Just Desserts

“No, I don’t want to.”
“What, you a baby?”
Ted glanced at his shoes. He was new and wanted friends, but this?
“Naw, I don’t think so.” He turned to walk away when Brant shoved him to the ground
and hurled the eggs.
All ten cracked against the old house.
Ted looked up, moaning. “They’ll think I did it.”
He pushed himself up, dusted off, and trudged to the door.
Knock-knock.
No lights were on. Nobody seemed to live here.
The door creaked open as he turned to go.
Ted inched in. “Hello.”
“Come in…”
Cobwebs brushed his head, and a musty smell hit him. He shuffled towards a faint light
where an old figure waited.
“Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but a frien—no, a kid threw eggs at your house.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t like to tattle.”
“Clean the mess, and you shall be forgiven.”
Ted cleaned the windows—the eggs disappeared.
He entered the house to find a bag full of candy, all his favorites.
“Thank you.” Ted called—no one answered.
The next day at school, Brant’s mouth swelled shut. The candy he had eaten turned to eggshells, cutting his mouth from the inside.