Someday Angeline (4 page)

Everyone applauded.

“Very nice, Christy,” said Mrs. Hardlick. “Philip.”

Philip gulped. He hadn’t written a speech. He didn’t know he was supposed to. He tried to think fast as he slowly walked to the front of the room. He said that he’d be a good president because “Um, I don’t live too far away from school, so, um, I could rush right over in case of um, an um, emergency. I, um, live a lot closer than, um, Christy. Um, I don’t have a dog.” He started back to his seat. “Um, thank you.”

Everyone applauded.

Philip and Christy left the room and the class voted. Angeline, as agreed, voted for Philip but he still lost. Christy Mathewson was elected president and Philip was elected, um, vice-president.

They had the elections for the other class officers; Treasurer, Secretary of the Blackboard, Secretary of Balls, Secretary of Windows, and finally Mrs. Hardlick announced, “Nominations are now open for Secretary of Trash.”

Angeline’s heart pounded wildly. She looked at Philip, who was looking down and away from her. “Oh,” she realized. “He’s not going to do it.” She frowned. There was nothing she could do about it
either. She had already voted for him. She couldn’t take back her vote. She guessed he had probably planned it that way all along. Besides, he lost anyway. How did he know if she really voted for him? He was out of the room at the time. “Well, I wouldn’t have won anyway,” she thought.

Philip scratched the back of his neck and squirmed in his chair. He raised his hand. “I nominate Angeline Per…Per…” He couldn’t pronounce her last name. “Purple-potamous.”

Angeline beamed.

Mrs. Hardlick stared at Philip, wondering if she had heard right. “O-kay,” she finally said. “Will somebody second the nomination?”

Angeline looked eagerly around the room although she already knew nobody would second her nomination. “Well, at least I got nominated,” she thought.

“I second it,” said Christy Mathewson.

Angeline couldn’t believe it.

She gave her speech. “I think I’ll make a good Secretary of Trash,” she said. “My father is a great garbage collector. He works for the city. He’s the best garbage collector they’ve got. I won’t be as good as he is, but I think I can learn a lot from
him.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I hope you give me a chance. Thank you.”

She won!

She was the only person nominated but she won! She was so happy, she felt like she was going to cry.

When everybody else went to recess, she had to stay inside and pick up the trash. “Make sure you pick up every last scrap of paper,” Mrs. Hardlick told her.

She won! She stayed behind to pick up the trash. It didn’t take very long, there were just a couple of pieces of paper and a broken eraser, but Angeline made sure she got it all.

“If only my father could see me now,” she thought. “He’d be so proud.

“I won!!!!!”

Okay, so how did Angeline know all the things that she knew, the stuff she knew before she was born? Was she a genius? A freak? Those are each a kind of explanation. Here is another kind of explanation:

A pretty girl picks a flower. A bee returns to where the flower used to be, sees that it’s gone, gets mad, and stings a man with a red beard. The man with the red beard doesn’t look where he’s going and bumps into a lady in curlers holding two bags of groceries. The groceries fall all over the sidewalk and the man with the red beard and several friendly neighbors all help the lady in curlers pick everything up.

Angeline might see everybody picking up the groceries and say, “Look, a pretty girl with a flower.”

She was in balance with the whole.

The whole is everything and everything is part of the whole. Before everybody’s born they are in balance with the whole. After they’re born, most people lose their balance. Angeline didn’t.

In one of the smelly books that her father gave her, there was a question that the writer of the book seemed to consider a very important question: “If a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, does it make a sound?” The writer said the question didn’t have an answer. The truth was that the writer just didn’t know the answer, but writers never like to admit that there is something they don’t know. Every question has an answer, otherwise it wouldn’t be a question.

Angeline knew the tree makes a sound. It is part of the whole. And everyone will eventually hear it in one way or another because everything affects everything else. You just have to know how to listen.

Angeline knew how to listen, not with just her ears but also her eyes, and nose, and mouth, and elbows, and hair, and toenails, and knees too.

She stared at Mr. Bone’s saltwater fish. She hardly paid attention to the freshwater ones. Miss Turbone had gotten two kinds of saltwater fish, an angelfish and a rainbow fish. The rainbow fish was multicolored, like a rainbow. All the colors blended into one another so she couldn’t tell, for instance, where the red stopped and the blue began. The angelfish was a pale pinkish blue and looked soft and feathery.

