School Days According to Humphrey Page 7

  “No, Harry, I didn’t,” she said. “It’s very interesting, but you promised me you’d get back to class on time after recess and lunch.”

  “I know,” said Harry, staring down at his feet.

  Mr. Morales told Mrs. Brisbane he’d let her handle the problem. I thought Harry was LUCKY-LUCKY-LUCKY that he didn’t have to sit in the principal’s office and hear how disappointed Mr. Morales was.

  I was a little disappointed in Harry. Why couldn’t he learn to hurry up?

  “Harry, can you tell time?” Mrs. Brisbane asked Hurry-Up-Harry when she kept him in during afternoon recess.

  Harry nodded. She asked him to tell her what time it was right then and he was correct.

  “Have you had your hearing tested?” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  Harry nodded. “I can hear just fine.”

  “Then why are all the other students able to hear the bell and get back to class on time and you aren’t?” she asked.

  It was the same question I would have asked if I had the chance.

  “Just when the bell rang, I happened to be standing next to that trophy case. I’d never noticed it before,” he said. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

  “It seems as if you have two problems,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “One problem is that your parents have a little trouble getting you here on time.”

  “I know,” Harry said. “They lose track of time.”

  Mrs. Brisbane nodded. “Yes. But you have a problem remembering to get in line and come back to class on time. You can’t blame your parents for that.”

  “I guess I lose track of time, too,” Harry said.

  “I have an idea,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Why don’t you watch the clock in the morning and remind your parents when it’s time to leave? It may not be your fault that you’re late, but maybe you could try to help them.”

  “Okay,” Harry said.

  “Second, when you see your friends lining up, you line up, too. No matter how interesting the trophy case is or what size anthill you see. You need to take responsibility.”

  I agreed with that!

  “You won’t have Humphrey this weekend, but if you can get back to class on time all of next week, you can take him home,” she said.

  “Really?” Harry smiled from ear to ear. “I can do it!”

  Mrs. Brisbane let him go out to recess, but after he left, she kept on talking. I’m not sure if she was talking to me or just to herself, but I listened. (I’m pretty sure Og did, too.)

  “I’ve had problems with dawdlers before,” she said. “But never quite like Harry.”

  The next day, I waited anxiously for Mrs. Brisbane to make a very important announcement. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Paul Fletcher will be taking Humphrey home for the weekend,” she said. “I have the permission slip. Who is picking you up?” she asked.

  “My dad,” Paul said.

  I was happy to be going home with Small-Paul. He seemed happy, too. In fact, he looked a little taller for the rest of the afternoon as he sat up very straight and glanced over at my cage a lot.

  “It won’t be long now, Humphrey,” he told me after recess.

  Not everybody was happy, though. Harry looked embarrassed because he hadn’t been on time all week as he’d promised.

  Tall-Paul seemed especially grumpy.

  I know Helpful-Holly was hoping to have me for the weekend, too.

  But in the end, I thought Mrs. Brisbane made a very good choice.

  Small-Paul’s dad wore a suit when he picked me up. He had taken off from work early to get us. I have to admit, I felt unsqueakably important, but I did remember to say good-bye to Og as Mr. Fletcher carried my cage out of the classroom.

  “I’ll tell you all about it Monday! Bye!” I said.

  At their home, Mr. Fletcher got me settled on a desk in Paul’s room. “Humphrey, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” he said.

  “Thanks a lot!” I replied, which made Paul and his dad laugh, even though I’m pretty sure they didn’t understand exactly what I’d said.

  My weekend at Small-Paul’s house was pretty quiet, except for his little brother, Max. Every time he saw me, Max jumped up and down, flapped his arms and squealed. I think that meant he liked me. He was only two years old and much smaller than Paul. Sometimes Paul picked his brother up and carried him around.

  To Max, Small-Paul was extremely tall.

  The Fletcher family did fun things like watch movies and play games and eat popcorn, like the other families I’d stayed with.

  Paul, of course, did his homework, because he was a VERY-VERY-VERY good student.

