The World According to Humphrey Read online

  Ah, freedom! I dashed along the shiny floor. I darted between the tables and chairs. I stopped to nibble a peanut underneath Stop-Giggling-Gail’s chair. It tasted delicious and made the coolest crunching sound. I chewed and chomped and gnawed and nibbled. And when I stopped . . . I heard the sound.

  THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

  Just like the story Mrs. Brisbane had read us.

  THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

  Closer and closer down the hall, coming toward Room 26.

  Then RATTLE-SCRATCH. RATTLE-SCRATCH.

  THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

  Suddenly, I longed for the protective comfort of my cage. I dropped what was left of the peanut and scampered back. But when I got to the table, I thought a terrible thought. I had slid down the smooth, shiny leg, straight down. But how was I going to climb up again?

  I flung myself against the table leg, grabbed on and pushed UP-UP-UP. But I had only made a little progress when I began to slide DOWN-DOWN-DOWN. I was right back where I’d started.

  The rattling got louder. The sounds weren’t coming toward Room 26 anymore. They were coming in Room 26.

  Just then, I noticed a long cord running down from the blinds. Without hesitation, I leaped up and grabbed the cord and began swinging back and forth. My stomach churned and I wished I’d never touched that peanut. But with each swing, I got a little higher off the ground. As soon as I saw the edge of the table, I closed my eyes and dived toward it.

  Whoosh! I slid across the table and scampered into the cage. As I pulled the door behind me, I was suddenly blinded by light.

  The something had turned on the lights and was clomping across the floor. It was huge and heavy and coming right toward me.

  Just then, my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw the thing. It was a man!

  “Well, well, who have we here? A new student!” a voice boomed.

  The man was smiling down at me. My, that was a lovely piece of fur across his upper lip. A nice black mustache. He bent down to peer in at me.

  “I’m Aldo Amato. And who are you?”

  “I’m Humphrey . . . and you scared me half to death!” I told him. But as always, all that came out was “Squeak-squeak-squeak.”

  Aldo squinted at the sign on my cage.

  “Oh, you’re Humphrey! Hope I didn’t scare you half to death!” he said with a laugh.

  “I’ve just come to clean the room. I come every night. But where have you been?” he said. He rolled up a big cart with a bucket and mops and brooms and all kinds of bottles and rags on it.

  “Oh, that’s right,” he replied as if we were having a real conversation. “Mrs. Brisbane came back today. She’s a good teacher, you know, Humphrey. Been teaching here a long time. Wish I’d had a good teacher like her. Say . . . do you like music, Humphrey?”

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK.” I tried to tell him I love music almost as much as I love Ms. Mac. Suddenly, a song came blasting out of the radio on his cart and he set to work: sweeping, mopping, moving desks, dusting.

  But Aldo Amato didn’t just dust and mop. He spun and swayed. He hopped and leaped. He twisted and twirled.

  “How do you like the floor show?” Aldo asked me as he grasped the mop like a dancer holding his partner. “Get it? It’s a floor show! ’Cause I’m cleaning the floor!”

  Then Aldo roared the biggest roar of a laugh I’d ever heard. His big mustache shook so much, I thought it might fall off.

  “You like that? I’ll show you real talent, Humphrey!” Aldo Amato picked up his broom and very carefully stood it up with the very tip balancing on one outstretched fingertip. It wiggled from side to side, but Aldo moved with the broom and managed to keep it balanced straight in the air for an amazingly long time. When he was finished, he bowed deeply and said, “What do you think? I’m going to join the circus!” And he roared again.

  Then Aldo wiped his forehead with a big bandanna and sat down at the table where A.J. usually sits. “You know what, Humphrey? You’re such good company, I think I’ll take my dinner break with you. Do you mind?”

  “PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE,” I squeaked.

  Aldo pulled his chair right up to my cage.

  “Hey, you’re a handsome guy . . . like me. Here . . . a little bit of green won’t hurt you, will it?” He tore off a piece of lettuce from his sandwich and pushed it through the bars. Of course, I hid it in my cheek pouch.

  Aldo chuckled. “Good for you, Humphrey! Always save something for a rainy day.”

