by Wendy Mass
Logan wrinkled his nose at the marshy smell of the reddish purple seaweed, which wafted all the way out to the hall. After being processed, carrageen produced the gel for all the Candymaker’s gummy products, including Gummzilla and Gummysaurus Rex, which, at thirteen inches tall, were the world’s largest commercially sold gummy dinosaurs. The gel was also used on products that required a sugar coating (like the High-Jumping Jelly Beans) or a chocolate coating (like the Oozing Crunchorama). Logan had spent many a messy afternoon coating caramel balls with carrageen before rolling them in chocolate.
He could watch the scientists all day, but he knew it would be rude to keep the other kids waiting any longer. So he turned away, breathing deeply. His lungs expanded with the fresh air that was constantly pumped into this section of the factory to keep the temperature in the ideal 70- to 72-degree candymaking range. Refreshed, he ran without stopping to the large front entryway.
He heard the bell ring a few times as he approached the thick wooden door. But when he reached it, his hand lingered on the brass doorknob. What would he say to the newcomers? Why hadn’t he prepared a welcome speech like those he’d heard his dad give to new employees on their first day?
Well, he might not have a speech, but at least he had a poem. He reached into his pocket, took a deep breath, and swung open the door in time to hear the boy in the suit say, “And that’s just the way it is.” Then three faces turned expectantly toward his.
In that moment, all their fates were sealed. They just didn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER TWO
It’s about time,” said the boy in the suit. The other boy pushed up his glasses, reddened, and smiled shyly. The girl grinned brightly and pulled her ponytail tighter.
Logan cleared his throat, held up the notepaper, and read, “ ‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ ” Then he refolded the note (not as gracefully as he would have liked) and stuck it in his pocket. He knew he could rely on Mom to pick out the perfect quote for any occasion.
The girl clasped her hands together. “Lovely!” she exclaimed.
The shorter boy beamed.
The boy in the suit rolled his eyes, looked at his watch, and said, “We’re losing daylight here. Let’s get this show on the road.” He picked up a large brown leather briefcase and strode past Logan into the factory.
“Hi, I’m Daisy Carpenter,” the girl said, sticking out her hand.
Logan stared at it for a second before reaching out to shake it. He’d never shaken hands with someone his own age before. It made him feel very mature. He again found himself distracted by her yellow dress, which glowed even brighter up close. He couldn’t help noticing that one of her socks was pink and the other blue with white spots. Maybe she was color-blind. He’d never met someone who was color-blind before. What if you thought you were choosing blue cotton candy but it turned out to be pink?
“I’m Logan,” he replied, forcing his gaze away from her feet. “I’m, uh, the Candymaker’s son.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, then tilted her head toward the boy in the suit, who was already a few feet inside. “That charmer is Philip.”
The short boy with the big backpack stepped up next to Daisy. “I’m Miles.” He didn’t extend his hand, though, so Logan gave a little wave and said hello.
Miles flashed a smile and seemed about to say more. Instead, he just shuffled his feet. Logan was glad to see that someone else felt as shy as he did. He stepped aside to let them enter. The square white pocketbook slung over Daisy’s right shoulder hit him on the arm as she passed. He rubbed his arm quickly so she wouldn’t notice. What could be in there, bricks? He was about to ask, when he remembered that his mother had taught him never to ask what was inside a lady’s purse.
“Wow!” Miles exclaimed as he crossed the threshold. “This place is amazing!”
“Utterly!” Daisy added in an awed tone.
Logan closed the door and smiled. He always liked watching people’s faces when they first entered the factory. Philip had turned toward the window of the Cocoa Room, so Logan couldn’t see his face. But Miles and Daisy were wearing similar expressions: eyes wide and shining, jaws slightly open, heads bobbing around to soak it all in. The glass ceiling overhead threw sunlight onto the white floors and bounced it off the silver fixtures, making everything shimmer and glow as though lit from within. The bronze statue of his grandfather loomed over the entryway, his kind and welcoming smile the first thing guests saw when they entered.
