Hamstersaurus Rex

by Tom O'Donnell

  “Yep,” said Beefer, gritting his teeth.

  “For all his help and support,” I said, “I honestly think this trophy belongs more to him than it does to me. Why don’t you come up here and accept the award, Beefer?”

  “No, thanks,” said Beefer.

  “Get up there, Mr. Vanderkoff,” said Principal Truitt. “Now.”

  Reluctantly, Beefer mounted the stage, the key still clutched in his fist. We stared at each other in silence. My heart raced. I knew I was going to earn a pounding for this.

  “Congratulations,” I said as I handed Beefer the Little Mister or Miss Muscles trophy. At the same time, I lunged forward and attempted to pry the key out of his clenched fist. We struggled awkwardly for a moment.

  “I guess they’re . . . hugging?” said Julie Bailey, sounding baffled.

  I managed to get two fingers on the key, but Beefer was just too strong for me (not to mention how sweaty his palms were . . . yuck). He yanked his fist away, and I stumbled backward, empty-handed.

  “Ha! I’ve still got the—” said Beefer, panting. He suddenly remembered the whole school was watching. “The trophy. I’ve got the trophy. Thanks to my good buddy, Sam Gibbs.”

  He grinned at me and slid the hidden key into his pocket.

  CHAPTER 19

  BEEFER STOOD ON the stage, awkwardly posing with the LMMM trophy while Topher snapped photos.

  “Um, maybe you could, you know, smile for this next one?” said Topher. “After all, we are called SmilesCorp.”

  Beefer did something with his mouth that wasn’t a smile—come to think of it, the guy didn’t smile much outside the context of evil schemes. Topher sighed.

  Mr. Copeland and the other sixth-grade teacher, Ms. Maddox, were now grading students’ experiments. Their “guest judge,” Roberta Fast, didn’t seem to be helping much as they tested Omar’s electromagnetic nail. Instead, she muttered and texted and continued to search in vain for the invisible doughnut. My mom sat at a table passing out SmilesCorp brochures to students and looking worried.

  Beefer’s photo session wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to free Hamstersaurus Rex before he could. Unfortunately, that meant I had to get the other key.

  “Hiya, Martha,” I said, sidling up to her exhibit.

  “Hello, Sam,” she said. As always, her Hamster Monitor lanyard hung around her neck. The second PETCATRAZ Pro™ key dangled from it.

  “Your exhibit is very cool. I had no idea that tuna was a great source of selenium and niacin.”

  “Thanks! Your exhibit is, um . . .” She trailed off. “Anyway, that was very magnanimous of you to dedicate your trophy to Kiefer, even though he thinks you’re a werewolf. And in case you don’t know what ‘magnanimous’ means—since your vocabulary is probably smaller than mine—it’s the same as generous.”

  “Thanks. Say, there was something you said to me once that I’ve been thinking a lot about recently. You said that one day I might be able to make Junior Deputy Hamster Monitor.”

  “Sure. With hard work and dedication, anything is possible.”

  “If that happened,” I said, “would I get my own ID lanyard?”

  Martha’s eyes lit up. “Of course you would, Sam.”

  “I know it’s a little weird, but . . . could I try on your Hamster Monitor lanyard, just to see how it feels?”

  She was taken aback. “I don’t know, Sam,” said Martha. “That would be highly unorthodox.”

  Onstage, Beefer was reluctantly pantomiming the various Little Mister or Miss Muscles feats for the camera. He’d already gotten to the Sandbag Drag. I only had a few seconds left.

  “Please,” I said to Martha. “Please, please, please, please can I try on the lanyard?”

  Martha looked around to make sure nobody was watching. She took a deep breath. Very quickly she slipped off her lanyard and put it around my neck.

  “Wow, I can feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders,” I said. “I realize now that Hamster Monitor is a sacred trust.”

  “Exactly!” said Martha.

  “Okay, cool, here you go, bye!” I said, tossing the lanyard back to her. Luckily she didn’t notice that it was lighter—by the weight of one key.

  A moment later, I was racing down the hallway toward Mr. Copeland’s classroom. Thankfully, the lock on the door was still broken.

  Inside, I saw Hamstersaurus Rex. He sat up in his cage and roared.

  “Good to see you, too, pal,” I said as I turned the key and opened the PETCATRAZ Pro™. Hamstersaurus Rex sprang into the air, turned a flip, and landed on the ground.

