Trouble According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bwian,” he said.

  “Brian? How old are you?”

  Bwian—or Brian—held up three fingers.

  “Three! Well, in a few years, I hope I’ll have you as a student in Room Twenty-six.”

  “There’ll be two more coming before him,” Mr. Payne said in a gruff voice I didn’t like.

  Mrs. Brisbane led Mr. Payne over to my cage. “And this is Humphrey.”

  “I hope it doesn’t eat a lot,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously.

  Mrs. Brisbane handed him a couple of plastic bags of food. “This will take care of him. Humphrey likes vegetable treats, too. Mandy knows what to do—right?”

  Mandy nodded and tugged at her father’s jacket. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go now!”

  “Stop rushing me.”

  “You left the twins in the car?” asked Mandy.

  “Had to.”

  “Well, they’ll murder each other. Come on!”

  Mandy took Brian’s hand and Mr. Payne took my cage. He wasn’t too gentle, so I flipped and flopped around.

  “Bye, Og. Wish me luck!” I squeaked to my friend. I usually feel sorry for Og. He doesn’t go home with students unless it’s a long weekend, because he doesn’t have to eat every day.

  Today, I envied him. Murder? In the car? In the car I was going to ride in?

  “BOING!” Og twanged. I appreciated his concern.

  It was a LONG-LONG-LONG ride to the Paynes’ house, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the Payne family. In addition to Mandy and Brian, there were the twins, Pammy and Tammy. I guess they were around five years old. They may have been twins, but they didn’t look alike. Pammy had light brown hair and red skin. Everything about her was round: round face, round eyes, round cheeks and a round body. Tammy was as thin as a candy cane. Her hair, eyes and skin were very pale.

  There was one thing they had in common: They both liked to complain as much as Mandy did.

  “I get to sit next to Humphrey,” said Pammy.

  “No, I get to sit next to Humphrey,” argued Tammy.

  “You’re too rough,” said Pammy.

  “You’re too loud,” said Tammy.

  “Pipe down!” Mandy shouted.

  “You hurt my ears!” Brian complained.

  “You kids all drive me crazy!” yelled Mr. Payne, glancing at the backseat.

  “You’re driving too fast!” said Mandy.

  “He’s driving too slow!” Tammy whined.

  “You hurt my ears!” said Brian again, covering his ears with his hands.

  I wanted to squeak, “PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE be quiet!” but no one would have heard me anyway.

  Finally, we got to the Paynes’ house. I figured they wouldn’t argue as much outside of the car. I was wrong.

  When Mr. Payne plunked my cage down on a table in the living room, it felt like an earthquake. He helped Brian take off his coat and gloves, muttering, “Hold still!”

  Pammy, Tammy and Mandy threw their coats on a chair and rushed over to my cage.

  “I want to hold him!” Pammy announced.

  “Me first!” said Tammy.

  “Later,” said Mandy. She peered in at me. “Sorry about the commotion, Humphrey. I’ll let you rest awhile, okay?”

  “Thank you, Mandy,” I squeaked loudly.

  “Hear that? He said, ‘You’re welcome,’” Mandy told her sisters.

  “I heard him say, ‘You’re ugly,’” said Pammy, giggling.

  “I heard him say, ‘I like Tammy better than Pammy,’” said Tammy, poking her twin in the ribs.

  Mr. Payne slumped down in a beat-up old chair and rubbed his eyes. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said. “Mandy, why don’t you fix us some mac and cheese for dinner?”

  “Again?” asked Mandy.

  “You’re the oldest.”

  “I hate mac and cheese,” said Pammy.

  “I love mac and cheese,” said Tammy.

  Mandy stomped into the kitchen. Brian followed her, shouting, “Bwian help! Bwian help!”

  About that time, Mr. Payne turned on the television. The twins immediately raced over to watch it.

  “I want Channel Five!” said Pammy.

  “Channel Eleven!” said Tammy.

  “Kids! Quit your bellyaching. We’re watching Channel Seven and that’s that,” said Mr. Payne in a very firm voice.

