Mystery Lake

[11] Hungry

They found their entrees already arriving when they returned to the table.

The all-you-can-eat breakfast seemed to have been undersold by the description on the menu and by Debbie. It was served to Brock on a massive platter that should've been host to a Thanksgiving turkey or ham. The absolute mass of it all was like at least three of their meals stacked together. Brock did not seem intimidated by it. Roxanne shuddered to think that it might not be out of his league. He dug into it with a passion, starting with the hash browns.

Miranda's egg skillet was also impressive, with four over-easy eggs artfully arranged on a bed of potatoes, ham, onion, and cheese with a little jalapeno to spice it up, a side of toast with a pat of butter, and her tall glass of whole milk. Ross' chocolate chip pancakes were a sizable stack with plenty of whipped cream, a generous portion of fresh blueberries and strawberries, and a little chocolate sauce drizzle on top.

Jake's country ham breakfast featured massive, fluffy biscuits covered in dense sausage gravy swimming with mushrooms and onions, a slab of ham to rival any of the pancakes on Ross's plate, and a wide swath of fried eggs. Chiara's country omelet was no slouch in heartiness, packed with ham, cheese, bacon, peppers, and potatoes, a thick slice of rye toast with jam on the side, and a refill of her apple juice in a frosty glass. By comparison, Roxanne's French toast was far less intimidating. A stack of three large slices, topped with fresh blueberries, a dollop of cream cheese, a sprinkling of cinnamon and nutmeg, and a dusting of powdered sugar—the whole thing drowned in a veritable lake of warm syrup.

The unspoken concern around the table was how much of this meal they could get through before they would have to tap out and ask for some to-go boxes. Aside from Brock, who had somehow, mysteriously, already consumed half of his plate in a blur of efficient and relentless pursuit of every hapless morsel. The eggs barely left a golden drop by the time his fork was finished. The hash browns were demolished like a miniature beaver dam, slathered with a red row of ketchup.

Roxanne didn't know what to think. Guys who frequented the college gym often had big appetites, and, as Joel, he managed to pack away quite a bit by the end of the day. But this was something different altogether. It was like something out of an eating contest, but without breaking a sweat.

The sheer spectacle of the black hole that was Brock's stomach held their attention for several minutes before they remembered that they should be eating as well. Chiara gave a whimper as she looked at her meal. Brock pivoted from inhaling his food to take a quick sip of water and asked what was wrong.

"Peppers. I didn't know there would be peppers in this. I'm allergic to bell peppers. They bother me a little. I guess I was distracted when I ordered," Chiara mumbled miserably to herself. She reached over with her fork and tried to scrape them out and pile them elsewhere on her plate.

While doing so, she strategically shielded her view of Sherry with her other hand. Brock frowned and suggested asking one of the staff to take them out or make a new dish. Chiara nervously declined, not wanting to make a scene, especially with everything else going on.

Roxanne frowned at her roommate. She remembered how, soon after she met Barry, Joel asked for his help in cooking meals for the others in their dorm. He was eager and hardworking, but one of the first dishes called for diced green peppers.

The poor guy didn't say anything; he just meticulously handled everything without complaint and spent the rest of the evening with protective food service gloves on his hands, unfortunately after the fact, because of the red marks. They did a heck of a lot more than just bother her a little. Without hesitation, Roxanne offered to trade with Chiara. Jake made a similar proposal, and so did Miranda. Brock wasn't allowed to share his entrée; otherwise, he would have immediately piled Chiara under with pepper-free options. Even then, he motioned to sneak his best stuff onto a clean area of her plate.

Chiara flailed and assured everyone else that it was fine; she could eat around the peppers—no big deal. Roxanne wasn't having any of it. She swung around, grabbed the booth and the table, and surveyed the room. The mysterious Sherry was far away again, but the other, older waitress who had delivered everything was within reach to get her attention.

Roxanne flagged her down and told her in an authoritative but polite voice that her friend was severely allergic to green peppers and hadn't realized her meal contained them. The woman curled a hand to her chest and frowned sympathetically. She noted that her niece had a terrible allergy to scallions and eagerly took care of everything without any fuss. Not surprisingly, Chiara was still stressed but nibbled quietly at her toast.

Brock temporarily left his food alone to squeeze Chiara into a snuggle. She sniffled and leaned into Brock with her eyes closed. On the other side, Miranda rubbed a hand down Chiara's back. Roxanne often found that the only remedy for Barry's stress was to give him time to figure it out, but she appreciated the others' help. Jake still wanted to offer some of his dish for Chiara to sample, even if it wasn't a trade. The absolute river of thick, churning gravy as an enormous bulkhead on his plate probably had something to do with that. Ross offered up some pancake.

To Roxanne's creeping annoyance, Ross scrutinized her with another one of those looks. He didn't say anything overt, but she got his meaning. Not that she cared. She had already said her piece to Alyssa, and the girl heaved her regrets while claiming that she had actually had a crush on the boy she used to be, even though she snuffed that boy out with a bucket of lake water.

What mattered was that she made sure Chiara had a meal that wouldn't leave her sick and hurting. Whatever displays of friendship and care Ross wanted to see from her wouldn't be enough. She wasn't going to put on a show just to make Ross think that being a girl made her a better, more compassionate person. The temptation to point out that Ross seemed like a kinder, gentler person as a man than as a girl wormed its way through Roxanne's brain, but she resisted the urge to make something of it.

Only after a few cautious smiles and relaxed breathing had settled into Chiara, with a carefully posed arm shielding her vision of the rest of the diner, did the rest of the group return to their food. Chiara still quietly received little samples of everyone's entrées as she nibbled through the rest of her toast, even a ninja ham sneak from Brock.

