Guava and more
This was January. Janelle sneaked into the garden and collected the chico and the caimito.
Surely, with all this flourishing of the noseberry and star apples, they wouldn't notice if I help myself to a few?
Janelle aimed to surprise her mother with her modified version of the buko salad. She would use sweetened condensed milk, nata de coco, kaong and tapioca pearls. But she would replace the canned pineapples in her mother's recipe with fresh fruits from the neighbour's garden.
She would be so pleased, who knows, she might ask me to take the evening off.
Perspiration evaporated off Janelle's forehead, and a gentle breeze tickled her face. She could smell the sweet, malty flavor of the chico, encouraging her to pluck it. Bracing herself, Janelle arranged her baro't saya. The exaggerated bell sleeves of her blouse didn't help her in the garden, but it didn't take her long to complete the sneaky task.
What's next?
The guava tree stood two metres tall and inviting.
She grabbed a low hanging bayaba. Running her fingers over the spherical fruit, the furrowed surface seemed soft.
Suddenly, Janelle felt eyes on her. She looked to the roof and glimpsed an eleven-year-old boy. As their eyes met, there was instant recognition.
This boy had been watching me a few days. What is he up to?
She reached into her basket for a small guava. "Batang lalaki! Get ready, I'm throwing you one."
