Trouble According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  “I know. I’d just like to say I’m sorry to you and to Humphrey. If anything ever happened to Humphrey …” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “Everybody makes mistakes. Let’s move on from here, okay? You go on to lunch.”

  Miranda nodded and went to get her lunch bag. When she returned from the cloakroom, she stopped by my cage and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Humphrey.”

  What Mrs. Brisbane said was true: Everybody makes mistakes. Only in this case, it was the teacher making the mistake, not Miranda. All because of ME-ME-ME.

  Somehow we got through the rest of the day, although it was hard to look at Miranda, with her red eyes and her shiny nose. I saw Mandy staring at her. When it was time for afternoon recess, she hurried over to Miranda’s table.

  “I know that losing your job feels really bad. I’m sorry about it,” she told Miranda. “Want to play tetherball with me?”

  Miranda seemed surprised. She and Mandy had never been close friends, but by the time they had their coats on and were headed out the door, they were chattering away.

  Art stayed in during recess to retake his spelling test. I’d been worrying about Miranda so much, I had forgotten about Art’s problem. He hadn’t done a good job as Energy Monitor, but Mrs. Brisbane didn’t know about that. I was worried that Art had forgotten to study for his test … again. I had to hide in my sleeping hut so I couldn’t hear Mrs. Brisbane read out the words for him. PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE, I thought. Please let Art pass the test!

  I couldn’t hear Mrs. Brisbane very well, but I certainly did hear Og when he let out a long series of BOINGs! Four or five at least. I darted out in time to see Mrs. Brisbane smile at Art. She was holding his test in her hands.

  “A 95%. Art, that’s the best you’ve done all year. Now that I know what you’re capable of doing, I expect this kind of grade from now on. Think you can do it?”

  Art squinched up his face. “I guess.”

  “Just remember to study. And pay attention, okay?”

  Art nodded and got out of the classroom as fast as he could.

  Whew! “Well, Og, he did it,” I told my neighbor. He took a deep and splashy dive into the water of his cage, which meant he was feeling as happy about Art as I was.

  Late that afternoon, Kirk took charge of Og and me. In his usual clowning way, he pretended to eat a cricket before he gave it to Og and he also made icky gagging noises when he cleaned up my poo. But he laughed, so I knew he really didn’t mind.

  When he was finished and the students were doing silent reading, Mrs. Brisbane quietly slipped over to my cage and checked again to see that it was locked. It was … or at least it seemed to be.

  At last, the long and difficult day was over. I was greatly relieved when Miranda waited until everyone had left the classroom and carefully turned off the lights.

  They didn’t come on again until Aldo arrived that night. “Give a cheer, ‘cause Aldo’s here!” he said, but I wasn’t feeling too cheery. I was a tiny bit mad at him for writing that note to Mrs. Brisbane, although I knew he meant well.

  “Glad to see you back in your cage,” Aldo told me. “It’s a dangerous world out here, you know.”

  After all my fur-raising adventures, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that!

  Aldo jiggled my cage door the way humans always do. “Nice and snug tonight,” he said. “I guess Mrs. Brisbane got my note.”

  She got his note, all right.

  I just hoped Miranda wasn’t still crying.

  The next morning, Miranda came bustling into the room with Sayeh and not only was she not crying, she was smiling! I guess I still have a lot to learn about human behavior. Seeing Miranda laugh made me feel a lot better. Later, though, when she passed by my cage, she looked serious again and stared at me for a few seconds.

  “I’m SORRY-SORRY-SORRY!” I squeaked.

  She blinked hard and turned away. For the rest of the day, she didn’t cry, but she was a quieter Miranda than usual.

  However, my other friends were anything but quiet. They were so caught up in their jobs, it was hard for them to concentrate on anything else. In the middle of science, Heidi leaped up, grabbed a pencil out of Richie’s hand and ran off to sharpen it. Mandy spent more time writing up “Messy Table” notices than she did labeling the planets. Mrs. Brisbane did her best to try to keep things under control.

