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Sun-Mellow Day by Cory D. Ray

I wondered if Vincent would beat me up if I sat in his chair. I didn’t care … Sun-Mellows were worth it.

“Colin.” Mr. Foster, my teacher, tapped me on the shoulder. “How’s your addition going?”

“Great,” I said, “just have to carry this 14.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Foster raised an eyebrow. I stopped him before he went into full teacher mode. My once-in-a-year chance for Sun-Mellows was at stake.

“Mr. Foster.”

“Yes, Colin.”

“Can I switch seats with Vincent?”

“Why?” He took his eyeglasses out of his shirt pocket, unfolded one of the ear pieces, and stuck the end in his mouth like he was chewing on a toothpick.

“So I can line up first for recess.”

Mr. Foster looked toward the front row. Vincent was busy sticking his pencil eraser up his nose — again.

“No,” Mr. Foster said while scratching his chin. “The front row is a good place for Vincent.”

I stood and tugged on Mr. Foster’s sleeve. “But today is Super-Sour-Sun-Mellow day.”

“Excuse me?”

“The student store,” I said. “They only sell Super-Sour-Sun-Mellows once a year. If I don’t line up first they’ll sell out way before I get there.”

Mr. Foster smiled. “I’m sure they’ll have enough Super-Smelly-Star-Thingys for everyone. Get back to your math.”

“No,” I said.

Mr. Foster’s eyes squinted. “What did you say?”

I sat down and lowered my voice. “Everybody loves Sun-Mellows and they always run out.” I put my hands together and locked my fingers. “Please Mr. Foster. Only for today. Let me line up first.”

Mr. Foster took in a deep breath.

Yes! He’s gonna cave!

“How long until recess?” He asked.

Terrible time for a pop quiz.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Look at the clock,” Mr. Foster said.

Okay, little hand’s on the four. So that’s…

I looked at Mr. Foster and raised an eyebrow. “Ten minutes?”

“Correct.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll make you a deal. Finish your assignment before recess, then you can line up first.”

“That’s not enough time.”

“It’s only three problems.” Mr. Foster pointed at my math book. “Start by fixing that one. We never carry 14 to the next group.”

I looked at my paper.

Okay, I got this. Just erase and start over. Pencil … pencil … where’s my penc– “No!”

I jumped from my chair and lunged down the aisle. My one and only pencil had fallen off my desk and rolled across the floor. It was now sitting helplessly next to Vincent’s chair.

I stretched out my hand and dove. That poor pencil never had a chance. Vincent had it up his nose faster than I could blink.

“Colin!” The vein on Mr. Foster’s neck was starting to pop out. “Get back to your seat.”

“But my pencil.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Do your work and stay quiet or our deal is off.”

I shook my head and walked back to my chair.

That was a Turbo Pencil, too. Now what?

I leaned toward my neighbor. “Hey Molly, can I borrow a–”

“No,” she said.

“But, Molly–”

She shook her head at me. “You always steal my stuff.”

“Borrow,” I said.

“Steal,” she corrected me. “And you never give it back.”

“It’s Sun-Mellow day, Molly.”

“Don’t care.”

“How can you be so cruel?” I said. “Sun-Mellows are the greatest candy in the history of the world.” I held out my hand, pretending a pile of Sun-Mellows rested delicately inside. “Soft, gooey bits of chocolate, wrapped in licorice, and sprinkled with sugar. Who could resist?” I licked my lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” she said. “Now, leave me alone before you get me in trouble.” She ran her fingers over her head until a curtain of blonde hair was blocking me from her view.

Nice, Molly. I’ll remember that the next time we play dodgeball. There must be a pen in my desk … nope. I’d settle for a broken crayon … nothing.

Wait, that’ll work. I pulled out my bottle of Elmer’s Glue and a package of red glitter.

The thought that I might get in trouble for this did cross my mind, but if I’ve learned one thing in the fourth grade, it’s that sometimes you gotta be a little nuts. Besides, those Sun-Mellows were calling my name.

