Trouble According to Humphrey Read online

The Problem with Paul

  Humphreyville wasn’t the only thing new in Room 26 that Tuesday. Once everyone was seated after recess, Mrs. Brisbane opened the door and in walked a small boy I’d never seen before. He stood very straight and held his chin high. “Welcome, Paul,” the teacher said.

  All of my classmates turned to stare at the boy, who stared right back at them. I craned my neck to get a look at him. All I could tell was that this Paul looked VERY-VERY-VERY serious.

  “Class, some of you might know Paul Fletcher from Miss Loomis’s class. He’s going to be coming into our class for math every day from now on.”

  “He’s a year behind us!” That was Heidi Hopper, of course.

  Gail started to giggle but stopped herself, although I’m pretty sure Paul noticed. His chin sagged for a second.

  “Heidi, please. Paul is an excellent math student and Mr. Morales asked if he could sit in on our class. I expect you to treat him like any other classmate and be as helpful as possible. Some of you probably already know Paul, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Brisbane waited. Very slowly, Art raised his hand.

  “He lives across the street from me.” Art kept doodling on a piece of paper. He was a great doodler. If I doodled as much as he did, I’d fill up my whole notebook in a day. Unlike Seth, who had a hard time sitting still, Art sat quietly but his pencil was always moving.

  “Let’s pull up a chair next to you. Here, Paul.” Paul sat, though he and Art didn’t look at each other. “Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves?”

  One by one, my classmates said their names. Gail giggled when she told her name. Richie mumbled and Mrs. Brisbane had to say, “Repeat-It-Please-Richie.” A.J. said his name extra loud, and Sayeh said, “I am Sayeh Nasiri. Welcome, Paul.” That was nice.

  When they were finished, I squeaked out, “And I am Humphrey!”

  Mrs. Brisbane laughed and said, “I guess Humphrey wants to make sure you meet him, too. And Og, our frog, of course.”

  Og silently stared out of his glass house. Sometimes I wish he acted a little friendlier.

  Mrs. Brisbane quickly launched into math class with a difficult problem for us to work out. Everybody went to work except me. I was too busy watching Paul writing like crazy. Mrs. Brisbane walked around the room to see how each student was working out the problem.

  “Good, Heidi. Make sure those numbers line up,” she said. “That’s perfect, Sayeh.” She told A.J. and Tabitha to try again.

  When she saw Paul’s answer, she smiled and said, “Excellent, Paul.”

  When she saw Art’s answer, she stopping smiling and said, “Needs work, Art. Try going back to that first step and starting over.”

  I watched the two boys as the teacher did more explaining.

  Art hadn’t done well with his problem and he looked unhappy.

  Paul had done REALLY-REALLY-REALLY well with his problem, but he looked unhappy, too!

  At the end of all her explaining, Mrs. Brisbane told us that we’d have a test the next week and handed out a study sheet.

  “Eeek!” I squeaked. I didn’t mean to—I just realized that I’d been paying so much attention to Art and Paul that I hadn’t listened to the teacher at all.

  You should always listen to your teacher.

  “Any questions?” she asked.

  Paul raised his hand and she called on him. “What is Humphreyville?” he asked.

  “It’s our town we’re creating for social studies.”

  “Oh,” said Paul.

  “Well, if there are no other questions, you may go, Paul. We’ll see you tomorrow!” Mrs. Brisbane used her especially cheery voice.

  Paul didn’t waste any time grabbing his notebook and hurrying out of Room 26.

  I liked Paul, but I wasn’t sure that he liked Room 26 very much.

  By the next day, Humphreyville was taking shape. My fellow students had already begun to build their homes. Oh, there were so many different kinds! A.J. made a house out of blocks. He didn’t care if somebody knocked it over because he could build it up again. Garth made a log cabin. Seth’s “house” was a spaceship—cool! Golden-Miranda drew a picture of a purple castle (she deserves a castle). Heidi, true to her word, made a blue tent with pink and yellow polka dots.

  Sayeh built a tall apartment building. She said since Humphreyville would be such a popular place, we would need a lot of places for people to live. Mandy’s house was very tall and narrow. She explained that each floor was for a different member of her family. Unfortunately, it kept tipping over.