  “Go, my prehistoric friend!” I said as I followed Hamstersaurus Rex out into the hall. “You’re free!”

  “Free lunch,” said Beefer. He stood in Hamstersaurus Rex’s path with his boa constrictor coiled around his neck. “Guess I didn’t need this after all.” Beefer stuffed Mr. Copeland’s key back into his pocket. “Thanks for unlocking the cage for me, Sam.”

  “Run, Hammie Rex!” I cried.

  “Not so fast. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine,” said Beefer. He tossed his boa constrictor onto the floor. The snake was huge—probably eight feet long—with gray and red scales. It slithered toward Hamstersaurus Rex, whose fur stood on end. “Meet Michael Perkins!” said Beefer.

  “Hang on,” I said. “Your pet snake’s name is Michael Perkins?”

  “Yeah. So what? What’s wrong with that?”

  “I don’t know. Just kind of a weird thing to call a snake.”

  “Well, Hamstersaurus Rex is a weird thing to call a hamster!”

  “True,” I admitted.

  “Anyway, shut up!” cried Beefer. “Hamstersaurus Rex might be strong now, but Michael Perkins is even stronger. In the wild, boa constrictors eat, like, elephants and junk! Once my snake gets ahold of your hamster, he’ll crush him and swallow him. Then I’m going to make you watch while Michael Perkins slowly digests Hamstersaurus Rex for the next four to six hours!”

  Beefer caught me by the shirt and slammed me against a row of lockers. Hamstersaurus Rex snarled at him and bared his fangs. Michael Perkins coiled to strike.

  “Don’t worry about me, Hamstersaurus Rex,” I said. “Just go!”

  Hamstersaurus Rex gave a growl. Michael Perkins struck, and Hammie Rex barely managed to scramble out of the way.

  “Go on!” I cried again. “Go!”

  Hamstersaurus Rex dashed off down the hallway with the boa constrictor slithering close behind. I wriggled out of Beefer’s grasp and ran after them. They’d already rounded the corner and raced down the stairs. I got to the first floor just in time to see them dash through the open door of the gymnasium.

  “Oh no,” I said to myself. They’d blundered right into Science Night!

  Hamstersaurus Rex skidded to a halt under the table holding Jimmy Choi’s borax crystal project. No one had seen him.

  Plenty of people noticed Michael Perkins, though. He elicited screams from frightened children as he snaked across the gym floor, tongue flicking. I reached down to grab the boa with two hands and tried to hold him back. With a hiss and a quick flick of his body, Michael Perkins easily threw me off. The boa probably weighed as much as I did, and Beefer wasn’t lying: he was at least as strong as Hammie Rex.

  “Snake!” screamed Omar Powell. “Snake, snake, snake!”

  “What’s going on?” said Principal Truitt. But Michael Perkins had disappeared under another table. I made a break for Hamstersaurus Rex.

  “The exit’s that way,” I hissed at him as I pointed frantically back the way he had come.

  “Yeah, I can read the sign, Sam,” said Jimmy Choi, shaking his head.

  Hamstersaurus Rex seemed to understand me, though. He started to turn, but then he caught a whiff of something on the air. His nose twitched. His little pupils dilated. A strand of drool formed at the corner of his lips. I knew that look. He smelled junk food. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Instead of leaving, Hammie Rex charged toward the sta
ge and leaped up onto the podium.

  “Hey! It’s Hamstersaurus Rex!” cried Dylan.

  “What?” cried Martha. “But no hamster has ever escaped from a PETCATRAZ Pro™. The PETCATRAZ Promise has been broken!”

  Hamstersaurus Rex opened his jaws wide and bit down on nothing at all. Then he started to chew.

  “Aaaaagh!” shrieked Roberta Fast. “That renegade hamster is eating my invisible doughnut! It is eating my invisible doughnut!”

  I guess Hammie Rex’s highly attuned sense of smell could detect refined carbohydrates and artificial colors even if they couldn’t be seen. Now he was gobbling down the snack food of the future.

  “Fish doughnut,” said Wilbur Weber. “Blech.”

  At that moment, the boa constrictor slowly rose up behind Hamstersaurus Rex, fangs glistening.

  “Look out, Hammie Rex!” I screamed. “It’s Michael Perkins!”

