Mysteries According to Humphrey Page 5

  That made me feel very nice. But thinking about what Mrs. Brisbane said still made me feel not-so-nice.

  This all came about because of Humphrey.

  What on earth had I done to send Mrs. Brisbane away?

  And how could I undo it?

  Kelsey’s house was white, with bright orange shutters around the windows that reminded me of Kelsey’s hair—and her mom’s.

  Her big brother, Kevin, was already home from school. He was very tall, and his hair was darker than Kelsey’s.

  “What’s that?” he said, pointing at me.

  “Humphrey!” Kelsey answered. “He’s our classroom hamster.”

  “Oh,” Kevin answered. “Mom, what’s there to eat? I’m so hungry, I could eat anything in sight.”

  I was glad I’d hidden all those yummy treats in my cheek pouch and bedding. I like to share, but I’m never quite sure when I’ll be fed again.

  Kevin and his mom went to the kitchen while Kelsey took my cage to her room.

  “Humphrey, you’re the cutest hamster I ever saw,” she told me.

  “Thanks,” I squeaked. “And you’re one of the nicest girls . . .”

  Before I could finish my sentence, I looked at Kelsey. She was nice, but the skin around one of her eyes had turned a bright shade of purple with streaks of green and black.

  “Eeek!” I squeaked.

  Luckily, Kelsey just giggled. That was one time I was happy a human couldn’t understand my squeak. I would never want to hurt a friend’s feelings.

  Kelsey made sure that everything in my cage was in order. Then her mom came in to check on us.

  “Oh, Kelsey! Look at your eye!” her mom said. “I’m afraid it will look a lot worse before it goes away.”

  Kelsey raced to the mirror and looked at herself.

  Oddly enough, she smiled. “I’ll probably be the only girl at Longfellow School with a black eye,” she said. “Probably the only person!”

  Kelsey’s mom bit her lip and looked at the eye more closely. “I guess I don’t need to take you to the doctor,” she said. “The nurse said it was fine.”

  Kelsey assured her mom that she could see all right.

  “I hope you can go to your ballet lesson tomorrow,” Kelsey’s mom said. “I’d hate for you to miss the very first one.”

  At the mention of the word ballet, Kelsey suddenly looked unsqueakably unhappy. She reached up and touched her purple eye. “It does hurt a little,” she said.

  Mrs. Kirkpatrick shook her head. “Poor Kelsey. Tell me again how it happened. That boy, Simon, ran into you?”

  Kelsey nodded, but there was more to the story than that, and I knew it.

  “You ran into each other!” I squeaked.

  “And you were just standing there?” Kelsey’s mom asked.

  Kelsey squinched up her face and thought for a bit. “No. I was running up to the board to answer a question. We both were running up to the board.”

  “Ah,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said. “So you bumped into each other.”

  “YES-YES-YES!” I squeaked.

  “I think I’ll call Simon’s mother to see how he is,” Kelsey’s mom said.

  “He’s fine, Mom,” Kelsey said, rolling her eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

  But Kelsey’s mom had already left the room.

  A little while later, Kevin wandered into Kelsey’s room. He was eating a large (and yummy-looking) sandwich. “What’s up with your eye?” he asked.

  “A boy ran into me,” Kelsey said.

  Kevin stared at her eye. “Wow, that’s going to be an amazing shiner, Clumsy. I mean Kelsey.”

  “How rude!” I squeaked loudly.

  Clumsy! Kelsey wasn’t always careful, but I didn’t think she was clumsy!

  And what on earth was a “shiner”? Another mystery word!

  “Birdbrain,” Kelsey muttered.

  Kevin just chuckled and wandered out again. I was glad he was gone.

  Once we were alone, Kelsey flopped down on the bed. “That’s what I am, Humphrey. Clumsy Kelsey, like Kevin said.”

  I climbed up the side of my cage and looked right at Kelsey. “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard,” I told her.

  “I am,” Kelsey said. “I’m always running into things and getting bumped and bruised.”

