The Rottenest Angel (2 page)

The boy pulled a sweater from his suitcase and carefully folded it. He flashed me another smile. “I'm Angel Goodeboy,” he said again. He walked over and shook my hand.

What was
up
with this guy? I stared at him. I'd never met a kid who shook hands before!

“Well, I'm sorry, dude,” I said. “But you're in the wrong room. I'm Bernie Bridges. This is my room.”

His cheeks turned bright red. He really
did
look like an angel. He just needed a halo, and he'd be perfect.

“I'm in the wrong room?” he gasped. “Oh, my gosh and goodness! I'm so sorry. Mrs. Heinie showed me in here.”

“I guess Mrs. Heinie didn't clean her glasses this morning,” I said.

Mrs. Heinie is our fourth-grade teacher and dorm mother. She is so nearsighted, she can't find her nose without a map!

“She made a mistake,” I said. “Let me help you get packed up again.”

“Oh, my gosh and goodness! I'm so, so, so sorry,” he said. “I hope you will forgive me.”

“No problem,” I said. “Just pack up your stuff. Maybe you could share the room across the hall with Feenman, Crench, and Belzer. There's plenty of room over there.”

I heard footsteps in the hall, then a voice in the doorway. “Oh. Have you two boys met?” I turned to see Mrs. Heinie peering at us through her thick glasses.

I flashed her my best smile. “Mrs. Heinie, you're looking wonderful!” I said. “That red bracelet on your arm—is it new? Very pretty!”

“I'm not wearing a red bracelet,” she said. “I have a skin rash.”

“Well, it looks very nice on you,” I said. “I'm just helping the new kid pack up. He's in the wrong room.”

Angel clasped his chubby little hands together. “I'm so, so, so, so sorry,” he said. “I don't want to crowd Bernie's space.”

Mrs. Heinie made a choking sound. “He's in the right room, Bernie. You'll just have to learn to
share
.”

“But—but—but—” I sputtered.

I pulled Mrs. H. into the hall. “You
know
I can't have a roommate,” I whispered to her. “I brought a doctor's note. I'm allergic.”

I sneezed as hard as I could.

Mrs. Heinie wiped off the front of her sweater.

“See?” I said. “That Angel kid is making me sneeze already!”

I grabbed my neck. “My throat—it's closing up,” I whispered. “Hard to breathe. I'm allergic to roommates. You understand, right?”

Mrs. Heinie stepped back into the room. Angel
was waiting patiently, hands in his khaki pockets.

“Angel is staying,” Mrs. H. said. “I put him in here, Bernie, because I hope a little bit of his
goodness
will rub off on you!”

Angel's eyes twinkled again. I'm not sure how he made them twinkle like that. He flashed us another angelic smile.

“Mrs. H., please—” I begged. “I'm allergic to that smile! Look. It's making me ITCH all over!” I started scratching my whole body.

Mrs. Heinie scowled at me. “I don't want any trouble from you,” she growled. “And don't try to teach him any of your sneaky tricks. He's a
good
boy, and he'd better stay that way!”

Angel's little red mouth formed a pout. “Oh, my gosh and goodness. I'm sorry if you don't want me, Bernie,” he said in a soft, sad voice. “I'll stay out of your way. I'll stay in that corner over there.” He pointed.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I'll sleep in the closet. And in the morning I'll get dressed out in the hall. You won't even see me.”

Mrs. Heinie squinted at me. “Do you see what an
angel
he is? See how kind and generous?”

I started scratching my chest and arms. “Mrs. H., check it out. He's making me ITCH again! Please—he has to go!”

I had to do something.
No way
I could share my room with an
angel
!

But what could I do?

I scratched so hard, I shredded my T-shirt. But Mrs. Heinie paid no attention.

She pointed. “Angel, why don't you take that bed by the night table?”

“But that's MY bed!” I cried.

Angel shook his head. “I don't want to be a bother,” he said. “I don't want to take Bernie's bed away from him.” He grinned at me. “I'll sleep UNDER the bed. Bernie won't even know I'm here.”

He dropped onto his hands and knees and looked under my bed. “It's a tight fit,” he said. “But I don't
mind. If it will make Bernie happy.”

“Angel, you're so GOOD!” Mrs. Heinie gushed. Behind her thick glasses she had tears in her eyes. “Angel will take the bed. No more talk.”

Angel's grin grew wider.

Everyone knows I'm a talker, not a fighter. So why did I have the sudden urge to punch the kid in the stomach?

Maybe because I knew what he was doing. He was trying to out-scheme me, the king of schemes. That angel act
had to be an act
.

The dude was too good to be true! I knew I had to keep my guard up. What was he
really
up to?

Mrs. Heinie turned to me. “I'll get you a cot, Bernie. I'm sure you'll get used to it.”

“A c-c-cot?” I stammered. “But I'm allergic—”

She pressed a hand over my mouth to shut me up. “And now that you're sharing your room,” she said, “take down that
awful
poster on the wall.”

I spun around. Could she be talking about my
favorite
poster? The big color poster of ME?

“I can't take it down,” I told her. “Every time I look at it, it
inspires
me. It reminds me to be GREAT!”

Angel dug around in his suitcase. “I brought a poster that might inspire us BOTH!” he said. He pulled out a poster and unrolled it. Then he held it up for us to see.

A poster of naked angels with white, fluffy wings and baby faces, floating in the clouds.

I wanted to hurl. Naked angels hanging on
my
wall?!

Mrs. Heinie clapped her hands together. “How
beautiful
!” she cried. “Here, Angel, I'll help you put that up.”

They pulled down the awesome Bernie Bridges poster and carried it to the closet. Then they hung the naked, baby-faced angel poster in its place.

My head swam. The room spun in front of me.

This CAN'T be happening to me! What am I going to DO?

Mrs. Heinie patted Angel on the shoulder. She stepped back to admire the poster. I could see that Angel had her wrapped around his little finger.

What was his angle? I knew he was up to
something
.

Before I could duck away, Angel put an arm around my shoulders. “Bernie is such a cool guy,” he said to Mrs. H. “I think we're going to be
best
friends—forever.”

 

Yuck.

 

“Bernie could
use
a friend like you,” Mrs. Heinie replied.

“About that cot—” I said.

“Mrs. Heinie, I
love
that awesome sweater you're wearing,” Angel said. “What color is that? Lime green?”

Actually, it was
puke
green. But Mrs. Heinie was eating up Angel's compliment. The kid was stealing my act!

“I was just going to say that,” I told Mrs. H. “That shade of green goes so well with your…uh…skin.”

“Bernie, I'm counting on you to help Angel move in,” she said. She smiled at Angel. “Let me know if there's anything I can do for you, Sweet-ums.”

Sweet-ums?

You've gotta be
joking
!

She turned and walked off down the hall.

Angel picked up a stack of neatly folded T-shirts. “Is there a dresser drawer I could use?” he asked. “Or is it all full with your stuff?”

“Well…” I started.

“If it's full,” he said, “I can keep all my clothes in a cardboard box.”

Dudes, do you
believe
this kid?!

“I think I can spare half a drawer,” I said. “Half the
bottom
drawer.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” he cried. “Everyone told me you're an awesome dude!”

“Well, yeah. That's true,” I said. “Well…go ahead. Take a
whole
drawer.”

What did I care? He wouldn't be here for long.

Once I got the Bernie B. brain into motion, I knew I could get Angel flying out of here. No problem.

I looked across the hall. Feenman, Crench, and Belzer weren't in their room.

When I turned back, I saw that Angel had tacked up another poster. A poster of Angel—wearing wings and a halo over his head.

 

Oh, puke!

 

I pinched myself really hard. I
had
to be dreaming this!

He grinned at me. “I see you're admiring my poster. I'm so, so, so glad you like it.”

I shut my eyes, trying to make him—
and
the poster—disappear. No luck. When I opened them, he was sitting at my computer, typing hard.

I hurried over. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I'm e-mailing my
brother, Evan Lee,” he said. He typed some more. “I'm telling him what an awesome roommate I have.”

I rolled my eyes. “Evan Lee Goodeboy? Are you
kidding
me?”

“Then I'm gonna e-mail my other brother,” Angel said. “His name is
also
Angel Goodeboy.”

I stared at him. He has the same name as
you
?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah. We're twins. Twin angels. Ha-ha.”

Was he putting me on?

“And your parents couldn't think of
another
name for him?” I asked.

“I guess they just like Angel,” he said. He typed for a while.

I started to leave the room—and then stopped. “Whoa! Wait a minute!” I cried. “My History report. I left it on the computer.”

He scrunched up his face. “Oh, my gosh and goodness!” he said in a whisper. “Was that your work? I think I accidentally
deleted
it.”

I started to choke. I grabbed my throat. “D-d-deleted?” I gasped. “I…I worked
three weeks
on that report!”

Angel jumped up. “I'm SOOOOOO sorry!” he said. “I can't believe I did that. I was bad. BAD!”

I squinted at him. Was he for REAL?

“So sorry! So sorry! So sorry!” he cried, hopping up and down. “My bad! My bad! I have to punish myself!”

He started banging his forehead against the wall. THUD, THUD, THUD-THUD.

I leaped across the room. I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to pull him away from the wall. As I was tugging, Feenman and Crench burst into the room.

“What's up, Bernie?” Feenman asked. “Why are you banging that kid's head against the wall?”

“Me? Banging?” I said. “No way! You see—”

“What are you doing to the poor guy?” Crench asked.

Angel had tears running down his cheeks. His forehead was bright red from all the banging. “It's okay,” he sobbed. “He didn't mean it. Really. He didn't mean to hurt me. He was just kidding around.”

Feenman and Crench led Angel over to the bed. “You've got a pretty good bump on your head,” Feenman said.

Crench turned to me. “Bernie, who
is
this kid? Why were you giving his head a workout?”

“I didn't
touch
him!” I said.

“That's right,” Angel said. “It was all my fault. Don't blame him. He just didn't want to share his computer.”

Feenman and Crench glared at me.

“I'm new here,” Angel said. “At my old school we all shared.”

“You can use my laptop,” Crench said. “The
b
and
d
keys are broken. But who uses
b
and
d
that much?”

“Thanks,” Angel said. “My name is Angel Goodeboy. Bernie and I are new best friends. And I know you guys will be good friends, too.”

I couldn't stand it. Couldn't Feenman and Crench see what a phony this kid was? He was acting all innocent. But he was evil. I
knew
he was evil.

I had to get out of there. I watched Feenman and Crench trying to cheer up Angel, and it made my stomach heave.

I hurried outside to get some fresh air.

And as I passed the girls' dorm, I saw April-May June. Her blond ponytail waved in the wind. Her blue eyes sparkled like jewels. Dudes, are you beginning to see how I feel about April-May?

She's the hottest girl in school. And she feels the same way about me. She just doesn't know it yet.

“April-May—wait up!” I shouted. “Hey—wait up!”