The Candymakers Read online

  Logan took one more lick of the honey, then took a small jar off a nearby table and let the rest drip into it. Randall would want to sample it for himself. “Later, Paulo!”

  “Later, dude. And other dudes. And dudette.”

  “Now can we make some candy?” Philip asked as they stripped off their gear in the hall.

  “Soon enough,” Max promised. “Right now it’s lunchtime. Chocolate pizza’s on the menu today!”

  Miles’s stomach growled so loudly in response that everyone laughed.

  “I’ll drop off the honey jar at the Quality Control Office and meet you there,” Logan said with a backward wave. He hurried up and down the staircases and along the corridors now bustling with workers on lunch break. He weaved in and out, holding the honey jar close. He loved the way the unprocessed honey glowed a deep orange. It took a lot of restraint not to stick his finger in.

  Randall stood outside the door of his office, beaming, as Logan approached. The tall, thin man took the jar of honey, stuck a finger in, and swirled it through the thick orange goop, then licked his finger.

  “Good job, my boy!” Randall said. “I knew if anyone could get to the bottom of the problem, it would be you.”

  Logan smiled up at him. Randall never missed an opportunity to build up his confidence. Now that Logan was twelve, he knew what Randall was doing, but he didn’t mind. “See ya, Randall!” he said, taking off again. “It’s chocolate pizza day!”

  “Don’t run in the halls,” Randall teased.

  “I won’t!” Logan called back, laughing.

  The cafeteria was only around the corner, and he knew the others wouldn’t have gotten there yet. He was lost in thought, thinking of all the different ways he would eat his chocolate pizza slices, when they arrived. And someone else was with them. Logan could spot that mop of bright white hair from miles away. Henry from Marshmallows had been at the factory ever since Logan’s grandfather founded it fifty years before. When his grandfather left a few years ago for that special part of heaven reserved for people who have made other people’s lives sweeter, Logan began spending more time with Henry. He always had good stories to share of the olden days at the factory, and Logan never tired of listening to them.

  “Hi, Henry!” Logan said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to stop by this morning.”

  Henry put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s okay, my boy. I just had the pleasure of meeting your new friends. They came by to tell me to expect a new batch of honey in a few hours. What an exciting journey you’re all embarking upon! And what nobler calling is there than inventing a new way to make people happy?”

  “I told you so,” Daisy said to Philip. “You should be making candy to make people happy, not just to win.”

  Logan expected Philip to have a quick comeback, but he merely nodded absently, looking at Henry out of the corner of his eye almost suspiciously.

  “C’mon, kids,” Max said, handing them each a green plastic tray and ushering them into the line. “I thought we’d get our pizza and take it out to the lawn for a picnic.”

  Logan beamed at this welcome news. He disliked being inside for more than a few hours at a time. Plus the caterpillar he had been watching for the past few weeks would be shedding its chrysalis any day now. He wanted to chart its progress.

  While they waited on line, Max told the others that if they were interested, he would take them out on the pond after lunch. “We have a few rowboats and a canoe, so there would be plenty of room for everyone.”

  Both Philip and Miles shook their heads and answered at the same time, which made it hard to hear either one.

  Max bent down a bit toward them. “Sorry, what was that?”

  “I just want to get to work,” Philip repeated.

  “I’m allergic to rowboats,” said Miles.

  Daisy asked it first. “How can someone be allergic to rowboats?”

  Miles shrugged. “I just am.”

  By this point they had reached the front of the line, so getting chocolate pizza onto their trays took priority over boat allergies. Daisy asked for four slices. She got a raised eyebrow from Mary, the chocolate pizza maker. But she got her request.

  “Two for you?” Mary asked Logan, holding out his slices.

  Logan nodded. “Thanks, Mary.”

  To look at Mary, with her chocolate-stained apron and her ability to slice pizza into perfect triangles without losing a single tiny marshmallow in the process, you’d think she’d worked there for years instead of only months. But that’s how it went at the factory. When a new employee arrived, it seemed as though the right job had been there all along, waiting for just that person to fill it.

  Unable to resist, Logan leaned down and bit the point off one of his slices. The dough was sweet, the chocolate sauce and marshmallow topping warm and gooey.

  Philip watched him with a look that bordered on disgust. “Do you have anything else?” he asked Mary.

  She stopped cutting midslice. “Anything else? Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” Philip said. “Like regular pizza? You know, with cheese? And tomato sauce?”

  Mary wiped off the chocolate pizza slicer on her apron. “We do indeed have regular pizza,” she said. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I can whip one up for you.”

  Philip gave his usual single nod.

  “I’d like to be at the Marshmallow Room when the new batch of honey arrives,” Henry said, leaning over the counter and carefully lifting off two slices. “So I can wait in here with the young man—Philip, is it?”

  “That work for you, Philip?” Max asked, handing everyone an apple and a small carton of milk.

  Philip hesitated as if he were about to argue, then nodded grimly.

  The back door of the cafeteria let them out in the middle of the lawn. To their right lay the pastures where the cows and chickens roamed inside their tall white picket fences. To their left, acres of red and yellow and orange fruits and green vegetables provided a colorful contrast to the wheat and barley and cornfields.

  And the smells! The smells in the factory, as wonderful as they were, had a slightly processed odor, even though they all came from pure ingredients. The air outside smelled like earth and newly growing things. Logan looked over at the pond glittering in the distance. The empty boats bobbed welcomingly in the slight current. “Definitely allergic to rowboats, eh?” he asked Miles as they followed Max and Daisy through the groups of factory workers enjoying their lunches.

  “Yup, sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Logan said, wondering what form an allergy to rowboats would take. Hives? Throat closing up? Something totally weird like an inability to see the color red anymore? He thought it would probably be rude to ask.

  “I can’t believe you actually live here,” Miles said.

  “I know,” Logan agreed. “I’m very lucky.” As soon as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. After all, he didn’t really know anything about Miles’s life. He wouldn’t want to make anyone feel bad just because they didn’t live in a candy factory.

  Max led them to an empty red-and-white-checked blanket near a thicket of elm trees. They quickly settled around it, placing their trays gently on the ground in front of them. Within seconds, everyone had a slice of chocolate pizza in hand.

  “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Daisy said, chewing slowly and deliberately.

  Miles nodded enthusiastically. “I may never eat anything else.”

  “You know what would be perfect?” Daisy said. “A tall stack of buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, chocolate pizza for lunch, a Pepsicle for snack, and then this again for dinner!”

  Logan had to agree, although he’d throw in a lot more candy throughout the day.

  Miles said, “I agree with everything except the breakfast part.”

  “Why?” Daisy laughed. “Are you allergic to pancakes, too?”

  Miles nodded. Daisy stopped laughing. “Seriously?”

  Miles