Someday Angeline (8 page)

Angeline laughed when she saw him. “Make sure you wash the banana peel out of your hair,” she said.

Abel was amazed—more amazed than when she played the piano or beat a computer at chess. She knew about the banana peels! How did she? How could she? It made him feel extraordinarily close to her. He hadn’t felt that way for a long time.

But then he felt the top of his head. There really was one! He threw it away, in the trash in the kitchen, underneath the sink. The phone rang. Angeline watched as he answered it. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello, Mr. Persopolis?” It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes.”

“I’m Miss Turbone. I’m a teacher at Angeline’s school.”

He dropped the phone and stared at Angeline.
“She says she’s Mr. Bone,” he whispered. It was as if everything imaginary were suddenly turning real—first the banana peel, now Mr. Bone. He retrieved the phone.

“Uh-oh,” mouthed Angeline.

“Hello, are you there? Hello?” said Miss Turbone.

“Hello,” said Abel. “Sorry, we were temporarily cut off. So, what can I do for you…” He paused. “…Mr. Bone?”

“I would like to talk to you about Angeline,” she said.

Abel looked around the room in disbelief. “I would like to talk to you, too, Mr. Bone.”

“Good,” said Miss Turbone. “I think it would be better if we talked in person. Perhaps I could come over there later this evening?”

“Okay, fine.” He gave her directions.

“Good. I’ll see you in, say, two hours?”

“Okay, fine.”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Bone.”

He hung up the phone and began talking to himself. “That’s it, Abel,” he said. “It’s all over. You’ve finally cracked.”

He took his shower and washed the rest of the banana peels out of his hair. “It’s no wonder I have banana peels in my hair,” he said loudly. “My head is full of bananas.”

Angeline watched him shave. “Is Mr. Bone coming over here?” she asked him.

“So she said,” said Abel.

She liked to watch her father shave. It fascinated her, the way he scraped the creamy white lather off his face while the hot water steamed up the bathroom. “Are you shaving because of Mr. Bone?” she asked.

“Sure, why not?” Abel replied. He slapped some after-shave lotion on his face, and also on Angeline’s.

She shrieked with delight. “Ooh, it tingles.”

He put on a clean shirt, and tie too, for Mr. Bone.

“You look so handsome,” said Angeline.

They were both beginning to feel very excited. Abel took a couple of deep breaths to try to calm himself. “Okay, one last time,” he said. “Who is Mr. Bone?”

“She’s a teacher,” Angeline replied. “She teaches Gary’s class.”

“Okay, fine.”

Angeline didn’t know why she was so excited that Mr. Bone was coming over, except that she hadn’t seen her for a long time. It only meant that she would get into trouble and would have to go back to Mrs. Hardlick’s class. Still, the thought of Mr. Bone coming here, to her apartment, thrilled her.

Abel didn’t know why he was so excited either. Maybe it was because Angeline was so excited, or maybe it was because he’d find out who this mysterious person really was. “Or maybe,” he thought, “maybe it’s because I’m just plain loony.”

They both forgot all about eating dinner.

When the bell rang, Angeline hit the button to let Mr. Bone into the apartment building. Then she waited by the door for Mr. Bone to come out of the elevator. “Over here, Mr. Bone!” she called.

“Come on in,” she invited. Even though she knew it meant she’d get into trouble, she remained absolutely delighted to see her, just the same.

“This is my father.”

Abel and Miss Turbone shook hands.

“Mr. Persopolis,” said Miss Turbone.

“Mr. Bone,” said Abel.

There are some people who are so cold and unfeeling, like reflections in a mirror, that they might as well be imaginary. But as Abel shook Miss Turbone’s hand, he could feel her warmth. And he could see it in her face. And as they talked, he could hear it in her voice.

“Call me Melissa,” she said.

Abel was glad her name wasn’t Howard or Robert or Frank. He thought Melissa Bone was a nice name. He told her to call him Abel.

“Call me Angeline,” laughed Angeline.

Melissa sat on the sofa.

“That’s my bed,” said Angeline. “It folds out.”

Melissa smiled. “It’s very comfortable.”

“So now, what can we do for you Mr.—Melissa?” Abel asked. His tie was strangling him. He didn’t know why he had put it on in the first place.

“Maybe it would be better if we could talk alone,” she suggested.

Angeline was sent to her father’s bedroom. She took her book with her although she had no intention of reading it. She sat with her ear next to the door and listened.

