“Try ‘frog’!” shouted A.J.
“Lower-Your-Voice-A.J.,” Mrs. Brisbane reminded him.
“And raise your hand,” added Heidi.
Mrs. Brisbane shook her head, then began to write words on the board as my classmates shouted them out. Dog, fog, log, slog, clog and more.
Nothing rhymed with “hamster,” but everything rhymed with “frog.” How depressing! I wondered how many words rhyme with “sad”? Like “mad” and “bad.”
After recess, it was Miranda’s turn to clean my cage. She always does an extra-good job of cleaning my potty corner and changing my water and bedding. And she always has a special treat for me, like a piece of cauliflower. Yum.
“Sorry, Humphrey. I tried to write a poem about you,” she told me. “I think I’m going to have to write about Clem instead.”
Clem was Miranda’s dog, the one who tried to eat me when I stayed at her house. How Golden-Miranda could put up with Clem was beyond me.
That night, I wrote my very first poem ever. I asked Og if he wanted to hear it. His silence wasn’t too encouraging, but I decided to read it anyway.
When Ms. Mac left me for Brazil,
She made me SAD-SAD-SAD.
When Clem the dog was mean to me,
I felt real MAD-MAD-MAD.
Now Og’s moved in and he has got me
Feeling BAD-BAD-BAD.
In fact, this is the worst week
I ever HAD-HAD-HAD!
I waited to hear Og applaud or at least give me a grudging “Boing.” I heard only silence. When I glanced over at my neighbor, he was grinning from ear to ear. Or he would have been if he had ears. Somehow, his smile didn’t cheer me up at all.
I felt better the following day, though, because it was Friday. That meant I would get a little break from Room 26 and the green and grumpy lump. Every weekend, a different student took me home, and I’d had many wonderful adventures with my classmates and their families. I’d even gone home with Principal Morales!
This week, I was going home with Wait-For-The-Bell-Garth Tugwell. He’d wanted to take me home for a long time.
“Can I take Og home, too?” asked Garth.
“I think Og can stay here,” Mrs. Brisbane answered. “Frogs don’t need to eat every day, except when they’re young.”
Funny, I didn’t feel quite so sad-mad-bad anymore.
“Can’t your mom pick us up?” A.J. asked Garth after school.
I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him as we waited outside for the bus. I had a blanket over my cage because it was cold outside. I didn’t mind, though, as long as I was FAR-FAR-FAR away from Og. (Who hadn’t even tried to say “good-bye” to me.)
“My dad said not to bother her. She’s been sick,” said Garth. “Couldn’t your mom pick us up?”
“I wish.” A.J. sighed. “She has to pick up my sister from kindergarten and put the baby down for a nap.”
“Did you tell your folks about Bean?” asked Garth.
At least I thought he said “Bean.” Things sounded a little muffled under the blanket.
“Naw,” said A.J. “Last time I said somebody was picking on me, my dad signed me up for boxing lessons. I hated people punching me. It was worse than being picked on.”
I tried to sort out what A.J. meant about getting picked on. By a bean? By a boxing bean? I didn’t have time to figure it out before the bus arrived.
“Here goes,” said Garth, lifting my cage. “Let’s stick together, no matter what.”
“Okay. Be sure to sit in front by Miss Victoria,” whispered A.J. “That’s the safest.”
By the shuffling and scuffling sounds, I could tell that we were on the bus. Luckily, a corner of the blanket slipped down and I could see Miss Victoria, the bus driver, glancing over her shoulder.
“Keep moving, guys,” she said in a firm voice. “Whoa, ladies, one of you has to go. Can’t have three in a seat.” Three first-grade girls were huddled together in the seat right behind the bus driver. “We’re not moving until one of you goes. You move, Beth.”
The girl on the end timidly got up and started down the aisle, nervously looking back at her friends.
“Keep going, folks,” Miss Victoria snapped.
Suddenly—BOOM! The girl named Beth fell down flat on the floor right in front of us. Her books slid around the floor in all directions.
The bus was quiet as Beth lay there until somebody said, “Hey, klutz, you dropped something!” That was followed by a nasty snicker.
“You tripped her,” said A.J. in a voice not quite as loud as usual.
“Says you, A.J.! What do those letters stand for, anyway? Awful Jerk?”
I crawled over to the side of the cage to see who was speaking. He was BIG-BIG-BIG for a kid. He had spiky hair and a scowl on his face.
As Garth and A.J. bent over to help Beth pick up her books, Miss Victoria called to the back of the bus.
“Garth and A.J., if you don’t sit down so I can get moving, I’m going to report you two.”
“Yeah, Garth Bugwart, sit down,” the big kid sneered.
“I’m going to tell,” Beth said softly.