Logan watched Miles and Daisy slowly turn in a circle, taking in the chocolate fountain, with its continuous stream of smooth chocolate, the barrels of taffy in every color of the rainbow, the gleaming machines behind the long windows of the Cocoa Room.
“Look!” Miles said, pointing to a large display case. “It’s a giant Gummysaurus Rex! That’s my favorite candy!”
“That one was the prototype,” Logan explained. “The first of its kind, I mean. If you look closely, you can see where the tail broke off in the mold. We had to keep adding more acacia-tree gum until we got it right.”
“So cool,” Miles said, leaning forward eagerly to get a better look at the broken tail.
“And look at this!” Daisy exclaimed, running up to a gold plaque on the wall. She read off the words that Logan could recite in his sleep: “The Confectionary Association is proud to bestow the honor of Best New Candy to Samuel Sweet, for his invention of the Pepsicle.” Then she hurried over to the next one.
Logan felt his stomach twist but managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face as she read the plaque. “The Confectionary Association is proud to bestow the honor of Best New Candy to Richard Sweet, for his invention of the Neon Yellow Lightning Chew.” She turned to Logan, a look of admiration on her face. “That’s your grandpa and your dad, right?”
Logan nodded, his stomach twisting again.
“Must be a lot of pressure on you, huh?” Philip asked, joining them. He tapped the empty space next to the Candymaker’s plaque. “I bet your parents expect to see your name right here. Too bad you have to be up against me. I don’t lose.”
Logan took a step backward. He wasn’t used to having anyone talk to him this way. The need for him to win was his own, not his parents’. “No, it’s… it’s not like that,” he insisted. “They only wanted me to enter if it’s what I wanted. They don’t care if I win.”
But Philip wasn’t listening. He was reading the first plaque again. “The Pepsicle? Your grandfather won the candy world’s biggest honor for a peppermint ice pop? ”
“Things were, um, different back then,” Logan stammered, still feeling off balance from the boy’s mocking tone. “I mean, people were just starting to have freezers in their houses. Creating the first frozen candy was a big deal.”
“Boy,” Philip muttered. “Competition must have been slim pickings that year.”
“I happen to love Pepsicles,” Daisy said, turning her back on Philip. “So does my best friend, Magpie, and she’s very particular.”
Logan threw her a grateful smile.
“What kind of girl is named Magpie?” asked Philip.
“What kind of boy is named Philip?” replied Daisy.
“Sooo…,” Miles said, turning toward Logan. “Is Sweet really your last name?”
Logan nodded, hoping he wasn’t going to get teased about that, too.
Miles grinned, and his glasses rode up a bit on his nose. “I guess with a name like that it’s no wonder your grandfather opened a candy factory!”
“Yeah,” Daisy added. “If your last name was Carpenter, like mine, you might be the Cabinetmaker’s son instead of the Candymaker’s son!”
The three of them laughed. Philip rolled his eyes yet again. Logan wondered if all that eye-rolling would give Philip a headache one day. He turned to Daisy. “Is that what your dad does? Makes cabinets?”
She shook her head, her long ponytail actually skimming Philip’s nose. “Oops,” Dais
y said when Philip backed up in annoyance, rubbing his nose. Logan and Miles stifled a laugh, and Logan suspected that Daisy had known exactly where her ponytail would wind up. “My dad’s not a carpenter,” she said. “He’s a musician. He plays the violin.”
“He plays what?” Philip asked, keeping a good distance from Daisy.
“The violin,” she repeated.
“Not much money in that,” Philip mumbled.
“Money doesn’t buy happiness.”
Philip shrugged. “Only people who don’t have any believe that.”
“What does your dad do, then?” asked Daisy. “Rule the world?”
“Maybe someday.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
But Philip had turned and walked over to the chocolate fountain. He stuck his fingertips into the flow, the chocolate spilling over his hand and back into the fountain. Digging a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off his hand, Philip said, “Doesn’t seem very sanitary. I wouldn’t be surprised if leaving food out like this is a serious health-code violation.” He whipped a black spiral notebook out of his briefcase, scribbled a few words, and slipped it back inside.