  On Sunday afternoon, Paul cleaned my cage while Max watched.

  “Poopy!” Max said, flapping his arms up and down and squealing.

  I was glad Paul didn’t squeal.

  Afterward, Paul settled down at his desk and worked on his model planes. They had small wings and a small cockpit that were just about my size. I wondered how it would feel to fly. But then I remembered the unsqueakably dangerous boat ride I took once and tried not to think about it anymore.

  There were dozens and dozens of tiny parts to be glued together and the amazing thing was, Paul knew just where to put them.

  While he worked, he talked to me. Luckily, I’m a very good listener.

  “Just my bad luck, Humphrey, having another Paul in class,” he said as he carefully glued a wing in place.

  He sighed a very large sigh. “He would have to be tall.”

  “He can’t help that,” I squeaked, trying to be helpful.

  “Have you noticed? He’s always showing off how tall he is.” Paul carefully held the wing in place while the glue dried.

  I was puzzled. Paul G. had never shown off, as far as I could see.

  “I don’t think he’s a show-off,” I said.

  “The big bragger,” Paul muttered.

  Oh, if just once a human could understand my squeaks! Especially when I’m trying to be helpful.

  “The worst day of my life was when he came to our school.” Paul let go of the wing and it stayed in place.

  Small-Paul was extremely smart, but that didn’t mean he was always right.

  “Someday, I’m going to design, build and fly my own planes, Humphrey,” he said, looking down at his model with pride. “Look at this. A Hornet. Mach two. I guess you don’t know what it is. But someday, maybe I’ll take you for a ride.”

  “Thanks,” I squeaked. “I think.”

  That night, I had one of those weird dreams. This time, I was flying in one of Paul’s little wooden planes. I was zooming high into the sky when suddenly a giant hand reached out and grabbed the plane.

  I looked up at the face of the person holding the plane in his hand.

  It was Paul Green. Tall-Paul.

  “Now you know what it feels like to be tall,” he said.

  Then he raised his arm and let the plane go—UP-UP-UP into the clouds. I kept going and going until, thank goodness, I woke up.

  Like I said, it was a weird dream.

  On Monday morning, Max gave a final squeal and I was on my way back to Room 26. Small-Paul, as usual, got to class early.

  Kelsey was right behind us and she bumped Paul’s arm, which jiggled and joggled my cage like crazy.

  “Be-Careful-Kelsey,” Paul snapped at her.

  “Sorry!” she said. “Is Humphrey okay?”

  “Yes,” I squeaked weakly.

  Kelsey seemed like a nice girl, but I wished she could pay a little more attention.

  “How was your weekend with Humphrey?” Mrs. Brisbane asked when Paul placed my cage back on the table by the window.

  “Great!” Small-Paul said.

  “Maybe you can show Paul G. how to take care of Humphrey, now that you have experience,” she suggested.

  Paul looked shocked. “Do I have to?”

  “Well, it would be nice,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “He’s new to the school, and he’d like to be
included.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Small-Paul answered.

  I could see by the look on his face that he’d already made up his mind.

  Just then, the final bell rang. Hurry-Up-Harry raced through the door while it was still clanging. He rushed to his seat and sat down, panting but looking proud.

  “I’m not tardy, am I?” he asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  He looked pleased. But when I glanced at Small-Paul, he wasn’t looking pleased at all.

  “Og,” I squeaked to my neighbor. “We really have our work cut out for us.”

  “BOING!” he agreed.

  HUMPHREY’S RULES OF SCHOOL: NEVER-NEVER-NEVER be tardy and ALWAYS-ALWAYS-ALWAYS listen to the classroom pet (even if you have trouble understanding).

  10

  The Very Worst Day

  That Monday was an unsqueakably difficult day. More difficult than any day we had last year in Room 26.

  First, Thomas said that he’d seen a wolf while he was walking to school. But Mrs. Brisbane got him to admit it might have been a big dog.

  Mrs. Brisbane reminded him not to exaggerate.

  Worse yet, Phoebe had forgotten her spelling homework and burst into tears, which made me feel SAD-SAD-SAD.