“Don’t!” A.J. whispered back. “Bean will only get worse.”
So this was the scary Bean they were talking about!
Beth slid into a seat with all her books. Just as A.J. stepped forward, Bean stuck his leg into the aisle. So that’s how he had tripped her! After A.J. managed to step over it, Garth and I (in my cage) were standing right next to Mr. Nasty.
“What’s in the cage, Bugface? Your lunch?” He snorted a few times, but no one else on the bus laughed. “Or is that your girlfriend?”
That did it! I was fighting mad. Somebody had to squeak up to this guy. “For your information, I am a male Golden Hamster. And you are one MEAN BEAN!”
“Anybody got a mousetrap?” Bean snarled.
“Why aren’t you guys in your seats?” Miss Victoria yelled from the front of the bus. “I’m writing you up, Garth and A.J.!”
Garth slid into a seat next to A.J. I was about to give Miss Victoria a piece of my mind when the bus lurched forward and I had to hold on to my cage for dear life. I was sorry I’d eaten those Nutri-Nibbles just before we left.
All week, I’d been looking forward to going home with Garth. Now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it there!
“Friendship is one mind in two bodies.”
Mencius, Chinese philosopher
4
Mean Bean
A.J.’s stop was before Garth’s. “Come on over tomorrow,” Garth told his friend. As soon as A.J. left, Garth moved up to the front of the bus to get away from Bean.
“What part of ‘sit down’ don’t you understand, Garth?” Miss Victoria sounded pretty irritated.
“Sorry. The cage wouldn’t fit on the seat,” he said.
“What on earth is in there, anyway?”
Before Garth could answer, the bus stopped in front of his house. He pulled the blanket down around my cage and hurried down the steps.
Mrs. Tugwell was waiting in the doorway of the house. She had wavy brown hair like her son. She had glasses and freckles like her son, too. She helped him set my cage up on the family room table. Garth’s little brother, Andy, raced into the room. He had wavy brown hair, glasses and freckles, too. “Mine!” he shouted.
“Nope. He’s mine. At least for the weekend,” said Garth.
“Tell Andy about Humphrey,” Garth’s mom said.
“He’s a hamster. And you have to be nice to him,” Garth explained.
He got that right!
“I like ham,” said Andy, rubbing his stomach. “Yum-yum!”
I hopped onto my wheel to show Andy that a hamster wasn’t anything like a ham.
“Wheee! Ham go ’round!” said Andy.
Garth’s mother brought in a plate of peanut butter and crackers. Ooh, that smelled good!
“How was school?” she asked.
“Okay,” said Garth. “But Mom,
could you say something to Bean’s mom? He’s mean to everybody on the bus.”
“Martin Bean?” Garth’s mom sounded surprised. “Why, he’s always polite when I see him.”
“Well, he’s not polite any other time,” Garth explained. “He tripped a girl on the bus and called everybody names.”
“That doesn’t sound like Martin. What did the bus driver do?”
“Nothing,” Garth answered.
“Well, I think she should be the one to work things out,” said Mrs. Tugwell.
“But you’re friends with Mrs. Bean!”
“I probably won’t be if I complain about her son. Maybe if you were friendlier to him, he’d act nicer.”
“Mom . . . ,” Garth moaned.
“It’s worth a try,” his mom suggested.
I had to squeak up. “He’s the Meanest Bean I’ve ever seen!”
“Goodness, what’s the matter with Humphrey?” asked Mrs. Tugwell.
“Maybe he doesn’t like Marty, either,” Garth muttered. He’s one smart guy.
Shortly after Mr. Tugwell came home, Natalie arrived. She was the babysitter, but I didn’t see any babies around for her to sit on. Garth wasn’t a baby, Andy wasn’t a baby and certainly I was no baby.
Natalie had black hair and wore a black shirt, black pants and black shoes. She had glasses with black frames. Her lips were bright red.
“Order a pizza,” said Garth’s dad, handing Natalie some money. “I got some videos for the guys.”
“Okay,” said Natalie. “Mind if I do some homework?”
“As long as you get the boys in bed at nine,” Mrs. Tugwell explained.
Natalie glanced at my cage. “What about the rat?”
I felt quite discouraged. I’d already been called a mouse and a ham that day.
“He’s a hammer!” Andy yelled.
“Oh, a hamster. How cute,” said Natalie, leaning in toward my cage. “Hi there, big boy.”
Whew! After a miserable week and a rough ride home, I suddenly felt a whole lot better.
Later, the boys ate pizza and watched videos while Natalie read from a big thick book.
“What’s that?” asked Andy, leaning over her shoulder. “How come it doesn’t have any pictures?”
“College books don’t have pictures.”
