The Candy Shop War
Page 27
“Really, really, really yummy,” Nate muttered to Trevor.
*****
Nate folded the lined paper and creased it, smoothing his hands over it carefully. Miss Doulin had given them thirty minutes before lunch to study. She had not specified what they should study, nor did she seem to care, as she sat at her desk, sneaking pieces of white fudge from her drawers. Nate had elected to study the science of folding and throwing paper airplanes.
He put the finishing touches on the plane and sent it sailing to the front of the room. It veered left, sliding onto the floor beside Miss Doulin’s desk. She sat hunched over a stack of papers, green marker in hand, chewing with her eyes closed. She did not notice the paper airplane, just as she had not noticed the four others, including the one that had bounced off her shoulder.
The lunch bell rang, interrupting the steady murmur of talking in the room. There had not been much teaching since the first bell rang, and even less discipline. It was as if Miss Doulin were a day away from retirement and just didn’t care anymore.
Miss Doulin looked up. “Have a good lunch,” she said. “Get ready to hit the books when you get back.”
Yesterday when class had ended, she had pledged that the next day would be very busy. Which meant today should have gone a lot differently. Somewhere in the fudge-addled haze of her mind, Miss Doulin seemed to feel guilty enough about how she was slacking to at least pretend she had plans to improve. But Nate suspected that the class would keep getting less orderly.
“You ready?” Pigeon asked.
“Of course,” Nate said.
They strolled out of the room with Summer and met Trevor among the tables in the lunch area. Most of the lunch tables were either indoors or on a central concrete patio surrounded by buildings on three sides. But there were a few isolated lunch tables around the corner from the main area. They were rarely used, but Trevor, Summer, Nate, and Pigeon hurried to the exiled tables to claim their spot. They did not want the supernatural spectacle to play out in front of the whole school.
“What if they don’t find us over here?” Pigeon asked.
“They’ll find us,” Summer assured him. “They’ll think we’re trying to hide because we’re not in our regular spot. They’ll wonder what special dessert Pigeon has today.”
“Do I look like I’m eating casually?” Pigeon asked, taking a bite from his sandwich.
“Lean back a little more,” Nate instructed. “And kind of dip your shoulder.”
“Your right eye is open too wide,” Trevor said. “Close it halfway.”
“Tilt your head,” Nate suggested.
Pigeon looked increasingly silly as he followed their directions.
“Knock it off, you guys,” Summer said. “Pigeon, don’t try to act casual, just be casual. Or be nervous. Just don’t be fake.”
“Hey!” called a voice coming around the corner of the building. Denny walked toward them, followed by Eric and Kyle. “What’s with the new table? You guys too cool to eat with everybody else?”
“More like they’re hiding,” Eric said.
“Where’s the jacket, Pigeon?” Kyle teased. “I’m starting to miss it!”
“At least you still have your army jacket to keep you company,” Nate said. Kyle was wearing the same jacket he had worn at the creek. He wore it most days. “Does it remind you of your days serving our country?”
“Man, Dirt Face,” Denny said in disbelief, “you do not know when to shut up. That mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days. Hey, Pigeon, what’s for dessert today?”
Pigeon clutched his lunch bag close to his chest. “Nothing you’d want.”
“We’re not picky,” Eric said, reaching for the bag.
Pigeon let him have it. Eric handed it to Denny.
“See, Dirt Face, Pigeon knows how to keep things simple,” Denny said, rummaging through the sack. He pulled out a sandwich bag with three unusual pieces of candy inside. “What have we here? A special treat? What are these, Pigeon?”
“Candy,” he said.
“Not a lot, though,” Denny said. “Only one for each of us.” He sniffed the yellow crystalline candy, kept that, and handed the sandwich bag to Eric. Flat-faced Eric chose the one that looked like the little brownie, and Kyle received the root beer sphere.
“I’ve never seen candy like this,” Kyle said, eying the brown ball. “Where’d you get it?”
