Next, Daniel had to turn back and guess who was missing. It was a lot harder than it sounds, but he guessed Phoebe on the third try. (Which was a good thing, since Mr. E. only gave him three tries!)
The class played the game over and over because everybody wanted a chance to be the guesser. I got drowsy after a while and went into my sleeping hut for a nap. And you know what? No one even noticed that I was missing! I know, because I ALWAYS-ALWAYS-ALWAYS wake up when I hear my name.
When I came out again, my classmates were begging Mr. E. to read to them. He smiled and said, “Okay.”
He reached into his big bag and pulled out a book.
“No!” Stop-Talking-Sophie said. “We want Sherlock Holmes!”
“It’s the red book on the desk,” Hurry-Up-Harry said. “Mrs. Brisbane’s reading us the story ‘The Red-Headed League.’”
Mr. E. made a face. “That’s too serious. My book is a lot more fun.”
“Sherlock Holmes—please!” Tall-Paul and Small-Paul both said.
Soon, all my friends were saying, “Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock Holmes!”
But Mr. E. sat down and opened his book.
“Can you hear us? We REALLY-REALLY-REALLY want Sherlock Holmes!” I squeaked so hard, my whiskers wiggled and my ears jiggled.
Even Og agreed. “BOING-BOING!”
But Mr. E. went right ahead and read us jokes from his big joke book.
I like jokes a lot, really I do. I especially like this one: Why are frogs so happy? Because they eat whatever bugs them!
I thought Og would like that one!
Mr. E.’s jokes were funny. At least in the beginning they were funny.
Like this one: Where do you put a sick insect? In an ant-bulance!
My friends laughed hysterically.
I chuckled, too, but after a while, I started worrying about Mrs. Brisbane again. Then I couldn’t laugh at all.
Finally, the laughter got quieter and quieter.
Too-Helpful-Holly yawned and raised her hand. “Now could you read from the Sherlock Holmes book?” she asked. “It’s a mystery.”
Mr. E. chuckled. “Why do you need Sherlock Holmes? I’m a Mister E.!”
The mystery about Mister E. was this: When was he going to teach us anything?
Lunchtime came at last and the classroom was quiet again, which was a relief.
Then the door opened and something wonderful happened. Ms. Mac walked in.
Ms. Mac was the substitute teacher who brought me from Pet-O-Rama, my first home (if you can call it that), to Room 26 of Longfellow School. But later, Mrs. Brisbane came back and Ms. Mac left and my heart was broken.
Now Ms. Mac was a full-time teacher at Longfellow School, but in another classroom.
Of course, I love Mrs. Brisbane, too. If I could have one wish come true, it would be that Ms. Mac and Mrs. Brisbane could both be my teachers at the same time!
“Hi.” Ms. Mac was smiling. “I’m Morgan McNamara from first grade.”
Our substitute teacher shook her hand. “I’m Eddie Edonopolous, but the children call me Mr. E.”
Ms. Mac smiled her big, beautiful smile. “I’m sure they like that. I subbed for Mrs. Brisbane last year, and if you need anything, just ask. Have you found her lesson plans?”
“Uh, no. Not yet,” he said.
Ms. Mac opened one of Mrs. Brisbane’s desk drawers. “She keeps them in here in this binder. Mrs. Brisbane always has very thorough lesson plans.”
“Great,” Mr. E. said. “I’ve been getting to know the kids, you know, having a little fun.”
“I just heard she might be out for a while,” Ms. Mac told him. “She really worries about her students when she’s not here.”
That was nice to hear because, to squeak the truth, I was really worried about Mrs. Brisbane.
“If you have any questions, I’m right down the hall,” Ms. Mac said.
“Thanks,” Mr. E. said.
Of course, Ms. Mac wouldn’t leave Room 26 without saying hello to Og and me.
She came over to our table by the window. “How’s it going, Humphrey, you handsome hamster?” she asked.