  By far, the house that got the most attention was Art’s. He used small plastic bricks, metal springs, sprockets and things-I-don’t-know-the-names-of to build a house that had a big slide coming out of the attic, inner rooms that revolved like a merry-go-round and train tracks that went right through the middle.

  “I believe Art’s house will put Humphreyville on the map,” Mrs. Brisbane said. I think he got the first “A” on that project that he’s had all year. I sure gave him an “A.”

  When Paul came into class for math, he sat next to Art, although they ignored each other completely. It sounds strange, but Paul looked even smaller when he walked out of Room 26 than when he walked in.

  On Wednesday evening, I scribbled in my notebook, working on the drawing of my house. It got dark early. Luckily, I could sketch by the light of the streetlamp outside the window. Of course, the sound of the crickets (Og’s special treats) going “CHIRRUP-CHIRRUP” sometimes made it hard to concentrate.

  Suddenly, I was blinded by bright lights. “Surprise, surprise! Aldo has arrived!” My eyes adjusted to the light and there was our friendly custodian, Aldo Amato, bowing from the waist. I quickly slipped my notebook behind my mirror.

  “Greetings, Aldo,” I shouted. I knew it came out “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK,” but Aldo always seemed to understand me.

  “Hello, Humphrey! Howdy-do, Og!” Aldo pulled his cleaning cart into the room, took out his broom and started sweeping. He stopped as soon as he started. “Mamma mia, what’s all this?” he asked, looking around at the room.

  “HUMPHREYVILLE,” I squeaked loudly.

  “BOING!” shouted Og.

  I could see how surprised Aldo was and with good reason. Since the night before, the whole room had changed. Tables with all the students’ homes lined the back of the room and the rows between their seats had big signs on them with street names. My classmates had argued over—I mean discussed—what each street should be named. When Mrs. Brisbane suggested First Street, Second Street, and so forth, the students didn’t like that idea. Then she’d suggested naming the streets after presidents, but my friends weren’t interested in that, either.

  “We want something that stands for us,” Garth said. “Names that are things we like.”

  Now the growing town of Humphreyville had Soccer Street and Basketball Avenue, Video Game Way and Recess Lane, as well as Pizza Place and Taco Boulevard.

  Aldo’s big black mustache bounced heartily as he laughed and looked around. welcome to humphreyville, a sign announced in big bright letters. The table where Og and I live had some grassy material on it with a sign that read, og the frog nature preserve.

  I was glad they named something after Og, so he wouldn’t feel jealous. Jealousy feels BAD-BAD-BAD.

  Aldo started sweeping again. “I’m lucky I get to clean Mrs. Brisbane’s room every night, because I learn so much about being a teacher!” He had just returned to college so he could teach school, which was an excellent idea.

  “Humphreyville!” he repeated again with a chuckle. “Looks like the perfect place to live!”

  Aldo went about his work in his usual quick and efficient way, then pulled a chair up near my cage and took out his lunch bag. He always took his dinner break with Og and me and talked about his life. He talked about his wife, Maria, who worked at the bakery and had a beautiful smile. Lately, he talked a lot about college.

  “Whew, Humphrey, I knew that school wouldn’t be
easy, but it’s getting harder all the time,” he said. “I’m lucky Maria is an understanding woman, because I hardly have any free time. I haven’t even been bowling in weeks.”

  Although I wasn’t completely sure I knew what “bowling” was, I knew it was something Aldo enjoyed. He chewed his sandwich thoughtfully for a moment. “Still, it will be worth it. I can be a teacher and work with kids and maybe have a house like one of these,” he said, waving toward the back tables. “Like the one with the train tracks going through it.”

  He reached in his sandwich and pulled out a piece of lettuce. “Here’s to your health, Humphrey.” He pushed the lettuce into my cage.

  I squeaked a heartfelt thanks.

  “Sorry I don’t have something for you, Og my man,” he told my neighbor. “You’re a lot pickier than Humphrey.”

  Picky? The frog eats crickets! Yech. Not nearly as appealing as the mealworms I enjoy.

