plums

After being kindly reprimanded by their teacher for not eating their fruit, they all leaped on their plums, assuming them to be some kind of giant, purple grape. After gutting the plums of their stones, some kids began to bury their noses in the open carcass, sucking away at the flesh and coating their faces in sweet, sticky pulp. Others meticulously chipped away at the brittle skin, peeling the whole plum tiny flake by tiny flake. The girl next to me dug into hers, pulverising it with her fingers and pulling the dripping, yellow chunks sloppily towards her little mouth. I told them the skin was edible, but they didn't believe me. One boy tried it and consented that it wasn't bad. Another explained to me that while the skins of smaller grapes can be eaten, these ones cannot. Finally, the half-eaten remains of delicious plums lying mutilated in thirty-odd little bowls, the kids began queuing at the sink to slough the juices off their skin.