Misha and Lena and I were playing in the sandbox. We were building a rocket launching pad. We made a hole and lined it with bricks and bits of glass, leaving a space in the middle for the rocket. I brought down a pail and we put the instruments in it.

"We've got to make a side tunnel for the exhaust when the rocket's launched," Misha said.

We started digging again, but soon got tired, because there were so many stones in the sand.

"Let's take a break," Lena said.

"Let's," Misha said.

So we sat down to rest.

Then Kostya came outside. He was so skinny and pale we didn't recognize him. He said hello.

"Hello, Kostya," we said.

He sat down next to us.

"Why're you so skinny? You look like a skeleton," I said.

"I had the measles."

"Are you all well now?" Lena asked.

"Yes. I've recuperated completely."

"I bet it's still catching," Misha said and moved away.

"No, it isn't. Don't worry. Yesterday the doctor said I've recuperated completely and can play with other children."

Misha moved back again.

"Did it hurt?" I asked.

"No. It was just awfully boring. All the time I was in bed everybody kept giving me decals and I kept pasting them into a scrap-book. I was bored stiff."

"It's fun to be sick," Lena said. "You always get presents when you're sick."

"You get presents when you're well, too. Like on your birthday or at New Year's," Misha said.

"Or when you're promoted to the next grade and have 'A's in your report card," I said.

"I don't get presents because I've got a pack of 'C's," Misha said. "And you don't get any real good presents when you have the measles, because everything you play with has to be burned in the incinerator after. The measles aren't any fun."

"Is any other kind of sickness fun?" Kostya asked.

"Sure," I said. "Chicken pox, for instance. It's a fine sickness. When I had it Mommy dabbed green medicine on every pox, all over me. I looked just like a leopard. It was great."

"It sounds nice," Kostya said.

"Hives are nice, too. They're pretty," Lena said and looked at me. That made Misha laugh.

"What's so pretty about them? Just plain old bumps. Hives aren't any fun. I like the grippe best. When you have the grippe you get tea and raspberry jam. You can eat as much jam as you want, and nobody'll say a word. Once I had a whole jar of jam. My Mommy couldn't believe it, what with having such a high fever and such a good appetite. My grandma said there were all kinds of grippe and that mine was a new kind. She said I should have as much as I wanted, 'cause my system needed it. And Mommy gave me more, but I couldn't eat it. What a shame! It was probably because of the grippe." He rested his cheek on his fist and thought it over some more.

"The grippe's a good kind of sickness, but tonsils is much better," I said.

"Why?"

"Because when you have your tonsils out you have lots of fruit juice and puddings. That's better than jam."

"How do you get tonsils?" Lena asked.

"From a running nose. They grow in your nose like mushrooms, because it's damp there."

Misha sighed and said, "A running nose is no fun. You get nose-drops for it and they only make it run worse."

"You can drink kerosene," I said. "And it won't make your breath smell."

"Why'd you want to drink kerosene?"

"Not really swallow it, but hold it in your mouth. A magician'll get a mouthful of it and then blow the kerosene out on a flaming stick. It makes the stick flame up like a torch. It's beautiful. But the magician knows how to do it. There's a trick to it. If you don't know how to do it you might as well not try. You won't do it right anyway."

"I saw a man swallow frogs in the circus," Lena said unexpectedly.

"And rats, too! Just for laughs," Kostya said.

"And crocodiles!" Misha added.

I nearly fell over. What a lie! Everybody knows crocodiles are made out of tough crocodile leather, so how can you eat them? "You must be crazy! You can't eat a crocodile, it's too tough. You'd never be able to chew it."

"Sure you could, if it's cooked."

"Huh! You'd never get a crocodile to let itself get cooked!" I shouted.

"It's got such big teeth," Lena said and she looked scared.

"Crocodiles eat their trainers every day," Kostya said.

"They do?" Lena's eyes got as round as buttons. "We were talking about nice things like hives and now we're talking about crocodiles. I hate them."

"We've talked about sicknesses enough," Misha said. "What's the use of a cough, for instance? The only good thing about it is you can stay out of school."

"That's better than nothing," Kostya said. "But you're right: everybody likes you better when you're sick. Much more."

"And they pat you and say nice words," Misha said. "When you're sick you can get anything you want. A game, or a pop gun or a soldering iron."

"That's right. The main thing is to catch something really bad. If you break a leg or your neck you can get whatever you want," I said.

"Even a bike?" Lena asked.

"You won't need a bike if you've got a broken leg," Kostya said.

"It'll grow together again," I said.

"Will it?" Kostya asked.

"Sure, it will. Won't it, Misha?"

Misha nodded. Then Lena pulled her dress down over her knees and said, "How come if you burn yourself or get a bump or a black-and-blue mark you sometimes get spanked on top of it? How come?"

"That's not fair!" I said and kicked the pail. The one with our instruments in it.

"What's the pail for?" Kostya asked.

"We're making a rocket launching pad."

"Why didn't you say so? Stop talking and let's get down to work!"

So we stopped talking and got down to work.