“Exactly,” said Mrs. Paris.
Just then the door opened. It was Emily's friend Jill Simon.
“Ms. Rooney said the applesauce is ready,” Jill said.
Mrs. Paris stood up. “Warm applesauce. Wonder-ful.” She looked around at the table. “All right, everyone. You may go back.”
Richard stood up. He didn't feel the mean feeling any-more. It was gone.
He felt worse now. He had a terrible feeling inside. He knew Mat-thew was still crying a little.
He wanted to cry too. He wanted to tell Matthew he was sorry.
He turned around to tell Matthew.
But Mrs, Paris was talking. “Will you erase the blackboard for me, Matthew?” she asked. “It will only take a min-ute.”
“Sure,” Matthew said.
Everyone else went back to the classroom.
Ms. Rooney gave out the applesauce.
But Richard had a lump in his throat. He knew he'd never be able to swallow. “No, thank you,” he told Ms. Rooney.
Matthew came in a minute later. He told Ms. Rooney no, thank you too.
Richard tore up his X picture of Matthew. He was sorry he had ever drawn it.
Chapter 9
The next morning the bell rang three times. Then it rang three times again.
Fire drill!
Richard loved fire drills.
“Get your coats quickly,” Ms. Rooney said.
Richard grabbed his sweater. He lined up behind Matthew.
“Hey, Matthew,” he whispered.
“No talking,” Ms. Rooney said. “Remember, this is a fire drill.”
The class followed Ms. Rooney out into the hall.
All the other classes were spilling out into the hall too.
Richard saw his sister, Holly. She was marching along in front of her best friend, Joanne.
Richard waved at them.
Holly made a face.
She was still mad at him because of last night.
He had drawn some clocks on the back of her homework.
By accident.
He thought it was scrap paper.
Outside it was cold. Richard put his face up to the sun to get warm. Then he watched a four-yearold across the street. She was waving a big red leaf at them.
He poked Matthew.
Matthew looked at the little girl and grinned. Then he faced front again.
Richard looked at Matthew's ears. He leaned a little closer to him.
Matthew didn't smell as much today. Maybe it was be-cause of the cold air.
4'Listen, Matthew,” he whispered. “I'm sorry about yesterday.”
Mrs. Kettle snapped her fingers at him from half a block away. “Be quiet, young man,” she called. “This is a fire drill.”
Everyone looked at Richard.
Ms. Rooney frowned.
But Matthew didn't turn around.
Maybe Matthew hadn't heard him.
As soon as they went back to the classroom, he'd tell Mat-thew he was sorry.
He thought about telling Holly he was sorry too.
No. It was a fire drill.
She'd have to wait until tonight.
The bell rang. Everyone marched inside again.
Richard made a beast face when he passed Holly in the hall.
“Brat,” she whispered.
Back in the classroom Ms. Rooney told everyone to take out note-books.
It was time to copy boardwork.
The boardwork was a story about Thanksgiving and Pilgrims and Indians.
Richard picked up his pencil. The first Thanksgiving was held in Plymouth, he wrote.
Matthew turned around. “I can't come to your Thanksgiving sleep-over.''
“I'm sorry,” Richard said at the same time. “I didn't mean to say—”
“I can't come to—” Matthew began again.
He looked at Matthew's face. Matthew looked funny. No, Matthew looked sad.
4'Why can't you come?” Richard said.
Matthew turned to the front. He looked back over his shoulder. “Because.”
Richard picked up his pencil. He tapped Matthew. “Did your mother say you can't come?”
Matthew didn't say anything.
Richard copied the next sentence. The Pil-grims invited everyone.
He waited a minute. “Matthew? Is it because I said those mean things?”
Matthew shook his head. “I'm going on vaca-tion.”
“Oh,” Richard said. He felt better. Much better. He gave Matthew a little punch. “Where are you going?”
“Plymouth,” Matthew said.
“Where the Pilgrims landed?”
Matthew nodded.
