Izzy was as skinny as me, had short red hair and a cute face with freckles, and wore jeans as well as her baggy bakery uniform shirt. "Hey," she said, seeing me, "I'm Izzy."
"Conrad," I said, but before we could shake hands Claude yelled, "Get to work!" so she sat down on a stool and started helping me fill the eclairs.
"This your first day?" she asked me. I nodded, concentrating on filling an eclair, and she said, "So I guess you've met my bitch sister, then. Sorry about her."
"Oh – Emily's your sister?" I could see the resemblance, now she mentioned it. "Well – she didn't seem that bad..."
"Try living with her," Izzy sighed, and, after sneaking a glance to see if Claude was looking, squirted the bag of thick cream into her mouth, filling her cheeks before closing her lips and swallowing.
"Oh – um – I thought we weren't supposed to –"
Izzy shrugged. "What they don't know won't hurt them. You get pretty good at it around here, sneaking snacks." As Claude bent to get some pastries out of the oven, she took another squirt of cream.
"So – how long have you worked here?" I asked, after a few minutes of industrious silence.
"This is my third summer of it," said Izzy morosely. "When my sister got the assistant manager gig, my dad made her give me this stupid job. They think I'm too lazy. I was planning on getting back at them by getting really fat, but it turns out I don't gain any weight no matter what I do." As if to demonstrate this, she stuffed an entire eclair in her mouth and ducked under the table so Claude wouldn't see her chewing.
"Yeah, I'm the same, I think," I said. "I have this friend who's just the opposite, though. He even gained weight at fat camp."
Izzy chuckled. "Impressive." Just then, Claude left to go to the bathroom, and Izzy set about devouring eclairs from the trays at an astonishing rate. Egged on by this, I had one, which I ate quickly, and was finished well before Claude re-emerged. Izzy, on the other hand, just avoided being caught red-handed, and had to stifle a burp.
"You never wished things were different, though?" she asked once the coast was clear, and Claude returned to his croissants.
"What, you mean, wished was fat?"
"Yeah," she said. "I mean, Emily's a bit thicker than me" – an image of the older redhead's plump backside flashed across my mind – "and I guess I always wondered what that would be like. Maybe I'll get fatter once I'm older, I don't know." Another mouthful. "Maybe your friend could teach me a thing or two," she smiled, wiping a blob of cream away from the corner of her mouth.
By the end of the shift, she'd eaten at least fifteen eclairs and God knows how much cream; she did that every day and stayed skinny? I was impressed. We'd had a lot of fun together, and as we got ready to leave I wondered if I should...
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