The sun blazed high over the Melbourne sky, and the pavement felt like it could fry an egg. It was one of those scorching Australian summer days where even the breeze felt warm, and walking anywhere meant you were sweating five steps in. But James, 15, and his older sister Grace, 19, had one goal in mind: lemonade.

Specifically, the little corner shop down the street—the one with the bright yellow umbrellas and handwritten chalkboard sign that read “Fresh-Squeezed, Ice-Cold Lemonade – Best in the City!”

James wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as they walked. “Whose idea was it to walk instead of drive again?”

Grace, wearing sunglasses, shorts, and a loose white tank top, smirked. “Yours. You said, and I quote, ‘It’ll be a chill walk.’”

“I was lied to,” he groaned.

She nudged him with her elbow. “We’re almost there. Besides, it’s not that bad.”

He shot her a look. “You’re only saying that because you’re not wearing black jeans like me.”

“That’s your own fault,” she laughed.

Finally, they turned the corner, and there it was—the lemonade shop, shining like an oasis. People sat at the shaded tables, sipping bright yellow drinks out of glass cups with striped straws.

They stepped inside, and the blast of cold air conditioning hit them like heaven.

“Ohhh, bless this shop,” James muttered dramatically.

Grace walked up to the counter. “Two lemonades, please. Extra ice.”

While the employee poured the drinks, James leaned against the counter, still recovering from the heat. “You think they’d judge me if I asked for a bucket of ice and just sat in it?”

“Probably,” Grace said, handing him a cup. “But I’d film it.”

They sat under one of the umbrellas, sipping their lemonades slowly. The sweet-tart flavor was perfect, and the ice clinked gently with every sip.

“This is so good,” Grace said, relaxing in her chair. “Totally worth the walk.”