“Lucky,” Richard said. “Boy, are you lucky!”
“Yeah,” Matthew said.
Richard wrote the rest of the story. He was glad Matthew was going to an exciting place.
He was glad he didn't have to worry about Matthew com-ing to his sleep-over anymore.
He dusted off his paper. He saw that he had written Plymouth twice.
He didn't know anyone who had ever gone to Plymouth. He didn't even know where it was.
He leaned forward. “Matthew? Where's Ply-mouth?”
Matthew rolled his pencil on the floor. He bent over to pick it up. “Florida,” he said. “In the middle of Flor-ida.”'
“Oh,” Richard said. He stood up. It was time for a drink.
He went to the front of the room. He looked back at Mat-thew.
Matthew wasn't writing his boardwork. He was just sitting there.
Maybe he was thinking about going to Plymouth.
Richard closed the classroom door behind him. He walked to the water fountain.
He wondered why Matthew didn't look happy.
He'd be happy if he were going to Plymouth. It was almost as good as going to a sleep-over.
Chapter 10
Today was assembly day. The fifth grade was putting on a play: The Pilgrims Come to America.
Richard knew all about it. His sister, Holly, was a Pilgrim mother. She was going to wear a long gray bathrobe and a white cardboard hat.
At home she said her part about a hundred times a day.
But today he wouldn't hear Holly in the assembly.
As soon as everyone said the Pledge he was going to sneak out.
He was going straight upstairs. He was going to change the number on the Candy Corn jar.
It was his last chance. Tomorrow was the last day of school before Thanksgiving.
Mr. Mancina turned off the lights. Next to him Emily was trying to read in the dark.
Richard kept his head down. He sneaked out of his seat.
Mrs. Kettle was standing at the back. “Where are you go-ing, young man?” she asked.
Richard jumped. “I have to go to the—”
“The play just started,” she said. She opened the door for him. “Why didn't you go to the bathroom before you came in here?”
Richard put his head down a little more.
“Hurry up,” she said.
He raced down the hall. He turned the corner. Then he headed up-stairs.
No one was in Room 113.
He closed the door. He tiptoed to Ms. Rooney's desk.
He picked up the jar carefully. He'd hate to drop it.
He might as well drop himself.
He laughed a little at the thought of dropping himself.
He turned the jar on its side. He looked underneath.
Matthew was right. There was a big number on the bot-tom.
278.
He tried not to think about 278.
He'd have to forget that number in a few minutes.
He took his pencil out of his pocket.
No good. The number 278 was written in ink.
He put the jar on the floor. It would be safe there.
He ran back to his desk. He pulled everything out. In the back was a pen.
He raced back to Ms. Rooney's desk.
He counted on his fingers.
Not 278 anymore. Now it would be … 277 … 276 … 275.
Was that right?
He counted again. Yes. He had to change the 8 to a 5.
The classroom door opened.
Richard jumped.
“What are you doing?” Matthew asked.
“I didn't cheat,” Richard said. “Don't worry.”
Matthew walked toward his desk. “Are you look-ing at the number?”
“Just a little bit,” Richard said.
“Oh.” Matthew reached into his desk. “I came to get some of my Fluffernutter sandwich.”
“I did something terrible,” Richard said.
“Worse than cheating?” Matthew asked.
“I ate three pieces of Candy Corn.”
Matthew wiped some Fluffernutter off his mouth.
“I have to change the number,” Richard said.
“You can't do that,” Matthew said. “I think Ms. Rooney may check the fingerprints.”
Richard stared at him. “Fingerprints?”
“She'll see that the number looks different. …”
“No,” Richard said. “I'll do it so you can't tell.”
“You can't write like Ms. Rooney.” Matthew sat on a front desk. “Keep that jar away from me. I don't want to be a cheater.”
Richard shook the jar a little. Then he moved it away from Mat-thew.
Matthew was shaking his head. He looked sad.