  “Who?” said Julie Bailey.

  Hamstersaurus Rex turned just in time and leaped out of the way. Michael Perkins struck at exactly the spot where he had been standing. The snake swallowed an invisible lump: the other half of the SmilesCorp doughnut.

  Everyone in the gymnasium stared at the two creatures for a moment. Then both of them disappeared.

  CHAPTER 20

  THE GYM FELL SILENT. We’d just seen two living creatures turn invisible before our very eyes.

  “Whoaaaaaaa,” said Drew McCoy.

  “Um. Is that what the doughnut is supposed to do?” asked Mr. Copeland.

  “It’s just a prototype. We’re still in testing,” said Roberta Fast. “No more questions!”

  At that moment, the deafening sound of my mother’s first sneeze rang out across the gym.

  “Was that a gun?” cried Coach Weekes as he hit the floor, covering his head.

  “Sorry,” I said. “My mom’s allergic to hamsters!”

  Just then, a hole burst right through the middle of Omar Powell’s electromagnetic nail display. I heard a dino roar. It was Hammie Rex and Michael Perkins—even though they were invisible, the chase was still on!

  “Eek!” squealed Coach Weekes, now leaping into the air. “Something invisible touched my calf muscles!”

  Tina Gomez’s homemade barometer was smashed to pieces right before her very eyes. My mother sneezed again. From somewhere Hamstersaurus Rex gave another roar. I ran toward the sound.

  An invisible commotion tore through Science Night, flattening projects and shredding hand-lettered poster boards.

  Caroline Moody saw that her potato battery was right in the path of the two creatures, so she yanked it out of the way. Unfortunately, as she did, she tripped over the wires and fell right on top of it. It was a mashed potato battery now.

  The swath of destruction rolled on. Children screamed. Beakers shattered. Tables flipped. My mother sneezed. Principal Truitt tried in vain to restore order.

  “Everyone, remain calm!” she bellowed. “It’s just two invisible animals locked in a fight to the death. There is no reason to get excited, people!”

  I followed behind Hammie Rex and Michael Perkins, hoping that I could do something, anything, to save the little guy from being eaten alive. Martha Cherie was right behind me.

  “Stop, in the name of the law!” she yelled at the hamster and the boa constrictor as she waved her Hamster Monitor ID. They ignored her authority.

  Roberta Fast was behind her, eyes wild. “We need to catch both of those creatures and pump their stomachs!” she said. “They have eaten SmilesCorp intellectual property!”

  Three more Science Night projects went down, including Martha’s—now the students of Horace Hotwater would never know how much tuna to eat. “The Discovery of Penicillin” was next, instantly crushed flat by the invisible commotion. Eleven minutes of hard work gone in a single instant. Wilbur Weber’s jar exploded, scattering snails across the floor of the gym.

  “Snaaaaaaaails,” he wailed. His plaintive cry was drowned out by the nonstop sound of my mom sneezing.

  I heard another roar, then an abruptly strangled squeak. Followed by nothing.

  “Hammie Rex!” I cried. “Are you okay?”

  Near Jared Kopernik’s giant rubber band ball, a gray shape began to shimmer and materialize.

  “Look! The effects of the invisible doughnut are wearing off,” cried Dylan.

  The gray shape became clearer. I could see that it was Michael Perkins. Inside his belly there were now two lumps.

  One was half-doughnut sized. The other was the size of a hamster.

  CHAPTER 21

  MICHAEL PERKINS SAT on top of the rubber band ball, tongue flicking. The gym fell silent. Even my mom stopped sneezing.

  “No,” I whispered.

  I felt despair creeping into my guts. I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t happening. It wasn’t fair! We were supposed to be friends forever. And yet, there was no denying the hamster-shaped lump in the boa’s stomach.

  Beside me, Martha gasped and dropped her lanyard. The other kids in my class looked dumbstruck. I blinked back tears. I’d promised I would look out for Hamstersaurus Rex, that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. But I hadn’t kept that promise. I’d failed him.

  “Sam, I’m so sorry,” said Dylan, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  I didn’t know what to say. I was crying now, and I didn’t try to hide it. Hamstersaurus Rex was gone. He was gone.

  There on the ground nearby was my crushed diorama. The moldy peanut butter and jelly sandwich was smeared across rumpled cardboard. I blinked. Something from “The Discovery of Penicillin” was missing . . .

