The Candy Corn Contest (2 page)

Richard looked at the other kids.

Timothy was reading a book as fast as he could.

He'd have about five guesses by tomorrow.

He might win the jar of Candy Corn before Richard guessed once.

Suddenly Emily saw Timothy reading. She frowned. “I guess that's all,” she said. She raced back to her seat and opened her library book.

Ms. Rooney looked around.

Richard put his hand in the air. He knelt up on his seat so Ms. Rooney would look at him.

“Sit down, Richard,” Ms. Rooney said. She looked around the room. “Wayne?”

Wayne O'Brien went to the front of the room. He stood there for a minute.

Then he shook his head. “I don't remember what I was going to say.”

In front of him Richard could hear Matthew trying to read. He didn't know the words.

At last Wayne raised his shoulders up to his neck. He went back to his seat.

Ms. Rooney smiled at Richard. “Do you have something—”

Richard rushed to the front of the room.

He took a deep breath. “I'm going to have a sleep-over,” he said. “Everyone's invited.”

Emily looked up from her book. “Great,” she said.

Richard swallowed. “I mean, the boys. Only the boys. It's a sleep-over party for boys.”

“Oh,” said Emily Arrow.

“There isn't room for girls,” Richard said.

“All right,” Emily said.

“I'm coming,” yelled Matthew. “When is it?”

“The night after Thanksgiving,” Richard said.

Timothy Barbiero put his hand in the air. “Will there be good stuff to eat?”

“Sure,” Richard said. “My mother's making spaghetti and Italian bread. And leftover turkey. And we're going to have ice cream for dessert.”

Derrick Grace raised his hand. “I can't come,” he said. He looked as if he were going to cry. “I'm going to my uncle John's.”

“I can't come either,” Jason Bazyk said.

Richard looked around.

Not so good.

Now there would be only six, counting himself.

'Don't worry,” Matthew called again. “I'm coming. I love ice cream.”

Richard went back to his seat. “You're coming, aren't you?” he called to Timothy Barbiero.

“I think so,” Timothy said.

Dawn Bosco was up in the front of the room. “My grand-mother lives in Florida,” she said.

She held up a fat grapefruit. “My grandmother sent us a whole box of these.”

Richard shuddered. He hated grapefruit.

He opened his book to page three. Last week he had read two pages. Maybe he could get two guesses.

As soon as Dawn sat down, he raised his hand. “Can I use last week's book for a guess?”

Ms. Rooney thought for a minute.

“Oh, good,” Timothy Barbiero said. “I read about a hundred pages last week.”

Ms. Rooney shook her head. “I think we'd better stick to this week. We'll start with to-day.”

Richard looked at page three. He tried to read the first sentence. It was a tough one.

He turned to page four. A nice big picture took up most of the space. He wouldn't have to read many words.

If he ever got there.

Timothy Barbiero raised his hand. “I started my new book this morning,” he said. “And now I'm almost fin-ished.”

“That's wonderful,” Ms. Rooney said.

Richard looked at Timothy. Timothy was smart. And he was lucky.

Richard wished he was like Timothy. He was sick of being dumb. And unlucky.

“Can anyone tell us about the first Thanksgiv-ing?” Ms. Rooney asked.

“I can,” Timothy Barbiero said.

44Me too,” Dawn Bosco said.

Richard hid behind Matthew. He didn't know one thing about the first Thanksgiving.

Six boys would be at his sleep-over. He wrote a big six on the pa-per. Underneath he wrote a
T
for Timothy. Then he wrote a
W
for Wayne.

4'Many years ago,” said Ms. Rooney, “some people sailed across the ocean.”

Emily Arrow raised her hand. “They came on a boat called the
Mayflower.”

“Right, Emily,” said Ms. Rooney. “And the people were called Pilgrims.”

Richard wrote an
X
on the paper.
X
for Alex.

He looked around. Who else was coming?

“It was cold,” said Ms. Rooney. “The Pilgrims had very little food. Many of them were sick.”

Matthew. He had forgotten Matthew.

He wrote an
M
on the pa-per.

Then he wrote
Beast
for him-self. His nickname.

“Timothy,” he whispered. “Wayne. Alex. Matthew. And me.”

He counted. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Someone was missing.

“The Pilgrims' first winter was terri-ble,” Ms. Rooney said.

Noah raised his hand. “Then the Indians came to help them.”

“Very good, Noah,” Ms. Rooney said.

Richard wrote an
N
for Noah. That was six.

He looked around again. He'd sit next to Timothy when they ate.

Alex would sit on his other side.