“I don’t know where to begin,” said Melissa. “Has Angeline told you where she’s been for the past week?”

“Where she’s been?” Abel repeated.

“She hasn’t been in school.”

“No,” said Abel as he turned and looked toward his bedroom door. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“She’s been going to the aquarium,” Melissa informed him.

Angeline knew, of course, that Mr. Bone would know that she hadn’t been in school. What she couldn’t figure out was how Mr. Bone knew she’d been going to the aquarium. It amazed her.

“I only know what Angeline’s teacher, Mrs. Hardlick, told me about it,” said Melissa, “and to be perfectly honest I don’t believe half the things that Margaret Hardlick says.” She then related to Abel Angeline’s final act as Secretary of Trash and the subsequent note that Angeline was supposed to have signed by her mother.

“Her mother’s been dead for over five years,” said Abel. His tie was driving him crazy. He stretched his neck in all directions. “Excuse me,” he said, “would you mind if I took off my tie?”

“Oh yes, terribly,” she answered.

“Oh, all right then,” said Abel. He kept it on.

Melissa laughed. “I’m kidding,” she told him.

Abel smiled foolishly. He took off his tie and hurled it across the room. He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Much better,” he said.

“I could never figure out why men wear those things in the first place,” said Melissa. “And they say that women are such slaves of fashion.”

Maybe that was why she called herself “Mr. Bone,” thought Abel. It was some kind of women’s liberation. He returned to the topic of conversation. “I never saw the note,” he said.

“I know,” said Melissa. “Angeline stuffed it under a bus seat.”

Incredible! thought Angeline from behind the door. Mr. Bone knows everything!

“I told Mrs. Hardlick that I would speak to her mother—to you—in lieu of the note,” said Melissa.

“Well, thank you,” said Abel. “I’ll see that Angeline is punished.”

Melissa and Angeline each winced at that. “Please don’t get me wrong, Abel,” said Melissa,
“she’s your daughter. But I didn’t come all the way over here so that Angeline would be punished.”

On the other side of the door, Angeline wiped her forehead. “Way to go, Mr. Bone,” she whispered.

“I’m all ears,” said Abel.

Melissa smiled at that expression. “I guess I just wanted you to be aware of the situation,” she said.

“Well, I’m aware of the situation,” said Abel. “Angeline gets herself into lots of situations. And I blow every one of them.”

“Judging by Angeline,” said Melissa, “you must be doing something right.”

“Really?” said Abel. “You think so? Even though she’s been going to the aquarium?”

Melissa laughed. “If I had Margaret Hardlick for a teacher, I’d go to the aquarium, too.”

Abel smiled. “Really? Okay, so now what do I do?”

“What do you think about switching Angeline to my class?”

Behind the door, Angeline vigorously nodded her head.

“That’s the fifth grade, isn’t it?” asked Abel.

Melissa said it was.

“I don’t know,” said Abel. “No offense, but I hate to see her move backward. She has so much potential; that’s what really scares me. I don’t want to do anything to blow it. I hate to send her back a grade just because you’re such a pretty, er—” He stumbled over his words. “A pretty nice person, er, I mean teacher.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Abel. I think you’re nice also.”

Angeline beamed.

Abel took a deep breath. “Okay, fine,” he said. “What happens next year?” he asked. “She’ll be in the sixth grade all over again, won’t she, with Mrs. Hardlick?”

“Who knows where she’ll be next year?” said Melissa. “Right now, she’s smart enough to be in college, yet emotionally, she needs to be with kids her own age. That’s the whole problem. She doesn’t fit anywhere.”

Angeline agreed with that. She was always on the outside, even now, behind the door.

“So why the fifth grade?” Abel asked.

“Because,” Melissa said, shrugging modestly, “because, like you said”—she smiled—“I’m a nice teacher.”

“Yes, I bet you are,” said Abel.

They decided to leave it up to Angeline. She bolted out from behind the door. “I want to be in Mr. Bone’s class,” she announced.

“Okay, fine,” said Abel.

Miss Turbone told Angeline that she might have to wait a couple of days before all of the administrative stuff could be completed. In the meantime, she would have to return to Mrs. Hardlick’s class.

“Okay, fine,” said Angeline.

It didn’t occur to any of them, at the time, that Angeline might have been better off waiting at home or at the aquarium or anyplace else except Mrs. Hardlick’s class, until the administrative stuff could be completed.