  When it was time for math, Paul slipped into class as quietly as ever. Mrs. Brisbane handed out homework papers and when he saw his grade, Art rolled his eyes and suddenly looked smaller than Paul. When Mrs. Brisbane asked if there were any questions, Miranda’s hand shot up.

  “It’s pretty sunny outside. I was thinking that we could probably turn off the lights for a while and save some energy.”

  Usually, when somebody asks a question that’s completely off the subject, Mrs. Brisbane isn’t too happy about it. This time she smiled. “Well, I suppose we could do without lights for a little while. Thank you, Miranda. I’ll add some extra points to your job evaluation for thinking of it.”

  Miranda acted more like her old golden self. That was good. But there was something else that was bad. At the end of the day, Art forgot to shut the door when he left. Mrs. Brisbane called him back and told him she had to deduct two points off his job score. Art was pretty upset. “Does this mean I don’t get to take Humphrey home this weekend?”

  Ah, so that’s whose house I would be visiting on Friday night!

  Mrs. Brisbane sighed and thought it over. “No, you can take Humphrey home if you remember to close the door every single time tomorrow.”

  “Gee, thanks!” Art said, carefully closing the door behind him as he left.

  That night, I tried to figure out how I could fix things for Miranda. I was usually good at fixing things. I needed a Plan.

  “Og, I have a brilliant idea!” I squeaked out loudly. “I’ll get out of my cage tonight so Mrs. Brisbane will know that Miranda didn’t make a mistake!”

  “BOING!” said Og, then slid into the water and splashed wildly. I don’t think he liked that idea. I thought it over some more.

  “My gosh, you’re right, Og! Kirk will get in trouble and I don’t want that to happen. There’ve been enough kids in trouble this week.”

  I stayed in my cage the whole night. Aldo came and went, cleaning, reading and eating. Everything looked completely normal. Too bad it didn’t feel that way.

  HUMPHREYVILLE CITIZENS ARE

  REMINDED TO OBEY THE RULES

  Consequences for not doing a job

  are highlighted.

  The Humphreyville Herald

  The Difficulty with Art

  On Friday, Mrs. Brisbane added up the points everyone had earned in their jobs during the first week. On the whole, my friends did well. Miranda had made up some of the points she’d lost. Heidi and Mandy lost a few points because they were overly enthusiastic about their jobs. In fact, several people weren’t speaking to Mandy for handing out so many Messy Table notices, especially Tabitha, since all she had on her work space was a pile of sharpened pencils, which Heidi had put there.

  “It’s not fair! I was only doing my job,” Mandy complained.

  “A little too well,” said Mrs. Brisbane in her grumpy voice.

  A.J. got full points for handing out papers, Tabitha collected homework every single morning and Richie kept the plants watered, though there was an unfortunate puddle on the floor one day when he overwatered the plants.

  “That plant needs a diaper,” Kirk joked.

  Richie cleaned the water up right away and didn’t lose any points.

  Near the end of the day, Mrs. Brisbane made job assignments for the next week. Seth would take care of Og and me. Heidi would erase the board while Gail would be the Energy Monitor. I could tell that Sayeh was GLAD-GLAD-GLAD to be named Mrs. Brisbane’s assistant and Miranda was our new Table Inspector. No matter what her job was, she was always thinking about me. I heard her tell Seth, “Please be careful to check Humphrey’s lo
ck.”

  Mandy grumbled when she was assigned to water the plants, but I don’t think anyone heard her except Og and me.

  When class was over, Mrs. Patel arrived to pick up Art and me. She’s one of our room mothers and lends a hand whenever our class needs extra help … or cup-cakes—yum!

  “I was thinking of not letting Art take Humphrey home until after our big math test next week,” Mrs. Brisbane told her. “Then I had an idea. Paul Fletcher has been coming into our room for math every day because he’s so far ahead of his class.”

  “Paul! He lives right across the street,” said Mrs. Patel.

  “I know. And I was thinking that maybe if the boys studied for the test together, it might help Art.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Mrs. Patel answered. “Paul hasn’t been over for a long time. He and Art used to play together all the time.”

  “Mom, he’s a whole year younger than me,” Art protested. “I don’t play with little kids.”

  “He’s seven months younger than you. You used to like him a lot.”

  Art stood there looking miserable. “When I was a kid.”

  “Art, you have do something to improve your math skills,” said Mrs. Brisbane. “I can recommend a tutor, if you like.”

  “Absolutely, let’s get Art some help. He’s a smart boy, you know.” Mrs. Patel messed up Art’s hair and he made a face.

  “I know,” said Mrs. Brisbane. “He’s a nice boy, too.”

  “You know what? I think we should invite Paul over,” said Mrs. Patel. “I bet he’d like to get to know Humphrey, too.”

  “YES-YES-YES,” I squeaked. I wasn’t exactly sure if Paul wanted to get to know me, but I certainly wanted to get to know him better. And maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Brisbane had a very good Plan. I like Plans a lot.

  We had to climb up many, many steps to get to Art’s front door. Mrs. Patel wasn’t much bigger than Art, so they each took one end of my cage and carried me up that way. They had trouble keeping my cage level, which meant I was sliding around like those ice skaters on Dobbs Pond, except I’ll bet they were more graceful than I was. I tried to grab on to something: my ladder, my wheel, the edge of my cage. But as soon as I reached out, the cage would tilt and I’d slide in the opposite direction.

  “Hang on, Humphrey. We’re almost there,” said Art. I was too weak to squeak.

  Somehow, we got into the house where I was set down on a table—more like banged down on a table—and Mrs. Patel took the blanket off my cage. “Sorry, Humphrey. We did our best.” She turned to Art. “Why don’t you straighten his cage out?”

  Art bent down and laughed. “It looks like a tornado hit.”

  Mrs. Patel peered in at me with sympathetic eyes. She reminded me of Ms. Mac for a second. “Are you okay, Humphrey?”

  She opened the cage door and gently took me out. This was a woman who knew how to handle hamsters. She stroked me gently with one finger while Art straightened out my bedding and put everything back where it belonged.

  “I think I’ll have to find a special treat for our guest,” said Art’s mom. “Then we’ll call Paul.”

  Art leaned down and glumly stared at me. “Humphrey, I had a big surprise for you. We were going to have a lot of fun. Now I have to sit around and do math with Know-It-All-Paul.”

  “Who?” I squeaked.

  “That’s what some of the kids on the playground call him. Once, I think they made him cry. I guess he can’t help being smart, but I wish he wouldn’t ruin my weekend.”

  Mrs. Patel came back in with a big juicy strawberry for me. “I called Paul’s mom and she said he’d love to come over tomorrow.”

  Art acted as if he’d just lost his best friend. He seemed so unhappy, I couldn’t even eat my strawberry. I hid it in my shavings and saved it for later.

  In the evening, Mr. Patel came home from work. He was a kind man in a gray suit and he said I was a handsome gerbil. Art was paying attention for once and he told his father that I am a hamster. Mr. Patel nodded and said, “A handsome hamster. Do you know how to take proper care of him?”

  Art showed him the guide that goes with my cage whenever I go home with students on weekends. Within minutes, Mr. Patel was reading the booklet cover to cover.

  “Very interesting,” he said.

  A few minutes and several pages later, he added, “We must plan some stimulating activities for Humphrey.”

  Stimulating activities! I liked the sound of it. I jumped on my wheel and started spinning like crazy.

  “He’s certainly active for a nocturnal creature,” Art’s dad commented.

  “Can I take him to my room?”

  “I don’t think you should move that cage around too much.”

  “I’ll hold him.” Art opened the door to my cage.

  “And you won’t let him get away? I understand hamsters are quick and crafty creatures.” Art’s dad was a pretty smart guy.

  “I promise.” Art picked me up and held me with both hands—gently but firmly.

  “Come on, Humphrey. Wait till I show you my surprise,” said Art, heading down a long hallway.

  In some ways, Art’s room was like most rooms I’ve seen. A bedroom is basically a square box with windows and a bed. Sometimes there’s a desk or a dresser. Art’s room had all those things. In another way, his room was unlike any room I ever imagined because just about every single inch was covered with tracks and bridges and houses and TRAINS-TRAINS-TRAINS! Not big trains but very small trains. There were open cars and passenger cars and cars I don’t even know about because I’d only seen trains in pictures.

  There was a big circle of track in the middle of the room with a bridge going across the middle. Inside the center of the circle was a town with houses and trees. On the edge of the town stood a red-and-white tent and a big wheel.

  “What do you think, Humphrey?” Art asked as he cupped me in his hands and let me look around.

  “It’s unsqueakably sensational!”

  “See that lake?” Art pointed to a pool of actual water near the big wheel. “That’s Lake Patel.”

  “Blazingly brilliant!” I shouted.

  “Ever since I got the train set for my birthday, it’s all I can think about. I’m going to have a town and an amusement park—see, there’s a Ferris wheel—and I’m going to put in a roller coaster and maybe a zoo. Isn’t it great?”

  “GREAT-GREAT-GREAT!” I squealed.

  It was great. But now I knew why Art wasn’t paying attention in class and why he was doodling all the time. This was what he was thinking about. I could see why. This world he’d created was Fun with a capital F.

  Maybe this Fun was also causing Art to Fail?

  Which didn’t seem fair, because you should be able to have fun without failing.

  Paul wasn’t failing, but he didn’t act like he was having a lot of fun, either.

  This was all very confusing for a small hamster. But when a human has a problem, I always try my best to help, especially if that human is a friend.

  Later that night, I was back in my cage and Art was back in his room, probably working on his train layout. I was spinning on my wheel when I heard Art’s parents talking.

  “We have to do something. His grades are falling every day,” Art’s mom said.

  Art’s dad thought for a while and replied, “I don’t understand it. He’s always been a bright boy. What does his teacher say?”

  “She suggested a tutor. I think it’s a good idea even though I’m not sure all the tutors in the world would make Art pay attention in class.”

  “It’s that train,” Art’s dad said firmly. “I think we’ll have to take it away from him. Once he started with that, his grades went down.”

  I stopped spinning. It made me SAD-SAD-SAD to think of Art losing the train set he loved so much.

  Art’s mom sighed. “I’d hate to, but we may have to.”

  The Patels sat in silence for a while. Then Art’s mom said, “Paul Fletcher is coming over tomorrow.
Mrs. Brisbane suggested he might help Art with his math.”

  “Paul? Isn’t he a grade below Art?”

  “Sure is. I guess he’s a math whiz. He comes into Art’s class for math every day.”

  “I hope it helps,” said Art’s dad. “Those two were best friends when they were little. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Art seems to think Paul’s too young for him to play with. But he’s only seven months younger!”

  The Patels both chuckled about that. Soon, they went to bed and the house was quiet.

  I had all night to think of a Plan. Somehow, I had to put two and two together to get Art back on track with his math … and with his old friend Paul.

  “Look who’s here,” Mrs. Patel announced the next afternoon when the doorbell rang. Paul stood in the hallway, holding his math book and a notebook. “Come on, Art!”

  Mrs. Patel took Paul’s coat and hung it in the hall closet while she asked him how he was, how his parents were and how school was going. Finally, Art came into the room. He wasn’t smiling.

  “Hi, Paul.”

  “Hi, Art.”

  They stared at each other for a second. “Come say hi to our houseguest,” said Mrs. Patel, leading the boys toward my cage.

  I jumped up on my ladder and squeaked, “HI-HI-HI!”

  “It’s Humphrey,” said Paul. He was almost smiling, I think.

  “That’s right. I guess you know him from coming into Room Twenty-six for math,” said Mrs. Patel. “And speaking of math, why don’t you boys settle in the kitchen to study? I’ll fix some hot chocolate.”

  Neither of them moved.

  “Art,” said Mrs. Patel. “Take Paul to the kitchen.”

  Art grudgingly led Paul to the kitchen and out of my sight.

  I could hear Art’s mom say, “Here’s your hot chocolate, guys. Now, you know how to study together?”

  “I thought we could work out a few problems,” Paul said.

  Art didn’t answer. I heard papers shuffling. I heard Paul and Art mumbling, but it was pretty clear—there wasn’t all that much happening in the kitchen.