  “Because you aren’t careful,” I explained. “That’s what Mrs. Brisbane says. You need to take your time.”

  “Mom thinks ballet will make me graceful,” she said. “But I think it will just make me more clumsy.”

  I knew ballet was some kind of dancing. In her note, Mrs. Brisbane said she was going to be dancing soon.

  Maybe she was learning ballet. Did she think it would make her more graceful?

  “What’s so great about twirling around on your toes?” she asked.

  I thought about it. Twirling was kind of like spinning on my wheel, which is something I LIKE-LIKE-LIKE to do. And I use my toes for all kinds of things, from climbing on my cage to grooming myself.

  “Sounds pawsitively great!” I said.

  Kelsey got up off the bed, looked in the mirror and smiled. “It’s a great shiner,” she said. “But whoever heard of a ballerina with a black eye?”

  “I don’t know,” I squeaked. “I’ve never actually seen a ballerina.”

  Kelsey walked over to her dresser and picked up a pink box. “Here, Humphrey. I’ll show you,” she said.

  Sometimes I wonder if humans really can understand me.

  After setting the box next to my cage, Kelsey opened the lid and I saw an amazing thing. There was a tiny dancer—smaller than me—in front of a small mirror. Tinkly music began to play as the ballerina twirled around.

  The ballerina was all in pink, with a short pink skirt, and she danced right up on her tippy toes. I was spellbound as I watched her go ROUND-ROUND-ROUND again and again.

  “See, that’s a ballerina,” Kelsey said. “She never trips and falls. She never gets a black eye.”

  I was disappointed when she suddenly slammed down the lid of the box. The ballerina disappeared from view and the music stopped playing.

  “I could never be graceful like her,” Kelsey said. “Watch.”

  Kelsey started spinning around the room. I have to admit, she didn’t exactly look like the twirling ballerina. While the tiny dancer twirled in one place, Kelsey lurched around wildly until I was afraid she was going to stumble right into my cage.

  She didn’t. Instead, she wobbled and fell backward, landing on her tail. (Well, the place where humans would have a tail, if humans had tails.)

  “Ouch!” she said.

  “Eeek!” I squeaked.

  Just then, Simon raced into the room. His mom and Kelsey’s mom were right behind him.

  “Hi, Kelsey,” he said. “My mom wanted to see your eye.”

  “Kelsey, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Kirkpatrick asked.

  Kelsey got up and rubbed her rear end. “Practicing ballet,” she said.

  Simon walked up to Kelsey and looked closely at her eye. “Wow, that’s amazing,” he said.

  “Does it hurt?” Mrs. Morgenstern asked.

  “Not really,” Kelsey answered. She pointed at the side of Simon’s head. “Hey, you’ve got a bump.”

  Simon rubbed his head. “Gee, I’d rather have a shiner.”

  So . . . a shiner must be a bruised eye!

  He turned and saw me. “Hi, Humphrey! Look at my bump.”

  “Eeek!” I squeaked again. But Simon didn’t seem to mind.

  “We thought if we all went out for ice cream, you two might forget your injuries for a while,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said.

  Kelsey and Simon seemed happy and didn’t even remember to say good-
bye to me when they all left the room.

  When I was alone, I thought about the twirling ballerina.

  I can spin on my hamster wheel or in my hamster ball, but twirling looked like fun.

  I stood up and tried to twirl, but I tumbled head over toes instead. Somersaults are fun . . . unless you aren’t planning on one.

  I got up and tried again. This time I manage to twirl around once.

  But something was missing: the music!

  I knew that it would take my friends a while to get ice cream, so I jiggled my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and pushed on it. Once I was out of my cage, I hurried over to the pink box.

  I could barely reach the lid, and the first time I pushed, the lid popped up and crashed right back down. But even standing on my tippy toes, I wasn’t tall enough to open it.

  However, I don’t give up easily. So I scurried over to the side of the box near the hinge. And finally, I pushed with all my might and the lid swung open. Phew, that lid was heavy!

  The music began to play, and I raced to the front of the box to watch the pretty little ballerina go round and round.

