Author's Note: This originally was not a Suite Life fanfic, but I decided to make it one. I don't own Cody or Zack or Carey. I do own the plotline and everybody else. There is no romance in this story, probably because I stink so badly at writing romance that it's sort of amazing. It's just sort of a small friendship story that I think is kind of lame, but I guess you guys might like it.

It was one of those lazy August days. You know what I mean. It's quiet, but the kids outside are yelling, running around in the sprinklers, the adults are inside watching TV. The sun was shining, but everybody moved sluggishly. A couple of kids ran around outside, but I just felt like sitting in the garage and watching as everything went by. The butterflies drifted from flower to flower, and time seemed to stop. I was staring out, not bored, not interested, but just watching. Little did I know that this day would change my life forever.

I was so out of it, just staring out into the distance, sitting in one of those chairs that you can stretch out, you know – the type you bring to the beach - that it was awhile before I heard the voice calling. In fact, I guess she probably called about five times. I finally heard her when she got up in my face and asked in an innocent voice, "Do you have a bicycle pump?"

I was so startled, I fell out of my chair and landed hard on the ground. "What?"

"Do you have a bicycle pump?"

Yeah, sure I did. But she just came out of nowhere, just landed right in front of me. I'd never even seen her before, this girl with bright brown eyes and dark blackish-brownish hair with a bright white helmet, staring down at me. "Yeah, sure," I said, breathlessly.

"Are you alright?" she asked, putting out her hand to help me up.

I blushed. "Yeah, I'm alright. You just scared me a bit, that's all."

She smiled. "I get that a lot."

"Let me go get the pump then," I told her.

"Ok," she said. "I just asked you because you look like one of those people who would have a pump in your garage on the second shelf near the hammers."

I was stunned. That's where the pump was located – the exact location. "How did you know that?"

She shrugged. "It's just one of those things I know."

I tried to look unconcerned, and went into the garage, getting the pump. I helped her pump the wheels on her bike – a pure white one, white wheels, white spokes, just pure white (no logos or anything) – and I asked her, "How do you keep your bike so clean?"

It was a reasonable question. My last couple of bikes were bent, battered, broken – so mud covered and filthy, I gave up on riding them. I used my skateboard or my scooter instead.

"Oh, it's just another thing that I do," she replied.

I shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Just wondering," I told her.

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "Hey, do you want to get some ice cream?"

"What?" I said, arching one of my eyebrows. "Ice cream?"

"Yes," she said. "You look like someone who likes ice cream."

In fact, I loved ice cream. I looked at her again. "Are you a spy or something?"

"No, it's just one of those things I know."

This was going to be one of those key, mysterious lines that I would hear for the next year. I didn't know that at the time, of course.

"Sure," I said. "Let's get some ice cream. Just wait and let me get my skateboard."

"Ok," she replied.

I went in, got my skateboard, and yelled to my mom, "I'm going to get some ice cream, ok Mom?"

"Honey?" she asked. "Where? Who are you going with?"

But I was already gone, with a girl I barely even knew, to go to – of all places – a Baskin 31 Robbins.

xxx

"Who are you anyway?" I asked her, when we'd reached the Baskin 31 Robbins.

"Call me Angel," she replied, locking her bike outside and entering the store.

If I had had any sense I would have noticed something. She didn't say her name was Angel or anything – Call me Angel – but I didn't see anything. I walked inside where she was waiting in line, and got next to her.

"Ok, Angel," I said.

"Yes, Cody?" she turned to me.

"Ok, how do you know my name?"

"You looked like a Cody to me," was her answer.

"But how do you know everything?"

"It's just one of those things I know." She looked at me like it was a fact of life, and I accepted it as a fact of life. There was nothing but truth in those eyes.

She turned to the ice cream man whose tag read 'James'.

"Max, may I please have some Pralines n' Cream on a sugar cone, and my friend over here would like a scoop of Rocky Road with hot fudge in a bowl."

I debated over whether I should ask how she knew the order I got every time I went here, but decided against it. I did however, ask her why she called the guy Max when his name was James.

"It's his real name," she told me simply.

Max was shocked. "Well yeah it is, I lost my smock today, so I had to borrow James's. How do you know that?"

"It's just one of those things I know."

Max didn't say anything, seeing he was busy with the next customer, but he glanced over at her every once in awhile.

"Angel?"

"Yes Cody?"

"Do you want to go to the beach?"

