The World According to Humphrey Page 4

  I thought about it so hard, I suddenly came up with a REALLY-REALLY-REALLY good Plan. But it would be difficult to carry out and dangerous as well.

  TIP FIVE: If a hamster manages to escape his cage, you can sometimes lure him back in with a trail of sunflower seeds.

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

  6

  Moonlight Madness

  I waited until the school was completely quiet. No students, no teachers, no Mr. Morales. Then I got busy because I had a lot of work to do. Big work for a small hamster.

  First, I took the Moonlighters Club clipping out of my notebook. Holding it in my mouth, I opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and scurried across the table.

  Getting down off that table was still a problem. I grabbed hold of the leg and slid down, as I’ve done before. It makes me feel a little queasy in my tummy. But it would be worthwhile if I could get Aldo a girlfriend.

  I hurried over to the big machine, which was very, very high off the ground. It seemed impossible for me to get up there, but I had it all planned out in my mind. Crawl up the wastebasket—oooh, I didn’t know it would sway like that! Leap over to the seat of Mrs. Brisbane’s chair. Whoa—slippery! Crawl up the rungs to the chalkboard tray behind it. Along the chalkboard tray to the bookcase. Then the hardest part: the dive from the bookcase to the overhead projector cart. If you ever try it yourself, don’t look down!

  I was practically home free, but I still had to get up to the lit part. Still holding the newspaper clipping in my mouth, I grabbed on to a big screw sticking out of the side and pulled myself up. Then I reached up as high as I could and just barely managed to touch the top. Good thing I’ve got big muscles, because I was able to P-U-L-L myself up.

  I was there! It was like climbing Mount McKinley, the tallest mountain peak in the United States! (Ask Mrs. Brisbane.)

  I quickly pushed the switch. I wished I had some sunglasses, because I was suddenly surrounded by blinding light. It was like being inside a lightbulb.

  I took the newspaper clipping out of my mouth and carefully laid it on the flat glass. Then I looked up at the wall and NO-NO-NO! Up on the screen was a picture of a car and behind it there was jumbled up backward writing! I realized I must have laid the clipping on the glass upside down. I quickly turned it over and there it was: all the information about the Moonlighters Club right there on the wall, with the outline of the car behind it.

  Aldo would be coming soon, so I hurried back to the cage. It was faster getting back, because it was mostly downhill until the very end, when I had to swing my way up the cord to the blinds and back to the table.

  I was panting pretty hard by the time I closed the cage door behind me. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before Aldo swung the door open.

  “Whoa! Who left that on?” he exclaimed as he entered. “That thing could overheat.”

  He hurried over to the overhead projector.

  “Look at the wall! Look up at the wall!” I squeaked, but the words only sounded like hamster peeps.

  Aldo didn’t waste a second. He flicked the machine off. All that work for nothing!

  But then a funny thing happened. Aldo turned the machine back on and looked at the wall. “What’s this?” he muttered. “Why did Mrs. Brisbane have this up here? Hey, nice car!”

  He squinted up at the screen. “Look, Humphrey. The Moonlighters Club. For people who work at night, like me.”

  And me, I thought. I was still quite exhausted from all that effort.

  Aldo stared at the big ad on the wall for a while. Then he turned off the projector and went to work and never mentioned it again.

  Yes, I was annoyed. I had failed, but at least I had tried, which was more than I can say for one of my classmates. Yes, Sayeh Nasiri. With my own furry ears, I had heard her promise Mrs. Brisbane that she would raise her hand in class. But so far, she’d been as silent as a statue. Her week was almost up. Even though I’d scolded her the day she fed me, she paid no more attention to me than she had to her teacher.

  You should really listen to your teacher. Even Mrs. Brisbane.

  And you should always listen to your hamster.

  I was worried about Aldo and about Sayeh. But I have to admit, my journey had been so tiring that—nocturnal or not—I slept soundly the rest of the night.

  The next day began in a very surprising way.

  “I have something to share with you all,” Mrs. Brisbane announced. She held up a postcard with a picture of colorful parrots perched in lush green trees. “A postcard from Ms. McNamara.” (Mrs. Brisbane would never call her Ms. Mac.) “It says:

  “Greetings to my favorite class in the world, Room 26!

