by Louis Sachar
“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!
Sixteen
Crazy Driver
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.
When the bus stopped in front of the school, she was the last one to get out of her seat. Very slowly she walked down the aisle between the rows of seats, and then stepped down the stairs to the parking lot. She put both feet on one step before moving down to the next one.
She continued to walk slowly across the parking lot and into the school yard. “You better walk faster,” she told her feet, “so I’m not late.”
She walked so slowly she was almost walking backward. On all sides, kids hurried past her to their classrooms, until, at last, she was the only one still outside. Then the bell rang.
“See?” she said. “Now I’m late.”
She stood outside Mrs. Hardlick’s door. She stood outside Mrs. Hardlick’s door. She stood outside Mrs. Hardlick’s door.
She opened it.
“…the capital of—” Mrs. Hardlick broke off in the middle of her sentence when she saw Angeline. She watched her walk to her seat in the back of the room. Everyone stared at her, just as she knew they would. “You’re late,” said Mrs. Hardlick.
She didn’t say anything. She saw Christy Mathewson give her a tiny wave, and that made her feel a little better.
“All right,” said Mrs. Hardlick, “let’s see if we can get through the rest of the day without your disrupting my class again, shall we?” Mrs. Hardlick looked down at her book. “Where was I? Okay. Who can tell me the capital of France?”
Nobody raised a hand. Angeline knew the answer but she didn’t dare raise her hand.
“Oh, come on class,” urged Mrs. Hardlick. “What’s the capital of Paris—er, I mean what’s the capital of France?”
Still nobody raised a hand.
“Geez!” thought Angeline. “She even told them the answer!”
Philip finally raised his hand. “Chicago?” he tried.
“No, I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Hardlick, “but that was a good guess. Chicago is the capital of Illinois.”
Springfield was the capital of Illinois, but Angeline knew better than to tell that to Mrs. Hardlick.
Judy Martin raised her hand. “Cleveland?” she tried. “Or Massachusetts?”
“No, but those were both very excellent choices, Judy,” said Mrs. Hardlick. “It shows you’re thinking. Cleveland is the capital of Ohio and Massachusetts is a state.”
Columbus was the capital of Ohio.
Finally Mrs. Hardlick proudly told the class that the capital of France was Paris. “Write that down in your notebooks so you don’t forget.”
Angeline realized something she knew all along. Mrs. Hardlick liked it when the class gave wrong answers. Mrs. Hardlick liked to be able to give the right answer herself.
“What’s the capital of Lon—I mean, what’s the capital of England?” asked Mrs. Hardlick.
“I don’t believe it,” thought Angeline. “She almost gave it away again.”
Angeline raised her hand, hoping that Mrs. Hardlick would call on her so she could give a wrong answer, but Philip also had his hand raised. “London,” he said.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Mrs. Hardlick, sounding a little disappointed. She should have called on Angeline. Angeline would have said Mexico City.
After that, Angeline raised her hand to every question but Mrs. Hardlick refused to call on her, until she had no other choice.
“Who was the second president of the United States?” she asked.
Angeline’s arm shot up like a rocket.
Mrs. Hardlick looked around. There was nobody else to call on. “Okay, Angel
ine,” she said dejectedly.
“Betsy Ross!” said Angeline.
Mrs. Hardlick smiled. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, “but that was good thinking! That is a correct answer, but to a different question. The second president of the United States was—now write this down in your notebooks—John Quincy Adams.”
Angeline wrote it down even though she knew that John Quincy Adams was the sixth president and that just plain John Adams was the second. But she had to wonder how Mrs. Hardlick could get it wrong when she had the answer written right there in front of her.
Mrs. Hardlick called on Angeline several more times.
“What was Mark Twain’s real name?”
“Clark Kent.”
“How much is twelve times twelve?”
“Twelve.”
“No, I can see how you reached that answer but I’m afraid it is incorrect. It shows you were thinking.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hardlick,” said Angeline. She was glad that she’d be out of this classroom and away from Mrs. Hardlick in a couple of days. Even though she had discovered how to get along, it was beginning to drive her crazy.
