The Apple

Miss Cookson turned around when Leonard shouted. She didn’t look kind anymore. She was frowning sternly. Her eyes were black and beady like an eagle’s.

Patrick gulped. He did appear to have stolen the apple. It was in his hand.

Leonard started to cry. “Send the new boy away, Miss Cookson!” he said. “He’s a thief.”

Patrick was amazed that the boy could act so well. Leonard truly sounded frightened. And his tears were real. Droplets rolled down his cheeks.

“I know this looks bad, ma’am,” Patrick said. “But —”

“There will be no tale telling,” Miss Cookson said. “Return the apple at once.”

Patrick wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation. But he blinked several times instead. Inside he was counting to ten. One, two, three . . .

Slowly he handed the apple to Leonard.

The orphan boy’s tears were still flowing. He sniffled a few times. Then he reached for the apple.

“Ew,” Leonard said. “It’s mushed.” He looked at Patrick. “You bruised it.”

Four, five, six . . . Patrick counted higher.

Leonard lifted the apple to show Miss Cookson. It did have a large brown spot on one side.

“Whoever bruised that apple was wasteful,” Miss Cookson said. “I’m speechless.”

So was Patrick. “I, I, I . . .” was all he could say.

Leonard leaned a little toward Patrick. He whispered so only Patrick could hear. “If I had some candy,” he said, “I might sit down and be quiet.”

Patrick’s anger was boiling. Seven, eight, nine . . . He choked back angry words.

Patrick shoved his hand into the right pocket of his knickers. He pulled out a piece of candy. “Here,” he muttered. He opened his hand and showed Leonard the wrapped sweet.

“I saw from the window. I know you have three pieces,” Leonard whispered.

Patrick ground his teeth together. He took out the other pieces of candy. He held out all three. Ten!

Leonard snatched the candy from Patrick’s palm. Instantly his tears stopped. He sat down and unwrapped one piece. He popped it into his mouth.

The train whistled three long bursts of sound. Then the bell rang. The locomotive began to move.

Miss Cookson seemed satisfied that Leonard was happy. She moved down the aisle two rows and sat down.

Patrick was not going to sit next to Leonard. This time he chose a pair of seats across the aisle. He sat in the window seat and turned his back to Leonard. He took out the letter from his jacket pocket.

He needed more light to read. He lifted the window shade. Patrick peered outside.

The train was pulling away from the platform.

And Beth was running alongside the locomotive. She was yelling at the engineer.

“Stop the train!” she shouted. She waved her arms. “Stop the train!”