The building was long and only two stories tall. Lisa saw some yellow buses sitting in the meager parking lot. “Is it a school?”
“It’s the Institution, if you’re into those kinds of conspiracy theories.” Tilly unscrewed the cap of a 1-gallon water jug and took a long swig. “Did you have a camera with you?”
“Dang-it, I knew I forgot something! It’s sitting in my suitcase at the apartment.”
“You really are new at this investigative journalism stuff, aren’t you?” Tilly started down the slope. “We’ll have to come back sometime so you can get pictures. Or you could borrow some of mine…”
Five minutes later they were sneaking behind the utility buildings that housed the Institution’s electricity, gas and water. Tilly paused to look out across the gravel road that separated them from one wall of the building.
“Are there guards or something?” Lisa asked, readjusting her glasses.
“Not quite guards, but sometimes the Nurses come out to have a smoke.” She strode across to some bushes up against the building.
“Nurses?”
“That’s what I call them.” Tilly crouched and hobbled over to a basement window. “The moment of truth has arrived, journalist. What you are about to see is not for the faint of heart. Viewer digression is advised.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not,” Tilly smirked. “But it might answer your question. ‘Why is everyone in South Barkalow so fat?’ My answer: they start them out young.”
Lisa gasped as they peered through the window. Through the distorted glass, she could just make out a room filled with desks. Little girls sat in this classroom, but they were not really ‘little.’ Every girl was a mound of fat that spilled over the sides of their desks. They all wore the same style of jumper, which was a pink and silver uniform that deliberately left their massive, flabby bellies exposed. They all seemed to be eating sandwiches. One lone man, in a white coat, walked up and down the rows over super obese girls, checking their progress with the sandwiches.
“That would be a Nurse, as I call them,” Tilly whispered. “It’s always men teaching the girls and women teaching the boys.”
“My gosh! Just what are they doing?”
“Proper Chewing Techniques, I would guess.”
“Is this some school built to make fat children?” Lisa asked.
“Is it?” Tilly winked conspiratorially. “The ‘specially gifted’ of South Barkalow’s youth come here as an alternative to grade school. Not everyone makes the cut, though. I had this one girl who was a neighbor of mine. At six she was quite the plumper. Was picked up by the bus that goes to the Institution and continued to do that her whole childhood. There’s a screening process where they determine which kids can handle gaining the most weight.”
“Don’t their parents know where their children are going?”
“This is the top academy here. It’s a privilege to have your children come here. Just don't dress them up and then wonder why their clothes don’t fit when they come back home. But that’s not a worry in the fattest town in the world, right? It’s not like they can make it out for parent teacher night, because they’re too fat.” Lisa had a confused look on her face, so Tilly continued. “The kids only change into their uniforms when they get here. I think the uniforms are kept so small is to keep track of their progress.”
“Progress?”
Tilly ignored Lisa as she chugged some more on her gallon of water. She shivered as she capped the rest of it. She patted her bloated belly. “Oh, yeah, you’re really hard now, aren’t you?” Tilly whispered to herself and her belly.
“Hello! Can we try to focus here?”
“Pardon me.” Tilly got up, rather laboriously. “Haven’t gotten it this hard in ages. Maybe you’re good luck or something, journalist. And to answer your inquiries, they track the children’s progress in order to start them on the experiments.”
“Experiments?”
Tilly ignored her again. “Dear me, how are we going to get in here?”
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