The Chicken Chronicles

Stretching up on her tippy toes, the seven-year-old pointed at the yellow box on the top shelf of the supermarket’s freezer section. “Papa, chicken strips…I love them!”

“Nah…junk!” the father shook his head.

She looked at her father with large puppy dog eyes. “Please, Papu!” she mewled in her sweetest voice. Then, she drew her fists under her chin and pouted her lower lip. “Please…”

One look and the father was a goner; his heart melted like butter on hot toast.

The yellow box descended into their shopping cart like a golden patch of sunshine.

The little girl blinked and laughed. Selena, her best friend at school, loomed large in her thoughts.

“Ah, Selena loves chicken strips; she said it the other day…” Her head buzzed. She pictured herself on the school’s low bench with the heady aroma of fried chicken, yanking Selena closer. The seven-year-old chuckled as she imagined her best friend sinking her teeth into the feast and enclosing her into a bear hug. “You’re my bestest friend forever!” Selena would say.

Though fried lunches were frowned upon at school, she would risk it, she decided, for her best friend. The hug and the feverish proclamation were worth it.

Convincing the mother was tougher. But the little girl stuck it out.

She memorised all her spellings, even her elder brother’s, tidied her room and even wrote an acrostic poem glorifying her mother. After toiling for over an hour and swearing her love for the chicken strips multiple times, the mother reluctantly agreed.

The next day, the little girl woke up with her eyes lined with vivid dreams of chicken strips, Selena and their cheery laughter. She was ready before the designated hour without parental prodding or assistance, much to the parents’ shock and hidden smiles.

Perched on a high stool, she gaped as the frozen strips sizzled into the hot, bubbling oil.

“Perfectly crispy…” her words throbbed with excitement. She could almost hear the flawless crunch from Selena’s mouth at the first bite. “Mmmm….” she sniffed, inhaling the intoxicating smell of fried batter, her mind invoking images of Selena enjoying the treat with closed eyes.

“I love chicken strips,” she gushed, kissing her mother.

Though smuggling the snack under the teacher’s nose was tricky, she engineered it without a hitch.

Selena scooted at her elbow when she pulled the lunch box’s lid in a slow, theatrical gesture.

A smile lit her face when she registered Selena’s surprised gasp.

“Wow! My favourite!” Selena giggled.

“I know…” she beamed, sliding the box towards her friend.

But to her shock, Selena wasn’t there. In fact, Selena was on the other bench with her hand buried in another girl’s lunch box.

Her face fell.

“I love prawn crackers,” Selena rambled, throwing her arms around the other girl. “You’re my bestest friend forever!” she gushed.

Back home, the barely opened, uneaten lunch baffled the mother.

“Chicken strips make me gag. I hate them,” the little girl sniffled, pushing her lunch box away.

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