My Friend Slappy Read online

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE

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  SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE

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  SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE

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  EPILOGUE FROM SLAPPY

  SNEAK PEEK!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COPYRIGHT

  Welcome to My World.

  Yes, it’s SlappyWorld—you’re only screaming in it! Hahaha.

  I know why you opened this book. You want to get to know me better—don’t you!

  Is it my good looks or my amazing brain?

  Everyone knows I’m so bright, I have to wear sunglasses whenever I look in the mirror!

  I’m so quick, I beat myself to the breakfast table! Hahaha!

  And take it from me, my beauty isn’t skin-deep. That’s because I don’t have any skin! Hahaha!

  People ask why I’m always smiling. It’s not because my smile is painted on. It’s because I’m so happy to know me! Haha.

  Everyone wants to be my friend. I can be a good friend—if you don’t mind obeying my every command!

  Here’s a story about a boy named Barton Suggs. He had a lot of problems until I came along. And then, he had a lot of BIG problems! Hahaha.

  Barton said he’d do anything to be my friend. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Barton’s wish turns into a very scary story.

  I call the story My Friend Slappy. I’ll let my “friend” Barton tell you all about it.

  It’s just one more terrifying tale from SlappyWorld.

  I was standing in line to get onto the bus. Someone bumped me hard from behind, and I stumbled into my friend Lizzie Hellman. “Ow!” Lizzie cried out in surprise. And when we stopped stumbling, we both spun around.

  Travis Fox had a big grin on his face. It was an ugly grin, the only kind Travis ever has.

  I decided to ignore it. Travis was on my case nearly every day, so I was used to it.

  My name is Barton Suggs. But Travis and his buddy Kelly Washington call me Sluggs, which they think is a riot. They also think it’s a riot to shove me into Lizzie.

  Dumb, right?

  Well, we sixth graders were all lined up to climb onto the school bus in front of our school, Atlantic City Middle School. That’s because we were going on a field trip to the famous taffy factory across town. This is the factory where they make DaffyTaffy, which is popular all over the world.

  At least, according to my dad. Dad owns the factory.

  So okay, I was a little tense about it. I mean, my dad is a good guy, but he can be embarrassing sometimes. Especially when he talks about taffy.

  Our teacher, Mr. Plame, was waving us forward. I started onto the bus steps—and tripped. “Whoa!”

  Lizzie turned around and grabbed my arm to keep me from falling.

  “Hey, Sluggs—walk much?” I heard Travis shout. Then I heard a bunch of kids laughing. I could feel myself blushing.

  “It’s Suggs—not Sluggs!” Lizzie shouted. She led the way to a seat. “Maybe you need glasses,” she said to me.

  “I don’t need glasses,” I said. “I’m just a klutz. Did you forget?”

  We slid into a seat halfway to the back. Lizzie sat by the window and tossed her long black ponytail behind her shoulder. “Are you excited about going to your dad’s factory?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Not really. Dad takes me there a lot. You know, school classes go there all the time. Dad really likes to show it off.”

  “And everyone gets free taffy?” Lizzie said.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “I can’t even eat taffy. It sticks to my braces.”

  I turned to the front to see how many kids still had to get on. I saw Travis coming—too late.

  He moved toward our seat. Pretended to fall. And landed as hard as he could on his back in my lap.

  We both let out screams. Pain shot up my entire body.

  Travis is big and wide and heavy. Biggest kid in the class. When he lands on you, you feel it!

  He has curly blond hair and blue eyes and an angelic round baby face. To look at him, you’d never guess his true personality.

  “Oops. Sorry, Sluggs. Guess I slipped.” He dug his elbows into my belly.

  “Get up! You’re crushing me.” I groaned.

  That made him laugh. He made himself even heavier. I tried to shove him away, but he was too big.

  “Travis,” Lizzie said, “why are you always so horrible to Barton?”

  “Because he’s here?”

  Travis’s friend Kelly appeared and tugged him to his feet. I tried to ignore the pain in my ribs.

  “Here’s a birthday present for you, Sluggs,” Kelly said.

  “It’s not my birthday,” I told him.

  “I know,” Kelly said. His grin was as ugly as Travis’s.

  He pulled a huge wet glob of green bubblegum from his mouth and pressed it into the top of my baseball cap.

  Then Travis and Kelly stomped to the back of the bus, cackling and bumping knuckles.

  So, I guess you can see, those two guys are bad news. They make my life pretty unbearable.

  But believe it or not, that was the best part of my day.

  A light rain pattered the school bus windows as we rumbled across town. I could see patches of blue sky in the distance. The rain wasn’t going to last long.

  I gazed toward the front of the bus, thinking hard. I have a supercharged imagination, and I spend a lot of time thinking about horrible things that could happen to Travis and Kelly.

  I’m really into puppets and marionettes. I have a pretty big collection. And sometimes I act out scenes with my puppets where these two guys get slapped silly by wooden puppet hands.

  I know it’s weird. What can I say? Sometimes it makes me feel better.

  Lizzie tightened her ponytail, then turned to me. “Travis and Kelly are just jealous of you, Barton,” she said.