  Next, Mrs. Brisbane asked Paul to come up to the board for some math problems, and both Small-Paul and Tall-Paul jumped out of their seats. When they got up to the board at the same time, they glared at each other.

  The other students laughed.

  “Sorry, guys. I meant Paul G.,” Mrs. Brisbane explained.

  Tall-Paul turned red and Small-Paul scowled as he returned to his seat.

  Small-Paul liked to do math problems in front of the class. Tall-Paul got the problem wrong and turned an even deeper shade of red.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, Kelsey skinned her knee at recess and had to go to the nurse’s office.

  Then Mrs. Brisbane had an excellent idea (as she often does). She decided to put me in my ball and let me roll up and down the aisles. She probably wanted to get her students’ minds off their problems.

  It would be very interesting if all humans could get a hamster’s-eye view of their world at least once. If they did, they would probably clean their shoes more often—there really are unsqueakably awful things stuck to the bottoms of many shoes. Humans should pay more attention to their socks, too. On that day, both Thomas and Kelsey had on mismatched socks.

  They’d also realize how much they tap their feet and move around in general, even when they think they’re sitting still. As I spin around the classroom, I’m always GLAD-GLAD-GLAD I have that ball to protect me.

  Despite the dangers, I kept rolling around lazily. The students were reading to themselves and after a while didn’t even seem to notice me.

  As I approached Rosie’s table, I decided it would be interesting to get a closer look at her wheelchair. I still hadn’t figured out exactly how she would “pop a wheelie.”

  Rosie saw me coming closer and her eyes sparkled.

  “Hi, Humphrey,” she whispered.

  But when I got a little closer, Holly let out a yelp and grabbed my hamster ball, picking it up so quickly I was doing somersaults inside.

  “Eek!” I squeaked.

  “What is it, Holly?” the teacher asked.

  “Humphrey could trip up Rosie’s wheelchair! He got way too close,” she said, holding up the ball. “But I’ve got him now.”

  “He wasn’t too close,” Rosie protested. “I saw him there.”

  “I think it’s dangerous,” Holly said.

  “The way you picked him up is dangerous,” Rosie replied. “You could have hurt poor little Humphrey.”

  I don’t like to think of myself as “poor little” anything, but she was right. I wasn’t hurt, but I was definitely dizzy.

  “You must remember to be gentle with Humphrey,” Mrs. Brisbane said as she took the ball from Holly. She peered in through the yellow plastic. “Are you all right?”

  I squeaked, though it was a weaker squeak than usual.

  Mrs. Brisbane put me back in the cage, satisfied that I was okay.

  I headed straight for my sleeping hut, which was the safest, quietest place I knew.

  I crawled out a little while later when I heard Rolling-Rosie ask if she could speak to Mrs. Brisbane.

  The room was empty because it was lunchtime.

  “You didn’t pop a wheelie again, did you, Rosie?” the teacher asked.

  “No,” Rosie answered. “It’s about my assistant.”

  “Holly?” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Rosie wheeled up close to the desk and she and Mrs. Brisbane talked. Og and I were as silent as could be so we could hear every word they said.

  “I don’t think I need an assistant,” she explained. “I can do almost everything myself. So could you tell Holly not to help me anymore?”

  Mrs. Brisbane was silent for a moment. “I could,” she finally said. “But do you really want me to?”

  “Yes!” Rosie answered. “I know Holly wants to help, but she helps way too much. She helps me when there’s no problem at all. Sometimes, she gets in the way.”

  “Have you told her that?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

  Rolling-Rosie nodded. “I said she didn’t need to help so much. It didn’t work.”

  Again, Mrs. Brisbane was silent for a while. “I can see you don’t need much help, Rosie. But maybe Holly does,” she finally said.

  “Holly?” Rosie sounded REALLY-REALLY-REALLY surprised.

  “She likes to help,” Mrs. Brisbane explained. “I think she’d be pretty upset if I said you didn’t need her anymore.”

  “Maybe she could help someone else,” Rosie suggested.

