Philip and the Angel (9781452416144) Read online

  PHILIP AND THE ANGEL

  BY

  JOHN PAULITS

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © May, 2011, John Paulits

  Cover Art Copyright © 2011, Charlotte Holley

  Gypsy Shadow Publishing

  Lockhart, TX

  www.gypsyshadow.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this eBook are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  For Doris Moriarty

  Chapter One

  “Philip, why don’t you go out and play? The rain stopped half an hour ago.”

  Philip lay on the sofa reading The Sorcerer’s Stone. He looked over to the window then up at his mother. “Do I have to? Harry Potter’s in trouble.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. You have to or pretty soon you’ll be in trouble. Here.” She took his book and spread it open upside down on the coffee table to save his page. “Get some air. You haven’t been out of the house all week except to go to school.”

  “It’s been raining all week. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “I have to clean and you’re always in the room I’m cleaning next.”

  Philip sighed. Emery, his best friend, had called earlier to say he had a secret to show him. He couldn’t simply tell him about it, so Philip shouldn’t even ask.

  Philip did ask, but no matter how many times Philip begged his friend to stop being so mysterious, Emery wouldn’t. He kept a secret better than anybody Philip knew.

  “I’ll go see what Emery’s doing. He’s got something to show me.”

  “Good idea,” said his mother as she bustled out of the living room.

  Philip swung his feet to the floor and put on his sneakers while he listened to his mother doing the housework. It didn’t look like much fun being a grown-up, but then fourth grade wasn’t all that much fun, either. School would be over in another month, though, and then summer. He finished tying his sneakers and left.

  The wet grass glistened and puddles shimmered everywhere. The sun felt good. Plus a rainbow arced across the sky! Philip walked along toward Emery’s house and studied the rainbow, a really colorful one, a rainbow better than any Philip remembered ever seeing. He followed it across the sky until it disappeared behind the house in front of him. He noticed someone in the window of the house waving to him. Philip waved back before realizing it was that girl again.

  The girl’s forehead pressed against the living room window screen.

  “Hi,” she called.

  Philip stopped walking. Who was this girl? She’d moved to the neighborhood a while ago, yet he never saw her in school. He’d only seen her at different windows of her house staring out at the neighborhood. She’d begun waving to him, and he waved back. Now, she wanted to talk to him.

  “Wait,” she called and disappeared from the window. A moment later she came out the front door. She looked about the same age as Philip and had long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. As she stood there in her jeans and pink T-shirt looking at him, Philip felt nervous.

  “I’m allowed out a little today,” the girl said.

  “Because the rain stopped?” Philip asked.

  “No. No. I feel better today.”

  “Were you sick?”

  “I’m always sick.”

  This confused Philip.

  “Where do you go to school? I never see you at my school.”

  “I don’t go to school. I have a teacher who comes to my house on mornings when I feel all right.”

  “You never go to school?”

  The girl shook her head, and the ponytail waggled behind her. “What’s your name? I know where you live. The white house down there. Your father drives the blue car.”

  “Philip. I’m Philip Felton.”

  “Hi, I’m Angel.”

  “Angel?”

  The girl shrugged. “It’s what my parents named me. Angel. We moved here a little while ago.”

  “I know,” said Philip. He remembered being awakened one Saturday morning by the noise of a giant truck unloading furniture.

  A woman appeared at the front door. “Angel. Don’t stay out too long. Come on back now.”

  “My mom. Thinks I’m made of glass or something. Gotta go. I’ll watch you from the window,” said Angel, and she turned and walked back inside the house.

  Philip continued on to Emery’s house. She didn’t go to school because she was always sick? She doesn’t look sick, Philip thought. And her mother lets her out for five minutes at a time? Weird.

  Emery’s voice interrupted Philip’s thoughts. “Philip, don’t turn around. Don’t turn. Don’t turn.”

  Philip froze. “Why can’t I turn, Emery?”

  “I have my surprise with me.”

  There was a small noise. “Erf.”

  “Okay, you can look.”

  Philip turned and saw Emery walking a tiny black and brown dog with a long body and short legs.

  “What’s this?” Philip asked in surprise.

  “It’s a dog.”

  “I know it’s a dog.”

  “A dachshund.”

  “Why do you have it?”

  “That’s my surprise. My dad got it for me. It’s my new dog.”

  Chapter Two

  “Your dad got you a dog!”

  “Yeah. He said my mom and him were busy with my two baby sisters so I needed a companion.”

  Philip thought a moment. “How about me?”

  “You want my dad to get you a dog, too?”

  “No. I thought I was your companion.”

  “You are, but my dad said I needed a four-legged companion.”

  Philip looked down.

  “Maybe if you were twins . . .” Emery grinned.

  “What did you name it?”

  “It’s a he, not an it, and his name is Hansel.”

  “Hansel. Well, what does he do? Does he do tricks? Make him do something.”

