The Candy Shop War
Page 26
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“You were using the Melting Pot Mixers?” Mrs. White asked.
“Yeah,” Summer said. “He didn’t see what any of us really look like.”
Mrs. White was inspecting the timepiece. She fingered the glass covering the face. “Was this cracked when you found it?”
“My fault,” Nate said, unable to make eye contact with Mrs. White. “I had to jump from the cabinet after Summer sounded the alarm. I sort of panicked.”
“I see,” Mrs. White said, frowning. She peered at the watch from several angles and held it to her ear before setting it down on the table. “Under the circumstances, you children surpassed expectations. I did not anticipate any opposition, or you would have been better equipped. I considered this a trial run—a severe miscalculation. Shock Bits and Moon Rocks are insufficient protections from a determined foe.”
“The weird thing about that guy,” Nate said, “was that he didn’t seem very surprised about our powers. He just came out of nowhere and chased us down.”
“Do you have enemies?” Pigeon asked. “Do you know who he is?”
“I suspect who he represents,” Mrs. White said, looking at each of them in turn.
“What’s really going on?” Nate asked.
Mrs. White folded her hands in her lap. “I suppose you children deserve to know more about what is really transpiring. You see, I have come to town in pursuit of a hidden treasure. As you must have guessed, I am something of a magician. The treasure I am chasing is most valuable, but of particular worth to me, because it could help broaden the range of magical treats I produce. Others would like to lay hands on the treasure simply for the monetary value it represents. If you four help me find the hidden cache, you’ll get your fair share. There will be plenty to go around.”
“You lucked out,” Summer said. “We used to be a treasure-hunting society.”
“Only we couldn’t find any treasures to hunt,” Trevor mumbled.
“That guy who chased us is after the same treasure?” Nate asked.
“Apparently word is out that the treasure is in this vicinity,” Mrs. White said. “The treasure is ancient, dating back to the mighty civilizations who inhabited the American continents before European colonization. The treasure has been relocated numerous times, and sought by many adventurers, but some recent discoveries have given those who take an interest in such matters good reason to believe its final resting place is in or near this town. My ancestor, Hanaver Mills, was in possession of clues regarding the location of the treasure. He passed out of this life without realizing his dream of uncovering it. I intend to pick up where he left off.”
“That’s why you wanted the book,” Nate said. “To look for clues.”
“Precisely,” Mrs. White affirmed. “Hard to say where the clues I am seeking will be found—the book and the pocket watch are possible starting points. Hanaver was an eccentric man. It is tough to anticipate where his secrets might be hidden. You four did nice work this weekend, and should feel entitled to a reward.”
Mrs. White reached under the table and lifted a metal box that had a keyhole in the front. Turning a key in the hole, she raised the top of the box and removed six pieces of candy. There appeared to be three different kinds—two of each. “Trick candy,” she announced, “to baffle and dismay your enemies.”
“Cool,” Trevor said, stretching out the word so it lasted a few seconds.
“Like the majority of my candy, it will have little effect on individuals who have already consumed white fudge. And it is more potent on youngsters than adults.”
“What does it do?” Pigeon asked.
She picked up a yellow, crystalline treat. “I call these Sun Stones. They function like the opposite of a Moon Rock, increasing the pull of gravity. The candy reinforces the anatomy of the recipient to prevent the crushing force from inflicting lasting damage.” She indicated a second candy that looked like a miniature brownie. “That is a Whisker Cake. Makes hair grow at an unusual rate.” She tapped the last kind of candy, which looked like a solid sphere of root beer. “And one of my trick candy masterpieces—the Dizzy Fizzer. I’ll let you see for yourselves what it does. What are the names of your bullies?”
“Denny Clegg, Eric Andrews, and Kyle Knowles,” Summer said.
“Any of those treats should give them a memorable payback for whatever wrongs they’ve inflicted,” Mrs. White said.
“Do we get any candy we can use for ourselves?” asked Nate.
“You get to keep the leftover candy from the museum mission, which should include several mouthfuls of Shock Bits along with your stash of Moon Rocks. And I’ll be coming up with another task for you soon, which no doubt will involve a bunch of new candy. Check back with me tomorrow.” Mrs. White stood up in a way that suggested the conversation was over.
“I have a question,” Pigeon said. “The white fudge seems stronger than you described. It’s like my mom hardly notices me anymore.”
“She notices you,” Mrs. White said. “She just doesn’t pay enough attention to get you in trouble. The effect will go away when I stop making white fudge. For now, be glad you have the diversion you need to go adventuring in the night.”
“My dad forgot to take me to school today,” Summer said.
“You may have to help your parents remember to include you in their plans from time to time,” Mrs. White said. “A necessary side effect.”
“Our teacher, Miss Doulin, ate the fudge and is acting strange too,” Nate said. “Not just to us, to all the kids.”
“I’m guessing your teacher has a fairly extreme personality,” Mrs. White said.
“She’s pretty strict,” Nate said. “Or was.”
Mrs. White nodded as if this were to be expected. “The white fudge tends to normalize extreme personalities. Again, the effect is temporary, lasting only as long as the subject continues to consume the fudge. I won’t keep selling it forever. When I am done here, I’ll move on, and all will return to normal.” She ushered the kids toward the door.
“Are they becoming addicted to the fudge?” Trevor asked. “My parents keep buying tons.”
“No more addicted than some people are to a favorite breakfast cereal,” Mrs. White said. “The fudge is just really yummy.”
The kids returned to the front of the store. It was even more packed with customers than before. A middle-aged man with a mustache was walking away from the counter holding a tower of stacked white fudge boxes.