  The two of us shared a very pleasant meal as Aldo told me about how he used to a have a regular job where he worked during the day. But then, his company closed down and he couldn’t find a job for a long time. He couldn’t even pay the rent when he was lucky enough to get hired here at Longfellow School. He was glad to get the job, but it’s lonely working at night because his friends work during the day. They can never get together like they used to.

  I tried to squeak to him about all the creatures, like me, that are also nocturnal and Aldo listened.

  “I know you’re trying to tell me something, Humphrey, but I can’t tell what it is. Maybe you’re just saying I’m not alone after all, huh?”

  “Squeak.” He understood!

  Aldo stood up and threw his trash into the plastic bag on his cart.

  “Well, I’ve got a lot of other rooms to clean, my friend. But I’ll be back tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll take my dinner break with you again.”

  Aldo pushed his cart toward the door and reached for the light switch.

  “NO-NO-NO!” I squeaked, dreading the thought of being plunged into darkness again.

  Aldo stopped. “I hate to leave you in the dark. But if I don’t turn off the lights, I could lose my job.”

  He clomped back across the floor to the window. “Tell you what. I’ll leave the blinds open a little. There’s a nice light right outside your window.”

  After he turned off the lights and left, I chomped on the lettuce I’d saved and basked in the warm glow of the streetlight—and my new friendship with Aldo.

  TIP TWO: Hamsters are not picky about their food and eat very little. Make sure to feed your pet a wide variety of tasty foods.

  Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer

  3

  The Two Faces of Mrs. Brisbane

  That week was BUSY-BUSY-BUSY, but I learned a lot. I learned all the capitals of the United States. (I didn’t say I remembered them all, but I learned them all.)

  I learned about how water changes from solid to liquid to gas.

  I learned how to subtract fractions.

  I learned something else. Something very weird. There are two Mrs. Brisbanes.

  And I thought one Mrs. Brisbane was one too many.

  The first Mrs. Brisbane is a good teacher, just like Aldo said. She’s better than Ms. Mac was at getting A.J. to lower his voice. She’s better at getting Heidi to raise her hand before she blurts something out loud.

  Of course, nobody could get Speak-Up-Sayeh to raise her hand or to blurt anything out loud. Sayeh is so quiet and gentle, she never gives an answer. If the teacher calls on her, she stares down at her desk without saying a word.

  But when it’s Sayeh’s turn to clean my cage and feed me, she holds me in her hand so gently, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. “Hello, Humphrey,” she whispers. “Your fur is so beautiful.” I always feel calmer when Sayeh holds me.

  She’s so nice, I wish Mrs. Brisbane would leave her alone. Ms. Mac hardly ever called on Sayeh once she realized how shy she was. But Mrs. Brisbane calls on her all the time. She won’t leave her alone.

  “Sayeh, speak up, please. I know you know the answer,” she’d say while Sayeh stared at the top of her desk as if she were watching a TV show there. But I was shocked when Mrs. Brisbane got annoyed with Sayeh—sweet, shy Sayeh—and said, “You will stay in during recess.”

  Sayeh still stared down without moving a muscle. But a minute later, I saw something wet drop from Sayeh’s eye to the tabletop.
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br />   I hated Mrs. Brisbane.

  Of course, I don’t go out to recess. In fact, I’m glad, since it’s a great time to catch up on my sleep. So I was there when Mrs. Brisbane talked to Sayeh. And I was all ready to squeak up on her behalf, if necessary.

  Mrs. Brisbane brought a stack of papers to the table and sat down across from Sayeh.

  “Sayeh, you think I’m being mean to you, don’t you?”

  Sayeh slowly shook her head no. I heartily nodded my head yes, but no one was looking at me.

  “But I wouldn’t call on you if I didn’t know that you know the answers,” the teacher explained. “Look at your papers and tests. You get 100% on everything: spelling, science, geography and arithmetic. Your vocabulary is excellent. But I have never heard you speak. Can you tell me why?”

  I checked my notebook and I was pretty impressed. I only got an 85% on the last vocabulary test. This girl is smart!

  Sayeh still did not speak.