“They remind me of the ocean,” Angeline said.

“Do you like the ocean?” asked Miss Turbone.

“I’ve never seen it,” said Angeline.

“Not even on television?” asked Gary.

“We don’t have a TV,” said Angeline.

“What about the beach?” asked Gary. “Haven’t you ever been to Mitchell Beach? It isn’t far.”

“No,” said Angeline as she watched the fish swim about their tank.

“We go there a lot,” said Gary. “How come your father has never taken you?”

“I don’t know,” said Angeline. “He just hasn’t.”

“Do you like the beach, Mr. Bone?” Gary asked.

Miss Turbone was still puzzled about how the
fish could remind Angeline of the ocean if she’d never been there. “What? Oh, yes, I love the beach.”

“Me too,” said Gary.

“So do I,” said Angeline.

“Do you like to lie in the sun at the beach or go in the water?” Gary asked Miss Turbone.

“Both.”

“Do you wear a bikini?” he asked.

Miss Turbone laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Have you ever seen a whale at the beach, Mr. Bone?” Angeline asked.

“No.”

“She has a bumper sticker on her car that says
SAVE THE WHALES
, don’t you, Mr. Bone?” said Gary.

“That’s neat!” said Angeline.

“No, it’s not neat,” said Miss Turbone. “It’s terrible. The whales are all being killed off. Soon there may be none left.”

“Why are they being killed?” asked Gary.

“Because people are selfish and uncaring,” said Miss Turbone.

“But what do they do with them after they kill them?” Gary asked.

“Mostly they use them for dog food,” said Miss Turbone, “and perfume.”

“Perfume!” exclaimed Gary. “Who would want to smell like a whale?”

“I would,” said Angeline. “I like the way whales smell. But that’s no reason to kill them.”

Miss Turbone thought about asking Angeline if she’d ever smelled a whale but thought better of it. She’d never even seen the ocean—how could she smell a whale? And yet Miss Turbone didn’t doubt that Angeline knew exactly what a whale smelled like. “The perfume they make doesn’t smell like whales,” she said instead. “There’s a very sweet-smelling substance inside the whales called ambergris. That’s what they make the perfume from.”

“Oh,” said Angeline. “Well, I don’t want to smell like that.”

“Boy, I bet you they sure get a lot of dog food out of one whale,” said Gary.

“Not really,” said Miss Turbone. “That’s what makes it even worse.”

“It’s not the dogs’ fault,” said Angeline. “They don’t know they are eating whales.”

“No, it’s people’s fault,” said Miss Turbone. “And it’s not just the whales. It affects everything.
Every time a whale is killed, we’re all a little worse off.”

Angeline knew what she was talking about. Everyone feels it in one way or another. She was talking about the balance of the whole.

Abel and Gus finished their rounds, drove to the dump, and then waited in line behind all the other garbage trucks. It was the same thing every day. All the garbage collectors in the county finished at just about the same time so there was always a traffic jam at the dump. They heard the guy in the truck behind them blast his horn, as if he thought that would help speed things up.

“I don’t know how to talk to her,” said Abel.

“Angelini?” questioned Gus. “Come on, she’s easy to talk to.”

“For you,” said Abel. “You two always hit it off great together. She likes you a lot.”

“She likes you too,” said Gus.

“I don’t know,” said Abel. “I guess so. I mean, I’m her father and I know she loves me, but that doesn’t mean she
likes
me. I can’t seem to talk to her. We never say more than a few words to each other.”

“All you have to do is talk to her,” said Gus. “There’s nothing to it.”

“She’s been drinking salt water,” said Abel. “Last night, she sat on the floor reading a book with a glass
of salt water
at her side. Why would she drink that?”

“I guess she likes the way it tastes,” said Gus.

“What’s there to taste?” asked Abel. “It’s just salt and water.”

Gus shrugged.

“I’ve heard that drinking salt water can make you crazy,” Abel added.

“I don’t think so,” said Gus. “Salt doesn’t make you crazy and neither does water. I don’t see how salt water would.”

