The Rottenest Angel

Map

Morning Announcements

1.
“How You Doin'?”

2.
A Bad Allergy

3.
He Acts Like an Angel

4.
Best Friends

5.
Bang That Head!

6.
He Sniffs His Armpits

7.
Gaaaaack!

8.
Angel Is a Good Bird

9.
Breakfast in Bed

10.
The Great Man?

11.
A Secret Admirer

12.
Traitors

13.
Good Buddy

14.
“Isn't Angel Awesome?”

15.
How to Trap an Angel

16.
Scared Stiff

17.
Will the Pea Soup Ely?

18.
Sploooosh! Ploppppp!

19.
High-Stakes Uno

20.
Tell Me Another One

About the Author

Other Books by Rotten School Series

Copyright

About the Publisher

Good morning, Rotten Students. This is Headmaster Upchuck wishing everyone a Rotten Day. Here are this morning's important announcements….

 

Congratulations to the volunteers in Mr. Boring's Science class for proving that it is possible to rub the skin off your butt by sliding down the banister.

 

Ms. Sally Monella announces that the annual Spring Rain Festival has been canceled due to rain.

 

For a long time, our second-grade choir has been unhappy with its name—the Whining Wusses. The choir has finally found a new name. The kids voted to call themselves the Stone-Faced Zombie Cannibals.

 

An announcement from the Dining Hall. Chef Baloney
knows
there are fleas in the mashed potatoes. He'd like to tell all the students that it's okay to remove them with your fingers.

 

And finally, Coach Manley Bunz wants to remind the stupid idiots on the soccer team that it's bad sportsmanship to call people names.

A beautiful morning at Rotten School. The apple trees shimmered in the morning sunlight. The grass on the Great Lawn still sparkled with dew.

I strolled happily, singing the Rotten School Song to myself:

It was Saturday, and I—Bernie Bridges—didn't
have a care in the world. Did I know that BIG trouble—with a capital BIG—was just minutes away? No with a capital NO.

“Dudes! Wait for Bernie B.!” I shouted. I waved to my three buddies and ran to catch up with them. Feenman and Crench had one of Belzer's shoes. They were tossing it back and forth, playing keep-away. Fun-loving dudes!

“How you doin'?” I asked.

“How YOU doin'?” Feenman replied.

“How YOU doin'?” Belzer asked.

“How you doin'?” I said.

“How YOU doin'?”

“How YOU doin'?”

We usually do this for at least half an hour. I don't know why we think it's so funny. But it really cracks us up.

“How you doin'?”

“How YOU doin'?”

Saturday morning is when we go to the Student Center to study. Mainly we study air hockey, pinball, and the new PlayStation games. We don't like to mess up our weekends doing homework.

I checked out my three friends. Feenman and Crench are tall and thin and kinda dance when they walk—real loose. Belzer is short and pudgy. He looks like his name—he's definitely a
Belzer
.

I shook my head. “Yo—you dudes are looking shabby,” I said. “What's up with your clothes? They're totally wrinkled—and they don't even fit!”

Feenman sighed. “Bernie, our room is too small,” he said. “All three of us are jammed in so tight, we have to take turns breathing!”

“It used to be a broom closet,” Belzer said.

“So? What's that got to do with your clothes?” I asked.

“There's no room for a closet. We keep all our stuff in a big pile on the floor,” Crench said. “We can't tell whose is whose!”

“Look—I'm wearing Feenman's shirt,” Belzer said. The shirt came down to his knees. He raised his arms. “See these armpit stains, Bernie? They're not mine—they're Feenman's!”

“It's so crowded,” Feenman said, “we have to sleep standing up!”

“Dudes, I hope you're not complaining,” I said. “I
hope you're not hinting that I should share
my
room.”

Feenman squinted at me. “Well, Big B, you ARE all alone in that huge room….”

“You
know
I need a lot of space,” I said. “I need space for plotting and planning and scheming.” I put a hand on Feenman's shoulder. “And who do I plot and plan and scheme for? I do it all for
you
guys, right?”

“Right,” Belzer agreed. “Who convinced Nurse Hanley that Skittles are actually vitamin pills? Bernie did.”

“That was a good thing,” Feenman and Crench muttered.

“And who got Mrs. Heinie to give us extra credit if we don't burp up our breakfast in class?” Belzer asked. “Bernie did.”

“That was a good thing, too,” Feenman and Crench said.

“I'm always thinking of you guys,” I said. “That's why I need the extra space.”

And that's what this story is about—my extra space. Because guess what? An hour or two later I
walked back to our dorm—Rotten House. I climbed the stairs to my room on the third floor.

And, yo! I stopped in the doorway—and stared at another boy unpacking a suitcase.

He had wavy, blond hair that glowed in the sunlight pouring through my window. He had a round face with big, blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He turned to me and flashed me a warm smile, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Who—who ARE you?” I stammered.

“I'm Angel Goodeboy,” he said.

“No. Really,” I said. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?”