Title: Yogurt Covered Pretzels - 5/?

Author: Chloe-Bee

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Jessie's POV

Great. He's angry. I don't even know what I did wrong now. I mean - I left him a message. And I was back before 8:00 pm too. Jeez. Oh man - what did he just say?

*Pay attention Sammler*

"Uh - what - what was that Dad?"

He bites his lower lip with his upper teeth. He only does that when he's mad.

"I need to know I can trust you Jess. So I want you to stop it with this lying."

Whoa. What the heck?

"What are you talking about?? I DID go to the park. And I left you a message! You are being totally unfair!"

"And you also ate dinner at Katie's, huh Jess? I'd like to know what you guys ate. Because Katie actually phoned here wondering where you were!"

Uh oh. Busted. Think fast.

I have to confess.

"No. I grabbed dinner at Rico's. Then I got snacks at 7-11. I know. Not good. I was supposed to meet Katie. But she never showed up! We probably mixed up the meeting place. She probably thought I meant the high school park, and I meant the elementary playground cause it's closer to her house- "

I'm rambling. I stop talking.

His look of anger falters for a second.

"Rico's?" He sounds suspicious.

See - I never did go to Rico's. It was just the first thing to pop into my head because I saw the little café on my way home. And since I had my slurpee cup in my hand, I figured that I might as well squish a lie between two truths. That way it seems the most believable.

But Rico's? Why did I choose that? Rico's only sells pizza by the slice. That - and French fries. Foods that I never eat as they tend to glob up in my stomach. They feel like wet mounds of concrete - and it takes my body forever to digest them. I like my stomach to feel free of foods, so when I DO eat, it has to be something light and airy. Something that doesn't weigh me down. Diet jello or maybe diet pudding - whipped. Or popcorn. Gummies. Or a few corn puffs - pre-measured. Not pizza and French fries. Never pizza and French fries.

Plus, Rico - the owner - Enrico Gonzalez - knows our entire family.

"So Jessie - if I phone Rico up, he can vouch that you got dinner there tonight?"

He's testing me.

Shit.

"I dunno - maybe Dad. He was sort of busy tonight! But you'd do that too, wouldn't you? I mean, I didn't DO anything wrong, but you'd check up on me wouldn't you? After I left you a message and got home way before curfew and everything!"

I try to make my voice sound indignant. How can I act so well? I just lied to my own father!

His eyebrows curve upwards, and his face softens.

"Okay hun'. Just - well, we will eat breakfast tomorrow. Why don't we go to IHOP in the morning? Eli can come too."

Great. This is peachy keen. But what choice do I have?

"Fine", I mutter, before stalking off to my room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The thing I like about IHOP is how they bring out your hot chocolate in dark colored mugs.

So - if you drink ½ your hot chocolate before your meal comes, and if you are careful not to get caught, you can spit out a reasonable amount of your pancake back into the mug. Then you can feign fullness, and have the rest of your breakfast wrapped up. To complete this little act, if you are really cautious, you can then get rid of a good majority of the remaining breakfast by stuffing it down the garb-orator. Hard to do in a house with six people - minimally - mulling around, but still possible.

However, you don't want to get rid of ALL of it when you do this. Mark my words - that never works. See, you get rid of a good lot of the take out (but not all), that way, you can let a few mouthfuls just fester and fester, and if your parents check up on you - on your food, I should say - they can see that you've 'eaten some', but not all. All, in my case, if I HAD eaten 'all' - well, that would look suspicious.

Then, if you let enough time pass, they will just chuck out the remainder of your food.

It's a great skill that I've finely crafted throughout the last couple of years.

But my Dad is tricky today.

"Honey - hot chocolate has so much sugar. It's not good for you. Certainly not first thing in the morning. How about an orange juice?"

NO - I feel like screaming - NOT ORANGE JUICE. (See, orange juice comes in a clear glass. Plus, juice has a ton of calories. Over 100 per glass. It's ridiculous).

"No - it's alright Daddy. I just had a craving for hot chocolate. But I'm not that thirsty. So water's fine."

Now I have to come up with another plan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My Dad ordered me these new cream cheese stuffed fruit pancakes. The whole concoction has hash browns included too.

Is he trying to make me sick?

My stomach quietly gurgles in acquiescence.

"You sound hungry, Jess."

That's Eli. Pointing out the obvious. Of course I'm hungry!

I'm starving.

But I can't let myself eat.

Summing up the situation, I realize what I have to do. First of all, I take the blueberries and raspberries out of their side dish and liberally apply them all over the cream cheese artery clogging mass of flapjacks.