  “I am now working in a school here in Brazil. This country is beautiful and friendly. I really enjoyed talking with the parrots in the rain forest. I miss you all, especially my pal Humphrey. Lots of love, Ms. Mac.”

  (Mrs. Brisbane had to say Ms. Mac since that’s the way the card was signed.)

  HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY! Not only did Ms. Mac remember me, she missed me most of all. Oh, and I missed her most of all, too. Especially every time I looked at Mrs. Brisbane and she glared back at me.

  Mrs. Brisbane showed us Brazil on the map and it’s far away. I’d like to be that far away from Mrs. Brisbane.

  My head was so filled with memories of Ms. Mac that I only got 75% on my vocabulary test.

  After we graded the tests in class, Mrs. Brisbane said, “If you got 100% on the test, please raise your hand.”

  That woke me up. What a clever way to get Sayeh to raise her hand. Because she always got 100%.

  A.J. raised his hand. Art raised his hand.

  Sayeh just stared down at her desktop.

  I was starting to get really mad at her.

  When it was time for map work, Mrs. Brisbane clicked on the overhead projector and there it was: the Moonlighters Club ad right on the wall. Mrs. Brisbane wrinkled her nose, picked up the paper and looked at both sides. Then she held it up to the light and I think maybe she noticed those little, tiny holes my teeth had made when I carried it over there.

  Mrs. Brisbane looked over at my cage and wrinkled her nose again. Then she crumpled the paper and threw it into the wastebasket.

  She’s smart, but she is also mean.

  She’s not the only one. While she went on with her map work, Wait-for-the-Bell-Garth Tugwell started making some very rude noises.

  Mrs. Brisbane didn’t even turn around. When someone started giggling, she just said, “Stop-Giggling-Gail.”

  So Garth’s rude noises got louder and even ruder. And a lot of other kids giggled along with Gail.

  Suddenly, the teacher spun around to face them.

  “Very well. The whole class will stay in during recess for extra vocabulary words,” she announced.

  Everybody groaned. “It’s Garth’s fault,” said Heidi.

  “Raise your hand,” Mrs. Brisbane snapped back. “You will all stay in during recess. Unless the person making those noises wants to step forward and admit it.”

  Nobody said a word, but everybody glared at Garth, including me.

  “Okay, I did it,” he said.

  “Raise your hand,” Heidi whispered loudly.

  “Very well, Garth. You, Heidi and Gail will stay in during recess,” the teacher said firmly.

  Heidi and Gail protested until the bell rang, but all three of them stayed in during recess. Instead of making them do extra vocabulary words, though, Mrs. Brisbane let them rest their heads on their desks. After she lectured them about their behavior, of course.

  All this commotion had made me a little hungry, and for some reason, I hadn’t been fed yet. So I decided to squeak up for myself.

  Mrs. Brisbane turned and pointed at me angrily. “I don’t need any trouble out of you, either,” she said.

  Heidi raised her hand. “I don’t think he’s been fed today,” she said.

  Mrs. Brisbane told Garth to feed me. Then she dism
issed the girls and told them to go outside and play for the rest of recess.

  So she wasn’t completely mean to them, anyway.

  She even trusted Garth to be alone in the room while she took some papers down to the office.

  I’d always liked Wait-for-the-Bell-Garth, so I was surprised when he started grumbling at me as he filled the water bottle and put some fresh mealworms in my cage.

  “One of these days, you’ll get in trouble, too,” he said. “I’ll see to that.”

  “Huh?” I squeaked.

  “Everybody hates me. Everybody loves you. You’re just a rat in disguise.”

  The words hurt me a lot. Why would Garth say that? I mean, sure, almost everybody does love me, but I don’t make rude noises and get other people into trouble.

  I was still pondering Garth’s behavior when my classmates returned to Room 26. Mrs. Brisbane must have gotten rested up over the recess, because she greeted them with a smile. “I have a surprise for you,” she told the kids.