Logan gritted his teeth. “It’s for display purposes only, not for eating. Still, you’re not supposed to stick your hand in it.”
“That’s true,” a deep voice said from behind them. “But we can let it go this time. You haven’t learned the rules yet.”
The familiar voice made Logan relax instantly. He turned around to see Max wearing a broad grin, his ever-present clipboard tucked under one arm. “Hi, Max,” Logan said. “These are the other contestants—Miles, Daisy, and Philip.”
Daisy bent at the waist in an awkward curtsy. “Max?” she asked in an awed voice. “Max Pinkus? The Max Pinkus? The man who invented the Icy Mint Blob, the High-Jumping Jelly Bean, the Oozing Crunchorama, the Ten-Minute Taffy?” Her voice rose as she rattled off the name of each candy.
For a brief second Logan allowed himself to think that if he won the contest, a girl like Daisy might feel that way about his candy. As far as he knew, his contest idea had never even been conceived of before. The Bubbletastic ChocoRocket would be the first candy in history to turn from chocolate to gum… and back again. Of course, it would take a miracle to pull it off. But that didn’t mean it was impossible. Or at least that’s what Logan had told himself every day for the last year.
Max laughed at Daisy’s starstruck reaction. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “But I had some help with the Ten-Minute Taffy.” He put his arm around Logan’s shoulders and winked. Logan knew that all he’d done was suggest they use more cornstarch and less butter, but still, he stood a little straighter. He realized with a start that he had grown nearly as tall as Max now. Although, in all fairness, Max was pretty short for an adult.
While Daisy stared in open admiration, Miles said a shy hello. Logan worried that Philip would say something rude, but instead the boy offered Max his hand and in a very formal voice said, “This is truly an honor, sir. I’ve admired your work for years.”
Max shook his hand, a bemused smile on his face. “Have you, now? That’s most flattering indeed. It’s my pleasure to meet you all. I trust you’re getting acquainted?”
No one answered right away, so Logan shrugged and said, “Sort of.”
“Well, there’ll be plenty of time for socializing at lunch. I’ve been entrusted with the job of overseeing your visit to the factory, and I’d like to start by going over the rules.”
Max’s eyebrows rose when Philip took out his notebook again, holding his pencil at the ready. “After the rules, we’ll go on a tour of the factory. The sooner you learn your way around, the more comfortable you’ll feel here.”
Daisy’s eyes gleamed, and Miles bounced a little in anticipation. Logan couldn’t help smiling. He liked both of them already. Philip had started scribbling away, even though Max hadn’t gone over the rules yet. He couldn’t imagine why someone like Philip would want to make candy in the first place. No one had ever insulted the chocolate fountain before. Not to mention the Pepsicle, without which his grandfather might never have had the confidence to believe he could be a great candymaker. Without the Pepsicle, this whole factory wouldn’t exist.
Philip moved his notebook closer to his chest so no one could see what he was writing. Each scratch of his pencil made the hair on Logan’s neck stand up a little. He forced himself to look away. Daisy caught his gaze and pretended to scribble madly on her arm. Logan stifled a laugh.
“You don’t need to take notes, Philip,” Max said calmly. “There won’t be a test on this.”
Philip snapped the notebook closed but didn’t put it away.
“All right, then,” Max said, holding out the clipboard and flipping a few pages. “Here are the official rules of the Confectionary Association’s annual New Candy Contest. First, all contestants must be twelve years old as of the day of the contest. Each contestant may enter only one confectionary item in the contest, which must fall into the gum, chocolate, or sugar-based candy categories. Cookies, cakes, pies, and pastries are not admissible. You will be competing against twenty-eight other young people across the eight regions of the country, all using the same tools and list of approved candymaking ingredients. The winning entry will receive a one-thousand-dollar cash prize. But of course that’s not the best part.” He leaned toward them as if he were about to share a big secret, instead of telling them something they all knew well. “The best part… is that the winning candy will be produced and distributed for the whole world to enjoy!”