No wonder I love Ms. Mac! I scurried over to the side of my cage so I could get a closer look at her.
“It’s been a STRANGE-STRANGE-STRANGE day,” I replied. “Where is Mrs. Brisbane?”
“I know you miss Mrs. Brisbane,” she said. Then she turned to Og. “And how’s my favorite frog today?”
Og leaped into the water side of his tank and splashed loudly, which made Ms. Mac laugh. I love to hear her laugh.
“I’ve got to eat,” she said, turning back to Mr. E. “Can I show you where the lunchroom is?”
“Sure, thanks,” he said, following her out the door.
I rarely leave my cage during the day because it’s just too risky. However, this was an emergency. So while we were alone, I jiggled the lock on my cage and scurried over to Og’s tank. I’m so lucky to have a lock-that-doesn’t-lock. Humans always think it’s fastened tight, but I know how to wiggle it open.
“Og,” I squeaked. “Something’s wrong!”
“BOING-BOING!” he said. Then he dived from the land side of his tank to the water side.
I had to scramble to stay dry. (Hamsters should never get wet.)
Once he stopped splashing, I went back to the tank and said, “Mrs. Brisbane wouldn’t miss school unless something was terribly wrong! And Ms. Mac said she might be out for a while. Ms. Mac always tells the truth—right?”
Og splashed frantically again, and again I scrambled for a dry spot.
“Og, if you could splash a little less, I’d appreciate it,” I told him. “Although I know you are a frog and frogs do splash.”
He must have understood, because he stopped.
“Sherlock Holmes always looks for clues,” I said. “So keep your ears open, okay?”
I felt terrible as soon as I said it because Og doesn’t have any ears (that I can see, anyway).
I glanced up at the clock. I didn’t have much time before the class returned from lunch.
“Oh, and by the way, I don’t think you’re an ‘it,’” I said as I headed back to my cage. “And I know you don’t think I’m a rat.”
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.
I managed to pull the cage door behind me just as my friends returned to their desks.
The afternoon went pretty much like the morning. There was no Mathketball, but Mr. E. pulled out three smaller balls from his big sack and juggled them.
Yes, he juggled! It was quite amazing to see him toss the balls into the air and keep them going. Mrs. Brisbane had certainly never done that. It made my brain whirl when I tried to keep my eyes on the balls.
Then Mr. E. let my friends try juggling.
Harry couldn’t keep even one ball in the air, but he didn’t seem too upset about it.
Next, it was Thomas’s turn. “You should see my dad juggle. He can juggle fifteen balls at a time,” he said.
Mr. E. looked amazed.
“And knives, too. He can juggle knives,” Thomas added. “And . . . baseball bats!”
Juggling large, sharp objects sounded downright dangerous.
I heard Rolling-Rosie say, “Give me a break!”
Just-Joey rolled his eyes.
Thomas managed to juggle the balls a few seconds, but then he dropped them and they rolled across the classroom.
“Perhaps your dad can give you some pointers,” Mr. E. said.
Phoebe caught the balls on her first try but then dropped them. When Daniel tried, he managed to keep two of the balls going for a few seconds.
It looked like fun, but I couldn’t help thinking about Mrs. Brisbane.
She�
�d be teaching us something interesting about the clouds or the ancient Egyptians or reading something wonderful like Sherlock Holmes.
And here we were, going through an entire afternoon without learning anything except how to juggle!
Near the end of the day, when Mr. E. finally stopped juggling, Helpful-Holly raised her hand.
“It’s time to take care of Humphrey and Og,” she said. “They need to be fed, and Humphrey needs fresh water. Tomorrow he gets his cage cleaned.”
“I don’t know how to do those things,” Mr. E. said.
Holly explained that the students took turns at the job. This week it was Phoebe’s turn to look after me and Harry’s turn to look after Og.
When Harry threw some Froggy Food Sticks into the tank, Og made a huge, splashy leap to get to them.
I could tell my friends were impressed.
