On the sun-kissed shores of Flavor Island, where the sand sparkled like crushed sugar and the waves giggled as they tickled the beach, lived a boy named Easton. His hair was the color of caramel left too long in the sun, and his laughter sounded like wind chimes dancing in a breeze. Easton loved exploring, especially when it involved tasting new things—except for one tiny problem. His taste buds were as picky as a cat at a dog show.

One morning, as the scent of cinnamon toast wafted through the air like a cozy hug, Easton heard a knock at his door. Toc-toc-toc! It was his best friend, Pippa the Parrot, perched on a coconut with a gift wrapped in banana leaves. "For you!" she squawked, her feathers ruffling with excitement. The gift was tied with a vine that felt as scratchy as a cactus hug.

Easton’s eyes widened like saucers. "Ooooh!" He tore open the leaves to find a jar of jellybeans—glowing, swirling, and smelling like a rainbow had sneezed. Pippa flapped her wings. "I made them myself! They’re *extra* special. Try one!"

Easton plucked a jellybean the color of a stormy sky. It wobbled like jelly on a spoon. He popped it in his mouth—CRUNCH!—and his face twisted like a pretzel. The taste was... slimy. Like a fish had taken a nap on his tongue. His stomach did a little flip, and his toes curled tighter than a snail in its shell. But Pippa was grinning so wide, her beak could’ve caught flies. "Do you love it?" she chirped.

Easton’s heart pounded like a drum. He wanted to tell the truth, but his words stuck in his throat like peanut butter. "Uh... it’s... interesting," he said, forcing a smile. Pippa’s wings drooped, and the air filled with the sad *plink* of a single tear hitting the jar. Easton’s chest felt heavier than a sack of potatoes.

That night, as the smell of saltwater mixed with the sweet tang of mangoes, Easton couldn’t sleep. The jellybean sat in his stomach like a rock. He tiptoed to Pippa’s tree, where she was snoring like a chainsaw. Snrrrk! Snrrrk! He took a deep breath. "Pippa?" he whispered. "I... I didn’t like the jellybeans. They tasted like soggy socks."

Pippa blinked her sleepy eyes. "Oh," she said, her voice as soft as a cloud. "I thought they were yummy! But... why didn’t you tell me?" Easton’s shoulders slumped. "I didn’t want to hurt your feelings." Pippa nuzzled his hand with her beak. "But now my feelings are hurt because you didn’t like my gift!"

Easton gasped. "I’m sorry!" He hugged her tight, and Pippa’s feathers felt as fluffy as a marshmallow. "Next time," she said, "just say ‘thank you’ and then we can find something we both like. Like... chocolate-covered ants!" Easton’s nose wrinkled. "Uh... maybe not that."

The next morning, the sun painted the sky in stripes of pink and gold. Pippa handed Easton a new gift—a tiny box wrapped in seaweed. Inside was a single, perfect strawberry, as red as a fire truck and smelling like summer. Easton grinned. "Thank you!" he said. "It’s... exactly what I wanted."

Pippa ruffled his hair. "And if it wasn’t?" Easton giggled. "I’d say ‘thank you’ and then we’d eat it together... or feed it to the crabs!" Pippa cackled, and the sound echoed across Flavor Island like a song. From that day on, Easton never let a jellybean—or the truth—sit heavy in his heart again.