Home > The Candy Shop War (The Candy Shop War #1)(8)

The Candy Shop War (The Candy Shop War #1)(8)
Author: Brandon Mull

Miss Doulin had to be in her late thirties. She was not a pretty woman. Her hair was shaggy, her lips were thin, and her eyes were too close together. Worse, she seemed to have a sour disposition. Summer doubted whether Miss Doulin would ever have a Mrs. in front of her name.

“Some of you may have heard that I don’t allow a lot of horseplay,” Miss Doulin continued. “This is true. You are now in the fifth grade. You are growing up. More will be required of you this year than ever before. You are preparing for junior high, and I promise you no horseplay will be tolerated there.

“This classroom is a place of learning. Without order that will never happen. If you work hard and participate in class discussions, we can have a little fun. For example, I have a trivia question. The first of you to answer correctly will have no homework tonight. But be careful. If you answer incorrectly, you will have extra work.”

She gave the class a meaningful stare. Summer shook her head slightly. It was not a good sign to be talking about homework in the first five minutes of the first day of class.

“Name two men who appear on U.S. currency who were never presidents of the United States.”

The class was silent.

“Currency is money,” Miss Doulin clarified.

Pigeon raised his hand.

“Yes, Paul.”

“Benjamin Franklin and Alexander Hamilton.”

“Very good, Paul. Can you tell us where they appear?”

“On the ten-dollar bill and the hundred-dollar bill.”

“Excellent. No homework for you tonight.”

“Can I have a different prize?” Pigeon asked.

“Like what?”

“Could you call me Pigeon?”

She paused. “Fair enough. If you would rather have homework.”

“That’s fine.”

*****

Trevor exited the cafeteria holding a tray with a chicken sandwich, tater tots, applesauce, and a small carton of chocolate milk. The day had gotten really hot. The bright sun made Trevor squint as he scanned the rows of aluminum picnic tables for his friends.

He had watched for Nate in the lunch line. Summer and Pigeon rarely bought lunch, and he had forgotten to ask whether Nate planned to buy. Nate had never showed up.

Finally Trevor saw Summer and Nate. Who was the kid in the leather jacket? He smirked when he realized it was Pigeon. Trevor joined them at the table.

“Is that jacket keeping out the chill?”

Pigeon looked up from his bag of potato chips. “I have to keep it on. I sweated through my shirt.”

“How was class, Trev?” Summer said.

“Mr. Butler seems pretty cool. Is Miss Doulin as bad as everyone says?”

“Worse,” Nate said. “She already threatened me with detention.”

“Nate was being a little too funny,” Summer said.

Trevor ate a tater tot. “I can’t believe you three ended up in the same class and I got left out.”

“I wasn’t sure Pigeon was in our class,” Nate said. “I never knew he was named Paul, so my mom couldn’t check for his name on the list.”

“Pidge already got in good with Miss Doulin,” Summer said.

“I didn’t know he was such a brain,” Nate said.

“I’m not,” Pigeon said. “I just know a lot about the presidents and the Founding Fathers. I have this great book about them. I have all of the presidents memorized.”

“No kidding,” Nate said.

“Did you know that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died on the same day?”

“No.”

“July 4, 1826. Fifty years to the day after the Declaration of Independence was signed.”

“Weird.”

“They were among the last surviving signers.”

A hand slapped down on Pigeon’s shoulder from behind. “What’s for dessert today?” It was Denny. Eric of the flat features stood at his side.

Pigeon grabbed his brown bag and folded the top down.

“For a second I thought Summer was dating the leader of a biker gang,” Denny said. “Then I realized it was just a geek in disguise.” Denny tried to snatch the bag from Pigeon. When Pigeon refused to let go, the bag ripped. A sandwich in a plastic bag fell out, along with a banana and two individually wrapped cupcakes.

Eric reached for the cupcakes. He got one. Nate, seated on the opposite side of the table, snagged the other.

“Two desserts?” Denny said. “Good idea! One for me, and one for . . . Eric. Maybe that jacket really has made you cooler!”

“Are you actually trying to steal his food?” Nate asked.

“That black eye healed pretty good,” Denny said.

“It hit me in the mouth.”

“How’d it taste?” Denny smiled. Eric chuckled.

Nate threw the cupcake at Denny as hard as he could. Denny ducked, and it flew over a couple of tables into the side of a building.

Denny was no longer smiling. “You’re going to make this year interesting, Dirt Face. These guys quit fighting back at school years ago. See, Kyle’s mom is the head yard duty. We never get busted.”

“Maybe I’ll go talk to the principal,” Nate threatened.

Denny shrugged. “Try it. See what happens to you.”

“Don’t talk to him, Nate,” Pigeon said.

“See, Nate, Pigeon knows the drill,” Denny said. “Just hand over your dessert and save yourself the hassle of getting trashed.”

“Should we have a talk with Dirt Face after school?” Eric asked.

Denny shook his head. “We’ll let it slide today, since we already beat him up before we met him. But now that you know the rules, don’t make us teach you again.”

Trevor wanted to pounce across the table, grab Denny by his curly blond hair, and pound him in the nose. But Denny was a strong kid. Nate looked equally angry and hesitant.

Denny and Eric walked away.

Pigeon started peeling his banana.

“Nice try with the cupcake,” Trevor said to Nate.

“Sorry to waste it,” Nate said.

“Are you kidding?” Pigeon stared at Nate like he was crazy. “I wish I could lose all my desserts that way!”

“Be glad you missed him,” Summer said. “Denny is a psycho. He gets worse all the time. He flunked third grade, so he’s really old enough to be in junior high.”

“He doesn’t bug us too much at school if we do what he says,” Pigeon said.

“And after school?” Nate asked.

“After school it’s more like a game,” Trevor said. “Like a pretend war.”

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