Mr. E. was impressed, too. “He’s quite a jumper.”
“That’s nothing,” Thomas said. “Once I saw Og leap up out of his tank and land all the way on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk!”
Some of my friends laughed.
“That didn’t happen,” Simon said.
“You’re exaggerating,” Holly said.
Thomas just shook his head. “I know what I saw,” he told them.
I’d seen Og pop the top of his tank a few times, but I’d never seen him leap to Mrs. Brisbane’s desk!
Phoebe gave me fresh water, which tasted much better than the old water in my bottle.
“Oh, no!” Phoebe suddenly said. “Mrs. Brisbane always brings fresh veggies for Humphrey.”
Yes, she does, and I look forward to them. I always have Nutri-Nibbles and Mighty Mealworms, but there’s nothing as crunchy and munchy as fresh veggies. In fact, I hide them in my cheek pouch and in my bedding. But the cage cleaner always finds them and takes them away.
“You don’t have any?” Mr. E. asked.
Phoebe looked WORRIED-WORRIED-WORRIED as she shook her head.
“I do!” a voice called out.
Thomas rummaged through his backpack. “I didn’t eat my carrot sticks,” he said. “Humphrey can have them. I don’t like them.”
I was extremely grateful to Thomas, though why anyone wouldn’t like carrot sticks is a mystery to me.
My friends take very good care of me.
At the end of the day, Helpful-Holly raised her hand again. “We need our homework assignment,” she said.
A lot of the other students tried to shush her, but Holly was determined. “Mrs. Brisbane always gives us homework.”
Mr. E. replied that he had a big surprise for the class: the only homework assignment was to bring in a riddle or joke for the next day.
“You don’t even have to write it down,” he said. Then he tapped his finger on the side of his head. “Just remember it up here.”
It was a pretty strange homework assignment. But then, it had been a pretty strange day.
When the bell rang, my friends all looked happy as they left the class.
“Bye, Mr. E.!” Thomas said on his way out of class. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mo-Momas,” Mr. E. said. I thought he was mixed up until I remembered the name song.
I heard Hurry-Up-Harry tell Slow-Down-Simon, “Pretty sweet—no homework.”
“Mr. E. is a great teacher!” Simon said.
“He’s so funny!” Kelsey told Rosie.
After the students had left, Mr. E. sighed a big sigh and said, “That went well.” He strolled over to the table by the window where Og and I live. “I think they liked me.”
“YES-YES-YES,” I shouted. “And they like Mrs. Brisbane, too.”
Of course, all he heard was “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK.”
Mr. Morales came into the room. “I’m glad I caught you, Ed,” he said. “Are you available to teach tomorrow?”
Mr. E. said yes, and then the principal said, “I wasn’t able to talk to Mrs. Brisbane, but her husband said her lesson plans are in the desk.”
“Yes, I know,” Mr. E. said.
“Good!” Mr. Morales said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The two men shook hands and Mr. Morales left.
When the door closed, Mr. E. chuckled. “That’s good news for me.”
Then he opened Mrs. Brisbane’s desk drawer and took out the binder with the lesson plans in it.
Whew! He was finally thinking about teaching his students. I watched him as he turned the pages.
“Math problems, vocabulary, art project, science—wow, she really packs a lot in,” he said aloud.
“YES-YES-YES!” I agreed.
“I don’t know about all this,” he said. He turned another page. “And that’s not going to work.”
Og started splashing around in his tank. I was worried, too. After all, these were Mrs. Brisbane’s lesson plans. And Mr. E. didn’t seem to like them.
Mr. E. closed the binder. “I’m going to have to make these subjects a lot more fun to make this work,” he said. “A lot more fun.”
He was still muttering under his breath when he picked up his big bag and left Room 26.
I had no idea what he was muttering about.
And I still had no idea what had happened to Mrs. Brisbane.
But I had a BAD-BAD-BAD feeling that it wasn’t something good.