Then I cut up the pancakes. Into really fine pieces, but I don't take too long at this task. Otherwise, it would look like I'm avoiding eating.

I take a bite of berries - but I'm careful that no pancakes or anything resembling hash-browns are included in this 'bite'. I make a joke with my mouth half full for pure emphasis.

The sound of me talking - with my mouth full - will linger in their minds. That'll help.

Next I take a huge, long sip of water.

Another bite of berries. It's only a small amount of fruit, but if you put it into your mouth fast enough, no one can tell. Then, you chew slowly.

Now, at this stage, you make it seem like you are spreading the pancake pieces around so that they get coated in syrup.

What you are really doing is spreading the food around your plate, so that it is harder for someone to figure out how much you have - or haven't - eaten.

Another bite of berries. I don't want to get past five. This is bite three.

I surreptitiously glance to my Dad. He's a bit more relaxed than he was initially, and when he turns to Eli, I take another sip of water.

Now, for a wonderful, well practiced move on my part.

I take a huge bite of pancakes at just the riiiight time. Add some whipped cream. Berries. Even a dab of hash browns. It's really a burgeoning bite. Even Eli makes some comment amount not stuffing my face. I make sure that it is obvious to Eli and Dad as I let the goopy mess pass my lips. I put it in my mouth, and slowly chew.

Eli, right on queue by my estimate, makes some lame joke. I pretend to find it funny, and start laughing.

Now for the kicker. I pretend wince. In pain. I make it seem as if I've bitten my tongue. In my exuberance, I actually do, and as I start to gasp, I take my white napkin, and spit the food out into it, and neatly wrap the sides. Then I dab my tongue so that a little blood mars the surface of the white.

"Are you okay honey?"

My face is red from coughing. I can feel it.

"I'm fine Dad. Just - damn Eli! Don't make me laugh when I'm eating."

When I'm eating. As if that is some normal, everyday activity that I partake in.

I hold up the napkin and twirl it just a little bit.

Eli winces, and Dad looks a little concerned.

"Did you - is that blood? Honey, did you cut yourself?"

"I just bit my tongue", I mumble.

E pipes up.

"Is it really bleeding? Maybe you should go to the washroom and clean up?"

I nod, then quickly poke my pancakes and take another really large bite of food. My cheeks are probably bulging.

Then I get up, stalk to the washroom, and quickly spit the food out in the toilet.

*Quick Sammler!*

Dashing to the nearest cubicle, I pull off a ream of paper, wet it, and dab a bit of blood. I quickly straighten my shirt in the mirror, and re-adjust my hair pony.

Then I go back to my seat, and hold the wet cloth to my lip.

I don't want to take too long in a restroom after eating - not ever.

The last thing I'd want my family to think is that I was bulimic. That would make things so much worse.

So, I'm back in a flash.

Eli mutters an apology, and I wave my hands in dismissal.

"No problem", I say with a small smile, before I poke a few berries and slowly chew.

(That's 4 bites!)

This time I take two long swigs of water. I also glance at my plate. I've made a dent in the mass of food, believe it or not. And in reality, I know that I couldn't have eaten more than four bites of berries.

I spread some of the whipped cream out over my plate - along the rim of the IHOP dish. Mucking it up just a bit more.

Then I take another swig of water, and glance at my watch.

"Dad - we've got to get going! School starts in 20 minutes!"

One more sip, and then Dad turns to me. He appraises my meal, and squints his eyes. Glancing to Eli, I can see him measuring things up.

Eli, of course, is always the little pig, and has already inhaled all of his food.

Dad's eaten his entire egg benedict too, and is just finishing off his coffee.

"Okay. But one more bite. Pweeease?" He asks in a funny, Igor-ish voice.

I had been counting on this. Besides, I know he is testing me. To see how much of a 'fight' I'll put up.

"Ok - fiiiine." I make a big production of it, and skewer a couple berries, raise them to my lips, and swallow loudly. By my estimate, I haven't consumed more than 25 calories this morning. And I once learned that the average human being burns over 60 calories per hour just sitting in class and taking notes.

So this gunk should be worked off before homeroom lets out.

"Happy?"

"Sure thing Pumpkin. Now, do you want the rest wrapped up?"

*Oh this is too great!*

"Oh - yeah" (I pretend I'm thinking), "Hey Dad? If I wrap it up, I can eat it for lunch or snack. They have a microwave in the main group hall now."

He is pleased as punch and calls the waitress around.

And *now* we can leave.

Finally.

Gosh, breakfasts are tiring.

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