The scent of cooked corn and simmering beef wafts through the air as I walk towards the hall after school. I do not need to read the sign to remind me that today is Taco Tuesday, my favourite day of the month at after school care. Last month, I was home sick on that day and missed out.
I step inside and get my name marked off, asking if the food is ready.
‘Almost, Hamish’ says Miss Shelly. ‘Mr Matt is cooking a double batch. You will have to wait another ten minutes or so.’
The staff always encourage us to go the toilet before doing homework or craft activities. Before afternoon tea too. I ignore the suggestion and walk straight to the area where food is served.
My annoying brother, Marshall, arrives in his PE uniform. Miss Shelly reels backwards. ‘Oh, Little Tanner, you are filthy. Go and clean-up before you touch anything or anyone.’ He storms off to the bathroom, giving me a look that is dirtier than his grimy face and hands. Marshall hates being called Little Tanner, just because he’s the younger sibling. As the eldest, I find it pretty satisfying.
Mr Matt comes out of the kitchen carrying trays of food and kids start to move into the serving area. I make it clear that I am at the front of the growing queue. I offer to help with set-up and Mr Matt asks, ‘Have you washed your hands yet?’
‘He has not washed his hands yet,’ answers Charlotte, even though it has nothing to do with her. Charlotte is a nosy, know-it-all from my class. We don’t get on very well, and I dislike her even more when Mr Matt sends me to the bathroom, and I lose my spot in the line.
I return to the serving area with clean hands and in a grumpy mood. Fifteen minutes later, I am eleventh in line and my stomach is growling. Two young boys are next to the servery. One kid only eats the shells with a sprinkle of cheese. His mate decides these tacos don’t look like the ones his dad cooks at home, so he declines.
Charotte and her minion are next, deliberately taking their time because Marshall is behind them and they dislike him as much as they do me.
Mum arrives to pick us up. I watch as see signs us out and collects our backpacks. She is half an hour earlier than normal. Of all the days she could take us home early, she picks Taco Tuesday.
I quickly count the taco shells on the trolley, then at the kids in front of me. I’m third, fourth, fifth in the queue and there are ten tacos. Perfect.
‘Our friend is crying,’ says the next girl in line.
‘She asked us to get her food too,’ adds her twin.
‘No, I say. ‘She has to line up like the rest of us, doesn’t she?’ I look at the two other kids in front of me. They nod in agreement. We turn to Matt.
It’s too late. Mr Matt has put two more tacos on the girl’s plate. My tacos.
‘Tanner Boys! Where are the Tanner boys?’ calls Miss Shelly, looking around the hall until she spots us in the queue. ‘It’s time to go home, guys. Your mum’s here.’
Marshall is standing at the trolley, filling his plate. ‘Coming!’ he cries and thanks Mr Matt with a fist-pump. He pauses next to me. ‘None left for you, bro,’ he manages to say between mouthfuls. He dashes over to our mum. She kisses him on the head and turns to me, tapping her foot with impatience.
I watch as the last four tacos are filled by the kids in front of me. The oven tray is empty. Mr Matt stops serving. ‘Hang on, guys. There’s more in the kitchen. I’ll go and get them.’ This is torture. I’m so close, It’s tempting to reach forward and scoop some meat and cheese out of the bowl, straight into my mouth, but Miss Shelly is watching. So is Mum, who is looking annoyed.
‘Hamish Tanner,’ says Mum, sternly. ‘We have to go.’ She gives Marshall the key and tells him to wait in the car.
‘Hang on, I, ah, um,’ I stutter, ‘Wait!’ I know Mum wants me to go, but I’m super hungry and I am finally at the front of the line.
‘Come on, Hamish. hurry up. You can eat one of your brother’s tacos.’ At this, Marshall licks his uneaten taco and Mum rolls her eyes.
Charlotte walks past with two on her plate. She looks at me with an evil smile and bites into one slowly, with a ‘mmm, mmm,’ just so I know what I’m missing out on. It makes a crunching sound. She giggles and wipes off the sauce that dribbles down her chin. Cassie follows her, doing the same thing. Why are girls so mean?
I sigh heavily. There is no sign of food on its way, and Mum is walking out below the exit sign, so I run after her.
I take one last look over my shoulder to see a very cheerful Matt walking out of the kitchen with a tray full of tacos.