  “Huh? Jealous?”

  She nodded. “Because you’re so smart, and you get all A’s without even trying.”

  I thought about that for two seconds. I knew Lizzie was wrong. “I don’t think they’re jealous,” I said. “But thanks for thinking that.”

  Lizzie and I have been good friends ever since fourth grade. I guess we became friends after we accidentally spilled our aquarium science project all over the gym floor and we both got F’s.

  Yes, she’s as klutzy as I am, but she doesn’t realize it.

  The bus pulled into the industrial park where my dad’s factory is. We slowed to a stop at the front of the parking lot.

  Mr. Plame jumped up from his seat. He is way tall, and he bumped his head on the bus ceiling. “One at a time as you get off the bus, people,” he said, rubbing his head. “Best behavior, remember?”

  I hoped Travis and Kelly heard that.

  Mr. Plame stepped down to the ground, and we started to pile off the bus. Some kids behind me started a chant: “Daffy! Taffy! Daffy! Taffy!” But it didn’t last long.

  The rain had stopped. The air was warm and wet.

  I followed Lizzie off the bus. And there came
my dad, bursting out from the glass front doors and hurrying over to greet us.

  My dad never walks. He was a football fullback in college, and he still thinks he’s charging the line, moving faster than everyone else.

  He’s big and brawny, like a fullback. He always looks ready to spring forward, even when he’s standing still. And he almost never stays still. Mom says she has to tie him to the chair to keep him at the dinner table for a whole meal.

  You can guess that I don’t take after him. How would I describe myself? A little more timid, maybe. I’m definitely not an athlete like he was. The sad truth is, no one chooses me for any sports teams ever.

  Dad wore a pink-and-yellow DaffyTaffy cap. And a white work shirt and pants, even though he doesn’t do any factory work.

  “Welcome, everyone,” Dad boomed when we were all off the bus. He never talks. He always booms. “Welcome to the largest and best taffy factory in the universe!”

  That embarrassed me a little bit. Why did he have to brag like that?

  Mr. Plame shook hands with my dad. Then he turned to me. “You’re lucky, Barton,” he said. “You probably get more taffy to eat than any kid in the world.”

  “Not really,” I murmured. I didn’t want to say that I can’t eat taffy for at least another year, till my braces come off.

  “This way, everyone!” Dad boomed, waving to the entrance. “I’m going to give you the tour myself. I think you’ll learn a lot about taffy!”

  We started to the entrance. Kelly stomped on my foot as he hurried past me.

  I limped after him, holding my breath, waiting for the pain in my foot to fade.

  My dad stood at the door, greeting each kid as they entered the factory.

  I said hi as I stepped up to him.

  “Hey, Barton,” he said. “You—”

  He stopped. His smile faded.

  He put both hands on my shoulders and pulled me aside.

  “We have to talk.”

  My dad pulled me into the building and down a short hall. The air smelled sweet. The taffy was cooking at the back of the factory, but I could smell it all the way up here.

  Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “You have a problem, Barton.”

  “Huh? What’s the matter?”

  He lifted the cap off my head and held it in front of me. “You have a big glob of green gunk on the top of your cap.”

  “I know,” I said.

  He stared hard at the gum on my cap. “Is this something kids are doing these days? To be cool?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  Down the hall, the kids from my class waited with Mr. Plame. A lot of them were watching Dad and me. I knew they were wondering what was up. I caught a glimpse of Lizzie leaning against the wall. She looked very worried.

  Dad studied the cap some more. He pulled the gum off and wrapped it up in a tissue. Then he handed it back to me. “Was it those two bullies again?” he demanded.

  I sighed.

  A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of telling him about Travis and Kelly. I was having a really bad day, and it all just slipped out. Of course, I was sorry I told him as soon as it happened because Dad said he was going to go to their houses and talk to their parents about it.

  Yikes.

  How embarrassing would that be? Not to mention life-threatening. If my dad did that … If he squealed to their parents … Travis and Kelly would probably kill me!

  But that’s what Dad is like. He was a fast-charging fullback in school, and he’s a fast-charging fullback in life.

  I begged him and begged him not to talk to their parents. I actually got down on my knees, and finally Dad gave in.

  But after that, he kept talking about it all the time. He kept urging me to stand up to them.

  Easy to say when you’ve never been bullied, right?

  He gave me one last tsk-tsk. Then he spun away from me and hurried to the others. He motioned for everyone to follow him, and he led us into the factory.

  As soon as he opened the door, the aroma of the heated sugar floated over us. So sweet. At first, it was actually hard to breathe.

  More than a dozen workers in white uniforms were tending to the huge machines scattered over the factory floor. They didn’t look up when we entered. They were used to Dad leading school groups through the place.

  My class followed Dad up to the machine that stretched the taffy. It looked like a tall robot with very long arms. The taffy was draped over the arms. The arms kept moving in and out, pulling the taffy.

  “We stretch over two tons of taffy a year!” Dad boasted. “Those arms are strong. They can stretch a hundred pounds of taffy at a time.”

