Charlotte put her sandwich back in her lunchbox. She’d only taken the one bite.

‘Have you ever eaten mango?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘We lived in Queensland before moving to Sydney. There were mangoes all around us.’

‘I love mango. Only had it once, but that taste …’ She got this dreamy look in her eyes. ‘Now there’s a huge shortage and you can’t get them anywhere. Except …’

‘Except?’

‘Someone told me there’s a tree in Victoria Park, a few minutes from here. A couple of trees. And that there are mangoes growing on them.’

I laughed.

‘They must’ve been joking. Mangoes don’t grow in Sydney.’

Charlotte picked up her sandwich again, thought better of it and put it back.

‘That used to be true,’ she said. ‘But climate change has altered all sorts of things. Most of it bad, but the occasional bit good. Apparently, Sydney’s climate is now hot enough that mangoes can grow. Jessica, who’s in the year above us, says she’s seen them in Victoria Park. And trust me, Jessica knows what she’s talking about.’

I chewed on a carrot stick. It seemed unlikely that Charlotte would make this up. A bit like yesterday with the zygote pronouncement, she’d shown her brilliance on almost everything today in class. Her head’s stuffed with knowledge.

‘Even if that’s true,’ I said. Charlotte gave me a sharp glance. ‘And I’m sure it is,’ I added. ‘Then someone would have picked them by now. There’s no way free fruit would last long in any park.’

Charlotte sighed.

‘That’s probably true,’ she said. ‘Probably.’

That’s when I had the idea.

‘I’ll go and check it out for you,’ I said.

‘When?’

‘Right now. Me and Aiden will go now. It’s just down Albert Street and if we run we’ll be back way before the start of afternoon classes.’ I was excited. If there was a way to impress my new friend, make sure she saw me as someone worthy of friendship, then this was it. I got to my feet.

‘The school won’t let you out at lunchtime,’ said Charlotte. ‘It’s a really firm rule because they need to know where you are at all times. You heard Mr Meredith and all that duty of care business. Anyway, it could be dangerous out there. You know there are parts of Sydney that are not … safe.’

I brushed aside her arguments, mainly because I was in that heady zone of imagination where the promise of success blinds you to fear. The way I thought about it was this – even if I didn’t get a mango, and I was pretty sure they couldn’t exist – I’d show her how I wasn’t scared of anything, that I was a rebel, someone who acted on the spur of the moment without thinking of her own safety. I liked that vision of myself, even if it was a long way from the truth.

‘We’re fenced in,’ Charlotte pointed out.

‘It would take more than a fence to keep me in,’ I said. ‘Go talk to Mr Meredith. Distract him. Do a chicken impersonation. I’ll be back soon.’