Wing-Girl (WG)

When Lyn came back with a mug of beer in each hand, Yumi let out a little sigh of relief. She had been afraid, even after entering the pub, that the bar tender would take one look at the two of them, and ask them for driver's licenses. Sure, it was a small place off the beaten path that probably wanted all the customers it could get, but that didn't change the fact that, as a freshman in college, she was three years too young to actually get drinks.

Not to mention her parents never let her take a sip before. Not even a drop.

Now Lyn held a handled mug for her. Yumi dared a sip, and, after the initial shock of the fizzling, intense flavor, took a second, longer one. “You like?” Lyn asked, smiling.

Yumi nodded, face bright. “Me like a lot.” Giggling a little. “Never realized this was so good. I mean, I could get used to this.” She swung back the drink, took a longer gulp—and nearly gagged. The back of her throat burned.

“Take it easy,” Lyn said, patting Yumi's shoulder, “You'll have time. Just take it easy for now.” A smile. “Did you eat dinner?”

Yumi nodded. “Yeah, salad, a sandwich….why?”

Lyn smiled. “Well, you're gonna get a huge hangover if you don't eat a little. Gotta soak up the alcohol somehow.”

“Oh, okay then, makes sense.” Yumi glanced at a menu situated at her elbow—or, rather, a little list of burgers and wings. “I suppose they wouldn't have any healthy options here, huh?”

Lyn took the menu from her hands, went to the bar, and returned. “Ordered us wings. And ranch sauce. You're eating something unhealthy, and you'll like it.”

Yumi frowned. “Okay, but it's your fault if I have a heart attack on the way out here.”

The food came. Yumi listened to Lyn talk about class, about professors, about the boy she brought to the dorm last night and how he failed to so much as leave a note when he left that morning. All the while, she nibbled and sipped. Nibbled, sipped. By the time Lyn paused long enough to grab a wing of her own, all she picked up was a polished, devoured bone.

“Damn, you plowed through those,” Lyn muttered, watching Yumi peal off the last bit of meat as she downed the rest of her beer.

Yumi blushed, hiding her thin face behind her steeped fingers. “Well, I just kinda liked them is all. Wasn't thinking.”

Lyn shook her head. “I'm getting another round of beer. And wings. You're paying for those, since you ate 'em all yourself.”

Yumi's cheeks turned pink. She slowly became aware of the full sensation in her torso. She had eaten all of them. Every. Single. One.

----

“Happy to be back here?” Lyn asked, taking the usual seats at the back of the bar.

Yumi eased herself into her seat, sighing. “Don't you know it. I was dreaming about the wings here. Dreaming. The place back home that my friends sometimes go to doesn't have nearly as good wings. They're too soft and mushy and—I dunno, just not real wings.”

Yumi wanted to wear something cute to the bar. Perhaps attract people the same way Lyn did. Half the time they went to the bar last semester she'd bring a boy back to their table, talk a little, then leave with him. Yumi would have to walk back to the dorms—well, now that idea didn't sound so nice. She had a car now, so she could drive the two blocks back, so long as she didn't get drunk.

...which was becoming easier and easier with each pound added to her frame.

When she returned home in May, her dad nearly had a heart attack. Gone was his healthy, slim daughter. Yumi couldn't even blame him for freaking out over what Yumi had become: a chunky girl who preferred burgers and fries to salad. Dad threw a fit, shouting about how America had turned his daughter into a pig, how she would work her butt off if she wanted to get married…

He made her go for runs every day. She wanted to die by the end of each one. When she got to hang out with her friends away from her parents, she'd go to places where she could eat. She got a part-time summer job at a bakery, so earned enough money to fuel her new habits…

...and got to eat all the left-over baked goods.

She adjusted the strap of her jeans—snug under her slight overhang—as Lyn returned with the usual order. “You're paying for the wings if you're eating them.”

“Sure!” Yumi dove right in.

Lyn watched, gradually sipping and laying back. “Sure you don't want to tone down the eating? You might need a little—”

“A little what?” Yumi's cheeks turned red. She didn't want to hear it. Dad called her fat at least seven times a day back home. She was not having it.

Lyn shrugged. “Well, not focused on the real crop in this place.” Lyn glanced sideways at a boy at the bar. Boyish cheeks, bright eyes, sandy hair—her type. Her cheeks turned a shade of red as a little smile spread across her face. “Well, fun times to be had elsewhere. Other than food.”

Yumi glanced at her food, then at the boy. “Yeah, I guess. Or I can eat more food.”

Lyn sighed. “Fine. You can.” Lyn pushed herself up, and went to the boy. Yumi kept shoveling food.