The Starfruit Tree

He’s hogging the place!

The starfruit tree is on Pat’s lawn—between Adrian’s house and mine. It’s about equal walking distance from both houses, so I don’t have any more right to sit there than Adrian. But my family has lived here longer.

“Do you ever talk to that boy?” asks dad.

He’s looking down the street as he waters the lawn in his big hat.

“I want a starfruit but he’s there,” I say.

“He won’t mind if you get some fruit. Why don’t you see if he wants to play?”

This is nothing I haven’t thought of myself. I saw Adrian making potions in his front yard the other day—and another time a few weeks back—and I also love to make potions. I’ve considered telling him that he should try adding the juice from some Brazilian cherries to his next batch. Brazilian cherries are powerful. Sometimes they can even turn a potion red.

“One time I said hello and he just stared at me.”

“He’s probably shy,” says dad.

I stuff my hands into the pockets of my dress and think about how many starfruits I could fit in them. It’s a hot afternoon, and all I want is to sink my teeth into one of those juicy fruits. I take a few steps out onto the wet lawn and think about my options. I shriek when dad squirts me with the hose.

“Bring me back one.”

“Why should I?” I stamp a foot, pretending to be mad. “You wet my dress!”

I scream and run when he squirts me again. The sound makes Adrian look over at me. I slow down once I’m out of squirting range and try not to step on any bindis. I don’t have to worry about my feet once I get to Pat’s lawn, because the grass is always lush, soft, and perfect. Sometimes the kids up this end play Red Rover on his lawn because the grass is so nice. Sometimes I think about eating it.

Mum said Pat’s been married for 70 years but I’ve barely ever seen his wife because he’s in charge of the lawn.

Will I get married for 70 years?

Maybe I could marry Adrian—if he doesn’t just stare at me this time.

He looks up from sharpening a stick as I approach the starfruit tree. I’m surprised when he says hello first and tosses the stick aside. His hands are dirty.

“My dad wants a starfruit.”

I’m not entirely sure why I said that, considering how much I want a starfruit myself. Adrian jumps to his feet and says the best ones are on the other side. I follow him as he walks around the tree. His hair is so short and straight, I can see his scalp.

He picks a fruit and offers it to me. “How’s that?”

“It’s got a brown bit on it.”

“I’ll have that one then.”

“No, you should have a better one,” I say. “There’s heaps.”

Adrian rips the brown bit off and bites into the starfruit. He says it’s still good, but I’m not convinced. My brother told me that the brown bits have tiny bugs living in them. He said it means the fruit is bad.

“Your dad told me off the other day,” Adrian says.

“My dad?” I shake my head. “My dad never tells anyone off—except for that time I drew all over the walls.”

“I was trying to hit birds with my slingshot.”

I can’t help gasping. I turn away slightly, suddenly not wanting to look at Adrian or his very short hair. We’ve barely spoken for two minutes and already it’s clear we couldn’t get married for 70 years. And maybe he really should be eating the brown starfruits.

I must look angry.

“You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t kill birds unless you’re going to eat them. That’s how it works. Were you going to eat them?”

“No, I didn’t really think about the birds—I just wanted to see if I could do it. Your dad made me think about them.”

I lift my eyes from a fallen starfruit and look at him. “So you won’t do it again?”

“No, I don’t want to do it now.”

“That’s good.”

Adrian smiles as he chews.

I pick the best starfruit for dad and the second best one for me. I bite into it as Adrian reaches for another one above my head. The juice explodes and drips everywhere. It tastes even better than I was expecting.

Such a hot afternoon.

“I saw you making potions the other day,” I say as I wipe my mouth. “If you want to add Brazilian cherries next time, there’s a tree in our yard. Dad won’t mind.”

Adrian rips off another brown bit and drops it on the grass. “Thanks.”

“You can also add crushed up cicada shells.”

His nose wrinkles. “What does that do?”

“It makes the potion ten times more powerful.”

“Cool.”

“Try it.”

“I found a paperbark tree near the creek with dozens of cicada shells on it. Want to go and collect them?”

The thought of collecting dozens of golden cicada shells fills me with delight. I could put them in my favourite empty biscuit tin—the one with cats and flowers all over it. They would probably fill the whole thing up! I’d probably need the other biscuit tins too.

But it’s already nearly sunset. I clutch dad’s starfruit tighter, unsure of how to respond. Dinner would be ready soon enough. Mum said we’re having lamb, which is my favourite. She leaves the fat on because I like it.

“I’m not allowed to go to the creek this late.”

Adrian shrugs. “Okay.”

“Wouldn’t your mum worry too?”

“My mum won’t notice.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and I feel like Adrian is sad. I don’t know what to say, so I look around the neighbourhood. A flying fox is hanging from the power line nearby. I’ve seen a lot of dead flying foxes lately. They don’t see the lines and then they fly into them and get electrocuted. It makes me want to cry but I’m too excited to cry right now.

“How about tomorrow?” says Adrian. “We could meet here right after school—there’ll be lots of time before it gets dark if we start early. We could collect all the cicada shells and get some Brazilian cherries from your yard. There are lilly pillies in Alyssa’s yard we could get. I can climb over the fence and you can keep watch.”

“Okay.” I stuff dad’s starfruit into my dress pocket. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

Adrian gives a big smile like I’ve never seen before. His short hair is glowing in the afternoon sun. I reach up to grab another starfruit. For some reason, I only just realised I should get one for mum too.

“Bye, Adrian.”

“See ya, Eliza.”

I’m so happy as I skip across Pat’s lush green lawn, which looks tastier than ever. The starfruits make my dress feel heavy. A prickle in my foot tells me when I’ve reached our lawn—I was too excited to pay attention—and I tiptoe around the bindis. My feet are on the warm driveway when I turn back to look at Adrian. He’s walking home with his sharp stick.

I can’t help smiling because I feel like we’re going to have so much fun tomorrow—and maybe the day after that and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that.

I run up the driveway and front steps. Dad is sitting in his chair reading. I can smell the lamb.

“Hey, dad—thanks for telling Adrian off about the birds.”

Dad glances up from his book. “Oh, what did he say?”

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to marry him.”

He looks amused. “It went well then?”

“I was worried for a moment. If it’s going to be for 70 years, I want to marry someone kind and nice like you.”

“He’s a good kid, really,” dad says.

He seems to be talking more to himself than to me. I wonder if he feels bad for telling Adrian off. Dad almost never tells anyone off—except when I skateboarded through the house and knocked a vase over and all the water went on some documents.

I reach into my dress pocket. “I can get you another one tomorrow because we’re going to meet there after school.”

“Another what?”

“Catch!”

Dad looks up again as I throw him the starfruit. He drops his book immediately, laughing as he catches it.