The Candy Corn Contest Read online

  Chapter 5

  'Time for math buddies,” Ms. Rooney said the next day.

  Wayne was Richard's math buddy.

  Richard went to sit with him. They were going to work on o'clocks and half pasts.

  “I have three Candy Corn guesses,” Wayne said.

  “Lucky,” Richard said.

  He looked out the window. It was raining today. Lunch would be inside.

  “I hope I win,” Wayne said.

  Richard looked at Wayne's book. It had lots of words.

  Richard didn't want to tell Wayne that his book was skin-nier. Almost a baby book.

  Wayne was a good reader. He might win.

  Timothy would probably win though.

  Richard shut his eyes. If only he could win.

  He'd take off the top of the jar. Put a few pieces of Candy Corn in his mouth.

  “Too bad,” Ms. Rooney would say. “We were going to count together. It would have been a good math les-son.”

  “Oh,” Richard would say. “I don't know how many I just ate.”

  “Don't worry,” Ms. Rooney would say. “You're the winner. You can eat every one of them.”

  “Study hard,” Ms. Rooney said. “I'm going to ask some o'clocks very soon.”

  Wayne held up his cardboard clock. He moved the hands around. “What's that?”

  “Easy,” Richard said. “Two o'clock.”

  Wayne looked down at the card. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” said Richard.

  “I'm not so good at o'clocks,” Wayne said.

  “Let me ask,” Richard said. He took the clock. He pushed the little hand to the three. “Do you know what that is?”

  Wayne stared at it. “I don't know,” he said. He leaned closer. “About your sleep-over …”

  Richard felt a little worried feeling. “I forgot,” he said. “You wanted to tell me something.”

  “Ask,” Wayne said. “I want to ask you something. Where are we going to sleep?” Wayne asked.

  “In the den,” Richard said. “We'll put our sleeping bags on the floor.”

  Wayne looked at the clock again. “I think it's three o'clock.”

  “Yes,” Richard said. He moved the big hand to the six.

  “Too hard,” Wayne said.

  “I think so too,” Richard said.

  “Who's going to sleep near Mat-thew?”

  Richard raised his shoulders up in the air.

  “I hope it's not me,” Wayne said.

  Richard turned the hands around the clock.

  “I'm not coming if—” Wayne began.

  “All right,” Richard said. “You don't have to sleep near him.”

  'That's good,” Wayne said. “If you sleep near Matthew, you'll have to wear your rain-coat.”

  Richard started to laugh. He could see everyone asleep in his den. Everyone was wearing a yellow raincoat. Even Matthew.

  Wayne poked him. “Matthew's reading a book about rain forests,” he said.

  “I know,” said Richard.

  “Rain forests,” Wayne said. He started to laugh. “Matthew lives in his own rain forest.”

  “Is everybody ready?” Ms. Rooney asked.

  Everybody went back to his own seat.

  Richard took out a piece of paper. He put his heading on top.

  He drew a bunch of circles underneath. He was a good artist. His circles were nice and round.

  Matthew's were terrible. They looked like boxes.

  Matthew turned around. He looked at Richard's paper. “Nice circles,” he said. Then he pointed. “I don't think you spelled Polk right.”

  Richard knelt up on his seat. He looked out the window. He tried to see the street sign outside.

  But it was too far for him to see.

  He erased Poke and thought a little.

  Then he wrote Poak.

  4'Draw three o'clock,” Ms. Rooney said.

  In front of him Matthew counted. “Twelve. One. Two. Three.”

  Richard drew the hands too.

  “Now draw ten o'clock,” said Ms. Rooney.

  “Twelve. One. Two …” Matthew be-gan.

  Richard thought of Matthew in a yellow raincoat.

  He thought about Matthew in a rain forest.

  He started to laugh again.

  He hid his head behind Matthew. He didn't want Ms. Rooney to see him.

  Who was going to sleep near Matthew?

  He pulled his list out of his desk. It was all crum-pled.

  He smoothed it out. He was going to sleep next to Timothy and Alex.

  Wayne would sleep on the other side of Alex.