HUMPHREY’S DETECTIONARY: A detective without any clues is like a classroom without a real teacher!
4
The Case of the Curious Clues
Once the room was quiet, I hopped on my wheel and spun as fast as my legs would go. Spinning helps me think, and I had a lot of thinking to do.
I waited and waited for Aldo to come in and clean. Maybe he would tell me what had happened.
Suddenly, I was blinded and Aldo’s voice boomed, “Hey, buddies, how’s it going?”
“Things are unsqueakably bad!” I told him as my eyes adjusted to the lights.
Aldo wheeled his cleaning cart into Room 26 and toward our table. “I guess you heard about Mrs. Brisbane,” he said, leaning down to look in my cage.
“WHAT-WHAT-WHAT happened?” I screeched.
Aldo shook his head. “Who’d have thought? I don’t have to tell you what I think of Mrs. Brisbane. She inspired me to want to be a teacher.”
Aldo goes to school in the daytime so he can teach school someday. He’s an excellent cleaner, but I think he’ll be a great teacher, too.
“Like I said to Maria, boy, you never know what’s going to happen next.”
Maria was Aldo’s wife and a special human to me.
“I don’t even know what happened today,” I tried to tell him.
“I know, I know,” he said. “You miss her.”
Then Aldo went to work. Usually, I love to watch him clean. He sweeps and swoops. He dusts and polishes. He hums and sings and sometimes does a dance.
But he was quieter that night. Oh, he did get the room very clean, but there was no humming, singing or dancing. Every once in a while he’d stop, shake and mumble, “What a thing to happen,” or, “You just never know.”
I certainly didn’t know what was going on and I wished someone would tell me.
When he was finished, Aldo took out a sandwich and his thermos of coffee and sat in front of Og and me. He usually had his dinner break with us, and he always remembered to bring me veggies.
“Here you go, Humphrey, old pal,” he said as he pushed a sweet, crunchy celery stick into my cage.
“THANKS-THANKS-THANKS,” I squeaked.
Then he dropped a fishy frog stick into Og’s tank. My neighbor splashed happily.
“Hey, I was thinking about that Sherlock Holmes book,” Aldo said. “I think I’m going to read that story about the redhead agai
n.”
“Read it now!” I begged him. “Please!”
But Aldo just ate and packed up his cleaning supplies and wheeled his cart out of Room 26.
“You two have a good night,” he said as he switched off the lights.
I was disappointed to see him go. It might be a long time before I had the chance to hear the end of that story.
But after I thought about it some more, I decided to take things into my own paws.
When I saw the lights of Aldo’s car leave the parking lot near my window, I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and opened my cage.
First, I needed to talk to Og. “I was thinking, if we knew how Sherlock Holmes solved a mystery, maybe we could solve our mystery,” I squeaked.
“BOING-BOING?” Og twanged.
“I mean, the mystery of what happened to Mrs. Brisbane,” I explained patiently.
I try hard to be patient with Og because frogs don’t always think like hamsters. I guess they wouldn’t, since we’re different species.
“Don’t worry, Og,” I said. “I have a Plan.”
Aldo had very kindly left the blinds open so the streetlight outside lit up the room inside.
I moved to the edge of the table and grabbed on to the leg. Taking a deep breath, I glided down. I’ve done it many times before. It’s thrilling and slightly scary and definitely dangerous. Once I hit the floor, I scurried over to Mrs. Brisbane’s desk.
That desk is extremely tall from a hamster’s-eye view.
I had another lucky break. Mrs. Brisbane’s chair was pushed close to the drawers of her desk, so getting to the big red book on top wouldn’t be too difficult. I stood on my tippy toes and reached up to grab the bar between the chair legs. I used every ounce of strength I could gather to pull myself up. Then I grabbed the next-highest bar and—OOOF—pulled myself up again.
All the exercise I get spinning my wheel and rolling in my hamster ball has made me a super-strong hamster! (Those veggies help, too.)
Mysteries According to Humphrey Page 3