“My mom picked it up somewhere,” Pigeon said.
Eric started chewing his candy. Denny and Kyle popped theirs into their mouths. “Not bad,” Denny said. “Like lemon meringue pie. Sort of sticks to my mouth, though.” Denny swayed, a worried look crossing his face, and began to stoop. Straining, he managed to wrench himself upright. His features drooped, and his arms hung trembling at his sides. Suddenly, as if his legs were loaded with mousetrap springs, his body whipped down to the concrete patio with a mighty slap.
“What did you give us?” Eric asked, his hair already down to his shoulders, his eyebrows getting bushier, wispy whiskers emerging on his chin.
Kyle staggered and clutched the end of a lunch table to steady himself. “Oh, no,” he moaned, eyes wide, one hand on his stomach.
Denny did not move. He groaned, but his entire body appeared to be glued to the patio. Eric crouched beside Denny, hair growing so swiftly that his head looked like a fountain, but he could not even budge one of Denny’s arms. Kyle dropped to his knees, still gripping the end of the table.
“This is impossible!” Eric stammered, rising to his feet. The hair on his scalp already reached the ground. The long hairs of his sparse beard reached beyond his waist. Tufts of fur protruded from his ears and nostrils. “You okay, Kyle?”
Kyle opened his mouth to respond and amber foam frothed from his lips. He covered his mouth, but despite his efforts to contain it, a bubbly stream of foam gushed out, much of it splashing onto Denny’s immobilized legs. Eric ran away, his hair trailing behind him on the ground like a long bridal train, his beard dangling between his legs. Froth continued to faucet from Kyle’s nose and mouth, as well as to foam up from the waistband of his pants and spew out the bottoms of his pant legs.
Panicking, Kyle stumbled to his feet and tried to run, but he leaned heavily to one side and flopped to the ground after only a few paces, foam geysering from every available opening.
Summer watched the display in amazement. Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon laughed uncontrollably. Pigeon had tears streaming down his cheeks.
*****
Nate folded the lined paper and creased it, smoothing his hands over it carefully. Miss Doulin had given them thirty minutes before lunch to study. She had not specified what they should study, nor did she seem to care, as she sat at her desk, sneaking pieces of white fudge from her drawers. Nate had elected to study the science of folding and throwing paper airplanes.
He put the finishing touches on the plane and sent it sailing to the front of the room. It veered left, sliding onto the floor beside Miss Doulin’s desk. She sat hunched over a stack of papers, green marker in hand, chewing with her eyes closed. She did not notice the paper airplane, just as she had not noticed the four others, including the one that had bounced off her shoulder.
The lunch bell rang, interrupting the steady murmur of talking in the room. There had not been much teaching since the first bell rang, and even less discipline. It was as if Miss Doulin were a day away from retirement and just didn’t care anymore.
Miss Doulin looked up. “Have a good lunch,” she said. “Get ready to hit the books when you get back.”
Yesterday when class had ended, she had pledged that the next day would be very busy. Which meant today should have gone a lot differently. Somewhere in the fudge-addled haze of her mind, Miss Doulin seemed to feel guilty enough about how she was slacking to at least pretend she had plans to improve. But Nate suspected that the class would keep getting less orderly.
“You ready?” Pigeon asked.
“Of course,” Nate said.
They strolled out of the room with Summer and met Trevor among the tables in the lunch area. Most of the lunch tables were either indoors or on a central concrete patio surrounded by buildings on three sides. But there were a few isolated lunch tables around the corner from the main area. They were rarely used, but Trevor, Summer, Nate, and Pigeon hurried to the exiled tables to claim their spot. They did not want the supernatural spectacle to play out in front of the whole school.
“What if they don’t find us over here?” Pigeon asked.
“They’ll find us,” Summer assured him. “They’ll think we’re trying to hide because we’re not in our regular spot. They’ll wonder what special dessert Pigeon has today.”