The birds sang, the leaves crackled, and the garbage truck came screeching around a corner, nearly hitting a parked car.
“Hey, slow down,” urged Gus as he held on to the dashboard.
Abel turned and looked at him absentmindedly. “Sorry,” he said.
“Will you watch the road!” Gus shouted back at him. He buckled his seat belt. It was something he rarely did, since he had to keep getting in and out of the truck to collect the garbage.
“Sorry,” Abel said. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about—”
“Stop!” yelled Gus.
Abel slammed on the brakes. The truck screeched to a sudden halt, causing garbage to fly out over the top of it and onto the street.
Gus shook his head and sighed. “You just missed that dog,” he said. “Did you even see it?”
“Sorry,” said Abel. “I guess I was thinking about Melissa.”
“No kidding,” said Gus. He unfastened his seat belt, and he and Abel got out of the truck to pick up the garbage that had fallen out. Most of it had fallen out of the garbage bags, so they had to pick up each bit of garbage off the street.
Abel picked up a milk carton and an empty can of peas. “Beautiful day, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Lovely,” muttered Gus as he tried to pick up a broken jar of tomato sauce without cutting himself. Actually, he was glad to see that Abel had a woman on his mind.
“Did I tell you about Melissa?” Abel asked.
Gus laughed. “You haven’t stopped talking about her.”
“Well, I just think she’ll make a good teacher for Angeline, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see!” said Gus. “You’re just worried about Angeline having a good teacher!”
“That’s right!” Abel insisted. “Why? What else did you think?”
Gus smirked. “Oh, nothing.”
“What? Did you think I was in love with her or something?”
“Why would I think that?” asked Gus. “You’re only looking for a good teacher for Angeline.”
“That’s right,” said Abel.
“One that’s beautiful,” Gus added.
“Yes,” said Abel. “No. Oh, you don’t understand.”
Gus laughed. They picked up the remainder of the garbage off of the street, then started to get back into the truck.
“Other side,” said Gus. “I’ll drive.”
Gary Boone stared sadly at his shoes. It was recess again, and he had nothing to do. He didn’t even like looking at Mr. Bone’s fish anymore. They reminded him of Angeline. Everything reminded him of her. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. He hadn’t told even one joke all day.
Suddenly two hands covered his eyes. “Guess who?” said a familiar voice from behind.
He didn’t have to guess. He knew who it was, although he couldn’t believe it. He felt so happy he almost burst into tears. He couldn’t speak for a moment, then said, “Jim Nasium.”
Angeline laughed. It was the funniest joke she’d ever heard.
Gary turned around in delight. “You’re back!” he declared.
“So are you!” said Angeline.
“I’ve always been here,” said Gary.
“You’re back to me,” said Angeline.
Gary was flabbergasted. “When, what—” He didn’t know what to say first. “What did Mrs. Hardlick say? Is she being mean to you?”
“I figured it out,” said Angeline. “All I have to do is answer every question wrong, and everybody likes me.”
“Gee,” said Gary. “I do that all the time and nobody likes me.”
“I like you,” said Angeline.
Gary smiled at her. His eyes were misty. He liked her, too.
“Do you have any new jokes?” she asked him. He cried.
Seventeen
Different Directions
As Angeline walked back to class, Judy Martin was standing in the doorway. “What’s the matter, Freak?” Judy teased. “You missed a couple of problems.”
“I don’t know,” Angeline mumbled.
“How did it feel?” Judy continued. “Was that the first time you ever missed one? What was it like?”
“I don’t know,” Angeline said again.
“You don’t know!” declared Judy. “I guess you’re just not so smart anymore, are you?”
Philip Korbin butted in. “Yeah, Judy,” he said. “She’s almost as dumb as you.”
“Shut up.”
Christy Mathewson once again came to her rescue. “She’s missed a week of school,” she said. “It will just take her awhile to catch up.” She walked with Angeline to her seat.
