“No.”
“She has a bumper sticker on her car that says SAVE THE WHALES, don’t you, Mr. Bone?” said Gary.
“That’s neat!” said Angeline.
“No, it’s not neat,” said Miss Turbone. “It’s terrible. The whales are all being killed off. Soon there may be none left.”
“Why are they being killed?” asked Gary.
“Because people are selfish and uncaring,” said Miss Turbone.
“But what do they do with them after they kill them?” Gary asked.
“Mostly they use them for dog food,” said Miss Turbone, “and perfume.”
“Perfume!” exclaimed Gary. “Who would want to smell like a whale?”
“I would,” said Angeline. “I like the way whales smell. But that’s no reason to kill them.”
Miss Turbone thought about asking Angeline if she’d ever smelled a whale but thought better of it. She’d never even seen the ocean—how could she smell a whale? And yet Miss Turbone didn’t doubt that Angeline knew exactly what a whale smelled like. “The perfume they make doesn’t smell like whales,” she said instead. “There’s a very sweet-smelling substance inside the whales called ambergris. That’s what they make the perfume from.”
“Oh,” said Angeline. “Well, I don’t want to smell like that.”
“Boy, I bet you they sure get a lot of dog food out of one whale,” said Gary.
“Not really,” said Miss Turbone. “That’s what makes it even worse.”
“It’s not the dogs’ fault,” said Angeline. “They don’t know they are eating whales.”
“No, it’s people’s fault,” said Miss Turbone. “And it’s not just the whales. It affects everything. Every time a whale is killed, we’re all a little worse off.”
Angeline knew what she was talking about. Everyone feels it in one way or another. She was talking about the balance of the whole.
Eight
Mr. Bone Let Me Feed Her Fish
Abel and Gus finished their rounds, drove to the dump, and then waited in line behind all the other garbage trucks. It was the same thing every day. All the garbage collectors in the county finished at just about the same time so there was always a traffic jam at the dump. They heard the guy in the truck behind them blast his horn, as if he thought that would help speed things up.
“I don’t know how to talk to her,” said Abel.
“Angelini?” questioned Gus. “Come on, she’s easy to talk to.”
“For you,” said Abel. “You two always hit it off great together. She likes you a lot.”
“She likes you too,” said Gus.
“I don’t know,” said Abel. “I guess so. I mean, I’m her father and I know she loves me, but that doesn’t mean she likes me. I can’t seem to talk to her. We never say more than a few words to each other.”
“All you have to do is talk to her,” said Gus. “There’s nothing to it.”
“She’s been drinking salt water,” said Abel. “Last night, she sat on the floor reading a book with a glass of salt water at her side. Why would she drink that?”
“I guess she likes the way it tastes,” said Gus.
“What’s there to taste?” asked Abel. “It’s just salt and water.”
Gus shrugged.