  At that moment, Michael Perkins gave a weird hiccup and a strangled burp. Then he shuddered and barfed out a slimy rubber triceratops complete with cardboard top hat. The second lump in his stomach was Alexander Fleming! In the ruckus he must have eaten the toy dinosaur. Then that meant—

  “There he is!” cried Tina Gomez.

  With a shimmer of orange, Hamstersaurus Rex reappeared on the stage. He let out a triumphant roar. The whole class broke out in applause.

  But the battle wasn’t over. In an instant, Michael Perkins was on him again. The snake circled around Hamstersaurus Rex, rising up to strike. Hamstersaurus Rex didn’t run this time. He snarled and snapped at Michael Perkins, who slithered backward, waiting to make his move.

  Then, in one lightning-quick motion, Michael Perkins somehow coiled himself around Hamstersaurus Rex’s body. Hammie Rex shook and squirmed and gave another growl, but it was weaker this time. Michael Perkins tightened his hold. Now the little guy couldn’t make a sound. He struggled, but he couldn’t get free.

  “He’s being crushed!” I cried.

  Michael Perkins opened his jaws wide—wider than seemed possible—and shifted Hamstersaurus Rex toward his mouth. I started to run toward the stage, but I realized I would never make it in time.

  I had to think of something quick. I looked back over my shoulder as I ran and saw Dylan, clutching her homemade golf disc to her chest.

  “Dylan!” I cried. “Throw it!”

  She knew exactly what I meant. Dylan took a deep breath and squinted toward the stage for a second. Then she let it fly. All eyes in the gym followed the disc as it cut a perfect line—a hundred feet, straight through the air—and lodged in Michael Perkins’s open mouth!

  Michael Perkins couldn’t close his jaws. He flopped around the stage, failing to dislodge the disc that stretched his mouth open. Hamstersaurus Rex wriggled out of his coils.

  “Wow, D’Amato!” said Coach Weekes. “What a throw!”

  “See, Coach, it is a sport!” said Dylan.

  Without the use of his fangs, Michael Perkins was helpless. He started to slither away, but Hamstersaurus Rex stomped on the tip of his tail, stopping him dead. With a roar of Jurassic rage, Hamstersaurus Rex chomped down hard on Michael Perkins’s tail. Then he started to spin, faster and faster. Soon Michael Perkins was whipping around him like a rubbery propeller. At last, Hamstersaurus Rex released his
bite. The boa constrictor sailed right out the open window of the gymnasium.

  Science Night exploded! Hamstersaurus Rex stomped around in little circles, soaking up the attention. He waved his stumpy arms and whipped his tail.

  “Yes!” I yelled.

  A chant broke out among the sixth graders of Horace Hotwater: “Hamstersaurus Rex! Hamstersaurus Rex! Hamstersaurus Rex!”

  “We have to find that snake!” shrieked Roberta Fast as she rushed out toward the parking lot, dragging my poor sneezing mom and Topher—snapping pictures as he went—with her.

  I picked up Hamstersaurus, midstrut.

  “I’m glad you’re okay, little buddy,” I said. “I really missed you.”

  “Mrrrrgghhhnnng,” he replied, which probably meant something very touching in mutant Hamsterese. He leaped into the air, turned a flip, and landed in my pocket. I rubbed his belly and scratched behind his ear at the same time.

  Meanwhile, the other kids were cheering and laughing and hugging one another. Mr. Copeland was doing a silly dance with Ms. Becker. Coach Weekes was flexing his calf muscles in time. Even Principal Truitt was giggling in a very un-principal-like manner. Suddenly, her nose twitched.

  “Hang on,” she said. “Is that smoke?”

  I sniffed the air. She was right. Something somewhere was burning.

  “I know that smell,” said Principal Truitt, slowly resting her face in her palm.

  “Water fountain fire,” said Mr. Copeland and Coach Weekes in unison.

  “Beeeeeeefer!” bellowed Principal Truitt at the top of her lungs. Then she dashed out into the hallway. Mr. Copeland, Ms. Maddox, and Coach Weekes raced after her, leaving the gym adultless.

  The door of the gymnasium swung closed after them. Of course, Beefer Vanderkoff stood behind it. The crowd fell silent.

  “Sam,” said Beefer, pointing at me with the SmilesCorp trophy. “It’s time we settled this once and for all.”