Puppy Fat by Morris Gleitzman

picnic with my best friend and the view’s brilliant and I’ve got a really nice dog and Mum’s had the incredible good fortune to find the one man in London who doesn’t mind road-map legs and Dad’s pulling himself together very nicely thank-you and will almost certainly be swept off his feet by crowds of women just as soon as his hair grows a bit.
    Keith felt his guts relax.
    It was working.
    He was feeling happy.
    Now all he had to do was cheer Tracy up.
    He took a big breath.
    â€˜Mmmm,’ he said to Tracy, ‘the air’s so fresh up here. Hardly any pong from the chemical works. It’s giving me an appetite.’
    Tracy didn’t reply.
    â€˜I love picnics out of tins,’ said Keith, ‘don’t you?’
    Tracy didn’t reply.
    Keith spooned cold Irish stew into his mouth and poured the rest into Dazzle’s bowl and watched the cars far below glinting in the sunlight.
    â€˜Great view, eh?’ he said to Tracy. ‘I bet even people from Nepal would be impressed by this view.
    Tracy didn’t reply.
    Keith saw she’d flopped down on Mum’s tablecloth among the tins and was staring at the sky.
    She still hadn’t eaten anything.
    Not the apricot halves or the spaghetti or the peas or the Irish stew or the fruit salad in heavy syrup.
    Keith sighed.
    She looked so miserable.
    â€˜Of course,’ he said, ‘they probably don’t have thirty-eight-storey blocks of flats in Nepal, not ones with flat roofs that are good for picnics. But the mountains sound great. I bet the views from them are brilliant.’
    Tracy didn’t reply.
    Dazzle finished the Irish stew and went over and licked her cheek.
    She didn’t even seem to notice that.
    Keith sighed again.
    It wasn’t working.
    Him being happy wasn’t making her feel better.
    He took another deep breath and tried to think what else he could do.
    â€˜1 know,’ he said, ‘let’s go tenpin bowling.’
    Tracy looked at him and shook her head.
    Keith was shocked. It was the first time he’d ever seen her refuse an invitation to play a sport, including rugby league.
    This is hopeless, he thought.
    Before he could get back to thinking positive, a cry rang out.
    â€˜There you are!’
    Aunty Bev emerged from the stairwell and came across the roof towards them.
    Keith groaned inside and Tracy groaned out loud.
    â€˜Your dad reckoned you’d probably be up here,’ called Aunty Bev. ‘Jeez, this view’s even better than the one from the silo at Uncle Leo’s.’
    â€˜Keith,’ pleaded Tracy, ‘make her go away.’
    â€˜Aunty Bev,’ said Keith, ‘Tracy’s not feeling so hot at the moment so I was going to let her have a bit of a snooze up here on her own. Do you like tenpin bowling?’
    Aunty Bev didn’t reply.
    She was crouched down examining the empty tin of Irish stew.
    â€˜Sometimes Tracy,’ she said wearily, ‘I think you want to be a lardbucket.’
    Keith was about to point out that many top athletes had large appetites, not to mention some of the world’s best racehorses, when Tracy leapt to her feet.
    â€˜Leave me alone!’ she screamed at Aunty Bev. ‘Rack off and leave me alone!’
    Keith watched horrified as Tracy ran across the roof and down into the stairwell.
    He could feel Dazzle cowering behind his legs.
    He turned to Aunty Bev.
    â€˜It wasn’t Tracy,’ he said. ‘Me and Dazzle had it.’
    Aunty Bev patted his arm.
    â€˜S’OK mate,’ she said, ‘I’m not crook at you. In fact I’ve been meaning to thank you for giving me the idea of coming over here with Tracy. Get her away from those parents of hers. They haven’t got a clue what they’ve got with that kid. She could be a top international model one day if she wasn’t such a guts.’
    Keith stared at her.
    Tracy, a model?
    The girl who could haul herself onto a