“You knew the correct answers, didn’t you?” Christy asked her when they were alone.
“I don’t know,” said Angeline.
“You shouldn’t give the wrong answers when you know they’re wrong,” said Christy. “That’s just like lying.”
“No talking!” declared Mrs. Hardlick. “The bell has rung.”
Christy quickly and quietly took her seat.
Mrs. Hardlick told them to get out their history books. It wasn’t like Christy had said, thought Angeline. She wasn’t lying. She only gave the wrong answers because that way Mrs. Hardlick wouldn’t hate her. It had seemed like such a good idea. Now, Christy made her feel bad about it.
“Who invented the cotton gin?” asked Mrs. Hardlick.
Angeline glanced over at Christy, then looked straight at Mrs. Hardlick. She raised her hand.
“Yes, Angeline?” said Mrs. Hardlick.
Angeline thought a moment. “Jim Nasium,” she said.
The world spun around at over a thousand miles an hour and Angeline felt like she was spinning around too—in the opposite direction.
“So when are you going to ask her out on a date?” Gus asked.
Abel felt his heart leap into his mouth. “Who?” he asked.
“You know who,” said Gus. “Mr. Bone.”
Abel laughed. Actually, he giggled. “Oh, no,” he said. “I can’t, she won’t, she’s—no, I can’t do that.” He stared out the window over the door.
“Okay, fine,” said Gus.
“You think, maybe?” asked Abel. “Could I? No. She’s Angeline’s teacher. I can’t go on a date with Angeline’s teacher, can I? Can I?”
“She’s not her teacher yet,” said Gus. “You can ask her out for tonight. Call her now.”
“NOW!” shouted Abel. “I can’t ask her out now.” He looked at Gus as if he were crazy. “I smell like garbage!”
“That’s the wonderful thing about telephones,” said Gus. “She can’t smell you.”
“No, you still can’t go out with your kid’s teacher. It’s probably against the law. Besides, she probably already has lots of dates for tonight or is busy grading papers.”
“Lots of dates for tonight?” questioned Gus.
> “Okay, then, what about Angeline? What would she think if I went out with her teacher?”
“She likes Mr. Bone,” said Gus.
“That’s just it,” said Abel. “And I told you, her name’s not Mr. Bone. It’s Melissa Turbone.”
“That’s too bad,” said Gus.
“It’s just that she’ll finally have a teacher she likes, and I don’t want to do anything to blow it for her. It might be very traumatic for her and result in deep psychological implications.”
Gus stopped the truck.
“What are you doing?” asked Abel. “What are we stopping for?”
Gus pointed at the row of industrial trash bins. “Garbage, Abel, remember?”
Angeline ate lunch with Gary, Miss Turbone, and Miss Turbone’s fish. She hardly said a word as she ate. She thought about what Christy had said, and about Mrs. Hardlick, and none of it seemed to make any sense.
“So how does it feel to be back in school?” Miss Turbone asked her.
She didn’t answer her. She stared at the fish. She felt like she needed to go back to the aquarium or, better still, to the ocean. She sipped a glass of salt water.
“We’ll be taking that field trip to the aquarium in three weeks,” said Miss Turbone.
“I don’t know,” said Gary. “That aquarium sounds fishy to me.”
Angeline didn’t laugh. She didn’t think it was a very funny joke.
Someone knocked on the door and Gary opened it. “Hey, Goon,” said a kid from his class, all out of breath. “Is Miss Turbone in here? Miss Turbone, there’s a phone call for you in the office.”
Miss Turbone laughed but nobody knew why. It was because when the boy said “Miss Turbone,” it sounded to her like “Mr. Bone.”
The office was nearly empty when she got there. Everyone except one secretary was at lunch. Miss Turbone walked into the vice-principal’s office and picked up the phone. “This is Mr. Bone.”
“Melissa?”
“Yes,” she said, unable to place the voice.
“Hi, this is Abel Persopolis, Angeline’s father.”
“Oh, hello, Abel,” she answered warmly. “I was just having lunch with Angeline.”