  Aldo hurried out the door with his squeaky cart. Although I was sorry my friend didn’t have time to go bowling, I was glad he was going to be a teacher, like Mrs. Brisbane. I could hardly believe that when I first met Mrs. Brisbane, I didn’t think she was a very nice person. In fact, I thought she was out to get me. Now, she’s one of my favorite humans—and I have a lot of favorite humans!

  During the next few days, my classmates worked hard building up Humphreyville. Every day, Paul came in for math class. Though he sat next to Art, his neighbor never even looked at him. Every day, Paul left the classroom in a big hurry.

  On Friday afternoon, it was time for Mrs. Brisbane to announce which student would be bringing me home for the weekend. It was always an exciting moment for my classmates and even more exciting for me. My whiskers wiggled wildly as I waited to find out where I’d be staying.

  “Pick me,” said Mandy, frantically waving her arm. “You’ve never let me take Humphrey home.”

  She was right. I’d been home with many of my friends—some of them even twice—but I’d never gone home with Mandy.

  “You haven’t brought back the permission slip I sent home with you,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

  Mandy let out a huge sigh, then said, “My folks have been busy.”

  “Well, tell them I’m waiting for their signatures. Now, I believe Seth is scheduled to take Humphrey home this weekend.”

  Sit-Still-Seth Stevenson was so excited, he jiggled his chair until it actually tipped over. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt.

  “Try to stay calm,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

  “I WILL-WILL-WILL.” I covered my mouth with my paws when I realized that she had been talking to Seth. I made a mistake. After all, I’m only human. I mean … only a hamster. (Which is a very good thing.)

  NO HOUSING SHORTAGE

  IN HUMPHREYVILLE!

  Building boom keeps Room 26 students hopping.

  Population swells as Paul Fletcher joins math class.

  The Humphreyville Herald

  The Situation with the Stevensons

  The reason I used to think Seth’s full name was Sit-Still-Seth was because he always wiggles in his chair and Mrs. Brisbane always reminds him to sit still. He really does try, but he has so much energy, he just has to move. I guess that’s why he loves sports a lot, both playing them and watching them, along with our other sports fan in Room 26, Tabitha.

  As much as I like Seth, I was hoping his whole family didn’t fidget and squirm as much as he did. I always have my wheel to work off my excess energy. Too bad Seth doesn’t have one, too.

  On Friday, Seth’s mom, June, drove us home without as much as a twitch. She did tell her son to quit bouncing up and down on the seat, which I appreciated, as car rides always make me queasy even without Seth’s jiggling and joggling.

  “Thanks for picking me up, Mom,” Seth said. “I thought Grandma would do it.”

  “I was afraid she’d have trouble with the cage. The shop wasn’t busy and Carolyn covered for me. I’ll do the same for her next week.” She laughed. “I’ll be glad when your sister can drive you.”

  Seth bounced a little higher. “I won’t!” he exclaimed.

  Once we were home and I was placed in the den on a big table, I saw the other members of Seth’s family. His sister was a teenager named Lucinda and Grandma was an older lady who I later figured out was June’s mom.

  “Want to meet Humphrey?” Seth asked his sister.

  She turned up her nose. “Hamsters are for children,” she said, and walked away. “I’m going to write in my journal now, so please don’t disturb me.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t!” I squeaked at her. Hamsters are for children! Try telling that to Principal Morales or Aldo or even Mrs. Brisbane.

  The older woman slowly approached the cage and leaned over to get a closer look at me—but not too close.

  “Don’t worry, Grandma. He won’t hurt you,” said Seth.

  “Is it clean?” she asked.

  “Probably cleaner than I am,” Seth joked.

  Grandma didn’t crack a smile. “I’m afraid that might be all too true,” she said. She backed away from my cage and left the room.

  “You’d better give him some fresh water,” Seth’s mom suggested. “And some food.”

  At least Seth’s mom didn’t call me an “it,” which I always appreciate.

