Matt told the chef, “Fettucine Alfredo, please.”
“Two, three, or four?” the chef asked.
“Two, three, or four what?” Matt asked, puzzled.
“You must be new. Two, three or four pounds of fettucine,” replied the chef, putting an enormous pasta bowl on a scale on the food cart.
“Oh,” said Matt. “Two, I guess.”
“Go for four,” said Geno. “We really need to win this year.”
“Yeah,” said Rob, “Go for four, Matt!”
“Four, four, four,” chanted the others, as Matt nodded and the chef ladled four pounds of rich noodles and cream into the bowl. He put the bowl in front of Matt and turned to ask Randy what he wanted next.
“Boy is this good,” said Matt to Geno after his first mouthful. “I’ve never tried eating this much food at once before though.”
“Really?” said Geno. “Well, I guess you’re not all that big yet either. We’re good gorgers here in Dorm D, but it takes a lot of eating to get ahead of the Prefects, or those hogs over in Dorm F. But with Rob joining us this year, we may have a chance, especially if you’re a good chowhound. Did you used to just not eat a lot, or was your mum always putting you on diets?”
“My dad, actually,” said Matt. “He’s tubby, and he doesn’t want me to be. Or at least didn’t - he was always on my case about watching my weight.”
“And he sent you here?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to wonder. Maybe it was my mum who convinced him I should go here - she can eat anything, and she never bugged me about what I ate or my weight.”
“C’mon you two, less talking, more eating,” called Brian from the other end of the table. “Let him eat, Geno, c’mon. You’re one of our champion feeders, Geno, we need you to eat not talk if we’re going to win.”
Matt turned to look at Brian. All he’d noticed during the quick introductions was the round, tanned face and blonde, surfer flat-top hair. Now, though, he realised that Brian was: