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By Root 335 0

days, and then I decided to try something else. I picked this curry and I was eating it, going, 'Mmm. I'm not sure what this is, but the flesh is really tender. It's such an interesting texture.' I encouraged everyone to try it – even a South African couple at our table who we'd never met before, telling them it must be some special Mauritian delicacy. Then Willem tried it. He said to me, 'Der, Jenna-Belle, it's chicken.'

I'm blushing even now as I remember it.

Bryce Cole has been longer than five minutes. I take the keys out of the ignition and climb out of the car. I knock on the window. When he looks up I tap my wrist. He nods and holds up his hand. Five more minutes. He turns back to the television.

Slipping the keys into my pocket, I stroll up the street a little way. There's a takeaway shop, and I'd like to buy a drink, but I don't have any money. I look at the houses in the window of the real estate agent. When I reach the end of the strip of shops I head back to the TAB again. I wave at Bryce Cole through the window. He comes to the door.

'What?'

'What do you mean "what"? You said five minutes about forty-five minutes ago! I'm hungry. I want to go home.'

He tugs a crumpled twenty out of his hip pocket and hands it to me. 'Get yourself some hot chips or something.'

I go back to the takeaway shop and order enough chips for all of us, and a two-litre Coke. I sit on the little plastic chair and read a Woman's Day from the year I was born. There's an article about how Tom Cruise is a Scientologist. I double-check the date on the cover.

When the chips are cooked I walk back to the TAB and indicate to Bryce Cole that I'm waiting in the car. He nods.

After five more minutes I start eating the chips. They have chicken salt on them, so they're a weird artificial yellow colour. It must be addictive. They're crack-chips. I can't stop stuffing them into my mouth three at a time, and then washing them down with the cold fizzy Coke, which I drink straight from the bottle.

Fifteen minutes later I've eaten most of the chips that I ordered for four people and at least a litre of drink. I think I'm going to throw up, and now I'm busting to go to the loo too.

It's been two hours, at least. I head back across the road and rap on the window of the TAB again. Bryce Cole nods and holds up his hand. Five more minutes.

This time when I go back to the car I lay my hand on the horn.

Pwwwaaaarrrrrrrrrpppppp.

I startle an old lady who's walking past. People in the street are staring at me. The chip guy comes out of his shop to see what's going on, wiping his hands on his apron. Bryce Cole's car has a really loud, obnoxious horn. I grin.

Pwarp, pwarp, pwwwarrrrp, pwarpity, pwarp, pwarp, ppwwwaaarrrrrrppp.

Bryce Cole runs out of the TAB. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'I want to go home now!' I shout back.

He blinks. 'This is my living, Jenna-Belle. If I don't bet I don't win and if I don't win you don't eat. Okay?

'I already ate!' I complain. 'It's been a big day for me. My best friend is in hospital, remember?' I fold my arms. 'If I could drive I would have stolen your car about an hour ago.'

Bryce Cole looks back at the TAB wistfully, and then he opens my door. 'Get out then.'

'What do you mean, get out?'

'You can drive home. It's an auto. You just press and steer.'

I clamber across to the driver's side. 'I don't even have my Ls,' I tell him as I adjust my seat.

Bryce Cole drops into the passenger seat. 'We'll take the back streets. Driving is easy. The pedal on the right is go and the other one is stop. Put your foot on stop.'

I press the brake with my left foot.

'No, you only use the right foot. Keep that left one flat on the floor.'

He shows me P for park and D for drive and R for reverse. 'That's all you need to know. Okay, check your mirror. Flick the blinker down. Good. Anything coming? No? Put the car in drive. Here, I'll do it for you. Now take your foot off stop and hover it over go. Just hover!'

The car starts rolling forward. I twist the steering wheel away from the kerb and into the road.

'Stop, stop,