The hill, like everything, was barren. Eleanor searched in her bag for a new packet of seeds. The stink of the nearby ruined river coated everything. A blue-gray haze hung over the valley, the once-vibrant landscape now littered with garbage and dead things.
Soren dug a small hole in the dry, cracked earth for the seeds. “What did you choose?”
“Fig,” Eleanor said.
“Is that even native?”
“It’s not invasive,” she said, kneeling down. “And we can’t grow a food forest without fruit.” She sprinkled the seeds into the ground and carefully patted the dirt back over them.
Soren knelt down to water the freshly planted seeds. Water was even more precious with so many poisoned rivers. “Let’s go.” He stood. “We’ve got more to plant.”
Eleanor gazed out at the valley. “Once this place looks nice again,” she said, “I’m going to build myself a house right there.” She pointed down the hill.
“You say that every time we plant a fruit tree.”
“I know.” Eleanor and Soren started down the hill. “I hope it grows. I love figs.”
* * * * *
“I’m flying!” Pepper shouted as he soared through the air. He landed perfectly, his eyes staying fixed on the sky. “Yes! I’m still winning.” Spring had finally arrived, and Pepper had convinced his dad to put up a swing on the fig tree on the hill. They couldn’t get quite as high as they wanted since those branches weren’t thick enough, so they jumped instead.
“I’m next!” Amity raced up the hill. Springtime had covered it in grass and flowers.
“No, I’m going again!” Pepper took off his shoe to mark his spot and sprinted for the swing. Amity threw himself onto the seat. It swung as he landed on it and he nearly fell off. “I’m going to hit you with the swing, Pepper.” Pepper groaned, melodramatic, but leaned against the tree.
“I always win, Amity,” Pepper taunted. “Might as well not even try.”
“Hey, no trash-talking!” Amity said. “I’m going!” Amity swung higher and higher, launching himself off the swing with a shout.
He had let go too soon. Amity plummeted to the ground, too fast to scream.
“Amity!” Pepper scrambled down the hill toward him. “Amity, you’re supposed to land on your feet.”
“My arm!” Amity said. He winced as he tried to sit up. Tears shone in his eyes. “I told you we should’ve biked down the river instead.”
“I told you the river fumes will give us a third eye,” Pepper said. He carefully helped Amity to his feet.
“It’s not that bad,” Amity said. He gingerly held his arm and they hobbled down the hill to the clinic. Amity’s cast was 3D printed in bright blue plastic. Pepper and Amity returned to the swing the next week, eager to fly again. It had been looped over the branch several times. They strained and struggled to pull it down, but it held fast. They biked down the river instead.
* * * * *
Marina and Rome stepped carefully around the fallen leaves. Technically the tree was public property, so the figs were free for everyone, but the sound of crunching leaves would surely alert its “owner.”
“I haven’t done something so criminal since high school,” Rome said in a stage whisper. “Seriously, I feel so mysterious with the twilight and everything.” The sun was setting, dyeing the clear water of the river red and orange.
“It’s not a crime,” Marina said. “It’s jam. For a cake.”
“Eliza will treat it like a crime.”
“And we have a great excuse: a child’s birthday cake. Besides, ancestral tree or not, it’s not like she’s going to keep her kids from coming to the party because we ‘stole’ some figs.”
“I honestly can’t even tell which tree it is,” Rome said. She was squinting at the hills around them. “They all look the same without leaves.”
“I think you need new glasses,” Marina whispered. “This is it.” One of the low branches had a fossilized swing wrapped around it. They’d been trying to take it off for generations. The tree had long outgrown it. There were far better branches for swings stretching out of the trunk, now decorated with dry, yellowing leaves.
Rome brought a tiny drone out of her bag. “Crime always adds the best flavor.”
“They were already the best figs. Okay, I’m ready.”
Rome used the remote to make the drone zip around the tree, picking figs to then drop gently into Marina’s wicker basket. Once they finished, they hurried back down the hill, disappearing into the dusk.
Soren dug a small hole in the dry, cracked earth for the seeds. “What did you choose?”
“Fig,” Eleanor said.
“Is that even native?”
“It’s not invasive,” she said, kneeling down. “And we can’t grow a food forest without fruit.” She sprinkled the seeds into the ground and carefully patted the dirt back over them.
Soren knelt down to water the freshly planted seeds. Water was even more precious with so many poisoned rivers. “Let’s go.” He stood. “We’ve got more to plant.”
Eleanor gazed out at the valley. “Once this place looks nice again,” she said, “I’m going to build myself a house right there.” She pointed down the hill.
“You say that every time we plant a fruit tree.”
“I know.” Eleanor and Soren started down the hill. “I hope it grows. I love figs.”
* * * * *
“I’m flying!” Pepper shouted as he soared through the air. He landed perfectly, his eyes staying fixed on the sky. “Yes! I’m still winning.” Spring had finally arrived, and Pepper had convinced his dad to put up a swing on the fig tree on the hill. They couldn’t get quite as high as they wanted since those branches weren’t thick enough, so they jumped instead.
“I’m next!” Amity raced up the hill. Springtime had covered it in grass and flowers.
“No, I’m going again!” Pepper took off his shoe to mark his spot and sprinted for the swing. Amity threw himself onto the seat. It swung as he landed on it and he nearly fell off. “I’m going to hit you with the swing, Pepper.” Pepper groaned, melodramatic, but leaned against the tree.
“I always win, Amity,” Pepper taunted. “Might as well not even try.”
“Hey, no trash-talking!” Amity said. “I’m going!” Amity swung higher and higher, launching himself off the swing with a shout.
He had let go too soon. Amity plummeted to the ground, too fast to scream.
“Amity!” Pepper scrambled down the hill toward him. “Amity, you’re supposed to land on your feet.”
“My arm!” Amity said. He winced as he tried to sit up. Tears shone in his eyes. “I told you we should’ve biked down the river instead.”
“I told you the river fumes will give us a third eye,” Pepper said. He carefully helped Amity to his feet.
“It’s not that bad,” Amity said. He gingerly held his arm and they hobbled down the hill to the clinic. Amity’s cast was 3D printed in bright blue plastic. Pepper and Amity returned to the swing the next week, eager to fly again. It had been looped over the branch several times. They strained and struggled to pull it down, but it held fast. They biked down the river instead.
* * * * *
Marina and Rome stepped carefully around the fallen leaves. Technically the tree was public property, so the figs were free for everyone, but the sound of crunching leaves would surely alert its “owner.”
“I haven’t done something so criminal since high school,” Rome said in a stage whisper. “Seriously, I feel so mysterious with the twilight and everything.” The sun was setting, dyeing the clear water of the river red and orange.
“It’s not a crime,” Marina said. “It’s jam. For a cake.”
“Eliza will treat it like a crime.”
“And we have a great excuse: a child’s birthday cake. Besides, ancestral tree or not, it’s not like she’s going to keep her kids from coming to the party because we ‘stole’ some figs.”
“I honestly can’t even tell which tree it is,” Rome said. She was squinting at the hills around them. “They all look the same without leaves.”
“I think you need new glasses,” Marina whispered. “This is it.” One of the low branches had a fossilized swing wrapped around it. They’d been trying to take it off for generations. The tree had long outgrown it. There were far better branches for swings stretching out of the trunk, now decorated with dry, yellowing leaves.
Rome brought a tiny drone out of her bag. “Crime always adds the best flavor.”
“They were already the best figs. Okay, I’m ready.”
Rome used the remote to make the drone zip around the tree, picking figs to then drop gently into Marina’s wicker basket. Once they finished, they hurried back down the hill, disappearing into the dusk.