On Flavor Island, where the trees smelled like warm cinnamon and the air hummed with the bzzz of tiny sugar bees, lived a girl named Sophia. Her hair was as wild as a bird’s nest after a windy day, and her pockets were always stuffed with treasures—smooth pebbles, crinkly leaves, and once, a very confused ladybug.

One morning, the sun stretched its golden fingers over the island, and Sophia skipped down the path to the Berry Schoolhouse. The ground squelched under her sandals—splortch, splortch—like stepping on pudding. A sweet, jammy smell tickled her nose, and she giggled. "Today’s going to be delicious!" she said, licking her lips.

Inside the schoolhouse, the walls were made of gingerbread (but don’t lick them—Mrs. Honeycomb says it’s rude), and the desks were carved from giant mushrooms, soft as a well-loved blanket. Sophia plopped into her seat just as her friend Milo burst through the door. His arms were full of shiny red berries, big as plums, and his cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel’s in winter.

WHOOSH! A gust of wind from the open window sent Milo’s berries flying. Ping! Ping! Ping! They bounced off desks, rolled under chairs, and one even landed in the teapot on Mrs. Honeycomb’s desk. "Oh no!" Milo’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato, and his knees wobbled like jelly. A single berry clung to his nose before plop!—it joined the others on the floor.

Sophia didn’t think twice. She dropped to her hands and knees, her dress pooling around her like a puddle of strawberry jam. The floor was sticky under her palms—eww, ew, ew!—but she scooped up berries as fast as she could. Roll, roll, roll. One escaped and headed straight for the door. Sophia lunged—SLIP!—and landed on her bottom with a THUD! The berry wobbled… then rolled right into her lap. "Gotcha!" she cheered.

Milo giggled, his earlier wobbliness forgotten. He grabbed a berry that had rolled near the chalkboard and tossed it into the basket. Clink! It landed perfectly. Together, they crawled under desks, peeked behind the bookshelf (where a very grumpy snail hissed at them), and even rescued the berry from the teapot—now floating in a puddle of lukewarm tea. Sophia’s hair was a mess, her dress was smeared with purple juice, and her knees were sticky enough to glue a butterfly. But the basket was full again.

Mrs. Honeycomb clapped her hands, her bracelets jingling like tiny bells. "Well done, Sophia! And Milo—next time, maybe hold your berries a little tighter, hmm?" Milo grinned and nodded, his cheeks still pink. Sophia handed him the basket, and this time, he hugged it like it was made of gold.

At recess, Sophia and Milo sat under the Big Jam Tree, sharing the rescued berries. The juice dribbled down their chins, and the air smelled like summer and laughter. A sugar bee landed on Sophia’s knee, its wings zzz-ing softly, and she giggled. "Helping feels even better than eating berries," she said, popping one into her mouth. Milo nodded, his mouth too full to answer.

And from that day on, whenever Milo’s things wobbled or wiggled or threatened to escape, Sophia was there—ready to dive, slip, and giggle her way to the rescue. Because on Flavor Island, kindness was the sweetest flavor of all.