The Candymakers Read online

  His mother waited for him by his bedroom door. “Ready?”

  Miles nodded and grabbed his green backpack from the end of his bed.

  “Why don’t you leave that home today?” she asked gently.

  He shook his head. “Can’t do that.” He slung the backpack over his shoulder and reached for the five books on the desk.

  His mom stepped directly in front of them. “Those I think you can leave here. I’m quite sure you won’t have time for reading today.”

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t actually read the books, not entirely anyway. But he liked keeping some things secret. “Okay, Mom,” he said. She was right anyway. He doubted he’d have time for reading at the factory.

  “Good. Now let’s go. I don’t want you to be late.”

  Miles dutifully followed his mom out to the car, knowing they had plenty of time. His mother had never been even a moment late in her life. She set her watch (and alarm clock and car clock) a full half hour earlier than the real time. Miles was usually the only kid waiting outside the still-dark school each morning during the school year. He had to wait until a janitor came to unlock the door so he could slip into the library for a while before the halls filled with kids. Fortunately for him, he loved libraries more than anyplace in the world. He would live in one if he could. All that knowledge. All those worlds hidden inside the covers.

  They got into the car, and his mother pulled on her yellow driving gloves. Yes, she wore driving gloves like a professional race-car driver. She said it helped her feel more connected to the car. Miles once argued, wouldn’t her bare hands on the wheel actually connect her more to the car? She said he’d understand when he was old enough to drive. Miles doubted that he would.

  “The invitation to the factory said three of the other contestants would be there, too, right?” she asked, peeling out of the driveway. Oh yeah, his mom drove like a professional race-car driver, too.

  “Yes, three, including the Candymaker’s son.”

  “And you’re going to talk to them, right?”

  “Yes, Mom. Dad already warned me. No talking backward.”

  “I’m fine with that as long as you’re actually talking.”

  “Why wouldn’t I talk to them?”

  “Well, Miles, you can get awfully shy in new environments, and you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot.”

  Miles didn’t answer. What could he say? She was right.

  “And one’s a girl,” she added.

  “I’ve spoken to girls before, Mom. Every day at school, in fact.”

  “I know, it’s just that you’re at that age…”

  He might be “at that age,” but the only girl ever on his mind was the one he couldn’t save.

  “Oh, never mind, just be nice.”

  “I’m always nice,” he argued.

  “But don’t be too nice,” she said. “You don’t want anyone to push you around.”

  “Mom, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “Sorry, hon. This is a big deal, that’s all.”

  “I know.” He’d heard rumors of a hundred applicants for every contestant who was selected. He was sure his essay on why he wanted to make candy was only chosen because Mrs. Chen had helped him write it. He tried to enjoy the colorful buildings of downtown Spring Haven, but their car zoomed by so fast, the background blended all together. Zoomed. He liked the way that one made his tongue vibrate when he said it silently. Zoooomed.

  “So have you decided what new candy to make yet?”

  Miles shook his head. He’d lain awake for hours the night before, hoping for a burst of inspiration that never came. No doubt the others had theirs all figured out. As they zipped through the quiet streets of east Spring Haven, he tried again to think of the perfect candy. Something no one had ever tasted before or even dreamt of.

  Chocolate-covered jelly beans? Caramel-covered marshmallows on a stick? Both sounded yummy, and he did enjoy things covered in other things, but neither was creative enough to win the contest.

  Because his mom took the posted speed limits as suggestions rather than laws, they arrived at the candy factory very soon—before he’d thought of anything worthy of entering. The only new idea that had occurred to him was whether, in the afterlife, people gained weight if they ate a lot of candy. He decided that they didn’t.

  His mom drove up the long circular driveway and stopped in front of a huge wooden door, easily three times bigger than any door Miles had ever seen before. The factory itself was partly glass and partly deep red bricks. He’d never seen it up close like this; at the annual picnics, the townspeople hung out on the vast lawn in the back. And the picnics had stopped when he was only four or five, so his memory of the place was fuzzy at best. He felt his excitement stirring and knew it would be hopeless to try to suppress it.

  “Well, will you look at that,” his mom said, pointing to the front stoop or, more precisely, to the girl sitting on it reading a book. “You’re not the first one here.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” Miles replied. He leaned over and kissed his mom on the cheek before climbing out.

  The girl on the stoop wore a bright yellow dress and held her book so close to her face that all he could see was her eyes. She looked up when the car door closed, as though surprised to find she wasn’t alone anymore. Any book captivating enough to keep someone from hearing the rumbling engine of his mother’s old car was one Miles wanted to know about. But before he could ask for the title, she had jumped to her feet and stashed the book away.

  “I’m Daisy,” she said, pumping his arm up and down and grinning.

  Daisy, he repeated inside his head. He enjoyed the roundness of the word. A perfect name for this sunny girl in yellow, a double-l word! Hopefully these were signs that he and Daisy would get along just fine.

  He heard his mom chuckle approvingly as she pulled away. He did his best to pretend he hadn’t. “I’m Miles.”

  “Hi, Miles! I guess you’re here for the contest, too?”

  He nodded and pushed up his glasses, a habit he had when he felt nervous. Okay, so maybe he didn’t have much experience talking to girls, especially not pretty girls with blond ponytails who were a good head taller than him. He straightened up to his full height, readjusting his backpack as he did so. He was still a head shorter than Daisy.

  “Aren’t you totally excited?” she asked, her eyes gleaming. “I can’t believe this day is finally here.” She lifted her arms and spun around in a perfect circle, as if her excitement wouldn’t let her stand in one place.

  Twirling. One of his very favorite words—that rare pairing of t and w. Plus it sounded just like what it meant.

  He nodded in response to her question. He was excited, but he wished that was all he felt. He had to smile, though, as Daisy twirled around again and came to a stop. It would be impossible to think of sad things around this very full-of-life girl.

  He knew it was his turn to say something. “Do you know how many contestants there are from our area?”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you know?”

  He shook his head. “I, um, don’t know too much about the contest.”

  She stared at him. He pushed up his glasses. Clearly he had said the wrong thing. She’d probably counted down the days until she turned twelve and could enter this contest, and he was acting like he’d just entered last week. Which, of course, he had.

  “There are four of us,” she eventually said. “You, me, one other kid, and Logan, the Candymaker’s son. He’s the one to beat.” She reached up to adjust her ponytail, which had started to slip from all the spinning.

  Miles wanted to ask Daisy if she knew anything more about what had happened to Logan, but he couldn’t think how to ask without sounding nosy or rude. Before he could find some tactful way to bring up the subject, a car pulled up next to them. This was no ordinary car—long and black, with tinted windows. A limo, if ever he’d seen one. Which, outside of the movies, was never.