They all had more than enough to eat, plenty, and then some, especially for those of them with smaller bodies and probably corresponding stomachs. Then there was the outlier case of Brock, who was cleaning his plate while still looking famished. Roxanne could only shake her head quietly and blink in astonishment.

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Jake looked similarly at a loss to comprehend and rationalize what he was witnessing as he ran a hand over his broad, beefy stomach, as if Brock had somehow wirelessly distributed some of what he had consumed to the others. Not quite as mysterious, but still curious, was the fact that Miranda, despite a thick, still largely steaming layer of shiny meat and egg, had taken a good chunk out of her pan without any visible discomfort or slowing down.

Ross, on the other hand, had carved a slice out of his pancakes but already looked like he needed time to recover. Roxanne had taken care of the top layer of French toast and found herself regretting choosing carbs over protein. Rookie mistake. Jake gifted her with a little combo of ham, egg, and more biscuit bits than she could ever want, while barely putting a dent in the mass of his plate. Roxanne knew it was a bit of a cliché, and one of those things that everyone said, that country diners would feed you well for a fair price. That was the talk of all the truckers. But this almost felt absurd.

Soon, the replacement omelet arrived for Chiara, and it genuinely looked as if they had packed in an additional egg or two as an apology for the first one. It had practically the swath of a full quiche pizza that Roxanne remembered seeing once served to several people. Chiara adamantly thanked the waitress and apologized for the trouble.

She waved her hand with a smile to dismiss any concerns, commenting, "It's all on us. Some of us have been at this for so long, and some are just starting out. We gotta help each other out if we make a mistake. Your waitress, Sherry, extends her humblest apologies for any mistakes. Anything that's upset you. We all just wanna make sure that you all have more than enough to eat. We won't let any of you leave here... hungry. That's a promise." She smiled broadly at the group and took down what Brock wanted for his two-choice refill.

Roxanne squinted at this waitress. She looked like any ordinary, older waitress you might see in this kind of joint. Maybe in years and decades past, she'd be puffing her way through a pack or more to keep going, her voice a scratchy but still cordial croak. Her scrutiny didn't reveal anything strange or unsettling, certainly nothing as startling as missing everything above the neck. Chiara kept her arm up surreptitiously to shield her eyes from the main portion of the diner, but she didn't flinch from this lady. As she finished her notes, she gave Chiara a lingering look and asked politely, "You all right now there, dear? Anything else?"

Chiara's eyes and neck jerked from the first nibbles of her dish, as if she had been sleep-eating. She cleared her throat, failed at not sounding nervous, and assured her that everything was fine, then tentatively tested the lie: "My eyes are just sensitive today, and I dropped something on my toe; that's why... there was a fuss earlier. Sorry..." She threw in some squints in the direction of the windows, even though there was very little late morning light coming through at that angle to complain about.

In response, this waitress mentioned that she could drop a few blinds to make it more comfortable since they were alone in this corner. Even though Chiara assured her that she was perfectly fine, the lady still lowered one about halfway, cutting the little glare to complain about down to practically nothing.

Chiara sighed and kept a few fingers by her eyes without looking up. Once again, Roxanne felt proud of this reaction. She couldn't even imagine Barry at the beginning of the school year crafting something like that to say without breaking down in stammers and practically the urge to weep. Not that she wanted to make a liar out of her friend, but there had to be a balance.

Soon, this particular waitress left them alone. Roxanne peered after them, finding nothing amiss but still feeling uncomfortable for reasons she couldn't place. Chiara offered to share her food with Brock while he waited for his second round of plates, but he reaffirmed his commitment to the all-you-can-eat breakfast, although he also griped about how his stomach felt less substantial now compared to before.

Roxanne looked on skeptically, but Jake gave a solemn, subtle nod, as if Jess had witnessed an occurrence of copious consumption on this level with Layla before. Her meager tummy gave a faint gurgle of concern, as if terrified that she might put it through something similar. Holding back a hiccup, she stuffed some of the fruit into her mouth to silence it.

Ross shifted away from trying to carve through the entire tower of pancakes and instead crept his fork along the top, whittling down the penthouse. Miranda couldn't continue her sprint through the skillet and instead picked out a few choice fragments to eat first, leaving the landscape full of greasy holes. Next to her, Jake had given up on conquering the biscuits and instead shoved what he had together into a light brownish mass so that it at least looked like he had eaten a decent portion. He quietly released the second-best belch Joel had ever encountered with Jess. Unfortunately, it was muffled by polite restraint and a napkin fluttering in front of his face to smother it. And Chiara was already putting in some work, progressing through that epic omelet.

Quietly, sheepishly, though, she noted that it could have been interesting to test whether her severe allergy abated or altered due to a clear "genetic shift". Roxanne disagreed, noting that it wasn't a good idea to test her while they were far away in a rural area. Chiara nodded and nibbled.

It wasn't long before the chatty waitress returned with two large plates for Brock, but also a frown as she looked across their table.

"Your pal have to go to the bathroom? I hope he enjoys when he gets back."

Roxanne frowned and glanced over where she expected to find Brock sitting, waiting to consume more. But no one was there. Jake helped return the massive original plate without so much as a crumb of toast left behind and curiously craned his neck to see if Brock had crouched down to grab something that had fallen. The waitress lingered for a moment before leaving to attend to other customers. They all looked at the mysterious empty spot with confusion and concern, but only Chiara was close enough to unravel the disappearance. She offered her dainty hand to carefully lift up another.

As the five of them watched, what emerged from the lip of the table was a familiar swath of honeyed golden hair but reattached to a soft, girlish face with a nervous expression. Layla, with Brock's boyish clothes draped over her. She peered fiercely at the fresh plates, eager to continue, and replied, "I might need to hang on to that bra after all..."