“Do I look like I’m eating casually?” Pigeon asked, taking a bite from his sandwich.
“Lean back a little more,” Nate instructed. “And kind of dip your shoulder.”
“Your right eye is open too wide,” Trevor said. “Close it halfway.”
“Tilt your head,” Nate suggested.
Pigeon looked increasingly silly as he followed their directions.
“Knock it off, you guys,” Summer said. “Pigeon, don’t try to act casual, just be casual. Or be nervous. Just don’t be fake.”
“Hey!” called a voice coming around the corner of the building. Denny walked toward them, followed by Eric and Kyle. “What’s with the new table? You guys too cool to eat with everybody else?”
“More like they’re hiding,” Eric said.
“Where’s the jacket, Pigeon?” Kyle teased. “I’m starting to miss it!”
“At least you still have your army jacket to keep you company,” Nate said. Kyle was wearing the same jacket he had worn at the creek. He wore it most days. “Does it remind you of your days serving our country?”
“Man, Dirt Face,” Denny said in disbelief, “you do not know when to shut up. That mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days. Hey, Pigeon, what’s for dessert today?”
Pigeon clutched his lunch bag close to his chest. “Nothing you’d want.”
“We’re not picky,” Eric said, reaching for the bag.
Pigeon let him have it. Eric handed it to Denny.
“See, Dirt Face, Pigeon knows how to keep things simple,” Denny said, rummaging through the sack. He pulled out a sandwich bag with three unusual pieces of candy inside. “What have we here? A special treat? What are these, Pigeon?”
“Candy,” he said.
“Not a lot, though,” Denny said. “Only one for each of us.” He sniffed the yellow crystalline candy, kept that, and handed the sandwich bag to Eric. Flat-faced Eric chose the one that looked like the little brownie, and Kyle received the root beer sphere.
“I’ve never seen candy like this,” Kyle said, eying the brown ball. “Where’d you get it?”
“My mom picked it up somewhere,” Pigeon said.
Eric started chewing his candy. Denny and Kyle popped theirs into their mouths. “Not bad,” Denny said. “Like lemon meringue pie. Sort of sticks to my mouth, though.” Denny swayed, a worried look crossing his face, and began to stoop. Straining, he managed to wrench himself upright. His features drooped, and his arms hung trembling at his sides. Suddenly, as if his legs were loaded with mousetrap springs, his body whipped down to the concrete patio with a mighty slap.
“What did you give us?” Eric asked, his hair already down to his shoulders, his eyebrows getting bushier, wispy whiskers emerging on his chin.
Kyle staggered and clutched the end of a lunch table to steady himself. “Oh, no,” he moaned, eyes wide, one hand on his stomach.
Denny did not move. He groaned, but his entire body appeared to be glued to the patio. Eric crouched beside Denny, hair growing so swiftly that his head looked like a fountain, but he could not even budge one of Denny’s arms. Kyle dropped to his knees, still gripping the end of the table.
“This is impossible!” Eric stammered, rising to his feet. The hair on his scalp already reached the ground. The long hairs of his sparse beard reached beyond his waist. Tufts of fur protruded from his ears and nostrils. “You okay, Kyle?”
Kyle opened his mouth to respond and amber foam frothed from his lips. He covered his mouth, but despite his efforts to contain it, a bubbly stream of foam gushed out, much of it splashing onto Denny’s immobilized legs. Eric ran away, his hair trailing behind him on the ground like a long bridal train, his beard dangling between his legs. Froth continued to faucet from Kyle’s nose and mouth, as well as to foam up from the waistband of his pants and spew out the bottoms of his pant legs.
Panicking, Kyle stumbled to his feet and tried to run, but he leaned heavily to one side and flopped to the ground after only a few paces, foam geysering from every available opening.
Summer watched the display in amazement. Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon laughed uncontrollably. Pigeon had tears streaming down his cheeks.