  For a while the twins were silent. The TV was loud as people screeched—or maybe they were singing. The Paynes remained quiet until Mandy said, “Get out of the way, Brian. This is hot!”

  Soon I heard Brian go “Ow!” and Mandy say, “I told you it was hot. Now sit down!”

  Brian rushed back in the living room, rubbing his hand. Then he noticed me and started poking his fingers in my cage. Meanwhile, I could hear dishes banging around in the kitchen.

  I sure wished I could see what she was doing. I’d been to a lot of houses and I’d never seen anyone as young as Mandy fix dinner. But that’s what makes being a classroom hamster interesting: I’m always learning new things about humans.

  Later, Mandy brought in plates with macaroni and cheese and the family kept watching TV while they ate. When they were all finished, they argued over who would do the dishes.

  “It’s your turn,” said Mr. Payne.

  “It’s always my turn.” I’d never seen Mandy so annoyed. Finally, she carried the dishes into the kitchen, muttering under her breath, “I have to do everything around here. I’ll soak ‘em but I won’t wash ‘em.”

  The Paynes watched TV, arguing from time to time over which channel to watch. Brian fell asleep first. Pammy fell asleep next and soon after that, Tammy dozed off. Mr. Payne carried them off to bed, one by one.

  “Fun evening, huh, Humphrey?” said Mandy. She checked to make sure I had clean water and food and that my bedding was all nice and fluffy. She was really nice, although if she’d complained, I’d have understood.

  “I’d like to keep you in our room, but it’s too crowded,” she said. “If you need anything, just squeak.”

  I’m never shy about squeaking up for myself.

  Mr. Payne came back into the living room alone to watch TV. He dozed off eventually, but I was wideawake. Around midnight, I heard a scritch-scratching at the front door. Mr. Payne didn’t wake up and the scritch-scratching got louder. Someone was fiddling with the lock! Someone was trying to break in the house!

  “Wake up, Mr. Payne! Wake up!” I squeaked as loudly as a small hamster can. Before he opened his eyes, the front door swung open, a bright light was flicked on and I heard a heavy CLOMP-CLOMP-CLOMP-ing across the floor. My eyes were adjusting to the light when a loud voice said, “What is this doing here!”

  I saw a very tall woman looking down at me. (At least she seemed very tall to me at that moment. Most humans are tall, at least compared to me.) “How dare you bring this rat here without asking me!”

  It wasn’t the first time I’ve been insulted, but I never like being called a rat or being referred to as an “it” or a “that.”

  The woman didn’t stop there. “If you think you’re bringing another mouth to feed in this house … another mouth for me to support—”

  “Pat, it’s not like that.” At last, Mr. Payne was up on his feet, rubbing his eyes. “It’s Mandy’s class pet and it’s her turn to bring it home for the weekend.”

  “If the teacher wants a pet, why doesn’t she take it home?” said Mrs. Payne. I could see her better now. She was wearing a light blue cotton top and matching pants, with white shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she looked tired and unhappy.

  “They sent food for it. Mandy was so happy. She’ll do all the work.”

  Mrs. Payne looked a little less angry and a lot more tired. She sighed loudly. “She’d better. Speaking of food, I’m starving.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen, but I could soon hear her complaining again.

  “Thank you for washing the dishes!” I
was pretty sure she was being sarcastic, because nobody actually had washed the dishes. “You expect me to work these awful hours at an awful place with those awful old people and come home and do the dishes?”

  She was back in the living room now, yelling at Mr. Payne. “While you sit around all day waiting for a job to fall into your lap?” she continued.

  “It wasn’t my fault the plant closed down. You know I’ve been trying to find a job for a year now. I’ve applied everywhere.”

  “When was the last time you had an interview?”

  Mr. Payne had that look that some of the kids get when their team loses a baseball game. “Jobs don’t grow on trees. I’ll do the dishes … after I fix you a sandwich.”

  Mrs. Payne sat down in the shabby old chair. “I know it’s not your fault that I hate this job. The pay isn’t even enough to support us and at night, the old people get so restless and crabby, it’s awful! It wasn’t as bad on the day shift, but I get paid more working at night … even if I hardly ever get to see my own kids.”