They didn’t think that one or two days would matter.

Abel offered to walk Melissa out to her car. She said it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. “I don’t know how safe the streets are this time of night,” he said.

They didn’t speak, or even look at each other, as they rode down in the elevator. Elevators do that to people. But once outside in the cool night air, Abel finally asked the question he had wanted to ask all night.

“Melissa, why do you call yourself Mr. Bone?”

She wasn’t sure she understood his question. “At school,” she replied, “the students are not supposed to call their teachers by their first names, although I really wouldn’t mind if they
wanted to call me Melissa.”

He wasn’t sure he understood her answer. “No. Why
Mister?”
he asked.

“What?”

“Why Mr. Bone? Why not Miss Bone?”

“Miss Bone?” she questioned. “Mr. Bone?” She looked at him with utter astonishment. “Mr. Bone,” she repeated. “Mr. Bone!” she exclaimed. She laughed so hard she had to grab his arm to steady herself.

Abel didn’t know what to think.

“Does Angeline call me Mr. Bone?” she asked. She couldn’t believe it.

“Yes,” said Abel. He felt embarrassed but didn’t know why.

“And you call me Mr. Bone, too?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I guess. You answered to it.”

She laughed again and buried her face in his shoulder.

He wished he knew what was so funny.

Just for a moment she felt like kissing him. Instead, she squeezed his arm. “Abel,” she said, “my name is Melissa Turbone, otherwise known as Miss…” She paused for emphasis. “Turbone.” Her mouth dropped open. Just then, when she
had said her name, even
with
the pause for emphasis, it did sound to her like she said “Mr. Bone.” “You know, you’re right!” she remarked. “No matter how you try to say it, it still comes out Mr. Bone!”

“See?” said Abel.

“I never noticed that before. Now I’ll never be able to say Miss Turbone again. Ahhh!” she screamed and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “What I just said, Abel. It sounded like Mr. Bone, didn’t it?”

He smiled and nodded.

“Oh my,” said Melissa.

They reached her yellow car with the bumper sticker on the back that said
SAVE THE WHALES
. She got in. “Well, it was very nice meeting you, Abel.”

“Nice meeting you,” Abel smiled, “Mr. Bone.”

She winked at him, then drove off.

He walked back to his apartment, whistling. “Melissa Turbone,” he thought. “That’s a nice name, too.”

When he got upstairs, both he and Angeline suddenly realized that they were starving!

It was a clear crisp fall morning, splashed in sunshine, and although most of the birds had already headed south for the winter, there were still a few to be seen, chirping above the garbage truck. The fallen leaves crackled under its wheels as it rolled down the road, lined on both sides by trees, red and gold and brown, and by garbage cans, silver and bright, billowing with garbage.

The truck stopped and both Abel and Gus got out and walked to the nearest garbage. Abel, smiling as he had been all morning, like the cat that ate the canary, breathed in the fresh scent of fallen leaves mixed with old coffee grounds and crusty eggshells. “Well, I met Mr. Bone last night,” he said.

“And?” questioned Gus.

“She’s beautiful,” said Abel, grinning foolishly. He lifted a metal can and dumped it in the back of the truck. “Light as a feather,” he commented.

Gus smiled at his partner. “Oh yeah?” he said.

Angeline awoke on her sofa bed and instantly sat up, as if from a terrible dream. “Why do I have to go back to Mrs. Hardlick’s class at all?” she asked aloud, although she knew her father was already at work. “Why can’t I just wait a couple of days, until everything is straightened out, and then go straight to Mr. Bone’s class?” She frowned. “I mean Miss Turbone’s class,” she muttered.

Last night, her father had told her Mr. Bone’s real name. He had come in whistling, and humming the parts he couldn’t whistle; she had never seen him so happy. It made her smile and laugh just to look at him. But when he told her Mr. Bone’s true name, the smile dropped from her face.

“Miss…Turbone,” Abel had explained.

“Oh,” said Angeline. “That’s too bad.”

It was like he had told her there was no Santa Claus.

She got out of bed and tried to get ready for
school as quickly as she could, but it seemed to take her forever. She knew that everyone would look at her funny and stare at her when she returned to class after all that had happened. She didn’t want to call extra attention to herself by walking in late. Yet she couldn’t get herself to move quickly. She nearly missed her school bus.