  Surprises always get the class’s attention. They think surprises are always good. However, I know that surprises can sometimes be bad, like the day Ms. Mac left me forever.

  “We’re going to pick who gets to take Humphrey home for the weekend,” she explained. “Now, you all know whether or not your parents gave permission for you to bring him home. So, if you’d like Humphrey this weekend, raise your hand now.”

  HEY-HEY-HEY. You should have seen all the hands that went up. I could hardly believe my eyes. Miranda and Heidi and A.J. and . . . Every single hand in the class, except Garth’s. Even Sayeh Nasiri raised her hand.

  Mrs. Brisbane noticed.

  “Sayeh, do you think it will be all right with your parents?” she asked.

  Sayeh nodded her head.

  “I can’t hear you,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Sayeh.

  It was strange to hear her voice in the classroom.

  Mrs. Brisbane gave her a note to bring back from her family on Friday.

  I napped the rest of the afternoon, but whenever I woke up and glanced over at Sayeh’s desk, I saw her doing something I’d never seen before.

  Smiling.

  TIP SIX: You can leave your hamster alone for a day or two. Otherwise, find a suitable caretaker, or if possible, take your hamster with you. In its own cage, a hamster can be very portable.

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

  7

  Sayeh Speaks Up

  On Friday afternoon, Sayeh’s father, Mr. Nasiri, picked us up after school. He had a friendly smile and gentle eyes, but he was as quiet as his daughter.

  Sayeh lived in a tall building, so Mr. Nasiri carried my cage up one, two, three flights of stairs to their clean and quiet apartment.

  Mrs. Nasiri opened the door for us. She spoke to her husband and daughter, but I couldn’t exactly understand what they were saying.

  “Hummy! Hummy!” a little voice called out.

  Sayeh’s little brother, Darek, toddled toward the door to greet me.

  “Say Humphrey,” Sayeh gently corrected him.

  “Hummy,” he said.

  The Nasiris put my cage in the living room, right in the middle of a big table. Then they pulled up chairs so they could all sit and stare into my cage.

  It seemed as if they were waiting for something to happen, so I decided to give them a show. First I spun on my wheel for a while. Then I climbed up the side of the cage and dived down into a pile of soft paper.

  They were obviously impressed with my performance as they talked quietly. The funny thing is, I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. No wonder Sayeh got 100% on all her vocabulary tests. She and her family knew a lot more words than I did.

  They finally went to the kitchen to eat dinner. Later, while the rest of the family watched television, Sayeh’s mother quietly sat by my cage, watching me. She seemed NICE-NICE-NICE.

  Eventually, it was bedtime for the Nasiris. But after the lights were out, Sayeh slipped out of her room and came back to my cage and whispered to me. I could understand her again.

  “Now you know my secret, Humphrey,” she whispered. “My family doesn’t speak English. Well, my dad does a little, but he’s shy about it. Mom hasn’t learned any English at all. And Darek’s too little.”

  “I understand,” I squeaked.

  “That’s why I don’t like to talk in class,” she explained. “I don’t talk like the other kids. I’m afraid they’ll laugh at my accent. That happened to me when I was little.”

  “But you don’t sound different,” I frantically squeaked. “I understand you just fine.”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t understand me. All she heard was “Squeak-squeak-squeak.” I guess maybe I have an accent, too.

  “But I have an idea that maybe you could help me teach Mom English,” Sayeh continued.

  “Glad to help out if I can,” I squeaked to her.

  “You’re a real friend,” Sayeh replied.

  See? She understood me after all.

  The next day, I dozed until late afternoon, when Sayeh led her mother back to my cage.

  “Humphrey only understands English, Mama,” Sayeh said. “Speak English. Say ‘Humphrey.’ ”

  Sayeh’s mom looked a little frightened, but she tried.

  “Hum-freee,” she said.

  “Hummy,” Darek cried as he raced into the room and climbed onto his mother’s lap.

  “Say, ‘Hello, Humphrey,’ ” Sayeh gently instructed her mother.

  “Hel-lo, Hump-free,” Mrs. Nasiri said.