  “The only thing he knows how to do now is eat and poop, but he already finished.” Emery held up a small white plastic bag.

  “What’s in there?”

  “When he goes, somebody has to clean it up.”

  “That’s what’s in there?”

  Emery nodded.

  Philip stepped more toward Emery’s other side away from the bag.

  “Where’d your dad get him?” Philip watched Hansel run in all directions to the limit of his leash and smell everything he could get his nose on.

  “The shelter. Somebody didn’t want him. But he’s still a puppy. Six months, the man at the shelter said.”

  “Let’s go to your house to play with him. We can teach him some real tricks.” Philip kept a suspicious eye on the plastic bag in Emery’s hand.

  “Can’t. I’m walking him ’cause we’re going to my aunt’s house. He’s comin
g with us.”

  Philip squatted and petted Hansel. Hansel licked his hand.

  “I think he likes me.”

  “There’s my dad, waving. I gotta go. Come over tomorrow.”

  Philip watched as Emery walked away. He turned and began his slow way back to his house. A dog. A pet. He’d never had a pet. His mother said they were too messy and needed too much attention, but if Emery could take care of a dog, why couldn’t he? He thought a moment of the white plastic bag again, but said to himself with determination that he could do anything Emery could do. But how could he get his mother to agree? She’d never let him have a pet.

  “Hi.”

  Philip turned his head. Angel again.

  “Hi,” said Philip.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Angel had her forehead against the screen in her living room window again. “Come on over here so I don’t have to talk so loud.”

  Philip walked up her front path and across the grass to the window.

  “Want me to tell you what you’re thinking?”

  “You can’t. Nobody can.”

  Angel smiled. “You’re wishing you had a dog, but probably your parents won’t let you.”

  Philip’s eyes stretched wide.

  Angel laughed. “I’m right, eh?”

  “Yes, but how . . .?”

  “Am I starting to scare you?” Angel made a scary face and turned her hands into claws and scratched them against the screen.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I watch stuff from my window. It’s about all I ever get to do. I saw you with your friend. What’s his name . . . I think I heard you call him Emery.”

  “Right, Emery. His father got him the dog from the shelter because he’s got two little baby sisters, and his mother and father don’t have much time for him.”

  “And you’re jealous.”

  “It’s not jealous. I like dogs, too.” He told Angel about his mother’s opinion of pets.

  “You’ve got a problem,” said Angel. She smiled. “But just like I know what you’re thinking, I can solve the most impossible problems.” Again she made a face and scratched at the screen with her make-believe claws.

  “Stop it.” Weird girl, Philip thought. “You can solve my problem and get me a dog? You are starting to scare me if you think you can do that.”

  Angel beckoned him closer. Philip moved right up next to the screen, and Angel whispered, “Your mom and dad won’t buy you a dog, right?”

  “Won’t buy me any kind of pet.”

  “So, the only way for you to get a pet is to take one home with you.”

  “I can’t just buy some animal and walk in the door with it. They’d take it right back. Besides, I only have seventy-five cents.”

  “Listen.” Angel made her voice very low. “A small, tan stray dog comes around in the afternoons. I see it all the time from my bedroom window.” She pointed toward the rear of the house and upward. “If you go back there this afternoon, go every afternoon until it shows up, you’ll see it. Take some food with you.”

  “Food?”

  “Meat. From the refrigerator. Leftovers.”

  Philip nodded. “Okay.”

  “Make the dog follow you home. Put on a sad face and tell your mom this poor stray dog followed you home, and you’d like to take care of it. Promise to keep the dog in the garage. Get your mother used to the idea, and little-by-little get the dog into the house, and little-by-little it becomes your pet. Ta-da!”

  “I don’t know,” Philip said uncertainly. “You sure this dog comes around all the time?”

  “I see it a lot.”

  “Did you just think up that plan?” Impressive, Philip thought.

  Angel shrugged. “I’d like a pet, too, but my parents think I’m too sick to have one. They think a pet will make me sicker. They have a long list of reasons. It’s a plan I thought up for myself, but I can’t use it. I’m stuck in the house all the time. So I give it to you. No charge.”

  “I’ll try it. I’m going to try it. Thanks, Angel.” Philip turned and started away.

  “Good luck,” Angel called after him. More quietly she said, “You’re going to need it.”

  Philip ran toward home. He had plans to make.

  Chapter Three

  Philip went straight to the kitchen. He didn’t hear a sound in the house, not even a peep from Becky, his baby sister, so he went to the refrigerator and opened the door. They hadn’t eaten all of the spaghetti and meatballs his mother cooked the night before, and he saw six meatballs sitting in a bowl of tomato sauce. He reached into the tomato sauce and took three meatballs. He shook the meatballs over the bowl to get off as much sauce as he could, then he moved to the kitchen sink to rinse the rest of the sauce off the meatballs. Next, he ripped a paper towel from the roll which hung alongside the sink. He put the towel on the kitchen table and put the meatballs on top of it so they could dry off.