“I don’t know,” said Abel. “I once read a book about some men trapped on a lifeboat and one of them drank salt water and he went crazy. It was supposed to be a true story.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Gus. “Ocean water
has more in it than just salt.”

They moved up another space in line.

“She’s too smart for me,” said Abel. “I never know what to say to her.”

Gus laughed. “How about asking her why she likes to drink salt water?’”

“How?” Abel asked him. “How can I ask her something like that?”

Gus laughed again. “That’s a real tough problem. Maybe you could say, ‘Angeline, why do you like to drink salt water?’”

“Sure,” said Abel. “You make it sound so easy.”

It was finally their turn. They swung the truck around, quickly dumped their garbage, then headed for the garage where they would park the truck and get into their own cars.

Angeline stood on her tiptoes and turned on the faucet over the kitchen sink. She stuck a glass under and filled it halfway with water. She picked up the salt shaker from the counter and sprinkled some salt into the glass. She took a sip, then added more salt. She took another sip and this time added more water. Another sip and she added salt again. She tasted it and smiled. Perfect. She stood
back on her tiptoes and turned the water off. She brought the glass into the living room, where she slowly drank the water while she read her book.

The one-eyed pirate had captured the beautiful lady and told her that unless she married him, she would have to walk the plank. She had until sundown to decide. As the appointed hour approached, she stood at the edge of the plank with her hands tied behind her back. Her fair face stared nobly into the pink sky. “Alas,” she thought, “’tis better to die with honor, than to live a life of shame.”

Tears rolled out of Angeline’s eyes. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. She perked up, though, as she heard her father open the door.

“Don’t hug me until I take a shower,” he said.

“Will you take me to the beach sometime?” she asked him.

“No,” he said flatly. “No, I can’t.”

“What about Mitchell Beach? It’s real close. Gary’s family goes all the time.”

“I said no,” her father sternly repeated in a voice that told her she’d better not ask again.

She didn’t say anything, but turned her back on him, demonstrating that she didn’t think it was fair.

He walked into the bathroom and showered. He felt bad for having been so harsh with her, especially since he had decided that he would try and talk with her, just like Gus.

He put on his pajamas and robe and walked out into the living room. She was on the couch, reading. He sat down next to her. She looked up at him coldly, still mad that he wouldn’t take her to the beach without even giving an explanation.

He tried to think of a way to begin. “So,” he said, “what’s new?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, remembering Gary’s joke. “An animal at the zoo!” She burst out laughing, and forgot all about being angry.

“Okay, fine,” said Abel, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. He wanted to show her that he could talk and laugh with her, too, just like Gus. “How was school today?” he asked.

Angeline smiled as she remembered the good time she had had that day. It was one of the few days she had ever enjoyed school. “Mr. Bone let me feed her fish,” she said gleefully.

“Okay, fine,” said Abel. He wondered how such a simple sentence could be so confusing. He thought awhile before saying another word, then
asked, “Who is Mr. Bone?”

“She’s a wonderful teacher,” said Angeline, happy to tell her father all about her. “She’s got two fish tanks and yesterday she gave me a fish shaped like a cookie.” She laughed. “I mean a cookie shaped like a fish, which I ate.”

“Okay, fine,” said Abel. They were talking, but it was like they were speaking two different languages. He wondered if she was trying to confuse him on purpose because he wouldn’t take her to the beach. More likely, he figured, she was just too smart for him. However, he didn’t want to let on, so he did his best to keep up with the conversation.

“I thought you didn’t like your teacher,” he said.

“I don’t,” said Angeline. “I hate Mrs. Hardlick. She’s my teacher. Mr. Bone is Gary’s teacher. She’s wonderful.”

He stared at her in awe. “Is Mr. Bone a woman?” he asked.

Angeline nodded. “She’s real nice.”

“And her name’s
Mister
Bone?” Abel asked.

“Yes,” Angeline told him. She knew it didn’t make any sense.

“Okay, fine,” said Abel. “I understand.”

“You do?” questioned Angeline.

“Sure,” he said. He didn’t want her to know that he didn’t understand, but what he didn’t realize was that she didn’t understand either, so that if he had just told her he didn’t understand, she would have understood, but when he told her he understood, then she didn’t understand.