  Then what?

  Noah.

  Matthew could sleep near the wall.

  Noah could sleep near Matthew.

  He hoped Noah wouldn't find out until the last min-ute.

  Richard sighed. He was sick of fixing up this whole thing.

  4Tour thirty,” said Ms. Rooney.

  ''Shoot,” said Matthew.

  Richard drew a hand on the four. Then he looked out the win-dow.

  Four thirty was just too hard.

  Chapter 6

  It was a rainy-day lunch. Mrs. Kettle, the sixthgrade teacher, was in charge. She was the strictest teacher in the whole school.

  She clapped her hands. “Are you finished eat-ing?”

  Everyone yelled yes.

  ''Clean your places,” Mrs. Kettle said. “Go straight to the gym.”

  Richard didn't go straight to the gym.

  He was going to sneak upstairs to his classroom. He was going to change the number on the Candy Corn jar.

  If Ms. Rooney had written 103, he would write 100. If she had writ-ten 421, he would write 416. No. He would write 417. No.

  He hoped she hadn't written 421.

  Right after he changed the number, he was going to forget what it was.

  He didn't want to cheat.

  He stopped for a long drink of water at the water fountain.

  He hoped Ms. Rooney wasn't in the classroom. Maybe he should wait a few minutes. Maybe he should sneak to the classroom right before the bell rang. Ms. Rooney would be downstairs in the gym with the class.

  He went past the auditorium. The fifth-grade band was play-ing.

  He opened the door a little bit.

  Pom. Pom. Pom.

  The drummer was banging as hard as he could. Richard could feel the pounding in his head.

  He opened the door a little wider. He pounded a make-believe drum on it.

  Then he spotted his sister, Holly. Her lips were squeezed over her fife.

  Nobody could hear her though.

  All you could hear was pom, pom, pom.

  She frowned at him.

  She shook one finger over the fife. She stoppedsqueezing her mouth together. She opened her mouth wide. She whispered something.

  Richard leaned forward.

  “Get lost,” she mouthed again.

  Richard closed the door of the auditorium.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  It was Timothy Barbiero. He had a book in his hand. A big fat book.

  “Hi, Richard,” Timothy said. “Getting ready for your Thanksgiving sleep-over?”'

  Richard nodded.

  Noah Greene came from around the corner. “Hey, you guys,” he said.

  “What about Matthew?” Timothy asked. “Is he coming to your party?”

  “Yeah,” Noah said. “I was going to ask you that too.”

  Richard looked back toward the auditorium.

  The band had stopped playing. Everything was still.

  “Matthew?” Richard said.

  “Who is going to sleep near Matthew?”

  “I'm not,” Timothy said.

  “No,” Richard said. “You're sleeping near me. We're going to have a great time.”

  “I'm not sleeping near Matthew,” Noah said.

  Richard leaned forward. “It's my sleep-over. I'm the one who says where everyone is going to sleep.”

/>   “Then I'm not coming,” Noah said.

  Mrs. Avery, the music teacher, came out to the hall. “Aren't you supposed to be in the gym?” she asked.

  “We're going right now,” Richard said.

  They turned and started for the stairs.

  “Listen, Noah,” Richard said. “You've got to come.”

  “I'm not—” Noah be-gan.

  “All right,” Richard said. “Maybe Alex will sleep near Matthew.”

  “Are you crazy?” Timothy said. “Nobody is going to sleep near Matthew.”

  Noah started to laugh. “Nobody but the beast.”

  Richard kicked at the stairs. “Not me. I'm going to tell him to sleep behind the TV set.”

  “Good idea,” Noah said.

  “Nobody will get wet that way,” Timothy said.

  Richard followed them into the gym. How was he going to tell Mat-thew he had to sleep behind the TV?

  The bell rang. Suddenly he remembered the Candy Corn jar.

  It was too late to change the number. He'd do it tomor-row.

  He hoped nobody would win before then.

  Chapter 7

  It was guessing time.

  Emily Arrow had four guesses.

  Dawn Bosco and Wayne had seven.

