Shorts (Literally. Maybe Even Coming Off.)

Spring Break 5

Carlos rang the doorbell. Twice. Nobody answered so he just walked in. They were expecting him so it couldn't be that rude, he thought. Nobody was upstairs in the kitchen, although a nice snack tray was spread out. Carlos hoped he wouldn't be expected to eat anything. His belly churned harder as he thought about it. Going downstairs to the game area, he didn't see the, either. He texted, "Yo, where ya dudes at?"

The responses he got were, "playing games" and "chillin", which didn't answer his question. But he was satisfied with that because what he really wanted to do was lay down, massage his belly, and take a nap, waking up to his flat middle again. He had nothing against the layer of pudge he occasionally gathered from cake but right now his big belly was getting in the way of him doing things. Like bending down to untie his shoes, for instance. It didn't really hurt a lot, but when he bent over it sent cramps shooting around his middle.

Carlos debated just crashing on the couch. He could, but he didn't really want to be disturbed. Whenever the other boys actually came back, he didn't want to be disturbed. He went back up the stairs, attempting to sneak up to Saul's room on the second floor. Unfortunately he was caught by Saul's mom. He was a very obedient kid and always did what adults asked, so he ended up getting finagled into sitting at the kitchen table for half an hour and eating almost all of the snack plate, which didn't agree with him at all.

He managed to get away with an excuse about starting on his homework early. Getting up this set of stairs was a challenge. He was out of breath and nauseous when he reached the top. Three apples, half a jar of peanut butter, eighteen sticks of celery and 84 raisin had been added to his stomach contents on top of the nearly whole pizza and two liters of pop. Since lunch, the equivalent of two slices and a cup of pop had digested, leaving not much room to spare. Carlos wasn't sure how he was going to manage dinner. He collapsed on Saul's bed and went to sleep, praying he'd feel somewhat better when he woke up.

Max being more ill, he spent longer locked in the bathroom, but as Saul had entered twenty minutes later, they emerged about the same time, a half hour before dinner was traditionally served. Entering the game room, neither questioned the other's long absence, but instead decided to go on a search for Carlos. They found him, gut fully exposed, snoring on Saul's bed. Normally, they probably wouldn't have woken him up, but seeing as they were both feeling drained and cranky and at least wanted a place on the bed to rest too, they shook him awake.

"Hey sleepy head. How much did you stuff in that belly of yours?"

"Fuck off. It's your mom's fault."

He moved over and made room for them, now leaning his head against the wall and massaging his gut.

Max, who was actually sick and had a fever but wouldn't admit it, took off his shirt. "It's hot in here."

He was a very thin person, with cheeks almost sunken in and sticklike wrists. His ribs were easily visibly and as he lay on the bed, anyone could see the concave space under his rib cage where his skinny abdomen rose and fell. If Carlos had been paying attention, he would have been concerned for his friend. This was a sign of extreme malnourishment. It wasn't a healthy way to look at all. Saul, who also was sick with a milder version of what Max had, was sweating under his hoodie. However, he kept it on. He and Max were best friends so he knew that Max never ate until at least after three, sometimes six pm and was almost vegan and extremely picky. Max also went to the gym about three times a week on the insistence of his parents that he grow up to be strong. Since Saul was used to this it seemed normal for him and Max's size had always been something he defended to others as perfectly healthy. He didn't often see Max with his shirt off and usually it wouldn't make any difference but with the mood he was in today it made him extremely jealous. He wanted that concave abdomen and stick wrists. No one could say he wasn't handsome with those. Feeling depressed and strangely tearful, he lay back to rest as well.