  Kelsey was right. The ballerina was a graceful dancer. I watched her whirl and twirl until I felt a little dizzy.

  Then, I raised myself up and tried twirling again. I stood UP-UP-UP on my toes and spun myself around in a circle. Then I made another circle. And another. I was twirling and not falling over!

  I wished Kelsey could see me. If a furry little hamster could learn to twirl around gracefully, I knew she could, too!

  Although I was unhappy about Mrs. Brisbane leaving Room 26, I hoped she would enjoy dancing as much as I was.

  My twirling was interrupted by a loud bang and footsteps. Kelsey and Simon were back!

  I raced back to my cage and pulled the door behind me. The ballerina was still dancing and the music was playing.

  “Humphrey! We brought you a strawberry,” Kelsey shouted as she raced into the room.

  Simon was right behind her. “Where’s the music coming from?” he asked.

  “My music box,” Kelsey said. “That’s funny. It was closed when I left.”

  Simon laughed. “Maybe Humphrey opened it.”

  That made Kelsey laugh. “Sure, it was Humphrey.”

  With the music still going, it was my chance to show Kelsey that anybody could learn to twirl . . . even a hamster!

  I got up on my toes and spun around again and again.

  “Look! Humphrey’s dancing!” Simon pointed at me.

  Kelsey leaned down to watch. “He makes it look easy,” she said.

  They giggled, of course. The music was getting slower and slower. So was I.

  “Can you make it go again?” Simon asked.

  Kelsey closed the lid and opened it again. The music was back to speed and the ballerina was spinning.

  “Let’s do a Humphrey dance,” Simon said. He started twirling around the room and laughing.

  Kelsey chuckled and started twirling again, too.

  “The trick is to pick one place to look,” Simon said. “Each time you spin around, look at that spot.”

  He was a pretty good twirler.

  “Hey, it works,” Kelsey admitted.

  She wasn’t staggering. She wasn’t stumbling. She was just spinning.

  The music slowed down again and we all stopped dancing.

  “That reminds me. I have to start ballet lessons tomorrow,” Kelsey said. “I don’t see how I’ll ever dance on my toes.”

  “Ah, my sister takes ballet. You don’t start out on your toes. You start out with simple stuff,” he said.

  Slow-Down-Simon’s sister was Stop-Giggling-Gail. She’d been in Mrs. Brisbane’s class last year. I knew she was a great laugher, but I didn’t know she took ballet lessons, too!

  “Really?” Kelsey said.

  “Really,” Simon said.

  “Let’s watch Humphrey dance again,” he said.

  So I DANCED-DANCED-DANCED some more until finally, it was time for Simon to go home.

  Before she went to bed that night, Kelsey watched the music box ballerina again for a while.

  “It would be nice to have a pretty pink tutu like that,” she said. “Maybe I’ll like ballet after all.”

  Tutu? I was piewhacked until I realized she was talking about the dress.

  Well, I liked ballet, but there was no way I was going to wear a pink tutu—ever!

  I guess Kelsey read my mind, because she said, “Of course, boy ballet dancers don’t dress like that. They wear tights. They don’t dance up on their toes, but they lift the girl dancers way up in the air.”

  Whew! I was relieved to learn that.

  Kelsey slept well that night. And even though I’m usually awake for some of the night, I slept unsqueakably well, too.

  I guess it was all that twirling.

  On Saturday afternoon, Kelsey left for her dance class. I crossed my toes and hoped that she would enjoy her first lesson.

  While she was gone, I couldn’t resist leaving my cage to watch the tiny ballerina dance again. I made sure I was back in my cage long before Kelsey got back.

  “Humphrey, Humphrey!” she shouted as she raced into the room. “Wait until I show you!”

  She stood in front of my cage and noticed that the music box was open.

  “I closed that before I left,” she said. “Maybe there’s something wrong with the lid.”

  I didn’t squeak one word.

  “Anyway, I want to show you what I learned at ballet class,” she said.

  “GOOD-GOOD-GOOD,” I replied.

