Matt looked at Brian and realised that, beneath the round, tanned face and blonde, surfer flat-top hair, Brian was FAT. Really, really fat. So fat, in fact, that he was sitting sort of sideways to the table, and eating with only one hand; his other hand couldn’t reach around his belly, but seemed to be holding some sort of tube.
“Who’s that at the end,” Matt asked Geno in a whisper, after he’d gotten about halfway through the fettucine. “He’s really fat!”
“That’s Brian,” whispered Geno back. “He’s in the year ahead of me - two ahead of you. He’s about 200 pounds heavier than I am - he’s one of the heaviest students in the school. He’s really serious about the eating contest. Of course, eating is his best sport.”
“How can eating be a sport?” asked Matt.
“Same as any other,” Geno replied. “We keep records of who can eat the most, the fastest, etc. Brian’s one of the school eating champions.”
As Matt ate, he didn’t know where to look. Geno’s smooth, olive Italian skin, glossy black pony tail and laughing, infectious grin were in hot competition with Brian’s tanned, broadly fattened face, blonde surf-cut and massive bulk of gut stretching out his crisp white shirt. Adding to their visual appeal was that both were wolfing down fettucini like they hadn’t eaten in months. Matt, steadily making his way through his own large bowlful, was so fascinated by the sight of Geno and Brian going scarcely noticed when the server refilled his bowl.
When Matt was nearing the bottom of his second four pound bowl of fettucini, the servers appeared with bowls of chocolate trifle and fruit salad in heavy syrup. Matt leaned back from the table and groaned. Enthralled by the gorging going on around him, Matt had eaten twice as much as he’d ever eaten before, and his stomach felt like it would burst any minute. His shirt was quite taut over his overstuffed gut. Still, the scent of the chocolate tickled his nostrils, and he was desperately wanted to have some of the trifle. He decided: