Philip and the Angel (9781452416144) Read Free

work!
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    Behind Angel’s house lay an open,
grassy backyard, some bushes, and the backyard of the house on the
next street over. The stray dog Angel saw
must run around between all of the backyards , Philip
thought. Philip stood next to the tree separating Angel’s yard from
her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Beebe’s, yard. He inspected all of the
windows in Angel’s house, hoping to see her at one, but she wasn’t
there. What should he do now? The dog could be anywhere.
    “ Woof,” went Philip. “Woof. Woof.”
Philip listened for an answer but got none. Philip barked in a
louder voice. “Woof! Woof! Woof!”
    “ Well, hello little doggie.” Mrs.
Beebe, an older gray-haired woman, who lived alone, stood on her
back porch staring at him. She had a blue bandanna on her hair and
gardening tools in one hand. “Would the doggie like to be
petted?”
    Philip felt ridiculous. It was the first time
he’d ever been caught barking like a dog.
    “ I was just . . . trying something,”
Philip stammered.
    “ Was the doggie asking for a bone?” the
old woman cackled.
    “ No, no. I was . . . I gotta go.”
Philip hurried across the backyard and went out to the
sidewalk. Was the doggie asking for a
bone? Philip repeated. He felt so stupid. With Mrs.
Beebe digging in her garden, he wouldn’t be able to get the dog
even if it showed up. He decided to hide the food he’d taken and
try again tomorrow.
    But the next day, Sunday, his parents took
him to the mall to get new sneakers for the summer. Then they went
to the Chinese restaurant, Hong Fat’s Wok, to eat. After dinner, he
settled down to do his homework for Monday. He thought he might try
to sneak out for a while afterwards, but his mother called him into
the laundry room. When he got there, he saw she had those lines
above her nose again.
    “ Philip, what is this . . .? Ugh! What
is this . . . stuff in your pants pocket?”
    The runaway meatball! He’d forgotten he’d
stuffed it into his pocket yesterday.
    “ It looks like ground meat. Did you put
meat in your pocket?”
    “ Oh, yeah. I forgot. I put a meatball
in my pocket. In case I got hungry. You know. Like later, after my
sandwich.”
    “ You put a meatball into your pocket?”
his mother repeated in astonishment.
    “ Just one.”
    “ Just one,” his mother repeated.
“Philip, would you like to put your hand into this pocket and take
out what you put in there?”
    Philip looked at the mess on his mother’s
fingers.
    “ No, thank you,” he said
softly.
    “ This is . . . how could you . . .?”
Philip’s mother silently shook her head and Philip walked away. It
didn’t seem like a good time to ask to go out.
    The next day after school Philip walked by
Angel’s house. Emery had to go home to walk his dog. He didn’t want
to talk to Emery anyway after spending half his lunch period trying
to make up a story to explain to Emery why he only ate the bread
and not the meat from his ham sandwich. Angel was nowhere in sight,
so Philip walked around her house and into the wide space of
backyards. There, as if by magic, stood the dog Angel had
described, sniffing in an open garbage can, three houses down.
Philip tossed his school bag off his shoulder and scuffled around
inside until he found his supply of meat and the short rope and
noose he’d prepared. He walked slowly toward the dog. When he got
one house away from the rooting dog, the dog looked his way.
    “ Meat,” Philip whispered. “Meatballs,
turkey and ham. Want some?”
    The dog twisted its head and studied Philip.
Philip tossed one of the meatballs gently toward the dog. The dog
watched the meatball roll to a stop. It took the few steps needed
to reach the meatball, then bent down and sniffed at it. Slurp! The
meatball disappeared. The dog looked expectantly at Philip.
    “ Come here.” Philip held the other
meatball between his fingers. The dog walked over and sniffed it.
Slurp! Gone. It disappeared so fast into the