Doing math problems with glue was easier than I thought. A nine here, carry the two there. Bingo!

I ripped off the corner of my glitter bag and sprinkled red flakes over my paper. I finished covering the last number seconds before the recess bell rang.

“Here ya go, Mr. Foster.” I closed my eyes and handed him my paper.

“This is… interesting,” Mr. Foster said.

Ring!

“Gotta go.” I flew to the front of the line.

“Mr. Foster, can we leave?” I asked.

Our teacher had my assignment in one hand and was rubbing his forehead with the other. I took that as a yes.

“See ya after recess.”

The hallways were a racetrack and I was a NASCAR champion. Nothing was going to keep me from my bag of Sun-Mellows. I hurdled a first grader tying his shoe, spun around a pack of girls, and ducked under the arms of two teachers in mid-handshake.

Almost there.

I turned the last corner and, smack, ran into the back of a fifth grader who was standing at the end of a long line.

“How can there be this many kids already?” I said.

The fifth grader turned around and pushed me in the chest. “It’s Sun-Mellow day, puke-head.”

I stood on my tip-toes and looked toward the student store. It was a thousand miles away.

This must be some sort of cosmic punishment for dipping my sister’s toothbrush in the toilet that morning. All around me kids were ripping open bags of Sun-Mellows. Sugary powder filled the air, teasing my nostrils and tempting my taste buds.

Please don’t run out. Mom’s always telling me not to bite my nails, but I couldn’t help it.

“Hi, Colin.”

I looked to my left. It was Brian Simpson, the biggest bragger in the whole school. One time he ended up with an extra tater tot for lunch and let the whole class know about it for a week. The last thing I needed was to have him rub his Sun-Mellows in my face.

I tried to ignore the candy in his hand, but my eyes couldn’t help themselves. “What’s up?”

Brian held the bag of sugary heaven in front of my face. “It’s Sun-Mellow day. You should’ve gotten here sooner. Never know when they’ll run out.”

I turned away so he couldn’t see me grinding my teeth.

Brian walked around the line until he was standing in front of me again. This time his hands were behind his back.

“Guess what I got,” he said.

“I saw already.”

Brian twitched his eyebrows up and down. “You’d better be nice or I won’t share.”

“What?” I said.

He gave me a humongous smile and pulled his hands from behind his back. My knees almost buckled when I saw what he had.

I pointed back and forth at his hands. “How’d you get two bags of Sun-Mellows?”

Brian’s eyebrows twitched again. “Let’s just say I’m lucky enough to know the right people.” He put one bag in his pocket and tossed the other in the air. “And you’re lucky enough to know me.”

He must practice a lot to get this annoying.

“Okay Brian. How much do you want?”

My ears were itching to hear his price, but they never got scratched. Someone else interrupted our negotiation.

“I’ll give you my pencil.”

My eyes felt like they were going to explode. There was Vincent holding out my Turbo Pencil toward Brian.

I pointed at the pencil. “That’s mine.”

“Is that a Turbo?” Brian asked.

“Yep,” Vincent said. “It’s got a nice eraser, too.”

That was my nice eraser, which had never been up anyone’s nose until a few minutes ago.

“Get out of here, Vincent,” I said. “He offered me first.”

Braggy Brian forgot that I was even there. He reached for the pencil and said, “Deal.”

Before I could do anything the two of them traded pencil for candy.

“That’s been up his nose ya know!” I shouted.

They both ignored me and disappeared into the crowd.

I covered my face with my hands and tried to stay calm.

It took another five minutes to get to the front of the line. The supply of Sun-Mellows was dangerously low. By that, I mean there was only one bag left.

Of course, the student worker in the store had to be Karla Flump. She’s had a crush on me since kindergarten.

“You look handsome today, Colin,” she said.

No way was I gonna let Karla distract me. I unrolled my dollar bill and laid it on the counter. “No time to talk. Gimme that bag of Sun-Mellows.”