  What else can I use? he wondered. He pulled open the refrigerator door again and searched. Lunchmeat! Sliced turkey. He took the slices of turkey to the kitchen table and put them next to the meatballs. He wondered how many he could take without his mother asking questions.

  “Are you hungry, Philip?”

  “Mom! Uh, yeah, I’m making a sandwich.”

  “Don’t you think you’ll need some bread?”

  “Bread? Yeah, bread. I need bread.” He went to the bread box on the counter next to the refrigerator and grabbed a loaf of bread.

  “A cinnamon twirl turkey sandwich?” His mother eyed him suspiciously.

  Philip looked at the bread he’d taken. Cinnamon bread, his father’s favorite breakfast.

  Philip felt his face redden as he returned the bread to the bread box and took out the white bread his mother knew he liked.

  “And what kind of sandwich are you making?”

  Philip saw his mother looking at the meatballs and turkey slices. She had a funny look on her face. Those little lines that appeared above her nose right before she started in with a million questions were getting deeper by the second.

  “It’s a new sandwich. Emery told me about it. A turkey-meatball layer cake sandwich.”

  “Turkey-meatball layer cake sandwich?”

  Philip knew danger loomed when his mother repeated what he said.

  “Yeah, it’s supposed to be good.”

  “It’s supposed to be good?”

  Uh oh. Twice. But her nose lines were going away.

  “I’m going to make it now and try it. I’ll clean up. Don’t worry.”

  His mother took a deep breath and shook her head.

  “Make sure you do. I have to stop over Mrs. Moriarty’s for a few minutes. I don’t want to see a mess here when I come back.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. There won’t be.”

  His mother walked out of the kitchen, and Philip sighed with relief. He unwrapped the turkey and took out four slices. He re-wrapped the turkey and thought about the bread. It was a new, unopened loaf. His mother might notice if he hadn’t taken any bread for his sandwich. He opened the plastic bag, moved the heel of the bread out of the way, and took the first two slices. Where could he put them so his mother wouldn’t notice? Then Philip realized he felt a little hungry. He pulled off the crust from the two pieces of bread—that wouldn’t make his mother suspicious because he always did that—and tossed the crust into the trash. He squashed up the two pieces of white bread into the tightest balls he could and shoved both of them into his mouth.

  Before he could start wrapping the meatballs and turkey in the paper towel, he heard, “Hey, Flipper. Whatcha doin’? Lunchtime?”

  His father walked into the kitchen, Becky in one arm. The baby made some funny noises and put her hand on her father’s mouth. Mr. Felton turned his head to get the baby’s hand out of his mouth.

  “What are you making?”

  Philip answered with his mouth still full of bread. “I’m maggin samdge.”

  “You’re what?”

&
nbsp; “Samdge. Samdge. Maggin samdge.” He chewed as fast as he could. “Samdge.” He lifted the loaf of bread to show his father.

  “Oh, sandwich.”

  Philip nodded and swallowed. Pshew.

  Philip and his father stood looking at each other.

  “Well?” his father said. “Make your sandwich. Or as they say in the Donovan Elementary School, ‘samdge.’”

  Philip had no choice. As his father bounced the baby, Philip stuck two of the meatballs between two slices of bread. He looked up. His father still eyed him.

  “Aren’t you going to put anything else on your sandwich?”

  Philip shook his head.

  “What’s the turkey for?”

  “Uh, in case I’m still hungry after I eat this sandwich then I can make a turkey sandwich.”

  “Oh. You leave nothing to chance, I see.” His father bounced the baby some more.

  Philip and his father looked at each other again. Mr. Felton smiled at his son absent-mindedly as he switched the baby to his other arm.

  Philip bit into his sandwich, careful to get bread only. He didn’t want to waste the meatballs.

  “All right. All right.” Philip’s father said this to Becky. “I’ll take you. How can someone who doesn’t talk be so clear in her requests? I should never have let her know there were such things as playgrounds.”

  Philip swallowed a second mouthful of bread. “Bye. Go have a good time, Dad.”

  “Tell your mom I went to the park.”

  “I will. Bye. Bye now. Bye.”

  “Good-bye already.” His father left the room.

  Philip breathed a deep sigh of relief. Now, maybe, he could get on with his plan. He wrapped up the meatballs and turkey slices, but as he lifted the package, one of the meatballs rolled out and fell on the floor. He picked it up and tried again, but no matter how many times he wrapped his package, he couldn’t get the third meatball to stay put. He shoved the runaway meatball into his pants pocket and put the bread back into the bread box. The table looked clean so he picked up his package and headed to the door. As he left his house and walked toward Angel’s house, Philip shook his head. He never knew getting a dog could be so much work!