  Timothy Barbiero had twenty-one.

  “How many guesses do you have?” Matthew asked Richard.

  Richard felt his new tooth. It was getting bigger.

  Matthew turned and poked him. “I said—”

  “One,” Richard said. “One guess.”

  “Luckier than me,” Matthew said. “I don't even have one.”

  Richard looked at Matthew. Suddenly he wanted to hit Matthew right on his fat nose.

  Matthew was spoiling his whole Thanksgiving sleep-over party.

  Emily Arrow leaned over the jar. “Nine hundred one,” she said.

  Ms. Rooney shook her head.

  “Nine forty-two.”

  Ms. Rooney shook her head.

  Emily stared at the jar. She counted a little bit. “Six hun-dred sixty-eleven.”

  Ms. Rooney smiled. “No such number, Emily.”

  Richard held his breath.

  Emily looked down at her red sneakers. “Three hun-dred,” she said slowly, “forty-eight … no, nine. Three hundred forty-nine.”

  “Sorry, Emily,” said Ms. Rooney.

  Richard crossed his fingers. Suppose someone won before he changed the number?

  Matthew poked him again. “I hope you win, Beast,” he said. “I have all my fingers crossed. And all my toes.”

  “Me too,” Richard said.

  Timothy Barbiero was getting ready to guess.

  He looked as if he were thinking very hard.

  Too hard, Richard thought. Twenty-one guesses were a lot.

  Timothy started his guesses.

  Everyone in the class looked worried.

  But Timothy was wrong.

  Matthew smiled at Richard.

  At last it was Richard's turn. “Richard Best,” said Ms. Rooney. “One guess.”

  4One guess,” Dawn Bosco said. “That's all.”

  Timothy Barbiero started to laugh a little.

  “You need only one guess to win,” Matthew said.

  “That's right,” said Ms. Rooney.

  Richard swallowed hard. Should he say seven hundred? Should he say nine hundred?

  He took a deep breath. “Four hundred,” he said. He watched Ms. Rooney's face.

  She started to shake her head.

  “And sixty,” Richard added.

  “I'm sorry,” Ms. Rooney said.

  “Sixty-two,” Richard said.

  Ms. Rooney tapped the top of the jar. “I'll give you a hint. Everyone is guessing too many.”

  Richard sighed. He should have guessed three hundred.

  Everyone opened his book. Everyone wanted to read as fast as he could.

  Richard wanted to read too. But he couldn't stop thinking about his sleep-over.

  He took out a piece of drawing paper. He drew a circle for a head. He made a long balloon body. Then he put stick-out ears on the circle.

  It looked like Matthew.

  It made Richard angry to look at it.

  Matthew was spoiling the whole sleep-over.

  Richard was sick of sitting in back of Matthew.

  He was sick of smelling him all day long.

  He took a black crayon out of his desk. Then he drew a big X over the boy in his drawing.

  He'd like to draw a big X over Matthew.

  Chapter 8

  “Hold up your apples,1' Ms. Rooney said the next day.

  Richard looked around. Emily Arrow had a big red apple in her hand. Wayne had a yellow one.

  Everyone was going to make applesauce.

  Everyone but Richard.

  He slid down in his seat.

  “I don't see your apple,” Ms. Rooney said.

  “I left it home,” he said.

  Matthew turned around. He was holding a greenish apple. “You can have half of mine,” he said.

  Richard made a face. He didn't want to share Mat-thew's apple. Matthew's wet-the-bed apple.

  Richard reached into his pocket. He pulled out a rubber band. He wound it around his finger until the tip of his pinkie turned purplish red.

  Then he remembered someone had said youcould get blood poisoning that way. Maybe you could die.

  He took the rubber band off.

  “Hey,” Matthew said. “Do you want to share?”

  “No, thanks,” he told Matthew. “I don't want your green apple.”

  Matthew turned to the front of the room again.

  Richard could see that one of Matthew's ears stuck out far-ther than the other.

  Right now both of Matthew's ears looked red.

  Dawn Bosco raised her hand. “My mother gave me a box of raisins too,” she said. “For the applesauce.”