Karla reached into the box. “That’ll be one dollar and fifty cents.”

My heart stopped. Karla picked up my dollar and held out her hand. “You still owe fifty cents.”

My watering mouth suddenly went as dry as a saltine cracker.

“They raised the price this year,” Karla said. “I thought everybody knew that.”

I reached into my pocket, fingers fumbling for change. Paperclip … fuzzy gummy bear … old band aid … no money.

“Move along,” Mrs. Kummer said. Her tall, lean frame hovered over the counter, casting a shadow of fear on every kid who approached her sanctuary of tasty treats and school supplies.

“Just a second,” I said.

“Hurry it up or get out of the way.” Mrs. Kummer waved her hand at me.

“Wait,” I said, “I only need fifty cents.”

Mrs. Kummer shook her head. “There are other people in line.”

Karla leaned over and stared into my eyes. “I’ll give you fifty cents, Colin.”

Yuck! I hated the way she said my name, like I was a lost puppy or something. I looked at her, put my finger in my mouth, and made a noise like I was gagging.

“Next in line.” Mrs. Kummer’s voice was like a hatchet chopping my dreams in half.

“But Mrs. Kummer,” I said.

“Next,” she repeated.

A tall girl with boney elbows bumped me to the side. She set a dollar fifty on the counter and just like that, the last bag of Sun-Mellows was gone.

My head dropped to my chest as I shuffled down the hallway. It didn’t help that I had to kick my way through a blizzard of Sun-Mellow wrappers. With each step they crinkled at me like giggles from a thousand tiny clowns.

There were still a few minutes of recess left, but I went back to class.

“Where’s your Super-Smelly-Star-Thingys?” Mr. Foster asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and flopped on my chair.

“Let me guess,” he said, “sold out?”

“Again,” I said.

“That’s too bad.” Mr. Foster reached into a box, then walked toward me. He set a yellow pencil on my desk. It had a bright orange eraser on top that looked like one of those pyramids from Egypt.

“It’s not as good as candy, but it might cheer you up,” Mr. Foster said.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Plus,” he said, “it’d be nice if your assignments didn’t get glued to my fingers anymore.”

I smiled.

“There’s the Colin I know.” Mr. Foster knocked on my desk, then walked away.

I picked up the pencil and twirled it in my hand. Maybe this day wasn’t a total loss. Besides, there’s always next year.

The bell rang and everyone came back from recess.

“Wow!” Vincent ran up to my desk. I tried not to look at the unopened bag of Sun-Mellows in his hand.

“Is that an Egyptian Eraser?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” I said.

“I’ve wanted one for months. Trade you my Sun-Mellows for it.”

A spark of hope ignited in my heart. The world was in slow motion as Vincent pushed the bag of Sun-Mellows at me. My wrist twisted as he snatched the pencil from my hand. Vincent smiled and his nostrils expanded in anticipation of the Great Pyramid eraser launching up his nose.

I stared at the gooey bag of candied bliss on my desk, afraid to touch it, in case this was a dream. Gradually, the world sped up again.

This wasn’t a dream. I held my bag of Sun-Mellows close to my chest.

“Colin, did you hear me?”

Mr. Foster tapped me on the shoulder.

“I told you to take out your writing folder.”

“No problem,” I said. “But don’t make us write for very long.”

“I’m not giving you extra time to eat that candy in class,” Mr. Foster said.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I reached into my desk and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Elmer’s. “I’m almost out of glue.”

About the Author

Cory D. Ray has taught for 11 years and knows what motivates elementary school children and how they think about solving problems. This knowledge comes in handy when writing humorous stories, which are loaded with hyperbole, that make both children and adults smile. Along with creating believable characters, finding humor and adventure in scenarios that children encounter everyday has been the key to Cory’s writing success. Cory lives with his wife, four children, two dogs, and ceiling-high stacks of educational research articles at his home in Colbert, WA.