Queen for a Day

Chapter 1 - Getaway

“I rappel down the ropes and toss a throwing knife at both of Bloodbeard’s henchman. Red sedan!” Darcy looked out the window, pudgy fists clenched in anticipation.

Annette also scanned her driver’s side window, and Kim leaned over to peek for good measure. Lo and behold, after a few seconds came the low, bright red flash of a sedan rolling past in the far lane.

Annette nodded. “Your blades sink into the henchmen’s grimy, scowling faces, and you land before Bloodbeard as he brandishes his cutlass. And that’ll be Esther’s turn; what does Annabelle do, now?”

“I say… uh, ‘this is for Jonathan!’ And then I cast Raise Water under their ship.”

Darcy’s eyes went wide and she jumped a little in her seat, pushing some of her left thigh into Mikayla’s lap. “No, not while I’m on the ship! My swim skill is terrible!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just cast Marwell’s Flotation on you later.”

“Oh, yeah… okay.”··

“In any case”, Annette added, “Raise Water will take three more rounds to finish casting. Now it’s Bloodbeard’s turn on initiative…”

On and on and on. Mikayla’s gaze only strayed from the puzzle game on her phone to roll her eyes, both at the stupid OCD games of her “friends” and her own misfortune in being stuck there.

She thought she’d be smooth getting a seat next to Annette’s brother Harry, get to lay on the charm a little, but instead she was sandwiched between him and Darcy’s warm, bulging, space-invading saddlebags. On a three hour car ride. Right under the sunroof on a bright, shiny day. Her trim figure and carefully put-together outfit were all for naught as she just stayed hunched over, hoping her hanging brunette hair would be a wall against the fog of pure awkwardness surrounding her.

At the risk of being rude, Darcy tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, Kayla, it’s, uh, your turn, if you want.”

She sighed. “I stab the guy.”

Annette glanced back at her. “There’s no ‘guy’. Last we left off, you were trying to pick the lock on a footlocker in Mayor Aginwell’s mansion.”

“I do that.”

She turned back to the road. “Okay, declare a vehicle and color, please.”

“Black truck”, Mikayla said, raising her voice as though to explain something to a toddler.

Kim, about to reach into her backpack for something, anything, suddenly caught something out of the corner of her eye. “Hey, there it is! Marigold Center, now hosting RollCon. We’re here!”

The revelation was met with gladness and gratitude all around. Annette declared, “Looks like we’ll pick back up tonight at the Muskets and Mainsails booth. That was a good session, everyone.” She turned into the complex’s sprawling grounds and the parking hunt began.

With much travail and good fortune, they found a spot passably close to the hotel, whereupon Annette, Kim, Harry, and Mikayla hopped out of Annette’s SUV and soaked in the sensations of being in a brand new place. There stood towering monuments of modernity, glass curving in layered parabolas and pale concrete halls crossing into and out of each other. The very hum, odor, and shimmer of city air wavered all around.

“Harry, would you please assist Darcy with getting out?”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but I’m fine. I can get it.” She began shuffling out and trying to suppress a grunt.

He shrugged after hopping out. “She says she’s fine.” Mikayla quickly squeezed past him, brushing him with her breasts.

With both her pillowy legs protruding out the door, Darcy planted her feet on the truck next to them. She began shimmying down the side, a task made no more gentle by her hill of a belly piled over her knees and pushing down with all of its weight. Just a few inches off the ground, she slipped, setting all her fat aquiver and shaking a surprised gasp from her mouth. Already, she panted lightly. Sucking in a breath, she pushed her arms out behind her and found proper purchase on the asphalt, and so began squeezing and sidling her way to the sidewalk where the rest were waiting.

“Whew! Thanks for waiting, guys.”

Kim nodded. “Let’s get inside to the air conditioning.”

They found the hotel lobby, moving at an accommodating pace, and Mikayla drew her dad’s credit card like a gunslinger slapping leather. Without a word, she headed up to the front desk and paid off the rooms they’d booked, returning with a stack of little blue cards with sticky notes on them. Mikayla listed their assignments off, “Okay, Netty and Harry, 221, Kim, 161, Darcy, 347, and I got 238.”

Kim scrunched her brow. “You picked a third floor room for Darcy?”

“Yeah. That a problem?”

Annette shrunk back a step.

“It’s fine,” Darcy interjected, “I just… my condition, you know, the Lyngkoeber’s, I need someone in the room with me.”

“Well, hey, I can go check if my room has two beds,” Kim said. “If it does, you can bunk with me.”

“And I guess *I’m* paying the cancellation fee, right?” Mikayla’s eyes were as dead as her voice.

Kim put her hands out. “I will pay you back when I get some cash.” Mikayla scoffed but accepted the concession.

Darcy remained seated while the rest of the group agreed to deposit their belongings and then meet on the convention floor. She folded her hands over her belly, trying to look dignified as she sat alone with her gut hanging below her knees and jiggling with every exhalation. It was disappointing even for how she expected it: she was the biggest person in the lobby.

By now she was accustomed to the art of seeing the body under the clothes, but not one baggy black anime or wolf tee shirt in the lobby betrayed a stomach more vast than hers nor a chest more bulbous. She sighed. *I’ve gotta lose weight. I can do it if I start today.*

Soon enough, Kim came by, they deposited their things together, and went off to the convention.