Head of the River by Pip Harry Read Free Book Online Page A

days,’ says Leni. ‘We have a sports dietitian Cristian can go and see.’
    â€˜Close your mouth. What’s so complicated about that?’ Dad says.
    Leni and I exchange a glance. Dad means well, but he’s out of touch.
    Dad pulls over my paper bin. I’ve tried to hide chocolate wrappers and chip bags in there, but he pulls them out one by one.
    â€˜Mars Bars, Pringles, M&Ms. Garbage! Let’s show coach what a Popescu man can do. Fifteen kilos. Pffft! Is nothing!’ He claps me on the back with more force than I expect. I cough.
    â€˜Yeah, okay. I’ll try.’
    â€˜Good! Is done. Back in the firsts. Stay on scholarship. Win Head of River. We tell your mother only cook skinny food.’
    â€˜You could lose a few kilos too, Vasile,’ I say.
    He laughs and pats his tummy. ‘Everyone eat skinny food. Is easier together!’
    We have dinner together and, for a change, Dad cooks. The menu? Skinless chicken fillets, steamed broccoli and potato with no butter. It smells and tastes revolting.
    â€˜It’s nice, Vas,’ says Mum, trying to sound enthusiastic about the bland meal.
    â€˜What’s for dessert?’ I ask, winking at Leni.
    â€˜Watermelon pie?’ Leni says.
    â€˜Watermelon ice-cream?’ I continue.
    â€˜No respect,’ Dad grumps.
    Leni and I crack up and he leaves us to clean up the unholy mess in the kitchen.
    After I do my homework I lie on my bed, listening to the protests of my empty stomach. Can I get away with creeping into the kitchen to get something from the fridge? A bowl of cereal, a hunk of cheese? Something to keep me going until morning. I grab my rowing bag from the floor and search for a stray muesli bar or apple. Nothing. It would probably be easier to sneak out of my room and down to Smith Street to get a kebab from the twenty-four-hour place. Maybe a baklava, too. Food is literally the only thing I can think about. I’m not sure I can do this. Can I do this?
    I chat to Penny on messenger. Most of the rowing squad are on it. We’ve been flirting lately. Both of us are shy and it helps to have a keyboard between us.
    CrisP: Still up?
    HennyPenny: Yup. Geog test tomorrow.
    Cris: So tired tonite.
    HennyPenny: Me 2. RU OK after today?
    CrisP: Scared I won’t get my seat back.
    HennyPenny: Don’t be scared. Be ready.
    CrisP: I will be. Night.
    HennyPenny: Night Cris
    I smile and think about our hypothetical first date. She’s wearing a sundress and thongs, her hair pulled out of the hard ponytail she usually wears. We share fish and chips on the beach at St Kilda and then walk along the edge, our toes in the water. My arm rests on her shoulders and she hooks a thumb in the back pocket of my jeans. Afterwards we go to see a band and she sways in front of me, her hips loose.
    I snap back to reality. Penny would never go out with a guy like me. A hopeless seconds fatty with love handles. I sneak out of my room and down to Smith Street called by the siren song of barbecued meats.
    Leni
    My bedroom is never completely dark. Fluorescent light leaches under my blind from the street lamp outside. It’s never completely quiet either. Drunk people are always steaming out of the pub down the road, shouting things like, ‘Heeeeey! Brutha! Yo! Where ya going?’ The guy who lives next door is coughing, so I listen to that for a while. He can go all night long. Coughing so much it sounds like he might throw up from the effort. I see him sometimes lighting up a ciggie on the lumpy yellow chair on their front porch. He looks half dead, but he won’t quit. People are so stupid.
    I’m getting out of bed for a glass of water when I hear a soft knock at my window and a guy’s voice saying my name. Scared, I open the blind and peer out.
    Adam’s in our front garden, holding the side of his head. Something’s wrong. First – we hadn’t agreed to meet, and Adam, like me, is into planning