Mr. and Mrs. Patel were down in the basement. I heard her say something about “organizing the boxes.”
There were occasional sounds from the kitchen. Once, when Paul made a suggestion to Art, I heard a piece of paper being crumpled up. “I don’t get it. I’m not like you—some kind of genius.”
Paul quietly said he wasn’t a genius. He just liked math.
“I hate numbers. They’re just squiggles on paper. They don’t mean anything!” Art burst out.
Then things were VERY-VERY-VERY quiet.
I had my Plan, but it was risky. The last time I’d left my cage, I’d caused some Big Trouble, especially for my friend Miranda. Still, I felt I had to take a chance in order to help Art. After all, he was my friend, too.
So I opened my good old lock-that-doesn’t-lock, grabbed on to the table leg and slid down to the nice soft carpeting. I quickly darted under the table to make sure that no one was around. I could hear the boys in the kitchen and I hadn’t heard Art’s parents since they went down into the basement.
I took a big huge breath and scampered across the living room, turned left at the hallway and ran straight back to Art’s room. Thank goodness the door was open or my Plan would have ended right then and there.
The maze of train tracks looked much different from a hamster’s eye level. There were many tracks going this way and that way and a string of colorful cars attached to a big, shiny engine.
My Plan was a simple one, as most good plans are. I thought the boys would eventually find that I’d gotten out of my cage. They’d search for me and end up in Art’s room. When Paul saw Art’s amazing train layout, they’d start working on it together and remember how much they’d liked being friends a few years ago. Art would be willing to let Paul help him with math and his grades would go up. We’d all live happily ever after! (Except Miranda, of course. I was still feeling guilty about getting her in trouble.)
Maybe it wasn’t such a simple Plan after all.
It was taking the boys a long time to discover that I was missing. I realized it could take them hours. Or possibly, they’d never notice that I was missing at all. I yearned for my comfy cage that offered so many fun things to do, like spinning on my wheel, climbing my tree branch, swinging from my ladder or dozing in my sleeping hut.
I was feeling sleepy right then and I saw a bed that was exactly my size. It wasn’t really a bed, just an open car on the train. I scurried over to it and was easily able to pull myself up the side and settle down inside. Yes, it fit me perfectly and what a thrill it was for me to be sitting in a train for the first time in my life! Ahead of me was a tank car made of gleaming metal. Ahead of that was a passenger car with tiny plastic people looking out the windows. And in front was the powerful engine with a whistle on top!
I was too excited to take a nap. Instead, I stretched my paws, and as I did, I accidentally hit some kind of switch or lever. I didn’t have time to see what it was because when I touched it, the train lurched forward and began to move around the track.
Once I realized I was going on a train trip, I decided to sit back and enjoy it. I loved the way the train’s wheels went clickety-clack on the track and the way it traveled in a wide curve past the general store and the tall pine trees. The train picked up speed and I could feel the breeze in my fur. Everything went dark—completely dark—for a long time. (At least it seemed long.) A tunnel! I hadn’t seen that coming.
When I came out the other end, the train veered left and began to climb UP-UP-UP. I could look straight down on the roof of the general store and the tops of the tall pine trees. That Art was certainly clever to be able to build a bridge.
The train stopped climbing and moved across the straight center of the bridge. The pine trees looked small from what felt like the top of the world. But straight ahead, what I saw was Trouble! As the train started down the incline on the other side of the bridge, the bright shiny engine tumbled off the side, pulling the passenger car with its tiny people off the edge and then the shiny metal tank car. My heart skipped a beat as I realized I was headed for a huge fall, … and I was about to land right in the middle of Lake Patel!
HUMPHREY SPENDS WEEKEND
WITH ART!
Classroom pet makes his first visit
to Patel house.
The Humphreyville Herald
Test Distress
My whole (short) life flashed before me: my days at Pet-O-Rama, Ms. Mac bringing me to Room 26, the days when Mrs. Brisbane was out to get me, the day Og arrived and the faces of all the friends I’d helped since I’d come to Longfellow School.
“Help!” I squeaked.
I heard the muffled voices of Art and Paul.
“Maybe he’s in here!”
“How’d he get out of his cage?”
“I don’t know … he just did!”
“Hurry, please!” I squeaked, because I was hanging from the bridge by one paw and I was getting TIRED-TIRED-TIRED. The cool waters of Lake Patel would have seemed inviting to Og, but hamsters are not especially fond of swimming. In fact, we’re desert creatures, a fact I never knew until Richie did a report on hamsters.
“I hear him!” Art shouted.
There were sounds of footsteps as Art and Paul rushed into the room.
“Oh, no! The train fell off the bridge again,” Art exclaimed.
“There he is!” said Paul. He raced forward and I dropped into his hands as gently as falling into a nice warm pile of bedding.
I must admit, I was quivering and shivering a bit, but I relaxed as Paul stroked me with his finger. “It’s okay, Humphrey. You’re safe now.”
I looked up and saw Art staring at his train layout: the bridge, the lake, the train cars lying in a heap. “I don’t understand why it always falls off. And how’d he get the train going in the first place?”
“How’d he get out of his cage?” Paul asked.
These were not questions I was about to answer.
Holding me in his hands, Paul kneeled down to inspect the train layout. “Wow, this is awesome! Did you do this all by yourself?”
“Yep.” Art sounded proud. “And I have lots more I want to do.”
“So that’s what you’re always doodling. It’s really cool.”
“Thanks.”
“About that bridge …,” said Paul, handing me to Art.
“It looks okay,” Art replied. “But every time, the cars tumble off the edge. Gee, Humphrey could have been hurt. The fall could have killed him. Or he could have drowned!”
“He’s safe now,” Paul reminded him.
“I’m a loser,” Art said quietly. “I’m sorry, Humphrey.”
“No problem,” I squeaked softly. But it was a problem. I’d been one whisker away from plunging into—yikes—a lake! (Believe me, hamsters should NEVER-NEVER-NEVER get wet.)
Paul got down on his hands and knees, examining the bridge. “I think I see the problem.”
“You do?” Art knelt down next to Paul.
“You don’t have the same number of each sized support on each side. See? They look almost alike, but they’re slightly different sizes.”
Art did. “That’s weird. It looks even.”
“It’s just enough to throw the train off. I’m pretty sure that’s the problem if you measure them. Let’s get Humphrey back in his cage and we can work on it.”
“You really think you can fix it?” said Art.
“You can fix it,” Paul replied. “It’s all a matter of measurement.”
“See, numbers are always my problem!” Art pretended to smack himself in the forehead.
“They aren’t just squiggles on paper?”
“I get the point,” Art admitted. “Can you stay awhile longer?”
“Sure. I can stay.”
Luckily, when the boys put me back in my cage, they brought it into Art’s room so I could watch what they were doing.
“I’ll measure the supports and count them to make sure we have the same number of each.” Art
got out a ruler and went to work.
“We’ll need two of each size,” said Paul. “And I think you have a problem with this curve over here.”
“I have accidents there all the time,” said Art.
“The turn is too sharp for the length of the engine. We’ll need to extend it,” said Paul. “I’ll help you figure out the angle.”
I crawled into my sleeping hut for a nice long doze. I woke up when I heard a train whistle. By the time I was out of my hut, the train was climbing toward the bridge. I gulped as it chugged along the top, remembering how high it was when I’d been riding in that car.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” said Paul as the train approached the downward slope of the bridge.
I must admit, though I’ve done some brave things in my short life, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t stand the sight of that train plunging off the tracks again.
I waited for the crash but instead I heard the guys cheering. When I opened my eyes, Art and Paul were high-fiving each other. “We did it!” said Art.
“Way to go,” said Paul.
Mrs. Patel appeared in the doorway, smiling. “What’s going on in here?” she asked.
“Paul helped me fix the train,” said Art.
“Art did all the work,” said Paul.
“That’s great! But how about the math?”
“We studied for a while,” Paul said.
“I don’t quite get it yet. Could you—I mean, would you help me some more?” Art asked Paul.
“Sure,” Paul quickly replied.
“Tell you what. I’ll call your mom and see if you can stay for dinner,” Art’s mom suggested. The boys thought it was a great idea.
“First, maybe you could clean up in here?” Mrs. Patel suggested.
Soon, Art’s train layout looked neat and the extra track was put away.
“We’d better take Humphrey back to the living room,” said Art, picking up my cage.
“Say, how’d he get out of that thing, anyway?” asked Paul.
“Maybe I wasn’t paying attention when I closed it,” said Art. “But it’s not the first time. Miranda got in a lot of trouble when Humphrey got out the last time. She might not get to take him home again.”
Never, ever again? My whiskers wilted when I heard that news.
Paul seemed surprised. “Miranda? That doesn’t sound right. Let me check that lock.”
Art put the cage down and Paul bent over and checked my cage door. I shivered a bit because Paul was one smart kid. He might actually uncover the secret of my lock-that-doesn’t-lock.
“Looks fine to me,” he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
But I only felt relieved for a while. After I was back in the living room and the boys were off studying, I wasn’t thinking about trains or numbers or even the fact that I had narrowly escaped a disastrous accident.
I was thinking about Miranda and the trouble I’d caused her. Mrs. Brisbane had said there would be “consequences for her carelessness.” Miranda was suffering the consequences, but the carelessness was all mine.
Paul ended up staying for dinner and spending the night and studying with Art on Sunday. In the afternoon, Art’s dad told them he thought they needed a break and the three of them went into Art’s room to work on the train layout. They were in there a LONG-LONG-LONG time. Finally, they came out with big smiles on their faces.
“Humphrey, we have a surprise for you,” said Art. He opened the door to my cage.
Surprises are sometimes nice things, like birthday parties or an especially juicy strawberry. Surprises can also be scary things, like being snowed in and hungry, or strange things, like suddenly having a frog as a next-door neighbor. So as Art carefully picked me up and took me out of my cage, I had a queasy, uneasy feeling all over.
With Mr. Patel and Paul following him, Art carried me down the hallway to his room.
“It’s all finished!” he said.
I peered over the edge of Art’s hand. The train layout was amazing! The town now had streets and even streetlights, along with the houses and trees. Between the red-and-white tent and the big wheel were an elephant and a clown. It looked like a real town, although I could have done without the lake or the dark tunnel.
“Everything’s working now,” Art said. “So we thought you’d like a real train ride.”
Sometimes humans imagine that they know what you’re thinking. I was thinking I could skip riding a train ever again!
“We tested it with a weight to make sure that the car won’t tip over with you in it,” said Paul.
“Maybe Humphrey doesn’t want a ride. Did you think of that?” asked Mr. Patel.
Art placed me in the open car. “He’s the one who had the idea in the first place.”
Paul pushed the switch and said, “All aboard!”
I clenched my paws along the side of the car as the train started chug-chugging down the track and around the wide curve, past the town, the general store and the tall pine trees. The train picked up speed just as it entered the tunnel. It was dark, but I didn’t mind this time. In fact, I would have been happy to stay in the tunnel forever, as long as I could avoid that bridge. All too soon, it was light again and the train began its climb.
As soon as it hit the straight bridge, it picked up speed again. I tried not to look down, but I couldn’t help taking a peek. Lake Patel was right below me, looking dangerously wet. At least Paul and Art and Mr. Patel were there to catch me—I hoped! All of a sudden, the train dropped and headed down the incline. I closed my eyes tightly. The speed of the train created a strong wind in my fur. When I opened my eyes, the train had almost reached the bottom of the incline and it hadn’t tumbled off the tracks! I was safe.
The train veered around another curve, around the back of Lake Patel. Whee! This was one fun ride! Suddenly, the train began to slow DOWN-DOWN-DOWN.
“Coming into the station,” Paul announced.
“Don’t stop now!” I squeaked. “One more time around!”
“I think he likes it,” said Art. Boy, he was really paying attention now! So around I went, not once, not twice, but three more times. It was thrilling, chilling and I was perfectly willing to keep going around forever. But Art’s dad said it was time to stop or I might get sick.
I must admit, when the train stopped, I felt a little strange. Once I was back in my sleeping hut, my head stopped spinning and I began to write in my notebook, trying to find the words to describe my wild ride.
A train
Makes your brain
Click and clack
Around the track.
And even when the train is slowing,
Your brain just keeps on GO-GO-GOING.
My brain kept going round and round that track all night. The next morning, when we got back to school, I couldn’t wait to tell Og about my exciting adventure. But as soon as I saw Miranda come into class, I was squeakless because of that hurt look in her eyes every time she glanced at my cage.
The look that had my brain hurting.
The look that made me remember the Trouble all over again.
My mind was a million miles away until it was time for math and Paul came into the room. I realized that while Art and Paul had studied hard for the test, I had not.
The test was HARD-HARD-HARD! My friends wrote and stared at their papers and stared at the ceiling, erasing and sighing. Seth sat amazingly still, glancing over at my cage now and then. Miranda did more erasing than writing, which was strange for her. Paul wrote quickly while Art seemed to struggle. He kept running his fingers through his hair, but his eyes were right on his paper.
Art was paying attention. But did he understand the math?
At last, Mrs. Brisbane called time and collected the papers. When Paul got up to leave, he whispered something to Art. Art nodded his head.
“I will mark these during lunch,” said Mrs. Brisbane. “I know you’re all anxious to get your grades.”
When it was finally time for lunch my friends
raced out of the room.
I, on the other paw, stayed inside, watching our teacher grade the papers and feeling about as worried as a hamster can feel.
Mrs. Brisbane worked quickly. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she frowned and made a lot of marks on the paper. Sometimes she shook her head.
I was gnawing my toes, wondering what grades my classmates were getting, especially Art.
When lunch was over and my friends were all settled, Mrs. Brisbane said, “Class, I’m not quite finished. If you’ll take out your social studies books and read the chapter on how communities are organized, starting on page seventy-five, I’ll keep on grading. All right with you?”
Mandy sighed loudly. Mrs. Brisbane ignored her.
“How many more do you have to grade?” Heidi asked.
“Heidi … what are you supposed to do before you talk?”
Heidi raised her hand.
“Thank you. I think I’ll be finished by the time you’ve all read the chapter.”
I don’t have a social studies book, so I continued to watch Mrs. Brisbane and nibble at my toes. Og dove into the water for a long, splashy swim. He was probably worried about the tests, too.
Just when I thought I’d have no toes left at all, Mrs. Brisbane stood up.
“Class, I’ve finished grading the math papers and I’m pleased to say that all around, I’ve seen improvement. In fact, most of your grades have gone up.”
She began to pass out the tests. One by one, I could tell what grades my friends had gotten from the expressions on their faces.
Sayeh—100%, of course.
Paul—100%, of course. Paul smiled, then glanced at Art, obviously worried about his friend.
Seth broke into a broad grin and he made a V-for-victory sign with his fingers as he turned to Tabitha. She acted happy, too.
For the most part, friends like A.J., Garth, Richie, Heidi and Gail looked relieved when they got their papers. I was holding my breath as Mrs. Brisbane handed Art his test.
“Good work,” she said. “I knew you could do it.”
How do I describe the look on Art’s face? Glowing? Gleaming? Beaming? As happy as he looked when he viewed his beautiful train layout? All I can say is he was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY and when Paul saw him smile, he beamed, too.
Trouble According to Humphrey Page 6