  “Let’s give her one more chance, Rosie,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “I’ll have a word with her and see if things improve. Okay?”

  Good old Mrs. Brisbane. She really knew how to handle students. “Now, we’d better eat. I’m going down to the lunchroom, too,” she said.

  As they headed out of the classroom, I couldn’t wait to talk to Og.

  “Were you listening, Og?” I asked my neighbor. “Helpful-Holly will be upset if she gets fired.”

  I knew that because I’d be unsqueakably upset if I got fired from my job as a classroom hamster.

  “BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og agreed, splashing in his water.

  I thought the day would never end, but at last the afternoon bell rang. As the students gathered up their backpacks, Mrs. Brisbane took a sheet of orange paper and approached Phoebe.

  “Phoebe, I have an idea to help you remember your homework,” she said. “Each day, we’ll put a big, colorful reminder in your backpack so you won’t miss it. What do you think?”

  “Okay,” Phoebe said.

  “I’ve written your homework assignment on it. All you have to remember is to bring it back,” Mrs. Brisbane continued.

  Phoebe nodded. “I will,” she promised.

  “You can do it, Phoebe!” I squeaked. Then I hopped on my wheel and started spinning as fast as I could.

  I think she was smiling when she left the room.

  The day took a turn for the better after school when some of my old friends from last year came back to Room 26. There was Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi Hopper and her best friend, Stop-Giggling-Gail Morgenstern, along with Repeat-It-Please-Richie Rinaldi.

  I was spinning on my wheel when they came in and I was so glad to see them, I stopped suddenly and almost tumbled off. (Please don’t make sudden stops when you’re spinning on a wheel.)

  “HI-HI-HI!” I squeaked. I’m not sure they could hear me over the loud splashing sounds Og was making.

  “Humphrey! My favorite hamster!” Heidi said as she rushed up to my cage.

  Gail giggled. “Og! My favorite frog!” she said as she hurried to my friend’s tank.

  “And you’re my favorite teacher,” Richie told Mrs. Brisbane.

  “
Thank you, Richie,” she replied. “But you have to give Miss Becker a chance. She’s an excellent teacher.”

  “I know,” Richie said. “But she doesn’t have any classroom pets.”

  Heidi leaned in close to my cage. “I’m doing pretty well raising my hand this year, Humphrey,” she told me. That was unsqueakably good news. Mrs. Brisbane and I had worked hard to help her end her bad habit.

  “BOING-BOING!” Og twanged, sending Gail into peals of laughter. I don’t think Gail could ever stop giggling completely. At least I hoped not.

  I was so glad to see my old friends from last year, I jumped on my wheel and started spinning fast, which made them all giggle.

  “Go, Humphrey!” Richie said.

  Then Og decided to dive into the water side of his tank and made an extra-big splash, which made them giggle even louder.

  “Awesome, Og!” Heidi said.

  “I think Og and Humphrey are glad to see you,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “Oh, Mrs. Brisbane, we miss them so much,” Heidi said. “We came to ask you something important.”

  I slowed down the wheel.

  “You say it, Richie,” Gail said.

  “Okay.” Richie suddenly looked serious and he cleared his throat. “Mrs. Brisbane, we don’t think it’s fair that you have two classroom pets in Room Twenty-six and we don’t have any in Room Eighteen. We were hoping you’d donate one of yours to Miss Becker.”

  Thank goodness I’d hopped off my wheel or I’d have fallen over. I was REALLY-REALLY-REALLY surprised—and so was Mrs. Brisbane.

  “Goodness! I don’t think my students would like that,” she said. “If Miss Becker wants a classroom pet, she can get her own. But I’m not sure she wants one.”

  “She’d like Humphrey or Og! Everybody does,” Gail said.

  “And Og came here from another classroom,” Heidi said.

  “At least ask her. Please,” Richie begged.

  Mrs. Brisbane was unusually quiet. I was, too, and I didn’t hear a BOING or a splash from Og.

  ʺPlease.ʺ Gail looked so serious, I could hardly believe it was her speaking.

  “Please,” Heidi added.