  Mr. Payne sighed. “And I see too much of them, believe me.”

  “I don’t want to hear any complaints about the kids. They need their mother, that’s all.”

  “You think I’m not doing a good job taking care of them?” asked Mr. Payne. His voice had an angry edge.

  “You’re doing an okay job. Not a great job.”

  Mr. Payne stomped toward the kitchen. “I’ll get that sandwich. Of course, it’ll just be an okay sandwich since I can’t do anything right.”

  I thought Mandy’s mom was about to cry. Suddenly, she noticed me again.

  “What are you—a gerbil?”

  “Golden hamster,” I squeaked. Not that she understood—or even cared.

  Mr. Payne brought his wife a sandwich and sat down on the sofa.

  “More bad news,” Mrs. Payne announced. “Trudy’s moving to day shift, which means she can’t give me a ride anymore. That means you’ll have to pack up the kids in their pajamas and put them in the car—”

  “I know, I know. We’ll have to pick you up late at night,” said Mr. Payne.

  “It’s not my fault.” Mrs. Payne took a big bite out of her sandwich.

  “You’re saying it’s my fault? Look, we’ve been over this a million times,” he said. “I need a job and you need a break and the kids need clothes and we need another car!”

  “Never mind, Jerry. Let’s drop the whole thing.”

  Mrs. Payne nibbled at her sandwich and turned the sound up on the TV. Mr. Payne went in the kitchen and ran a lot of water, so I guess he was doing the dishes. When he came back, Mrs. Payne turned off the TV without saying a word and went to bed. Mr. Payne followed her.

  Finally I was able to piece together the trouble at Mandy’s house. Her father had lost his job. Her mother had a night job, apparently taking care of sick, old people, and she didn’t like it. The Paynes needed more money!

  All weekend, I listened to the Paynes complain to one another. But on Sunday afternoon, Mandy performed a superb cage clean for me. First, she put on the throwaway plastic gloves Mrs. Brisbane made all the kids use. She took a plastic spoon and cleaned up my poo corner, fluffed up my bedding, and changed my water dish, and while she did, she talked to me. Now I was only too happy to listen.

  “I’ll bet the other houses you go to are happy and fun and everybody laughs all the time—right? We used to be like that. Well, kind of like that, till Dad lost his job. You understand?”

  I squeaked as sympathetically as I could.

  “I’m glad you can’t talk. I wouldn’t want you to tell my friends about my awful family.”

  “They’re not awful.” I had to squeak up. In truth, they were pretty awful, but more than that, they were unhappy.

  Just then, her mom came into the room. It was Sunday, but she was dressed to go to work. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked.

  “Cleaning Humphrey’s cage,” Mandy explained.

  “That’s disgusting! I can’t believe your teacher makes you do that kind of stuff. It’s worse than my job and you don’t even get paid for it!”

  “Really, it’s okay,” said Mandy. “I have gloves, see? I put everything in a plastic bag. I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do.” Mrs. Payne looked around the room. “Where is your father?”

  “How should I know?”

  I wasn’t sorry when Mrs. Payne tromped out of the room. I was sorry she was so unhappy.

  “Lucky you, Humphrey. You don’t have to live here all the time,” said Mandy as she closed my cage and ripped off her gloves. She even jiggled the lock to make sure I couldn’t get out.

  “Gotta go wash my hands. Back in a flash.”

  While Mandy was gone, I thought about all the students and their families I’d helped on my weekends visiting. I’d managed to get Miranda and her stepsister to go from being enemies to being friends. I’d helped Principal Morales, the Most Important Person at Longfellow School, get his children under control. I’d even helped our teacher’s husband, Mr. Brisbane. Still, what could one small hamster do to help with such a BIG-BIGBIG problem?

  This family was in trouble and I didn’t have any idea of how to help.

  I knew one thing: Compared to the Paynes, I had absolutely nothing to complain about.

  HUMPHREY SPENDS WEEKEND

  WITH THE PAYNES

  “I’ve dreamed of this for a long time,” says Mandy.

  The Humphreyville Herald

  My Payne-full Problem

  Humphreyville is going to have some special visitors in two weeks,” Mrs. Brisbane announced as soon as class began on Monday.

  There was a buzz around the classroom. Who would these guests be?

  “We’re having a Parents’ Night so your families can see what a great town you’ve created. And I’ve invited one of our City Council representatives to come talk about our own community.”

  A City Council representative sounded Very Important. Almost as Important as Principal Morales.

  “We’ll have to make sure that Humphreyville is in the best shape possible in the next two weeks.”

  All my friends were excited. Mrs. Brisbane gave out new job assignments for the week. When Gail was named Animal Keeper, I couldn’t help noticing that Miranda stared down unhappily at her table. How could one small hamster (namely me) have caused trouble for one nice human (namely Miranda)?

  Suddenly, Mandy began to wave her hand. Mrs. Brisbane called on her.

  “I think it’s unfair,” she said in her cranky voice.

  “What is unfair?” asked the teacher.

  “Paul doesn’t have a job. He’s part of our class, too, and he’s helped us with our math. Well, me at least. Why can’t he have a job?”

  For once I agreed with Mandy’s complaint, and so did Art.

  “He helped me, too,” he said. “And he always checks that list of jobs.”

  I had to speak up, too. “They’re RIGHT-RIGHT-RIGHT!”

  “I agree!” Mrs. Brisbane replied. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. And I know the perfect job for him, too. He can be the Class Accountant and add up all these points you’re earning.”

  Mandy bounced up and down in her chair. “Can I tell him?”

  “No, let me!” Art protested.

  Mrs. Brisbane laughed and shook her head. “You can both tell him.”

  At the end of math class, they did.

  Paul looked so tall when he left the room, he must have been walking on air.

  That night I waited anxiously for Aldo to come in. I was prepared to do anything to keep him awake. In fact, Og and I decided to practice louder wake-up calls in case Aldo was sleepy again. I was SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-ing, Og was BOING-BOING-BOING-ing and the crickets were chirping in the background when the custodian entered.

  “Whoa, fellows, why all the noise?”

  Og and I quickly quieted down, but the crickets kept singing away.

  Aldo was his old peppy self again as he wh
eeled in his cart and spun it around. “I feel like making noise, too, because I’m not tired tonight. Nosiree. I came armed with this!”

  He reached down on a shelf of the cart next to his lunch bag and held up a metal container. “Maria made me a big thermos of coffee. It will keep me awake until I’m finished cleaning.”

  “GOOD-GOOD-GOOD,” I said, and when he opened the thermos, the coffee smelled yummy, even though it isn’t something hamsters usually drink. I was glad I didn’t have to launch another unsanitary spitball that night.

  The next morning, it was pouring rain. March was still coming in like a lion, just like Seth’s grandma Dot had said. When Mrs. Brisbane took attendance, no one answered when she called, “Mandy Payne,” “Art Patel” or “Heidi Hopper.” None of them had shown up for school!

  From time to time, one of my fellow students missed a class or two because of the sniffles or a cough, but on the whole, we had a healthy class and this was the first time three students were sick at the same time.

  Mrs. Brisbane made sure that the Homework Monitor, who was A.J., wrote down all the assignments to send home to them.

  I spent most of the morning watching the rain drip down the windows, making everything outside—the trees, the street, the passing cars—look blurry. It was too wet for my friends to go outside for recess, so they stayed inside and worked on Humphreyville.

  When lunchtime came, my friends raced out of class as usual. Mrs. Brisbane was preparing to go to lunch herself when Mr. Morales entered. He was wearing a tie that had all the letters of the alphabet on it in bright colors.

  “Sue, can you talk for a minute?” he asked. Sue is Mrs. Brisbane’s first name. Most students don’t even know their teachers have first names.

  “Of course. Have a seat,” Mrs. Brisbane told him.

  “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I have to tell you, I’ve had a complaint from a parent.”

  Mrs. Brisbane was surprised. “Who’s that?”

  “Mrs. Payne. Apparently Mandy and her whole family are sick. Coughs, runny noses, watery eyes. And she blames it all on … Humphrey.”