  “That's nice,” Ms. Rooney said.

  “That's terrible,” Richard said. He felt a mean feeling inside.

  Ms. Rooney put a big pot on her desk. “I have some nice cold water in the pot,” she said. “We'll put the apples in …”

  “And the raisins,” Dawn said.

  “Yes,” said Ms. Rooney. “And then we'll go

  down to the cafeteria. We'll put our applesauce on the stove to cook.”

  Everyone rushed up to Ms. Rooney's desk.

  Richard went up to the front too. He leaned against the chalk-board.

  “Now,” said Ms. Rooney. 'Til cut up the apples.”

  Ms. Rooney kept cutting and cutting.

  Richard sighed. He leaned on one foot and then on the other. It took a long time to make applesauce.

  Dawn Bosco kept saying, “Can I put the raisins in now? Can I?”

  “I hate raisins,” Richard said, even though he loved them.

  At last Ms. Rooney cut the last apple.

  Dawn dumped in the raisins.

  Then the class lined up. They went downstairs to the cafete-ria.

  Richard looked around. There were a skillion pieces of bread on the counter. The cafeteria lady was putting a little dab of butter on each one of them.

  She wiped her hands on her apron. She put the applesauce pot on the stove.

  “Let us know when it's ready,” Ms. Rooney said.

  The class marched back to the room.

  “Reading time,” said Ms. Rooney.

  “Shoot,” said Matthew.

  Richard and Emily and Alex and Matthew had to go to Room 100. They were extra-help readers.

  “Don't worry,” said Ms. Rooney. “Even if the applesauce is ready, we won't eat till you get back.”

  “Who cares?” Richard said.

  “What's the matter with you today?” Matthew asked.

  Richard didn't answer him. He ran his fingers over the bricks in the wall.

  Mrs. Paris was waiting. “I heard your class was making applesauce,” she said. “Lucky.”

  “Unlucky,” Richa
rd said. “It's probably full of germs.”

  “Do you think so?” Emily asked.

  “No,” said Mrs. Paris. “When it cooks—”

  “Matthew's germs,” Richard said.

  “When it cooks,” Mrs. Paris said, “the germs are boiled away.” She frowned at Richard.

  Richard looked down at his almost baby reading book. “Not Matthew's,” he said.

  “That's not nice,” Alex said.

  “You're not so nice either,” Richard said. “I bet you don't want to sleep near Matthew at my sleep-over.”'

  “Let's open our books,” said Mrs. Paris.

  “I'm reading a lot,” Emily said. “I'm trying to win the Candy Corn contest.”

  Richard snorted. “You'll never win.”

  Mrs. Paris put her book down. “What's the mat-ter with everyone today?” she asked.

  Richard took a quick look at Matthew. Matthew looked as if he were going to cry.

  “It's good to tell the truth …” Mrs. Paris began.

  “That's what I say,” Alex said.

  “But …” Mrs. Paris pushed her eye-glassesup on her nose. “It is not helpful to talk about people's problems.” She looked around the table. “At least not in front of everyone.”

  “That's right,” said Emily.

  “When do you think you might talk about some-one's problems?” Mrs. Paris asked.

  “Never,” said Emily.

  “Never,” Matthew mumbled.

  “Well,” said Richard. “Maybe …”

  Mrs. Paris stared at him. “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe if you could help?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Paris.

  “I don't need any help,” said Emily.

  “Let's think of a problem,” said Mrs. Paris.

  “All right,” said Alex.

  “I know one,” Richard said quickly. “I forgot my apple.”

  “That's a good problem,” Emily said.

  Richard looked down at the table. Suddenly he remembered that Matthew had tried to help.

  “That was a problem,” Mrs. Paris said. “How could someone help Richard?”

  “Share,” said Emily.

  “True,” said Mrs. Paris.

  “Not tell him he was terrible,” said Emily.

  “True,” said Mrs. Paris again. She looked around at everyone. “When someone has a problem,” she said, “help if you can. But not in front of other people.”

  “And shut your mouth if you can't,” said Emily.