘Sorry, I let you down, mate.’

  ‘Nah, you kept these chocolates alive for as long as you could,’ I say. ‘I owe you at least one more Macca’s meal, even if they are melted.’

  I wave goodbye to Isaac and head back home. I sneak in the back door and tuck the boxes in a cupboard in the spare room between some winter jumpers for insulation from the heat. I’m tempted to put them in the fridge but I think about what that does to chocolate and I decide it’s better to keep them in the coolest room in our place.

  Then I go to the kitchen and drink my body weight in water.

  The next morning, Dad and I are in the kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs with pancakes for Mum’s birthday breakfast. It’s a weird combo but it works.

  ‘Should we give Mum her present now?’ I say to Dad.

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ Dad says. ‘Who doesn’t like chocs for breakfast?’

  We deliver the breakfast tray to Mum in bed. She’s already sitting up, scrolling through her phone.

  ‘Happy Birthday, Mum!’ I say, as Dad puts the tray on the bed.

  ‘Aww, thanks, you two,’ Mum says.

  I hand her the boxes of chocolates. ‘I got these from Braden for you.’

  ‘Ooooh,’ Mum says. ‘I don’t recognise this brand . . . Wild About Eve . . .’

  I’ve been dying to find out if Mum’s chocolates have survived yesterday’s journey, but I could never have retied the ribbon around the boxes as beautifully as Belinda. I stand beside Mum’s shoulder as she unwraps the ribbon on the smaller box. Dad’s poised with his phone, filming the whole thing like he always does.

  I look inside as Mum lifts the lid and the chocolates all look warped. The tiny sunflower has turned into a brown pebble. The koala looks like roadkill. I feel shattered inside. ‘I’m so sorr –’

  ‘Wow, this is amazing!’ Mum exclaims as she bites into the scrambled-egg shaped wheel of the melted penny-farthing. She closes her eyes. ‘Mmmmmmm.’

  ‘Huh?’ I stare at Mum. ‘Seriously, are you just pretending to like them? They’re all melted.’

  Mum opens her eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter so much with these gourmet ones, because they use real cocoa,’ Mum says, holding out the box. ‘They’re heavenly. Go on, try one.’

  I pick up a squashed beetle and bite its head off. The sharp citrus tang buzzes in my mouth. ‘Whoa!’

  ‘Okay, I want in.’ Dad reaches over and goes for the roadkill koala. ‘Mmmm mmmm . . . worth the price,’ he says out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Almost.’

  Mum puts the lid back on, then spots the other box. ‘What’s in here?’ She opens up the chocolate rose and gasps. ‘It’s beautiful!’

  Now I know she’s lying.

  Mum picks up the stem and, amazingly, the rose is still in one piece. Sure, it looks a little wilted and it’s lost a bit of detail in its leaves but it still looks stunning.

  It seems Dad agrees too, because he goes in for a close up shot. ‘Excellent choice, Thao.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  I don’t know how the rose survived the journey back home, but I reckon both of my friends helped. ‘I hope this keeps you from getting homesick,’ I say.

  ‘Homesick?’ Mum says.

  ‘Yeah, I know you miss the city more than we do.’

  Mum cracks up. ‘Honey, I may miss the glitz and buzz, but my ho
me is here, with you both.’

  Mum closes in for a hug and I melt onto her chest.

  On Monday at school, I find Kadir sitting in the shade of the water tank.

  ‘Thanks again for the fan on Saturday,’ I say.

  ‘Did your mum like the chocolates?’

  ‘She sure did. She ate them all yesterday.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Kadir gives me half a smile as he stands up. ‘See you in class?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say.

  It’s probably the best conversation I’ve had with him so far. Who knows, maybe we can be friends someday, now I know he’s not angry all the time. At least we have something in common – we both would do anything for our mums.

  About the Author

  OLIVER PHOMMAVANH is an author, comedian and used to be a teacher. He still has dreams of being a dinosaur someday. He loves inspiring kids all around Australia and Asia to write and be funny like him.

  Oliver is burger crazy – searching out the best at home and wherever he travels. See them on his Insta, oliverwinfree! He also loves playing Nintendo games like Pokémon and Zelda. His hero is Sonic the Hedgehog and he collects geeky sneakers. His favourite ice cream flavour is bubblegum with Nerds and marshmallows mashed in. Just because.

  Visit Oliver at his website: oliverwriter.com

  Oliver is also a committed ambassador for Room to Read, an innovative global non-profit that seeks to transform the lives of millions of children in ten developing countries through its holistic Literacy and Girls’ Education programs. See more at roomtoread.org

  Books by Oliver Phommavanh

  Thai-riffic!

  Con-nerd

  Punchlines

  Thai-no-mite!

  Ethan (Stuff Happens series)

  A Lot of Stuff Happens (Stuff Happens series)

  The Other Christy

  Super Con-nerd

  Natural Born Loser

  Don’t Follow Vee

  Brain Freeze

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia

  India | New Zealand | South Africa | China

  Penguin Random House Australia is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.