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“What’s smalayoo?” asked Gus.

“I haven’t a clue,” said Abel.

They walked to their cars. “Oh, sorry,” said Gus, as he purposely stepped on Abel’s foot while he secretly placed a banana peel on top of his head.

Angeline made herself a glass of salt water and brought it into the living room. The one-eyed pirate brought his prisoners to a secret cove, where he tried to think of the best way to kill them. He and his crew laughed and sang ribald songs as they drank rum and brandy. The sailor didn’t let on that he had managed to untie the rope around his hands.

Abel came home. “Don’t hug me until I take a shower,” he said.

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 wa

s 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.

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