The Slice Left in Shade — Under the oak’s cool, leafy smell, Calla tapped the picnic basket and made herself a challenge: keep one watermelon wedge colder than all the rest until the last song of the afternoon. Read the full story →
Under the oak’s cool, leafy smell, Calla tapped the picnic basket and made herself a challenge: keep one watermelon wedge colder than all the rest until the last song of the afternoon. She tucked it under a folded napkin, away from the fizzy lemonade and the warm cherry bowl, while forks clinked and daisies nodded in the grass.
Then a thin chirp came from beyond the blanket. Calla stepped off the soft plaid edge into tickly grass, carrying the hidden wedge on a plate. Seeds slid against the rind. A thorn scratched her ankle, and her own mouth watered so much she almost laughed. Beside a flat stone, a dusty field cricket rubbed his legs together, then stopped when he saw the slice.
“For you,” Calla whispered. The cricket drank from the red moon of fruit, and his song came back, small and silvery. Calla returned with an empty plate and a cool feeling better than a bite. If you find the shadiest wedge in the basket, can you guess which one she saved under the oak’s cool, leafy smell?
