The Candy Smash Read Free Page A

popped the sugary hearts into their mouths.
    "Should we spit them out?" asked David, sticking out his tongue with the melting candy on the tip of it.
    "No! No spitting!" said Mrs. O. "Just..." She went to the class phone and made a quick call, then returned to the front of the class. "Let's refocus and get started on our morning work," she said. "We've got a lot to do today."
    But it was a good five minutes before everyone stopped comparing the messages written on their candy hearts: BEAUTIFUL HAIR, YOU MAKE ME LAUGH, MATH GENIUS. All of them seemed to say something
about
the person.
    All of them except for Evan's. His just said FOR YOU . Well, he didn't care what the candy
said
as long as it was candy. He popped three hearts in his mouth and shoved the box in his back pocket.
    On the playground at lunch recess, most of the kids agreed that it must have been Mrs. Overton who had left the candy hearts for them. She had pulled a few sneaky-surprise tricks on them during the year. In January when they were studying the Revolutionary War, she'd had Officer Ken come to school and arrest them all on charges of sedition. During their famous inventors unit, which happened to fall around Halloween, she had left strange things around the classroom (burned-out light bulbs, bits of wire and springs, an antique crank phonograph, and a few ghoulish notes on the blackboard) that seemed to suggest that the ghost of Thomas Edison was haunting 4-O. Evan figured this was just one more prank.
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    "I'm home!" Evan shouted the next day as he walked through the front door after practice, dropping his basketball in the hall and taking off his sneakers.
    "Garage, please," said his mom, pointing to the ball and the shoes. "How was practice?" she asked after Evan came back into the kitchen to grab a snack.
    "Great. My team won both scrimmages. Can I eat this in my room?" He held up a banana.
    "Yes, but don't leave the peel in your trash can. It'll smell." Mrs. Treski was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables. She had already made a neat pile of diced carrots and another one of onions, and now she was slicing up celery. That meant enchiladas for dinner! This day just kept getting better and better.
    "And don't eat more than that," said Mrs. Treski as Evan headed up the stairs. "Dinner's in an hour."
    Evan went up to his room and stuck the Locked sign on the outside of his door before closing it. There weren't any actual locks on the bedroom doors in their house, but Mrs. Treski believed everyone—even kids—had a right to privacy. So they each had a laminated cardboard sign that they could hang on their doors. When the sign was up, it meant everyone else in the family had to act as if the door was actually locked.
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    Before this school year, Evan had almost never "locked" his door. But now that he and Jessie were in the same class at school—together all day, including lunch and recess—he needed more privacy. On top of that, Grandma had moved in after New Year's, so now the house felt extra crowded. It was starting to become a habit for him to put up the Locked sign.
    Evan unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Lying on his bed, he began to read the words quietly to himself.
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M USHROOMS
by Sylvia Plath
    Â 
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
    Â 
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
    Â 
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
    Â 
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
    Â 
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
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Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
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Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
    Â 
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
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We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
    Â 
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind