School Days According to Humphrey Page 8

  At last, Mrs. Brisbane spoke. “To tell you the truth, I can’t imagine giving up either one of them. Don’t you think they’d miss each other?”

  Heidi and Gail glanced at each other.

  “They weren’t always together. Humphrey was alone in the beginning,” Richie said.

  I had to squeak up for myself. “But it was so lonely at night. Even scary!”

  I’d almost forgotten how loud the clock sounded in the empty room and how long the nights were without someone splashing nearby.

  “BOING-BOING!” Og agreed. “BOING-BOING-BOING!”

  That made Gail giggle, of course.

  Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it. And I’ll talk to Miss Becker about classroom pets. But I’m just not sure it’s a good idea to separate Humphrey and Og and take one of them away from my class.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Brisbane. We really miss them,” Richie said.

  They chatted with the teacher for a few more minutes, and then it was time for them to go home.

  After they left, Mrs. Brisbane leaned in close to my cage and stared at me.

  “To tell the truth, I can’t imagine teaching without you and Og to help me,” she said. “Am I just being selfish?”

  “NO-NO-NO!” I squeaked at the top of my tiny lungs.

  Mrs. Brisbane chuckled. “I don’t think Arlene Becker wants any classroom pet—not even you,” she said. “So don’t worry.”

  “Thanks,” I squeaked. “I won’t.”

  But I did. I worried and worried and worried some more. And even though he hatched from an egg and was cold-blooded, I could tell that Og was worried, too.

  HUMPHREY’S RULES OF SCHOOL: It’s actually possible to be too helpful.

  11

  Brisbane’s Buddies

  Worried? Did I say I was worried? It was worse than that. I was WORRIED-WORRIED-WORRIED and worried some more!

  “Og!” I said when we were alone in the classroom. “Do you understand what they were talking about?”

  “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!”

  Okay, so Og understood.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I said. “I mean, I miss our old friends.” I had a funny little pang in my heart every time I thought about them. “And I’d like to see what they do during the day,” I continued.

  “BOING!” Og replied. So he still agreed with me.

  “But what about Mrs. Brisbane? I’d miss her, too,” I said. “And this Miss Becker person doesn’t really seem to like animals very much. Mammals or amphibians. Maybe even fish.”

  There were fish in the tank in the library that I like a lot.

  “And even if they did seem a little strange in the beginning, these new students are pretty nice. I’m making Plans for some of them. And wouldn’t they be upset if one of us disappeared?” My mind was spinning like a hamster ball. “And don’t forget, Mrs. Brisbane said she can’t imagine teaching without us. She needs us, Og!”

  “BOING!” Og said, taking an impressive (and splashy) dive into the water side of his tank.

  “So, she’s got to say no,” I ended. “Doesn’t she?”

  “Richie called me and told me his goofy idea,” Aldo said as he dusted the tables that night. “Imagine, moving one of you to Room Eighteen. It’s a bad idea! I told him that!” The tables bounced up and down as he gave them a brisk dusting.

  “I think you’re right, Aldo,” I squeaked. “But it would be nice to see Richie every day.”

  “If Miss Becker wants a classroom pet, she should get her own,” he said. “There are other hamsters and frogs looking for homes.”

  I suddenly thought back to my early days at Pet-O-Rama . . . and of the hamsters, guinea pigs, mice, rats and chinchillas all hoping to find nice homes. (I never saw any frogs there. I guess the amphibians were in another section.)

  “You’re so right, Aldo!” I shouted, climbing to the top of my cage. “Tell Richie that!”

  Surprisingly, Aldo stopped and chuckled. “Still, those kids just love you and Og,” he said. “I guess I can’t blame them for trying.”

  I couldn’t blame them for trying, either.

  Once Aldo had left for the night, I could hear Og gently floating in his tank—making the slightest-possible splashing sounds.

  My mind was still racing. I worried about the new kids in Room 26 and all their problems. Didn’t they need both Og and me to help them?

  I worried about Mrs. Brisbane, who was not selfish. She was just telling the truth: she needed us to help her.

  I worried about something else, too. Even though we were different species, even though I was warm-blooded and he was cold-blooded, even though I had fur and he didn’t . . . I would miss Og if we got separated.

  I crossed my toes, hoping that he’d miss me, too.

  I felt restless and uneasy, so I decided to take a little stroll down to Room 18 to find out what my old friends were doing in class. Last time, I’d left in a hurry when there was the thunderstorm.

  Og was unusually quiet. Just in case he was sleeping (which I’m never sure about), I opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock very gently and managed to slide down the table leg without making a sound. Then I darted across the floor, slid under the door, and made a right turn. When I got to Room 20, I made a left turn and there it was: Room 18.

  Once I was inside, I got a funny feeling in my tummy. There were nice decorations on the walls and it was tidy and neat. It just didn’t feel like home. I suppose if all my old friends, like Kirk and A.J., were sitting in the chairs, it would have felt more familiar.

  The problem was, it was unsqueakably quiet. No splashing. No twanging. No one to talk to at night.

  I wasn’t even sure there was room for a cage or a tank on the table by the window.

  I slid under the door and back into the hallway, making a right turn at Room 20.

  As I scurried past the other classrooms, I realized that if Og and I were separated, I could still come visit him at night. I’d be able to tell him all about the problems in Miss Becker’s classroom. But all I’d find out about what was going on in Room 26 would be the usual “BOING!”

  As I approached Room 26, I heard a VERY-VERY-VERY loud noise.

  “SCREEE-SCREEE!” It was Og’s alarm call. Something must be terribly wrong!

  I slid under the door so hard, I zoomed halfway across the classroom!

  “SCREEE-SCREEE!”

  “I’m here, Og! What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Og was suddenly silent and I knew what was wrong. I’d been so quiet when I left Room 26 that when Og realized I was gone, he didn’t know what had happened to me.

  “Sorry, Oggie, I just went down to Room Eighteen to check it out,” I explained.

  I reached the table and looked up at the blinds cord hanging down. Even though I am always a little nervous about getting back up to the table, I grabbed hold of the cord and started swinging, higher and higher until I reached the top of the table and let go. I slid again, right up to Og’s tank.

  “Sorry you were worried,” I told him.

  “BOING!” he replied. He sounded much calmer now.

  Once I was back in my cage, I wasn’t really that sorry. At least now I knew that if Og and I were separated, he’d miss me as much as I’d miss him.

  I carefully slid my notebook out from behind the mirror and wrote what I felt in my heart:Autumn, oh, autumn,

  Bringing changes every day.

  Autumn, oh, autumn,

  I don’t want to move away!

  For the rest of the week, I didn’t have time to write poetry. I was too busy trying to keep up with all the comings and goings in Room 26. Believe me, there were a lot of them!

  After several days of remembering her homework, Phoebe forgot again.

  “What about that reminder in your backpack?” Mrs. Brisbane asked her.

  “I forgot to look in my backpack,” the girl admitted. I thought she was going to burst into tears again.

  Mrs. B
risbane sighed. “I think I’m going to have to call your grandmother.”

  That upset Phoebe a lot. “Oh, please, don’t! I don’t want to worry her. I promise I’ll do better!”

  “See that you do.” Mrs. Brisbane let her go, but that was a close call!

  Then, during recess one day, Mrs. Brisbane had a talk with Helpful-Holly about letting Rosie decide when she wanted help. Holly listened and agreed to try. Still, I saw Rolling-Rosie get irritated several times when Holly wanted to push her wheelchair or tell other people to get out of the way.

  Mrs. Brisbane was annoyed when Thomas raced out of the cloakroom one afternoon and announced that there was a bug as big as his hand in there.

  “Eek!” I squeaked.

  But the bug turned out to be a harmless little fly.

  That same day after school, Ms. Mac stopped by to chat. She had problems, too.

  “Humphrey, teaching first grade would be a lot easier with you around, but I can’t ask Mrs. Brisbane to give you up,” she told me.

  I didn’t think it would be polite to argue with her.

  Just then A.J. and Richie came in to try to convince Mrs. Brisbane to let either Og or me move to Room 18.

  “You miss us, don’t you?” Richie asked me as he generously slipped a few raisins into my cage.

  “I do!” I squeaked back.

  “You’d rather live in Room Eighteen, wouldn’t you?” A.J. said in his loud voice.

  “Maybe not,” I mumbled.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about moving to Room 18. And I couldn’t tell what Mrs. Brisbane was thinking because she was spending every spare moment playing with cards.

  She’d line up the cards in pairs on her desk and mutter over them at recess.

  She stayed after school and moved them around, muttering some more. I could only hear bits and pieces of what she was saying—things like, “Maybe that will help her,” and, “Those two will work well together.”

  I am a very curious hamster, especially when it comes to what’s going on in the classroom. One night, Mrs. Brisbane left the cards out on her desk and I just couldn’t stop thinking about them. I wanted to check them out, but I didn’t dare risk leaving my cage until after Aldo was finished for the night.

  “Hi, rodent and frog. Greetings from a primate!” Aldo announced when he came in to clean.

  “What’s a primate?” I asked.

  Aldo pulled out a cloth and starting dusting the student tables. “Primates are the group of mammals that humans belong to. Rodents are the group of mammals hamsters belong to. I guess you already know Og is a frog,” he explained. “There are so many kinds of frogs, they have a whole group all to themselves!”

  I was shocked to find out there were more frogs than hamsters in the world. Imagine that!

  Aldo began to dust the teacher’s desk.

  “NO-NO-NO!” I squeaked. Mrs. Brisbane had worked so hard arranging those cards!

  “Whoops,” Aldo said. “Mrs. Brisbane’s in the middle of something here.”

  He looked at the cards more closely. “Looks like she’s got something planned here. Brisbane’s Buddies!”

  Brisbane’s Buddies? I’d never heard of that before.

  Aldo left the cards alone and mopped the floors. When he was finished, he stopped to eat his supper and talk to us.

  “I told Maria that I’m lucky I get to clean Mrs. Brisbane’s room,” he said as he munched on a sandwich. Maria was Aldo’s wife and a special friend of mine. “I get a lot of good ideas about teaching just from seeing what she’s doing,” he added.

  Aldo gave me a small piece of carrot and dropped a few Froggy Food Sticks into Og’s tank before he left. He was a thoughtful friend.

  Once Og and I were alone again, I couldn’t stop thinking about those cards.

  “Brisbane’s Buddies,” I said. “Og, do you have any idea what that’s about?”

  Og splashed lazily in the water. He obviously didn’t have an idea.

  “Now I can finally find out for myself,” I said.

  I flung open the door to my cage and scurried to the edge of the table and slid down the cord hanging from the blinds.

  Getting to Mrs. Brisbane’s desk was easy.

  Getting on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk was VERY-VERY-VERY difficult. In fact, it would have been completely impossible, except for those little bars between the chair legs. I think they’re called “rungs,” but don’t ask me why.

  However, climbing the chair that way meant reaching up as high as I could, grabbing hold and then pulling myself up, rung by rung, with all my might. (I’m strong because I get so much exercise.)

  Then, balancing on the top rung, I had to reach up high again, pull myself up and slide onto the seat of the chair.

  After stopping to catch my breath, I reached up one more time, pulled myself up to the arm of the chair and rested again.

  Luckily, Mrs. Brisbane always pushes her chair under the desk, so from the arm of the chair, it wasn’t too difficult to pull myself up onto the desktop.

  Although I was eager to get to the cards, I couldn’t help noticing Rockin’ Aki’s hamster ball.

  I took a closer look. I’d really only seen Aki up close when he was moving. Now, he was completely still. He actually didn’t look much like a hamster at all. His fur wasn’t shiny and golden like mine, and his eyes were lifeless pieces of plastic. I felt a little sorry for him.

  I decided to concentrate on the cards. One big card said Brisbane’s Buddies and the rest were laid out in pairs. Each card had one student’s name on it. Above each pair was a label that said something different.

  “It looks like some kind of game, Og!” I squeaked to my friend. “I’ll try to figure it out.”

  I strolled up and down the rows of cards, reading the labels: Teacher’s Assistants, Door and Line Monitors, Homework Collectors.

  “They’re classroom jobs, Og!” I squeaked. “Mrs. Brisbane is pairing up two people for each job so they’ll have to work together. Isn’t that a good idea?”

  “BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.

  “Bulletin Board Designers . . . oh, and listen to this job: Animal Handlers,” I told him.

  “BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og replied, splashing loudly in his tank.

  Now that I understood what Brisbane’s Buddies were, I started reading the names she had paired together.

  “Paul G. and Kelsey, Thomas and Phoebe, Holly and Rosie . . .” I suddenly stopped. Mrs. Brisbane had worked hard and done a good job. But I had a few ideas of my own. Since part of my job as a classroom hamster is to help the teacher, I decided it would be okay for me to lend her a paw. She needed all the help she could get.

  “I’m just going to make a few teeny-weeny changes, Og,” I explained to my friend as I carefully started moving the cards around.

  What may seem like a little card to a human is actually a HUGE card to a small hamster, so it took a lot of time and effort to move them and line them up.

  I was thinking so hard about what I was doing, I forgot about Aki until I accidentally backed into his hamster ball. I guess I hit the switch, because lights began to flash and the ball started to loop and twirl across the desk.

  “Rockin’ Aki! Rock ’n’ roll rules!” The ball spun wildly.

  “Stop it, Aki!” I squeaked. Then I remembered he wasn’t real.

  The ball twirled across the cards, which slowed it down.

  BUMPITY-BUMP-BUMP!

  Aki had seemed like a lot of fun when it was daytime and all my friends were there. But now, his hamster ball was rocking and rolling out of control! Twice, it spun dangerously near the edge of the table. If it fell off, it would be broken forever and Mrs. Brisbane would be VERY-VERY-VERY upset.

  There had to be some way to shut it off. I could see the little on/off button as it spun across the desk, but every time I was close to it, the ball rolled away from me.

  Then I spotted some pencils lying nearby. I quickly slid one pencil on either side of the ball to keep it from rolling.
It worked! The ball stayed in place, but the lights still flashed and the music blasted out, “Rockin’ Aki!”

  There was still a problem: I would have to switch the large button from on to off.

  “Don’t worry, Og! I’ll turn it off!” I squeaked. Not that Og could hear me over all that noise.

  I wasn’t sure how to approach the ball. But if I could explore the school, spin on my wheel and swing on a blinds cord, I could surely get to that button!

  I took a running leap and jumped right on top of it. I’d once seen a TV show where cowboys rode on bucking broncos, trying their best not to get thrown off. While the ball wasn’t moving, it was still shaking like mad.

  “Yahoo!” I shouted, just like those cowboys.

  The plastic was slippery, but I stretched my paw WAY-WAY-WAY closer to the button.

  “Ride ’em, cowboy!” I yelled as the ball rocked and rolled.

  “Rockin’ Aki!” the music played.

  I pushed the button with all my might and it slid forward. The music and lights stopped immediately. I hadn’t thought about the stopping part and I slid off onto the desk.

  “Ouch! I’m okay, Og! Nothing broken,” I said. “At least I don’t think so.”

  As I lay there, catching my breath, I looked over at the little hamster in the ball, staring straight ahead with glassy eyes.

  “Sorry, pal,” I said. “I was only trying to help.”

  Of course, I had to spend more time straightening out the cards that Aki had messed up.

  By the time I finally got back to my cage, the room was getting lighter. Before long, Mrs. Brisbane and the strange students would be back.

  Of course, they’d never know about my exciting adventure. They probably thought that being a classroom hamster was easy.

  But even if they didn’t know what I’d accomplished, I was pleased that I’d done an unsqueakably good job!

  I think Og was, too.

  HUMPHREY’S RULES OF SCHOOL: Whatever job you’re given in the classroom, always do your best. Even if it makes you unsqueakably tired!

  12

  Hickory Dickory Dock