Juno’s Candy Orbit — Under the scratchy whisper of porch leaves, Juno tapped his helmet and started his new game. “One candy from each planet,” he said, pointing to the houses on his block. Read the full story →
Under the scratchy whisper of porch leaves, Juno tapped his helmet and started his new game. “One candy from each planet,” he said, pointing to the houses on his block. The blue house was Mercury, the brick one was Mars, and his own front steps were Earth. To win Candy Orbit, he needed one sweet from the far yellow house past the crooked tree, a place he had only seen from his window.
He marched out with his rocket pail bumping his knee—clunk, clunk—and paid the price at the windy corner. A gust stole the silver star sticker from his glove and spun it into the dark. Juno swallowed hard. Then three bats dipped across the moon, not chasing him, but tracing a curve: window, chimney, porch light. He followed their silent map to the yellow house, where an old doorbell glowed like a tiny planet.
Inside his bag, the new candy was wrapped in silver paper with one familiar star stuck to it. Someone had found it first. Juno hurried home along his orbit, the cold air smelling of leaves and chocolate, and placed the star on his helmet. Next time you see his rocket pail, check whether that silver star is still riding home under the scratchy whisper of porch leaves.
