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Chapter Nine
Amelie
It takes us a couple of days to prepare the party for Kelsie, Chelsea’s niece. We have to run errands all over town, and Kalen is by my side every step of the way. And he’s an incredible pain in the ass the entire time, whining and moaning all day long.
“I want Fairy Bread! You promised!”
“Why can’t we get the blue piñata?”
“I want the big bouncy castle!”
He thinks he can just pout and flounce to get his own way, and when that doesn’t work, he throws money at everything. Seriously, the boy needs to be put on an allowance. A small one. He’s spent more on this party for some kid he doesn’t know, than my family has to feed everyone in an entire month.
I know he means well, but it is exhausting. I do give in and let him hire whatever the hell he wants from the jumping castle people – stipulating that it needs to fit in the garden and there still be room for the adults and the BBQ.
Chelsea, on the other hand, adores him. They go to Coles to get the party food and their butcher to get the meat, which I know she would never usually do. She always used to say why spend the extra money when it’s the way you cook it that creates the flavour. Maybe she’s trying to impress Kalen. It backfired on her when he fills two entire trollies with items – one with all kinds of crap for the kids and the other full of meat and seafood for the adults to barbecue – before picking up the bill.
“Oh my, I don’t know where I’m going to store all of this,” Chelsea says as we enter the kitchen with the final bags from the car. The bottles of booze clink loudly as I put them down. I snapped at Kalen earlier, telling him to quit wasting money on crap for kids. If he wants to part with his not-so-hard-earned cash, he could spend it on booze for the adults. Once he realised there would be alcohol at a kid’s party, he got even more carried away. Hence why Chelsea’s kitchen now looks like a farmer’s market crossed with a brewery.
“Yeah, sorry, I can’t help you there.” Kalen laughs. “But I’ll sure as hell help eat and drink it all tomorrow. Can I man the barbie?”
“No!” I yell at the same time Chelsea says, “sure.” I glare at her and shake my head. That is not a good idea. My dad will be pissed; manning the barbecue is his pride and joy. Chelsea knows that, so she must really be trying to make Kalen feel welcome to give up my dad’s favourite job to him.
“Maybe Kalen could be in charge of the kid’s table instead,” I offer, trying to keep the peace. I’m pretty sure if we put Kalen in charge of the barbecue everyone will go home with food poisoning. We never had a BBQ at Monty’s house but I noticed one in the garden. It used charcoal. That’s almost a dirty word here, unless you’re camping and literally have no other options.
***
“What the hell is that?” Kalen hisses at me when my dad heads inside to get a beer.
“What?”
“That!” He points to the metal monstrosity that we use for feeding our extended family.
“It’s the barbecue.” I look at him like he’s stupid.
“That is not a barbecue.” He frowns, shakes his head, sneers. “Where’s the charcoal?”
“We use gas,” I tell him simply, shrugging my shoulders.
“Wow. I feel betrayed.” He places his hand over his heart. “Like, by your entire nation.”
“Huh?”
“You’re supposed to be these famous barbecuers and you’re imposters...it’s not a barbecue at all. It’s a grill! A hob! An outdoor cooker! That’s the ultimate betrayal.”
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head at his theatrics. “It’s just the way it’s done here. And don’t let my dad hear you dissing his barbecue. I swear he loves that thing more than Aadi and me.”
Kalen’s still staring at the barbecue like it’s going to bite him so I know I made the right call to put him on the kid’s food instead. Not that my dad would ever have let him cook.
“It’s almost time, the guests should be arriving any minute,” I tell Kalen.
“Is it ok? Does it look ok? Do we have enough food? Should I have hired jugglers to entertain?” I can’t help but laugh over the way Kalen is stressing about ‘his’ party. He’s committed to ensuring all the kids have a great time. It’s pretty darn adorable actually.
“Relax. Everything’s perfect. Now...did you want to try the Fairy Bread before the kids get here and demolish it all?”
His eyes light up and the bribe I’ve been holding over his head for days now, so I cave and finally let him try a slice. I mean, it’s just bread and butter covered in rainbow coloured sprinkles, but I knew he’d love it.
He does. He practically inhales half the loaf of bread before I can swipe the plate away from him.