And that started my last week of the summer. I didn't see/call/talk to any of my other friends, I just went everywhere with this strange girl. At the end of the day, I'd go back home, she'd leave and say, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

My mom was so glad I was friends with the "polite little girl." It was true. Angel had the best manners of anyone I had ever known. She wasn't funny or anything, but she was just so nice. It seemed impossible that anyone could be so friendly. I guess that's one of the reasons I wanted to stay with her – I wanted to see if she would do anything to hurt anyone, but she never did.

The day before school started again, (I'd be a sophomore), that was the first time I'd ever seen Angel help someone. Sure, she helped a lot of people, now that I look back – and I remember these others too, seeing how important they have become to me, but I remember this one so vividly because this person was the first one.

I was coming with her to get ice cream. We got it every day. She varied with her flavors, but I was consistent with my Rocky Road. Actually I didn't have a choice. Angel ordered for me every day. Max had become familiar in looking out for us.

Anyway, there was a girl (eleven years old, as I learned later) – who looked younger than her age. She was the type of person I would have never paid attention to – fragile and pale with thin blond hair that was almost white, and light blue eyes. She was sitting on a bench (near the park, another one of the places Angel and I visited almost every day) crying.

I went on ahead. Tears made me nervous – and I didn't exactly like to listen to other people's problems. I was selfish in that way – Angel would change that, as you will see later.

I'd gone about two blocks before I noticed that Angel wasn't with me. Slightly alarmed, I started back, and there she was, next to the girl. She looked at me, like she knew that I'd be back, and then turned to the girl.

"Gracie," she said softly, "this is Cody, ok?"

And that's how I met Gracie. She didn't look up at me or anything. Angel reached over, put a hand on my arm, and put me in front of Gracie. Her fragile arms reached up and ran her fingers over my face. I drew back, shocked, and that was how I realized that Gracie was blind. Gracie leaned back in the chair, and tears ran down from her sightless blue eyes.

Angel looked at me with those wide solemn eyes, and I saw the hurt in them.

"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered, leaning towards Gracie again. "I just didn't know at first."

Gracie gave me a watery smile.

"You can feel now," I told her, looking at Angel for some reassurance. Angel smiled.

Gracie finished. "I'm really sorry," I told her. "I really, really am, ok? Is it ok?"

Gracie didn't answer me. She nodded though.

"It would really be nice if you told me it I'm ok," I pleaded.

Gracie just nodded. And then I realized that this girl was also mute.

I awkwardly patted her on the back.

Angel bent towards the girl and looked at her eyes. For a second, I almost thought that she could see her.

"Duke's in a better place now, Gracie," Angel said. "It's dog heaven. I know. Believe me. So see you around, ok?"

We walked away. I was a bit shaken.

"Why was she crying?" I asked Angel when we were a distance away.

She looked at me. "Her guide dog, Duke, died."

I was silent. I even felt a little like crying myself, but of course I didn't. We walked for awhile, quietly for a distance.

"Do you think there really is a dog heaven?" I asked her.

"I know there's one."

"Do all dogs go to heaven?" I felt stupid asking this question, but somehow, I just had to know.

"Yes. They all do. Dogs can't help what they do in this life."

That was the end of it.

"Do you want to stay for dinner today?" I said.

"Yes," she answered. That was Angel. She always said 'yes,' not 'yeah,' or 'sure.'

I knew my mom would love to have her. It was true.

As we neared my house again, (a little yellow one with red shingles on top), I called, "Mom, Angel's staying for dinner."

"That's great, honey," she said. "I'll put out another plate then. Could you get Zack?"

"Sure Mom," I told her. "We have to get my brother," I said, turning to Angel.

She nodded.

I went up the stairs. I dreaded this job. It wasn't that my brother was evil or anything, but he could be really mean. I was afraid he might say something that hurt Angel. (I used to be really close to Zack, but ever since we went to high school, things have sort of changed. A lot. I mean, Zack's still my best friend and everything, but we don't really talk to each other at school. I'm sort of a dorky nerdy genius kid, and Zack's a jock).

You couldn't miss his room. His door was painted black, and scratched roughly into the wood was 'Zack'. There was always loud music blasting from his room. I knocked.

It usually took him a really long time to open the door, seeing that he was practically deaf from his music, so I just opened it. A rock came flying towards me. I ducked, and it left a hole in the wall instead. (Zack was always trying to throw things at me. He would be very surprised when he actually hit me. This you'll learn about later.)

"Zack," I said. "It's time for dinner."

My brother looks a lot like me—well, we are twins. Both of us are blonde and we have brown eyes. He had a larger build than me, but a lot of times, my brother's friends had come up and told me to come with them. Then they realized I wasn't my brother, and shoved me and told me, 'the little brother' (I was only younger by ten minutes), to go and get Zack.

