Chicken McCheese

There she went. The little 7-year-old with her small fist clamped tightly around a two-dollar coin.

It cost exactly two New Zealand dollars to buy a Chicken McCheese burger from McDonalds back then.

She only did this once a week. When she got her pocket money. Her two dollars. She was thinking about it all through her classes today.

She barely listened in Assembly, and paid no heed to Mrs Von-Sturmer when she was teaching them the Maori words for red, green, or blue.

Nope. She was thinking about that Chimkin McCheese.

Finally, the 3pm bell rang and she was free.

The walk to McDonalds was quite spectacularly only 4 minutes from the front gate of the school. But when you are this little, hunched over with the weight of a backpack that threatened to envelop your entire frame and with the added pressure of walking past mean girls, 4 minutes was a long time.

The cool kids loitered in the small garden just outside the gate. She could see Sam from where she stood. The tallest, cutest one in the group. She was too shy to ever say hi though.

Sam was so sporty and he could steal lollies for his entire cool group from the local dairy. She could never be part of that. She spent her time helping Mrs Von-Sturmer or Mrs Bezuidenhout during lunch breaks. What few friends she had were ESOL exchange students. She found it easier to communicate with people when language was a barrier. People spoke less, but understood more.

As she walks past Sam, she catches a glimpse of his dimpled smile. Hannah clearly just told him a joke. They were together, together. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she have green eyes and beautiful locks of blonde hair. She misses a step and nearly trips. It’s okay, she caught herself in time and no one saw the fumble.

She totters past the dairy Sam stole lollies from. The nice Indian man waves at her. Mr. Parmal. He always handed her a free lolly or two when she came in to say hello. They spoke the same language and she liked looking at his display of Hindu gods behind the counter.

She waves back, but scurries on. McDonald’s was just across the road.

The clouds were darkening above her as she stepped into the aroma of sizzling burgers and fries. She approaches the counter and places her order.

“Um can I please have a Chicken McCheese please”

The lady behind the cash register has a wide, welcoming smile.

“Of course you can darling, that’s 2 dollars”, she says.

The little girl reaches into her jacket pocket.

It’s not there.

She’s lost her two dollars.

Her eyes quickly filling with tears she searches with dismay through her other pockets. Not in the jacket. Not in her uniform trackies. Nowhere.

She could search her bag, but people are in line behind her, and the cash register lady is now looking at her with pity.

“Oh, um - *hiccup* it’s okay, I, um, changed my mind”, she manages to stammer out and turns on her heel to run, mortified, out the door.

Her shoes squeak on the tiles from the rain water other customers have brought in.

She runs all the way home. She should go back and retrace her steps. Maybe find the two-dollar coin in the garden where she almost tripped. She doesn’t want to draw attention to herself though. What will the cool kids think? Why would she be looking so hard for two dollars?

With tears still fresh on her cheeks, barely discernable in the rain, she opens the front door to her house.

A kind, wrinkled face greets her.

He takes one look at her and is immediately concerned. He places a large, warm hand on her head, then stoops to pick her up with both arms and hugs her.

“Dadu, I lost my two-dollars”.

She’s wailing now as her grandfather cradles her, trying to hush the child. Her eyes are wet and she rubs them raw, but the tears won’t stop. She would have to wait until next week for another two-dollars. Mum was strict with pocket money. Now the girl cries harder, what would Mum say? Mum expects her to always be the responsible little girl. And she is, she’s such a good girl. Chores always done. Homework always perfect.

Her grandfather takes her hand and guides her back outside. He carefully buckles her in to the passenger seat of his car. He’s chuckling to himself a little bit.

Great, she thinks miserably. Even Dadu is laughing at her stupidity.

The old car creaks and grumbles as it’s forced to take a short drive in the rain.

Was he taking her back to school? He was going to make her look for the two-dollars.

They pass the traffic lights at her school. He turns in to the McDonald’s drive through.

She stares at her Dadu, mouth agape.

His English was terrible, but he bellowed the order of “A CHICKEN MCCHEESE, CHIPS AND FANTA” through the intercom.

He’s concerned they didn’t hear him right, but she tells him the lady heard him loud and clear.

She sits in the car and scoffs down the burger before they get back home.

She feels sick so she shares her fries with her Dadu.

He roared with laughter when she let out a loud burrrrp.

She loved her Dadu very much. Now 20 years later as she sits in a more comfortable car going through the McDonald’s drive through, shiny credit card ready in her right hand to pay for a McChicken combo, she misses him.