“Yeah,” Summer said. “He didn’t see what any of us really look like.”
Mrs. White was inspecting the timepiece. She fingered the glass covering the face. “Was this cracked when you found it?”
“My fault,” Nate said, unable to make eye contact with Mrs. White. “I had to jump from the cabinet after Summer sounded the alarm. I sort of panicked.”
“I see,” Mrs. White said, frowning. She peered at the watch from several angles and held it to her ear before setting it down on the table. “Under the circumstances, you children surpassed expectations. I did not anticipate any opposition, or you would have been better equipped. I considered this a trial run—a severe miscalculation. Shock Bits and Moon Rocks are insufficient protections from a determined foe.”
“The weird thing about that guy,” Nate said, “was that he didn’t seem very surprised about our powers. He just came out of nowhere and chased us down.”
“Do you have enemies?” Pigeon asked. “Do you know who he is?”
“I suspect who he represents,” Mrs. White said, looking at each of them in turn.
“What’s really going on?” Nate asked.
Mrs. White folded her hands in her lap. “I suppose you children deserve to know more about what is really transpiring. You see, I have come to town in pursuit of a hidden treasure. As you must have guessed, I am something of a magician. The treasure I am chasing is most valuable, but of particular worth to me, because it could help broaden the range of magical treats I produce. Others would like to lay hands on the treasure simply for the monetary value it represents. If you four help me find the hidden cache, you’ll get your fair share. There will be plenty to go around.”
“You lucked out,” Summer said. “We used to be a treasure-hunting society.”
“Only we couldn’t find any treasures to hunt,” Trevor mumbled.
“That guy who chased us is after the same treasure?” Nate asked.
“Apparently word is out that the treasure is in this vicinity,” Mrs. White said. “The treasure is ancient, dating back to the mighty civilizations who inhabited the American continents before European colonization. The treasure has been relocated numerous times, and sought by many adventurers, but some recent discoveries have given those who take an interest in such matters good reason to believe its final resting place is in or near this town. My ancestor, Hanaver Mills, was in possession of clues regarding the location of the treasure. He passed out of this life without realizing his dream of uncovering it. I intend to pick up where he left off.”
“That’s why you wanted the book,” Nate said. “To look for clues.”
“Precisely,” Mrs. White affirmed. “Hard to say where the clues I am seeking will be found—the book and the pocket watch are possible starting points. Hanaver was an eccentric man. It is tough to anticipate where his secrets might be hidden. You four did nice work this weekend, and should feel entitled to a reward.”
Mrs. White reached under the table and lifted a metal box that had a keyhole in the front. Turning a key in the hole, she raised the top of the box and removed six pieces of candy. There appeared to be three different kinds—two of each. “Trick candy,” she announced, “to baffle and dismay your enemies.”
“Cool,” Trevor said, stretching out the word so it lasted a few seconds.
“Like the majority of my candy, it will have little effect on individuals who have already consumed white fudge. And it is more potent on youngsters than adults.”
“What does it do?” Pigeon asked.
She picked up a yellow, crystalline treat. “I call these Sun Stones. They function like the opposite of a Moon Rock, increasing the pull of gravity. The candy reinforces the anatomy of the recipient to prevent the crushing force from inflicting lasting damage.” She indicated a second candy that looked like a miniature brownie. “That is a Whisker Cake. Makes hair grow at an unusual rate.” She tapped the last kind of candy, which looked like a solid sphere of root beer. “And one of my trick candy masterpieces—the Dizzy Fizzer. I’ll let you see for yourselves what it does. What are the names of your bullies?”
“Denny Clegg, Eric Andrews, and Kyle Knowles,” Summer said.
“Any of those treats should give them a memorable payback for whatever wrongs they’ve inflicted,” Mrs. White said.
“Do we get any candy we can use for ourselves?” asked Nate.
“You get to keep the leftover candy from the museum mission, which should include several mouthfuls of Shock Bits along with your stash of Moon Rocks. And I’ll be coming up with another task for you soon, which no doubt will involve a bunch of new candy. Check back with me tomorrow.” Mrs. White stood up in a way that suggested the conversation was over.
“I have a question,” Pigeon said. “The white fudge seems stronger than you described. It’s like my mom hardly notices me anymore.”
“She notices you,” Mrs. White said. “She just doesn’t pay enough attention to get you in trouble. The effect will go away when I stop making white fudge. For now, be glad you have the diversion you need to go adventuring in the night.”
“My dad forgot to take me to school today,” Summer said.
“You may have to help your parents remember to include you in their plans from time to time,” Mrs. White said. “A necessary side effect.”
“Our teacher, Miss Doulin, ate the fudge and is acting strange too,” Nate said. “Not just to us, to all the kids.”
“I’m guessing your teacher has a fairly extreme personality,” Mrs. White said.
“She’s pretty strict,” Nate said. “Or was.”
Mrs. White nodded as if this were to be expected. “The white fudge tends to normalize extreme personalities. Again, the effect is temporary, lasting only as long as the subject continues to consume the fudge. I won’t keep selling it forever. When I am done here, I’ll move on, and all will return to normal.” She ushered the kids toward the door.
“Are they becoming addicted to the fudge?” Trevor asked. “My parents keep buying tons.”
“No more addicted than some people are to a favorite breakfast cereal,” Mrs. White said. “The fudge is just really yummy.”
The kids returned to the front of the store. It was even more packed with customers than before. A middle-aged man with a mustache was walking away from the counter holding a tower of stacked white fudge boxes.