"Angel," I said, "this is my brother Zack."

She smiled. "I'm Angel," she told my brother.

"Yeah," Zack yawned, "obviously." He looked her over. "Do you want to be the next pope or something?"

I flushed. Zack could be so rude.

Angel didn't even flinch. "It's time for dinner."

"I'll be down," Zack drawled.

I grabbed Angel by the arm, and pulled her out of my brother's room. "Sorry about that," I told her.

"Your brother's nice," she told me.

I gaped. "You crazy?"

"No. He's a good person," she said.

I didn't say anything. Luckily, I didn't have to. It was time for dinner. Zack came down about four minutes after we had started.

My mom gave Zack a look that said, We have a guest.

Zack flashed her an I don't really care look.

My mom glared We'll talk about this later.

Zack pulled out a chair and sat down. "So who are you Angel?"

My mom made a disgusted sound, but swallowed it up. "Where do you live Angel?"

Angel looked right at her. "I live at the orphanage. My parents died when I was ten."

My mom was speechless. (My parents were divorced. I don't know if I mentioned that before. Dad didn't live with us. Mom did singing performances at this restaurant for money. She actually got a pretty good amount of money). I was shocked too. I'd never asked her. I'd just simply accepted her as part of my life, even though I'd only known her for a week.

I tried to change the subject. "Um so…"

"I do have a brother," Angel told us.

My mom looked more relieved. "So, tell us about him."

"He's seventeen – two years older than me – and he has a job, so I don't see him that much, except for at nighttime. So usually, the orphanage people just let me go where I want, and I come back at night and I see my brother."

Eh. That wasn't much better.

Zack yawned. "And his name?"

"Eros."

Zack started. "What?"

"Eros."

"That's the Greek God of love," I informed him. I always knew things like this—I was sort of a scholastic nerdy dork/genius.

"No, Eros?" Zack said in an unbelieving voice.

"Yes," Angel said simply.

Zack let out a loud breath. "No, Eros is that freak who just comes out of nowhere when Drew and I play basketball. He is so weird."

My mom threw a murderous look at Zack, who ignored her.

"You're related to that guy?" he said, staring at Angel as if she had grown another head.

"Eros is my brother," she said, not flinching.

"This is getting too weird," Zack said, and he left the table and went into the other room.

My mom flushed. "Please forgive him," she told Angel.

"No, it's ok," she said, giving her one of those bright smiles.

"So Angel," my mom said, "maybe you could come over here again sometime."

"Yes," she said, smiling. "That'd be nice. But if you would kindly excuse me, Eros is picking me up."

This I had to see. Who was this Eros?

Angel slipped on her white tennis shoes, and headed for the door. My mom, perhaps as interested as I was, followed.

She went outside, and right as she got to the curb, a boy appeared. My mom and I did a double take, but that was right. One minute there was nothing, and the next second, there was a boy.

My jaw dropped open.

You know I told you what Angel looked like? Blackish-brownish hair, huge brown eyes, a sort of thin face, but not too long? Intense bangs brushing over her eyebrows? A sturdy frame, not too tall, at 5'4"? A cute smile.

Well, Eros—this guy could be a model if he wanted to. Dirty blonde hair, with the same intense bangs, long in the back, but all clean—not scraggly like Zack's hair. He was tall – maybe 6'1"? Plain white shirt, with stunningly white pants. He was clean cut. Large green eyes—well the eyes were the same—but a sharp nose, and a great smile. His teeth were bright white, just like his sisters, and he flashed a smile at my mom, and she knew that this was a model child.

This was the perfect older brother.

He was Angel's older brother.

They didn't look too much alike, but you could tell they had the same genes. The same clean look, the same politeness. Everything.

"How are you Mrs. Martin?" He nodded politely at my mother. "I'm very grateful about you watching Angel for me. I usually can spend more time with her, but work was getting very demanding. She tells me that you are a fine family, and I can tell that, just looking at you."

My mom was so pleased she didn't even ask about how he knew our last name. I thought that he probably had the same mysterious power as Angel.

So, how did we get this? Two kids—polite, well-spoken, and good-looking—yet from an orphanage with parents gone for five years? Most kids would have turned bitter at not being adopted, but these two had sort of a radiance that shown from them.

My mom fell in love with them. Model kids. Beautiful. And in an orphanage too!

Guess what she did.

Yes she did.

Review? What did she do? Can you guess? (Yeah, as I mentioned before there is not going to be romance. Probably).

-Finn