*This “mini memoir” was selected from Chuck Adams’ 6th grade English class to be featured on our website. The assignment was to write about a memory in hopes to “communicate a larger idea about the human experience.” We think Angela did this perfectly.

I was staring intently at the candy box. It had a princess made out of plastic on top. Her face was white, and her hair color was red as a carrot. What was her name,” I thought, still looking at the box. Cinderella? Was it Rapunzel? Then, I remembered: Ariel. 

My friend had placed the box beside me, giving me one piece of its candy before going in the pool. She had invited a few other friends and me to her house for a playdate; but since I can’t swim, I stayed inside. This was my consolation prize.

The candy tasted like my favorite vanilla ice cream and strawberry gum. The taste lingered in my mouth, sweet and melting on the tip of my tongue. 

I looked out of the window, at the pool. All of my friends were dressed in pink bathing-suits, playing with a ball in the water.

I looked at the candy box again. My heart started to beat fast, like there was someone inside my heart playing the drums.. 

Am I really going to do this? I asked myself. 

My mouth salivated and my hands trembled as I reached for the cold candy box. I slowly opened the top and stared at the light pink candy. The taste of sweet strawberry and creamy vanilla flooded my taste buds and I couldn’t stop myself. I picked up a candy and put it in my mouth. 

It’s only one, I said to myself, trying to calm down. They won’t even notice.

The second candy was much sweeter than the first. It also had the smell of a rose. 

Only one more, I thought, finishing up the second. Just one.

Putting the third candy in my mouth, I calmed myself down. Doing this several times, I looked in the candy box at last. Wondering if there was more. 

No. 

It was empty. 

“What did I do!?”

Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I put the candy box back on the table, just how it was. Quickly moving on the rug, pretending to play with LEGO, my friends came in the room and started to chat. 

“Let’s go, we’re going to eat lunch.” 

I said “Ok,” but when I bit into my favorite food, pizza, instead, it felt like I was eating cardboard. I couldn’t seem to enjoy it; I was only thinking of what I did. Then, I overheard my friends saying they wanted candy after lunch. My heart dropped. It just dropped, like when Newton saw an apple falling from the tree. I stood up. 

“Are you ok?” My friends asked me. 

All I said was – “…Ummmm…yes.” 

Creak… One of my friends opened the candy box. I shivered with fear and guilt. My friend looked at me. “Did you eat the candy?” 

“No, I was in the bathroom most of the time. I didn’t feel good.” It was a big fat lie, of course.

Then, I realized what I had said. It felt like a black ink spilled right on my heart. I knew all my friends were staring at me, not believing what I had said. I knew what I did was very wrong…but, I just couldn’t tell the truth. 

After one or two months, I moved to another country. I never said sorry, or admitted I ate the candy. I still feel so much remorse for what I did, but it taught me an important lesson: don’t lie.

—Angela is a 6th grade student who loves reading books in her first language. At home, she makes up lots of small picture books for her family, and loves making them happy. “Now I can make more people happy… Well at least, I hope so!”