  “Sayeh, I’m going to have to send a note home to your parents. Maybe they can help me figure out what to do,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

  Sayeh looked up, very frightened. “No, please,” she said.

  Mrs. Brisbane looked surprised. She reached over and patted Sayeh’s arm. “I won’t send a note now . . . if you’ll promise to try.”

  Sayeh looked back down at the desk and nodded.

  “I’ll tell you what. I won’t call on you if you promise that sometime within the next week you’ll raise your hand on your own and answer a question. Is that a deal?”

  Sayeh nodded, very slowly this time.

  “You have to say it,” Mrs. Brisbane told her.

  “Deal,” Sayeh whispered.

  “Terrific!” said Mrs. Brisbane, smiling. “Now, how would you like to erase the board for me?”

  Sayeh jumped up and hurried to the board. All the students in Room 26 like to erase the board for some reason.

  Mrs. Brisbane was sure hard to figure out. She hadn’t been mean to Sayeh at all. She just did what a teacher is supposed to do.

  I liked this Mrs. Brisbane. I even liked the pink blouse she had on.

  But at the end of the day when the students were gone, the second Mrs. Brisbane came back.

  The really scary one.

  She straightened up the room and came over to the window to close the blinds. I could only hope that Aldo would open them for me later.

  She looked down and saw that the table around me was messy. The bag of shavings used for my bedding had torn and bits of litter were scattered all over the table. Garth had done the cleaning and left the lid off my treats box. The whole table looked untidy.

  “Good grief,” said Mrs. Brisbane in a very unhappy voice.

  I decided to take a spin on my wheel. Usually, that cheers people up. But not Mrs. Brisbane.

  She started to clean the table, getting paper towels and cleaning spray and muttering to herself the whole time.

  “Not my job,” she grumbled. “These children are not responsible. All I need is somebody else to take care of. Some . . . rodent!”

  Nobody says rodent quite the way Mrs. Brisbane does.

  Then she looked down at me with angry eyes and said, “You . . . are . . . a . . . trouble . . . maker. And somehow, I’m going to get rid of you!”

  Then she grabbed her purse and her papers and stormed out of Room 26.

  For once, I didn’t mind being left alone. I didn’t even mind the TICK-TICK-TICK of the clock.

  I was just GLAD-GLAD-GLAD that the second Mrs. Brisbane was gone.

  I was worried about what she’d said, but I kept my mind occupied by practicing my vocabulary words until the light was completely gone. (If Sayeh got 100% correct, why couldn’t I?)

  Then I sat and waited.

  Suddenly, bright lights blinded my eyes as the door swung open and a familiar voice roared, “Never fear—Aldo’s here!”

  Aldo rolled his cart over to my cage and put his face right down next to mine.

  “How’s it going, Humphrey?” he asked.

  I tried squeaking out my story, but Aldo didn’t quite catch what I was saying.

  “Whoa, pal! Something’s got your tail in a tizzy! Well, this should cheer you up!” Aldo reached into a brown paper bag, pulled something out and dangled it in front of my cage.

  “Something to gnaw on, little buddy,” he said, opening the door.

  JOY-JOY-JOY! A tiny dog biscuit! One of Ms. Mac’s friends gave me one of these once. You can crunch on it forever.

  “Ha-ha! Suddenly, there’s a smile on your face!” Aldo beamed with pride. “Now I’ll clean this room real fast so we can eat our dinner together.”

  I never saw anybody move as fast as Aldo. He turned the music up full blast. Then he mopped and polished and swept and scrubbed, while I nibbled and gnawed on my biscuit.

  When he was finished, Aldo pulled a chair up to my cage and took out his big sandwich.

  “You know, Humphrey, some folks might think I’m crazy, talking to a hamster. But you’re better company than a lot of people I know. Here . . . have a nice salad. It’s good for you!”

  He tore off a tiny piece of lettuce and pushed it through the wires of my cage.

  “Thank you,” I squeaked.

  “You’re welcome,” said Aldo.

  “So, what were we talking about last night? Oh, yeah. Loneliness. You know, I have friends, Humphrey. But during the day, when I’d like to do something—go bowling or to a movie or something—they’re at work. And when they want to do something, I’m at work. Of course there’s the weekend, but I usually see my family, you know. My brother and his family, my nieces and nephews—I got a big family.”