He'd put a big pile of spaghetti on his plate.

He'd save some room for ice cream.

“Are you listening, Richard?” Ms. Rooney asked.

Richard jumped. “Yes.”

“In the spring,” said Ms. Rooney, “the Indians showed the Pilgrims how to plant corn. They told them to put dead fish in the earth with the seed. It would make the corn grow better.”

“Yucks,” said Emily Arrow.

“Don't be silly, Emily,” said Ms. Rooney. “The Indians were right. The corn grew strong.”

Richard thought about his sleep-over again.

Everyone would sleep in the den.

He'd sleep next to Timothy and Alex.

Matthew would have to sleep next to the wall. Just in case.

And Wayne would sleep on Matthew's other side.

“The Pilgrims learned to hunt,” said Ms. Rooney. “Then they had more food.”

Richard wished he had something to eat. Some of that spaghetti. Some leftover turkey.

“Yes,” said Ms. Rooney. “The Pilgrims worked hard. Very hard. They did the right thing.”

“Then they had a Thanksgiving party,” said Timothy.

“Yes,” said Ms. Rooney. “They invited everyone.”

“Hey,” Wayne whispered. “I have to talk to you.”

“What's the matter?” Richard asked,

“I'll tell you later,” Wayne said. He was frowning.

Richard felt a worried feeling. He hoped Wayne was coming to his party.

It would be nice for Matthew to have someone to sleep near.

Besides, if Wayne didn't come, there would be only five boys.

But there was no time to talk to Wayne.

They had to pack their books. And Richard had to find his sister, Holly.

For a while Richard waited in the hall.

He looked at the picture of the man on the wall.

James K. Polk, it said underneath.

Poor James K. Polk, Richard thought. His collar was so big, it was flapping around his cheeks.

Richard went to the boys' room.

Holly still didn't come.

He went back to his classroom. Ms. Rooney was gone.

Jim, the custodian, was beginning to sweep.

Richard saw that Matthew had forgotten his sweater. It was on the floor.

He picked it up. It smelled like Matthew.

He put it on Matthew's chair.

“Thanks,” Jim said. He finished sweep-ing. He pushed the broom out to the hall.

Richard walked over to Ms. Rooney's desk.

He looked at the jar of Candy Corn.

His mouth was watering again.

He tried to guess how many pieces of Candy Corn there were.

Maybe he should do some counting.

He could count all the Candy Corn on one side of the jar to-day.

Tomorrow after school he'd count the ones on the other side.

It wouldn't be cheating, Richard thought. He'd still have to guess how many were in the middle.

He started to count.

After he was half finished, he forgot what number he was up to.

He took off the top of the jar so he could see inside. There were three fat ones on the top.

He'd love to eat the whole jar of Candy Corn right now.

He'd take them two at a time. He'd stick them together. Then he'd crunch right down on them.

He hoped his mother would have lots of Candy Corn for his Thanksgiving sleep-over.

She wouldn't though. She didn't like him to eat too much candy.

He wondered if Ms. Rooney had counted all the Candy Corn yet.

Maybe not.

They'd probably count them together. The whole class. At the end of the guessing.

He poked his finger into the jar.

The Candy Corn clicked together.

It would be easy to dump everything out of the jar. It would be easy to count them.

He'd never do that.

That would really be cheating.

Someone else might do it though.

Ms. Rooney should have locked the jar up in the closet.

He took four pieces of Candy Corn out of the
jar. He put them on the desk. He made them into a Candy Corn fence.

They looked neat, like a bunch of pumpkin teeth waiting for a pumpkin.

He picked them up and put them back into the jar. All except one. A fat one.

Without thinking, he popped it into his mouth.

He ate it so fast, he hardly tasted it.

He reached into the jar. He took out another one. Quickly he put it into his mouth.

Then he took a third.

After he had swallowed them, he ran his tongue around his teeth.

His mouth tasted all sugary.

He stared at the jar.

He could feel his heart begin to pound.

He put the top back on the jar.

There was a sound at the door.

“Forgot my sweater,” Matthew said.

Richard nodded. He kept his mouth closed tight.

“I wish we'd win,” Matthew said.

“Mmm,” Richard said. He pressed his lips
together a little harder. He hoped Matthew couldn't smell the Candy Corn.

Maybe Matthew couldn't smell anything, Richard thought. If he could, he might take a bath.

“I saw Ms. Rooney counting all the Candy Corn,” Matthew said. “At lunchtime.”

“Oh,” Richard said.

“She wrote the number right on the bottom of the jar,” Matthew said.