  Dad stepped away so everyone could watch the taffy-stretching machine. Kelly edged up to me—and bumped me hard with his shoulder. “Oops. Sorry.”

  I stumbled sideways and nearly knocked Dad over. He turned and stared at Kelly.

  “Is that the boy who stuck gum on your cap?” Dad asked in a whisper. “Is that him?”

  “Well …”

  “Go ahead. Stand up to him,” Dad said. He took my shoulders and turned me around so I was facing Kelly.

  My heart started to pound. I had a fluttery feeling in my chest.

  I didn’t want to do it. No way. I’m not a fighter.

  But Dad was watching me.

  I took three quick strides and stepped up behind Kelly. I wrapped my arms around his waist—and hoisted him off the floor.

  He made a choking sound. He was too surprised to cry out.

  And he had no time to struggle.

  I lifted him high—and heaved him into the taffy stretcher.

  Some kids cried out as the taffy wrapped around Kelly. And then the robot arms moved out, pulling him one way. They moved in, pushing him the other way.

  “He’s being stretched!” I heard someone scream.

  And then Kelly began to wail: “Help me! It’s stretching me! I can’t breathe! Owwwww! It’s stretching me!”

  Of course, I didn’t really pick Kelly up and heave him into the taffy machine.

  I only imagined it.

  I told you, I have a wild imagination. Sometimes what I dream up seems totally real to me. Do you think that’s weird?

  Well, I wished this fantasy was real. But no way. No way I could ever do that to anyone.

  Instead, I just gave Kelly my angriest stare. I don’t think he even noticed.

  Once again, I pictured Kelly tangled in the taffy, screaming his head off in front of the whole class.

  “Barton, why are you smiling?” Lizzie asked.

  “Just thinking about something,” I said. “Do you ever think about getting revenge against people?”

  Before Lizzie could answer, Mr. Plame called across the room. “Lizzie? Barton? What’s up with you two?”

  “Uh … just talking about taffy,” I said.

  Some kids laughed. I heard Travis and Kelly whispering about us.

  “Now, everyone follow me,” Dad boomed. He pointed up to the high ceiling. “We’re going to climb up to that catwalk so you can all get a good view of the flavor vats.”

  He started to climb a ladder that led up to the catwalk. “I need you all to stay in a single line,” Dad continued. “And hold on to the railing. The catwalk is sturdy. But it’s very high up.”

  He stepped onto the long, narrow catwalk and turned back to the class. “Wish I had better insurance! Haha!”

  It was supposed to be a joke, but no one really got it, so no one laughed.

  Dad backed along the catwalk as we all climbed up. “Taffy was invented right here in Atlantic City,” he said. “Sometime in the late nineteenth century.”

  I rolled my eyes. I’d heard Dad’s taffy lecture a hundred times. He even gave it sometimes at dinner.

  I was at the top of the ladder. Lizzie turned and helped pull me onto the catwalk. It was like a long, narrow wooden bridge. It stretched high above the factory floor.

  “We make saltwater taffy here,” Dad continued. “How
did taffy get salty? Well, there’s a story behind it. A man named David Bradley had a candy store here in Atlantic City. And in 1883, there was a massive flood. And all of his taffy was soaked with salt water from the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Dad stopped to clear his throat. “But Bradley got lucky. Because people tasted it and they liked the salty candy. So the recipe changed—and now we make taffy with salt.”

  I don’t really like heights. I held on to the rail and peered down to the floor below. We were standing over enormous open vats. One vat was filled nearly to the top with a pink liquid. The one right beneath Lizzy and me was dark brown.

  “You’re looking at our flavor vats,” Dad said. “The one directly beneath you is pure chocolate. We are very proud that our cocoa beans are the highest quality. They come all the way from Brazil.”

  He turned to the class. “Doesn’t that smell amazing?”

  Most everyone agreed.

  “This has to be the biggest cup of hot chocolate in the world!” Dad declared. He motioned toward the far end of the catwalk. “Let’s move on.”

  I took a few steps—and uttered a cry when I felt a hard bump from behind.

  Was it Travis or Kelly? Or just someone who accidentally bumped into me?

  No time to think about it.

  The bump sent me stumbling forward. My hands slipped off the railing. I couldn’t get my balance.

  I fell … fell forward … Toppled over the railing.

  Not my imagination. Not a hallucination.

  Real. I was really falling. Screaming all the way down.

  Headfirst into the hot chocolate.

  I landed with a heavy splaaaash. And tried to hold my breath as I sank deep into the hot goo.

  I cut off my scream and shut my eyes as I hit the warm liquid. The fall carried me to the bottom of the vat. The chocolate was thick, like wet cement.

  Panic swept over me. I couldn’t move. I felt waves of chocolate spinning around me. And then the spinning stopped.

  I raised my arms and forced myself to push off from the bottom. My clothes stuck to my body and weighed me down. My chest felt ready to burst.

  Thrashing hard, I pulled myself up to the surface. I raised my head over the chocolate and took in breath after breath.

  I lifted my hands and tried to wipe the chocolate off my eyes. I heard sirens blaring. Bells were ringing. I heard alarmed shouts all around.