4'Ms. Rooney may take the jar to the police. Your fingerprints will be all over it.”
Richard stepped back. “I think you're right.”
“I'm sorry,” Matthew said. “I wish you could change the number.”
He and Matthew went back down the stairs.
“I'm glad you came up to the classroom,” Rich-ard said. “I could have been in a lot of trouble.”
Matthew nodded his head.
They opened the auditorium doors and tiptoed in.
Up on the stage Holly was saying her part. She was talking so loud, she was almost yelling.
“It was a hard year in Plymouth,” she said.
Richard slid into his seat. He said the words with Holly. “It was the right thing to do. Now we have a good place to live. We have food to eat.”
Richard thought about the Candy Corn jar. He was glad he hadn't changed the number. Somehow that wouldn't have been the right thing to do.
Somebody else came on the stage. It was Arthur Knight in a blue suit. “Yes,” he said. “It was a hard year in Plymouth, Massachusetts. But now we will have a Thanksgiving dinner.”
Richard watched the curtain close. He said Massachusetts to him-self. “Mas-sa-chew-setts.”
He loved the sound of it on his tongue.
The class filed out of the auditorium.
“Massa-chew,” sang Richard as he marched. “Massachew-chew-chew-setts.” He tried not to think about the Candy Corn jar.
He poked Matthew in the back. “Hey. Plymouth is in Mas-sachusetts.”
Matthew raised his shoulders up in the air.
“You said it was in Florida—where Dawn Bosco's grandmother lives.”
Matthew didn't say anything. His face looked a little red. So did his ears.
Richard marched into Room 113. Maybe Matthew wasn't going to Plymouth. Maybe he had made the whole thing up.
He wondered why.
Suddenly he had a terrible feeling. Suddenly he knew why Matthew had lied.
Richard sat down in his seat. Matthew knew he didn't want him at the sleep-over.
In front of him Matthew was trying to read his rain forest book. He was still on page one.
Richard opened his own book.
If only he hadn't said those mean things to Mat-thew.
He was almost sorry he was having a sleep-over.
Chapter 11
Today was the last day of school before Thanksgiving.
Richard took a long time walking to school. He kept thinking about the Candy Corn number.
It was the last day for the contest.
He was going to be in trouble when he didn't win.
He said some numbers in his head. He tried to forget 278.
He saw Matthew going into the schoolyard. He wished he could forget about Matthew too.
Matthew must feel terrible about the party.
Richard knew he'd feel terrible too.
“290,” he said in a loud voice. “280. 315. 876.” He kicked at a pile of brown leaves. “278,” he said in a little voice.
A real Pilgrim would tell Ms. Rooney about the Candy Corn, Rich-ard thought. A real Pilgrim would say that he had eaten three pieces.
The bell rang in the schoolyard. Ms. Rooney's line started for the doors.
“492,” Richard yelled. He ran to catch up.
Matthew saw him coming. “Hurry,” he yelled.
The monitor told Richard to stop running.
He had to get in line with the third-graders.
Matthew turned around. “Good news,” he called.
The monitor yelled at everyone to be quiet.
Richard wondered what Matthew's news was. Matthew looked happy.
Matthew was his friend.
Matthew should be coming to his sleep-over.
“326,” Richard whispered. He wouldn't be happy if his friend didn't want him at a sleep-over. He wouldn't be smiling.
In the classroom everyone was running around.
Ms. Rooney was late today.
Matthew met him at the door. “Guess what?” he said. “I just saved your life.”
Richard looked at Matthew's face. He looked at Mat-thew's stick-out ears.
It would be terrible if Matthew didn't come to his sleep-over party.
4'Matthew,” he said. “I want you to come.”
Matthew held out his hand. “Look,” he said.
“Please come to my sleep-over,” Richard said. He looked down. Matthew had three fat pieces of Candy Corn in his hand.
Richard looked at the Candy Corn. He wondered if it had the wet-the-bed smell.
But today Matthew smelled different.