  Suddenly Aldo bopped the side of his head with the palm of his hand. “Whoa, Humphrey. I never told you. My nephew . . . he’s in your class. Richie Rinaldi. He sits over there.”

  He pointed to the far side of the room. “He always has the neatest desk in the class. He’d better or he’ll hear from his uncle. Do you know him?”

  “Of course,” I squeaked. Repeat-That-Please-Richie. One of the nicest boys in the class. But he mumbled a lot and usually had to repeat something two or three times to be understood.

  Aldo crunched his bag and tossed it into his trash can. “Well, I’m out of here. You know, they got a frog in Room 16, but he’s not good company like you are. He sings nice, though.”

  Sing! I’ll sing for you, Aldo, I thought. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t like him nearly as much as you, my friend,” Aldo said. He opened the blinds to let the light in.

  Just as he was going out the door, Aldo said, “See you next week, Humphrey!”

  Next week! A cold chill came over me. Tomorrow was Friday. When Ms. Mac was in Room 26, she took me home for the weekend. But if Mrs. Brisbane didn’t take me home, I’d have two very long days and nights with no one—not even Aldo—to feed me or chat with me.

  Even worse, what if Mrs. Brisbane did take me to her house? What fate would await me there?

  I had plenty to keep me busy the rest of the night: worrying about Mrs. Brisbane and how she planned to do away with me. Ms. Mac . . . please come back!

  TIP THREE: Hamsters enjoy a change in routine. Among their favorite activities are eating, grooming themselves, climbing, running, spinning, taking a nap and being petted.

  Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer

  4

  The Most Important Man in the World

  Luckily, Friday went by smoothly. Sorry to say, Sayeh didn’t raise her hand. But Heidi Hopper did—amazing! A.J. actually whispered. Richie cleaned my cage. I tried to imagine him with a big black mustache like his uncle Aldo.

  Later, when Mrs. Brisbane asked him to name the capital of Kentucky, Richie said, “Hot dog.”

  Everyone giggled, of course. Especially Stop-Giggling-Gail. Otherwise known as Gail Morgenstern.

  “Repeat-That-Please-Richie,” said the teacher.

 
Richie realized he’d made a mistake, so he tried again. “Frankfurter,” he said.

  More giggles. Explosive giggles.

  “Try again, Richie,” said Mrs. Brisbane, who was on the verge of smiling herself.

  “Uh . . . Frankfort!” he said proudly.

  (That was the correct answer, by the way.)

  So, you see, it wasn’t exactly a bad day in Room 26. It’s just that I was jittery, wondering what would happen to me when the bell rang. Would I be left alone . . . hungry, utterly forsaken for two whole days? Or would I be a captive in the haunted house of Mrs. Brisbane?

  At last, the bell rang and the students flew out of the door like a flock of homing pigeons in a movie Ms. Mac showed us.

  Just then, the room mothers stopped by. One was Heidi Hopper’s mom and the other one was Art Patel’s. (That’s Pay-Attention-Art.) They came to talk to Mrs. Brisbane about Halloween, which was less than two weeks away.

  I didn’t know what Halloween was, but it sure sounded scary, especially when they talked about bringing bats and witches and even worse—cats—right into the classroom! SHIVER-QUIVER-SHAKE. What could they be thinking?

  I was about ready to fling open the door of my cage and escape when the door opened and in walked the principal, Mr. Morales.

  Mr. Morales is the Most Important Person at Longfellow School. He runs the place and everyone respects him. You can tell. For one thing, Mr. Morales always wears a tie. No one else in the whole school wears a tie except Mr. Morales. For another thing, when Mr. Morales comes into the room, everyone stops what they’re doing and waits to see what he has to say. And for a third thing, both Ms. Mac and Mrs. Brisbane sometimes threatened to send a misbehaving student to Mr. Morales’s office. As soon as the teacher mentioned the principal’s name, the student would start acting very, very nice.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” said Mr. Morales. He was wearing a light blue shirt and a tie that had tiny books all over it.

  Everyone said, “Hello.”

  “Well, how’s your first week back, Sue?” he asked.