Pip and the Blue Bumpy Fruit

"Ooh, that looks funny," said Oliver, and he picked up the strange fruit anyway.

It sat in his hand like a small blue dragon egg. It was covered in soft bumps. His grandpa had grown it by the pond, where the lily pads were big enough to stand on.

Oliver wanted to be brave. Today was the Pond Picnic, and everyone would taste a bumpy fruit. Oliver wanted to be the first one to say, "It's yummy!"

He sniffed it. It smelled like rain. He licked it, just a tiny lick. It tasted like nothing at all.

"Go on," said Grandpa, and he waded off to fetch the biscuits.

Oliver took a big breath and tried a bite. His face scrunched up. The skin was tough and chewy, like a rubber boot.

"Bleh," he said. "Bumpy bleh."

He put the fruit down on a lily pad. Then he tried again, this time with his eyes shut. It was still bleh.

A small green frog called Pip hopped onto the pad. Pip was only there to catch flies, and he did not care about fruit at all. His tongue went flick, flick, and the fruit rolled off the pad with a plop.

"Oh no!" said Oliver. He lay on his tummy and reached. His fingers just missed it.

Then he saw something. The fruit had landed on a rock, and it had cracked open. Inside it was pale and shiny, with tiny seeds like sprinkles.

"It has a secret inside!" said Oliver. "The bumps are only the coat."

He peeled away the tough skin, bump by bump. Then he took a bite of the soft part.

It was sweet. It was cool. It was a little bit like a peach and a little bit like a raindrop.

"Mmm," said Oliver.

Pip looked up from his fly. Oliver held out a seed. Pip did not want it, so he went flick, and a fly was gone.

Oliver grinned and took another bite. Juice ran down his chin and dripped onto the lily pad. Plip. Plip. Plip.