  I squeaked, “Hello,” right back and she broke into a huge smile.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Good job,” I said.

  Well, things went swimmingly from then on. In a matter of hours, Sayeh’s mom was saying, “How do you do?” “Nice to meet you.” “Would you like some water?” (I did, thank you.)

  Even when Sayeh and Darek left to go to the store with their father, Mrs. Nasiri kept on talking. I let her know I understood what she was saying by wiggling my whiskers and hanging by one paw from the top of my cage.

  “Good boy, Humphrey,” she said.

  Sayeh and her father were amazed at Mrs. Nasiri’s progress when they returned. The family spent the rest of the evening practicing English.

  First, Sayeh pretended to be a guest at the door. She went into the hall and knocked.

  Her mother opened the door. “Hello, Sayeh,” she said. “Won’t you come in?”

  Then Darek went out and knocked. Mrs. Nasiri opened the door and said, “Hello, Darek. Won’t you come in?”

  He rushed in and toddled right over to the table, shouting, “Humfy! Humfy!”

  Next, Sayeh convinced her dad to practice English with her mom.

  “What time it is?” asked Mrs. Nasiri.

  “What time is it?” Sayeh corrected her.

  Mrs. Nasiri got it right the second time. Then Dad looked at his watch. “Seven-fifteen,” he answered.

  “Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Nasiri asked.

  “Yes, please. I would like some tea,” Mr. Nasiri answered.

  Guess what? They had a tea party right on my table.

  As a reward for all their hard work, I spun my wheel as fast as my legs would go, and they all cheered.

  Later, after the lights were out, Sayeh slipped out of her room to talk to me again.

  “Thank you, Humphrey,” she whispered. “My mom says she’s ready to go to English class now. But I wish you were the teacher.”

  “So do I,” I squeaked, and I meant it.

  There were more English lessons on Sunday and Sayeh showed Darek how to clean out my cage. Suddenly, the boy began to giggle.

  “Humphrey poop!” he yelled. His English was improving, too.

  On Sunday night, Sayeh gathered her family together again.

  “I want to teach you the American song,” she said. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing, “O
h, say, can you see? By the dawn’s early light.”

  I stood up, just like we do in the classroom when “The Star-Spangled Banner” is being sung. But I’d never heard it sung like that before. Sayeh had the most beautiful voice in the world! It was like a gentle breeze . . . no, like rippling waters . . . no, it was . . . well, it was beautiful.

  If only our classmates in Room 26 could hear her!

  Which gave me the start of another idea. But I didn’t have time to think much at all. Because soon, the whole family was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and I squeaked right along with them! Even on those high notes.

  When we got back to school on Monday morning, though, I was a little disappointed. Mrs. Brisbane asked Sayeh how things went over the weekend.

  “Fine,” said Sayeh. And nothing more.

  Like Ms. Mac said, “You can learn a lot about yourself by getting to know another species.” But boy, sometimes it’s a lot of work.

  That Monday, I sat in my cage worrying about Sayeh for quite a while before I dozed off. When I woke up, I noticed that Room 26 had changed. The bulletin board was covered with brightly colored leaves. The tops of the chalkboards were lined with big paper witches, ghosts and skeletons. Hanging from the light fixtures were black crepe-paper bats. Then I looked to my right and gasped. A horrible, huge orange face with an evil grin was staring directly at me. I jumped back, my heart pounding.

  “Hey, Humphrey, don’t you like old pumpkin head?” A.J. whispered to me from his seat nearby.

  “Look! Humphrey’s scared of a little old jack-o’-lantern,” Garth said. “Scaredy-cat. Scaredy-hamster.”

  I stood up straight and looked as un-scared as I possibly could.

  “Quiet, Garth and A.J.,” said Mrs. Brisbane. Then she quickly returned to a math problem she was writing on the board.

  Suddenly, I noticed a little movement in the center of the room. A murmur. A change. I looked over and YES-YES-YES! Sayeh had her hand up. Everyone noticed it, except Mrs. Brisbane, who had her back to the rest of us.

  “Mrs. Brisbane?” Heidi called out.

  Without turning, the teacher said, “Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi.”