Not a lot different. Just a little different.
“Put them in the jar,” Matthew said.
Richard opened his eyes wide. “You just saved my life, Matthew,” he said.
Ms. Rooney came rushing in the door. “Whew,” she said. “I had a flat tire. I'm sorry I'm late.”
Richard followed her to the desk.
She looked up. “Yes, Richard?”
“I ate three pieces of Candy Corn. Matthew gave me three more. He didn't want me to get in trouble. I thought I'd better tell you though.”
Ms. Rooney opened her mouth into a fat O.
Matthew opened the top of the jar. He dropped in the Candy Corn.
“A Pilgrim wouldn't have eaten three pieces of Candy Corn,” Ms. Rooney said. Then she smiled. “But you're a true Pilgrim for telling me.”
Then Ms. Rooney clapped her hands. “Please stop running around,” she told the class.
Everyone went to his seat.
Richard put his books away. “I forgot to say thank you,” he whispered to Matthew.
“It's all right,” Matthew said.
“You've got to come to my sleep-over,” Richard said.
Matthew looked out the window. “I guess I could come,” he said.
“Right,” said Richard. He thought about Mrs. Paris. He remembered what she had said. When someone has a problem, help if you can. “Maybe,” he told Matthew, “you could take a bath.”
“For a party I would,” Matthew said. “In fact, I've been trying to take a bath more than usual.”
“That's good,” Richard said.
“Yeah,” Matthew said. “I never liked baths much, but Mrs. Paris gave me some bubble bath.”
“Lucky,” Richard said.
Matthew nodded. “She gave it to me when I erased the board for her.” He took out his library book. “I'm up to the last sentence on page one.”
Richard listened as Matthew read.<
br />
“M-mmm-ost,” Matthew sounded out. “Most of the ttt-ime ccc-croc-o-croc-odiles live in rain for-ests.”
Matthew slammed the book shut. “One page,” he said to Richard. “One guess.”
“Good,” Richard said.
“That reminds me,” Matthew said. “I'm bringing an alarm clock to your sleep-over.”
“Really?” Richard said.
“I'll get up a couple of times,” Matthew said. “To go to the bathroom.”
“Oh,” Richard said. “That's a great idea.”
“It was my mother's idea,” Matthew said.
“All right, class,” said Ms. Rooney. “Who has guesses?”
Timothy raised his hand. “I have five.”
“I have three,” yelled Emily.
“Me too,” said Jill Simon.
“114,” said Richard under his breath. “412.” He raised his hand. “I have a guess.”
“Me too,” Matthew said. “I have a guess. A big one.”
278, Richard said in his head.
Everyone went up to Ms. Rooney's desk. Jill guessed first.
Timothy took two guesses. Then he stopped. “I'm going to think for a few minutes,” he said.
Then it was Richard's guess. He wondered what a Pilgrim would do.
“I think,” he began. He looked at Ms. Rooney. “200 and …” he said slowly. “200 and 70 …”
Ms. Rooney leaned forward a little. She was smiling.
“No,” said Richard. “300. I mean, 342.”
Ms. Rooney sat back. She shook her head. “Timothy?”
“I think it's in the 200's,” he said. “How about 241?”
Ms. Rooney shook her head.
“290?”
“How about Matthew?” Ms. Rooney asked.
Matthew squeezed his eyes together. “299,” he said. Then he opened his eyes.
“My turn,” Emily Arrow said. She took a deep breath. She looked at the jar. “I think …” she said, and stopped. “I think it's … 278.”
“That's it,” Ms. Rooney yelled.
Emily jumped up and down in her red sneakers. “I don't believe it,” she yelled.
“I don't believe it either,” Timothy said.
“Now we'll count them,” Ms. Rooney said.
Richard smiled at Matthew.
“Can we divide them up?” Emily asked. “So everyone can share?”
“You're a true Pilgrim,” Ms. Rooney said. She started to count.
The Candy Corn Contest Page 3