Fruity

There were two computers and four internet appliances in the lab behind the glass doors on the third floor of the apartment building. As soon as we unlocked the door, there were kids sitting at most of them.

Kevin was interested in getting an email account. Kayla wanted to invent a nasty tasting recipe, with lemon juice and peanut butter. Three other boys wanted to play computer games. And a tall, handsome kid in a bright red shirt and baggy pants was looking for help tracking down a friend he knew in New Orleans.

They sat down and started their work.

Eventually Kevin gave up on Yahoo, because they wanted his mother's approval (because he was only in fifth grade and it didn't occur to him to lie about his birthday). And she had to provide a credit card to prove she was an adult, but he said she doesn't have any credit cards.

He sat back in his chair, unwrapped some candy, and threw it into his mouth.

What's that? I asked.

What!? he snapped. He must have thought I didn't want him eating candy in there.

What kind of candy is that? Starburst?

No.

It smells fruity!

His eyes widened. The two boys sharing the computer next to him immediately stopped what they were doing. They looked at him, barely turning their heads.

Fruity!?

Yeah, it smells kind of fruity.

The boys' eyes widened further. Kevin scowled and shook his head.

It's not fruity.

Clearly I had stumbled onto a taboo word. It didn't take much to figure that out.

No, no, no, I said. Fruity, as in It smells like fruit.

The two boys laughed.

Tootsie Roll, said Kevin. Strawberry Tootsie Roll.

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