The Candymakers Read online

  “Hello?”

  “Back here,” a woman’s voice called out. “Behind the armchair.”

  Miles left his backpack by the door and made his way toward the voice. He wound through the stacks of books till he found a brown leather armchair and a white-haired woman sitting on the floor behind it. She had books spread around her like a fan and was stamping PROPERTY OF Life Is Sweet inside their front covers.

  She looked up, rubber stamp in hand. “Hello there, can I help you?”

  “Hi. I’m Miles, one of the, um, contestants for the candy contest this weekend? I was wondering if I could just look at some books. I wouldn’t need to take them out or anything.”

  “Certainly, Miles,” she said with a smile. “Can I help you find anything?”

  Miles shook his head. “I already know what I’m looking for.”

  “Okay. I’m Mrs. Gepheart if you need anything.”

  She resumed her stamping. It was really very rhythmic. Open, stamp, close, slide. Open, stamp, close, slide.

  Miles thanked her and headed back to the shelves. As soon as he was far enough away, he closed his eyes, reached out, and grabbed a book. Then he went a few feet farther, turned to the opposite shelf, and grabbed another. He went to the next aisle and did the same thing. He did this until he had a total of five books in his arms.

  He spread the books out on a small wooden desk to see what he’d come up with. This was his favorite part.

  THE HISTORY OF THE CONFECTIONARY ARTS, VOLUME 2: FROM BEETS TO CANDY CORN

  THE HOLOGRAPHIC UNIVERSE

  MY LIFE AS A PROFESSIONAL POOPER SCOOPER

  CHARLOTTE’S WEB

  I’M A MONKEY’S UNCLE… AND SO ARE YOU!

  Miles rubbed his hands together with excitement and dug into his shorts pocket for a pencil and notepad. One by one, he opened each book to a random place, closed his eyes, and let his finger drop onto the page. Then he wrote down whatever sentence his finger landed on. When he’d done this with all five books, he returned them to their rightful places on the shelves.

  Only then did he read what he’d written.

  Butterscotch was first created in England two hundred years ago. The universe, and everything in it, might not actually exist. Over time, I’ve learned to tell the breed of the dog by the appearance of its bowel movements. “You have been my friend; that in itself is a tremendous thing.” Humans and chimpanzees share over 98 percent of their DNA; humans and butterflies share at least 25 percent.

  Miles flipped the notepad closed and held it tight to his chest. He felt much better now. He knew that sometime soon at least one of those sentences would help him in some mysterious way. He called out a goodbye to Mrs. Gepheart, who was still busy opening, stamping, closing, and sliding.

  The directions Max had written were to someplace called the Tropical Room. As he walked, the halls got emptier and emptier and hotter and hotter. Was he going toward the boiler room? He was about to double-check the instructions when he turned one more corner and found himself in front of a huge, steamed-up glass door. To the side of the door a red button marked OPEN flashed at him. He pressed it and admired the slow but smooth path of the door as it slid into the wall.

  He stood with wide eyes as the heat wrapped around him like a blanket. He could easily imagine that he’d left Spring Haven and stepped right into a real jungle. At the top of a tall tree with very wide branches, a guy with a bandana around his forehead swooped from branch to branch. Miles wondered if perhaps some humans shared more than 98 percent of their DNA with monkeys!

  He was so busy looking up as he walked that he didn’t see the vines at his feet until he got stuck. Logan came to his rescue and expertly untangled him.

  “So what do you think?” Logan asked eagerly.

  “S’ti elbidercni!”

  Logan tilted his head. “What did you say?”

  Oops! Miles recovered quickly. “I meant to say, it’s incredible!”

  Logan shivered with obvious glee, even though it must have been 90 degrees in the room.

  Max gave a little lecture about the cocoa beans, then went over to the far wall and pulled a big lever. The huge metal slats on the roof began to open. Sunlight flooded in through the glass ceiling, but instead of feeling even warmer, Miles felt a cold chill run down his spine as another scene of shadow and sun, from a little over a year ago, filled his mind. His mother had just passed the oars of the rowboat over to his father when the sun appeared from behind thick clouds. They’d all tilted their faces up toward it. He’d never forget the peacefulness of that moment—the sun warming their cheeks, the light breeze swaying their boat—because it was in such stark contrast to what came next.

  The buzz of Max’s walkie-talkie cleared Miles’s head. He needed to shake off the memory, to focus on the here and now. Think about all the candy he sampled that morning! Think about what his books told him. Think about holograms! Think about dog droppings. (No, don’t think about dog droppings!)

  He breathed in the warm, humid air and reached out to touch the rough bark of the nearest tree. Just the solidity of the tree made him felt better. That is, until Max announced that a problem had arisen with the nougat, and Logan, who seemed to know everything about the factory, said, “I bet it was the honey!”

  So now they were all supposed to go see the bees. Bees! Of all things!

  The memories flooded back again. How the bees had swarmed over their boat and then over the shore. How the girl sitting on the shore had run into the lake to escape them. She didn’t flail around, she didn’t duck or scream, she just ran straight into the water until it covered her head. And then she didn’t come back up.

  It all happened so fast, and so quietly, that his parents didn’t even see it happen. By the time they reached the shore, there wasn’t even a bubble on the water. Only a pink ribbon that the police kept as evidence. Other people had been on the shore of the lake earlier—a couple holding hands and an older woman—but they had left by the time he and his parents rowed frantically ashore.

  The merry-go-round in the center of the park was still full of kids, and the pretzel vendors had long lines, but no one had seen the girl run into the water. Why had she been all alone on the shore? Why had no one come to look for her?

  He’d asked himself those questions over and over and had come up with all sorts of answers. At one time or another, the girl was an orphan or had run away from a hard life in the circus. And once, after a particularly tough day at school, Miles convinced himself that she was from another planet and that the portal back to her own world had been under the lake.

  His parents had ever so gently suggested that perhaps the shadows had played tricks on him, that what he’d seen was nothing more than a pile of leaves blowing into the water. But he knew the difference between a girl with long brown hair and a pile of leaves. He knew what he had seen.

  A room full of bees was just about the last place Miles wanted to go. He tried to get out of it, and when he couldn’t, he lingered as long as he dared with the protective gear. He trailed behind once they got inside the Bee Room, not eager to surround himself with them, no matter how well protected he might be.

  The plants and flowers provided a good excuse to stop, so he pretended to be fascinated by them. His gaze lit upon a particularly full plant covered with heads of tiny white flowers. But it wasn’t the plant itself that caught his attention. It was the yellow, black, and red butterfly flapping its wings above it.

  Miles glanced around. The others were all occupied with the beekeeper. He crept closer. He knew it couldn’t be the same butterfly he’d seen on the garage roof earlier, since that would be impossible. Still, the resemblance couldn’t be denied.

  He crept closer. And then—he could swear it—the butterfly landed right on his nose!

  He shouted in surprise, backed up, and fell right into another row of plants. Flat on his back, he stared up at the leaves and tiny flowers and considered his situation. A butterfly, one that looked exactly like t