  Once I was settled in, Seth started playing video games. He didn’t merely sit and play. He bounced and bobbed, he shook and shimmied, he rattled and rocked. I was feeling kind of woozy, so I crawled into my sleeping hut for a nice doze. I woke up when Seth’s mom announced that dinner was ready. Luckily, the den had a big wide opening right into the kitchen, which is where the family sat down to eat.

  Dinners at my classmates’ houses are always fun, too—there are yummy smells and interesting things to hear, all about one person’s day at work and another person’s day at school. Some people were loud while they ate, like Lower-Your-Voice-A.J. and his family. Some people were quiet, like Tabitha and her foster mom.

  Seth’s family didn’t talk much, but when they did, it was always about one subject: Seth.

  “Can’t you sit still?” asked Lucinda, in a superior tone of voice I didn’t care for.

  “I am sitting still,” said Seth.

  “You are not! You bumped the table. See, my water spilled,” his sister replied.

  “Do try and be calm, honey,” Seth’s mom said.

  “In my day,” Grandma began, then started over in a much more dramatic voice. “In my day, boys and girls had to sit still at the table without saying a word. That was what we called manners. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Seth, sounding quite miserable.

  Everything was quiet for a while except for the clinking and clanking of knives and forks (I don’t know why humans need those when they have a perfectly good set of paws, like I do). Then Lucinda exclaimed, “He’s doing it again!”

  “What?” said Seth.

  “You know what. Shaking your legs.”

  “Sorry, Cindy,” he said.

  “My name is Lucinda!” she answered icily.

  “You used to like to be called Cindy.”

  “Well, I don’t now.”

  Seth and his family were silent for a while until Lucinda clanked her fork loudly and said, “Oh, really! If you bump that table leg one more time, I’ll—”

  “It was an accident,” said Seth.

  “Kids, please.” Seth’s mom sounded tired.

  “In my day,” Grandma began again. “In my day, children were not allowed to argue at the table.”

  “I’ll bet Seth can’t stay still for one minute,” said Lucinda in a nasty voice.

  “I’ll bet you can’t stay still for two minutes,” said Seth.

  “June, you should not allow your children to gamble,” Grandma grumbled. “In my day—”

  “Mother, you’re not helping,” said June, which was true.

  “—my mother wouldn’t allow us to make bets.”

  This conversation was ge
tting on my nerves, so I hopped on my wheel to try and relax. Unfortunately, my wheel always makes an annoying SCREECH!

  “What on earth is that creature doing?” asked Grandma.

  “He’s on his exercise wheel. It’s good for him,” Seth replied.

  Grandma sniffed loudly. “I guess nobody around here can sit still except me.”

  “Well, I certainly can,” Lucinda objected.

  “You move as much as anybody,” said Seth. “Look, you just blinked!”

  “Blinking doesn’t count! Banging the table like you do—that counts.” Somebody, maybe Lucinda, banged a hand on the table. I could tell because the dishes rattled.

  Someone else—I’m guessing it was Seth—banged a hand on the table, too.

  “That’s enough!” Seth’s mom sounded as if she was about to explode. “Night after night, all you do is bicker about who’s sitting still and who’s not and who’s right and who’s wrong! Well, I’ve had it. We’re going to leave the table and go into the den and settle this once and for all.”

  “For goodness’ sakes! And let my dinner get cold?” Grandma asked in a sad little voice.

  “It’s a salad. It’s supposed to be cold,” said June. I’d heard irritated moms before, but she sounded as if she’d really had it.

  She marched into the den, and surprisingly, Lucinda, Seth and Grandma followed.

  “Now, just sit down on the couch,” she said firmly.

  “In my day, children—even adult children—didn’t address their parents in that tone of voice,” said Grandma.

  “You don’t have to be in this contest, Mother. You can go finish your salad. This is between Seth and Lucinda.”

  Grandma slowly moved back toward the kitchen, then hesitated. “What contest?”

  “The Sitting-Still Contest to see who can sit the longest without moving.”

  “What does the winner get?” asked Lucinda.

  June thought for a few seconds. “A pair of tickets for the winner and a friend to the movies tomorrow. I’ll also provide popcorn money and transportation.”

  “I could take my friend Adele,” said Grandma. “I’m in.” She planted herself on the couch right between Lucinda and Seth.