Daisy and Miles began to whisper excitedly. Logan felt a shiver that was half anticipation and half fear. Even with his limited math skills, he knew that twenty-eight plus the four of them equaled a lot of contestants. Max continued over the whispers, “The Candymaker and I are honored to welcome you all to Life Is Sweet. We will do our best to help each of you succeed.”
The murmurs instantly quieted. The three visitors looked at Logan, although Miles quickly glanced away. Logan jutted out his chin and didn’t flinch under their scrutiny.
Max cleared his throat. “Let me assure you, no preferential treatment will be given to anyone. You will all have access to the same supplies, ingredients, and assistance.”
Philip muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Doubt it.”
Max continued as though he hadn’t heard. “After the tour, we’ll have lunch in the cafeteria. Then it’s off to the lab for the rest of the day. Today I’ll be going over the basic tools, equipment, and raw ingredients you’ll be using. Tomorrow morning I’ll teach you the basics of candymaking—boiling sugar to make different types of hard and soft candies and tempering, panning, and enrobing chocolate. Tomorrow afternoon you’ll use what you’ve learned to create your submission for the contest. Along with your entry, you’ll need to present the judges with a copy of your recipe, including all the ingredients and the instructions on how to make it. Are there any questions so far?”
Daisy raised her hand. “Um, may I go to the bathroom?”
Max sighed. “Are there any questions actually related to the contest rules?”
Miles began firing off question after question about what kinds of ingredients there would be, how they’d know if they picked the right ones, and how many pieces of their candy they would need to make. All the while Daisy shifted her weight from one leg to the other and made little whimpering sounds. Finally Max turned away from Miles and pointed Daisy down the hall. “First left, second right, around the bend, and it’ll be on your left by the Neon Yellow Lightning Chews Room.”
“Left, right, left,” Daisy repeated. “Got it.” She ran off down the hall, her pocketbook bouncing against her hip. Logan figured she must have a big bruise from whatever it was in there that weighed a ton.
Once she had gone, Max said, “Any other questions?”
Miles opened his mouth. But one warning look from Philip, and he shut it again.
“All right, then. W
e’ll go over the rules specific to the factory itself as we go on the tour.” Max looked pointedly at Philip and added, “Things like wearing gloves before we put our hands in the raw ingredients.”
Philip seemed not to hear as he turned to face the Cocoa Room window.
They all watched as a load of football-sized yellow pods tumbled out of a chute along the back wall and landed in a heap on a clear plastic tarp.
“What are those?” Miles asked.
Logan opened his mouth to reply, but Max said, “Let’s wait until Daisy returns. This will be our first stop on the tour.”
Long minutes went by. Had Daisy gotten lost? To someone who wasn’t familiar with it, the factory could seem like a maze of hallways. Logan was about to suggest looking for her, when Miles turned away from the window and said, “In the afterlife, no one has to use the bathroom.”
He said this as if it were a totally normal thing to say. Logan’s mouth dropped open a bit. Philip rolled his eyes (for a change) and leaned his forehead against the window, his breath fogging it up.
“Is that so?” Max asked, sounding genuinely interested.
“Oh yes,” Miles assured him. “People in the afterlife don’t eat real food or drink or even need to sleep.”
“What else happens there?” Max asked kindly.
“Don’t encourage him,” Philip warned, not turning away from the window. “He’ll just keep talking.”
Miles frowned and shifted his weight.
“I’d like to know, too,” Logan said.
Miles brightened. “All sorts of things happen. Parties and movies and rubber-duck races—”
“Like the rubber-duck races we used to have here at the annual factory picnic!” Logan exclaimed.
“Yes!” Miles replied excitedly. “That was my favorite part of the picnic!”
“Me, too!” Logan said. The boys grinned at each other.