  She pointed at her shiny pink shoes. “These are my ballet slippers,” she said.

  Next she showed me five positions for the feet. And then she did some very graceful dipping moves.

  “It was so much fun, Humphrey! And I can be graceful. I just have to pay attention to what I’m doing. That’s what our teacher said,” Kelsey explained. “At the end of the class, we got to dance around the room with scarves. It was beautiful.”

  The next day, Kelsey’s eye was a rainbow of colors. But it didn’t seem to bother her. She spent a long time practicing the five positions.

  I practiced, too, but I guess a hamster’s feet work a little differently than human feet. The first three positions weren’t too bad, but the fourth and fifth were . . . well, let’s just say, I’m going to have to practice a whole lot more.

  And pay attention to what I’m doing.

  HUMPHREY’S DETECTIONARY: I don’t know if Sherlock Holmes ever tried ballet dancing, but he should have because it’s FUN-FUN-FUN.

  7

  The Case of the Colorful Cards

  When Kelsey brought me back on Monday morning, everybody rushed over.

  “Whew! That’s some black eye!” Rosie exclaimed.

  Actually, it was purple and gray with pink and green stripes, but I didn’t correct her.

  “How’s it feel?” Mr. E. asked her.

  “Fine,” Kelsey said.

  She set my cage on the table in front of the window and walked very carefully—and gracefully—back to her desk.

  “BOING-BOING!” Og greeted me cheerily.

  Then Simon came in and everybody wanted to touch the bump on his head.

  “Okay,” he told Small-Paul. “But not too hard.”

  “That’s nothing,” Thomas said, holding the back of his head. “I hit my head and had to get ninety-five stitches here.”

  “That explains a lot,” Just-Joey muttered as he walked by.

  Tall-Paul bent down and looked at Thomas’s head. “Funny, there’s no scar.”

  “Ninety-five?” Simon asked. I’m pretty sure he didn’t believe Thomas. “Are you sure?”

 
; “If you got ninety-five stitches in your head, you’d be sure,” Thomas said.

  My friends all went to their seats, and as soon as the bell rang, Helpful-Holly raised her hand.

  “Mr. E., we always have a vocabulary test on Monday,” she said.

  There were lots of groans from the other students and some of them went “Shhh! Shhh!”

  “Well, we won’t have one this Monday,” Mr. E. replied. “Because today we’ll have—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence because just then Mr. Morales walked into the classroom. He was wearing a tie with horses all over it. (I wonder if they make a tie with hamsters all over it?)

  “Class, I have another note from Mrs. Brisbane. She says, ‘I’m getting stronger every day. Today, I was actually able to put on my slippers. I think of you all every day.’”

  Slippers? Kelsey said that’s what ballerinas wear. And Mrs. Brisbane had said she’d be dancing soon.

  So, just as I thought, Mrs. Brisbane really was learning ballet!

  “I have an address for her now,” Mr. Morales said. “So I think it would be nice if you’d all make cards and we’ll send them off to her.”

  “Great idea,” Mr. E. said. “We’ll start on it right away.”

  After Mr. Morales left, Mr. E. passed out colorful paper. He told my classmates to start writing their messages to Mrs. Brisbane while he gathered up art supplies.

  Holly’s hand shot up in the air. “They’re over there on the shelves. I can show you!”

  “No, thanks, Holly. You start writing,” Mr. E. replied. “Now be sure to make your card reflect your personality.”

  “Can I take this home and work on it tonight?” Daniel asked.

  “Try to Do-It-Now-Daniel,” Mr. E. told him. “If you don’t finish, you can take it home.”

  Soon, all of my classmates were bent over their tables, working.

  All except for Joey. He stared at his paper, but he didn’t write one word.

  I scrambled up to the top of my cage to see if I could read what my other friends were writing, but I couldn’t make out the letters from so far away.

  I wanted to write to Mrs. Brisbane, too, but I didn’t dare take out my notebook in case someone saw it. And as much as I like my friends, my notebook is private. (No one should ever read something that’s private.)