Andy wrinkled his nose. “What’s college?”
Natalie sighed. “After you go to high school and graduate, if you want a good job like a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher, you have to go to college.”
“I know that,” Garth piped in. “City College is right down the street. Mom took classes there last year.”
“That’s where I go,” said Natalie. “I’m studying psychology.” The way she said it, that big word sounded like “sigh-coll-uh-gee.” But the word on her book was spelled “Psychology.” I wrote it down in my notebook later. (I hope that word is never on a spelling test!)
“In psychology, you find out what’s inside people’s heads.” The babysitter reached for Andy’s head.
“Ooey-gooey brains,” said Garth.
“Don’t go in my head!” screamed Andy, leaping off the couch.
Natalie laughed. “Not like that. Psychology teaches you how people think. Do you know what I’m thinking?”
Andy shook his head.
“I’m thinking it’s time for bed,” Natalie said. “Nine o’clock.”
The boys both groaned. “Not yet,” Garth protested.
Andy folded his arms. “You can’t make me!” he said firmly.
Surprisingly, Natalie sat back and smiled. “I guess you’re right. I can’t make you.”
Andy’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Huh?”
“Why don’t you put on another video? We can stay up till your parents get back,” the babysitter continued. “It’ll be fun!”
“Yes!” Garth exclaimed as he and his brother gleefully high-fived each other.
But I was a little confused. Hadn’t Mrs. Tugwell told her to get the boys in bed at nine? I was sure that Natalie had lost her mind.
Garth settled back on the couch, but after a minute, his smile disappeared. “When do you think Mom and Dad will be back?”
Natalie shrugged her shoulders. “They didn’t say.”
“Won’t they be upset if we’re still up?”
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Natalie answered with a mischievous grin.
Andy looked worried. “They’ll be mad if we’re not in bed.”
“So?” said Natalie. “We still have time to watch more TV.”
Garth stood up and yawned loudly. “I’m kind of tired.”
“Me, too,” said Andy, stretching his arms.
Natalie smiled. “Well, if you really think so, okay. You two get ready for bed and I’ll be up in a minute.”
As the brothers raced upstairs, Natalie chuckled to herself, then leaned in toward my cage.
“And that, Humphrey Hamster, is what is called ‘reverse psychology.’ You get people to do what you want by telling them to do the opposite.”
Reverse psychology. (Remember, it’s pronounced sigh-coll-uh-gee.) So that’s how people’s minds work. Just tell them to do the opposite of what you want them to do.
You can sure learn a lot at college.
You can learn a lot from a good babysitter, too.
The next afternoon, A.J. came over to Garth’s house to play. Mrs. Tugwell took Andy out to buy new shoes. Mr. Tugwell was paying bills in the kitchen. The boys were alone with me in the family room.
“Humphrey needs some exercise,” said A.J. “Let’s take him out.”
“Okay. You can watch him while I clean his cage.”
A.J. gently took me out while Garth put on gloves and began to clean my cage. Both boys chuckled when he got to my potty corner—everyone does—but he did a good job of cleaning it. While he worked, they talked.
“Any chance your dad can drive us Monday morning?” asked Garth.
A.J. shook his head as he gently petted me. “He has to leave for work real early. How about your dad?”
Garth shook his head. “He always talks about how he had to walk to school and how lucky I am to ride a bus.”
“I know.” A.J. sighed and set me down on the table.
“Watch it!” said Garth. He set a row of big tall books all around the edge of the table. “We don’t want Humphrey to get away.”
“Maybe he’ll be sick on Monday,” Garth suggested.
“Are you kidding? He’s the healthiest guy at school. Man, if he wasn’t so big, I’d really give it to him,” said A.J., making a fist.
“Me, too,” Garth agreed.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that they were talking about big mean Marty Bean.
“I don’t know why Miss Victoria always takes his side,” Garth said after a while.
“He knows how not to get caught.”
The boys were silent again until Garth said, “Miranda was getting a drink at the fountain at recess, and he came up and pushed her out of the way.”
The thought of someone pushing Golden-Miranda, an almost perfect human, really ruffled my fur.
“Did she tell?” asked A.J.
“Yeah. He said he didn’t do it,” Garth explained. “Said he wasn’t anywhere near her. He said Kirk did it. Kirk almost got in trouble, so Miranda said it was all a mistake to get Kirk off the hook.”
“Kirk the Jerk. That’s what Bean calls him,” said Garth. “He’s got a name for everybody. That’s why he doesn’t have any friends.”
He stepped back and pulled off his rubber gloves. “I think that’s one clean cage.”
“Great,” I squeaked. “But what are we going to do about Bean?”
“Bean’s a pretty funny name,” A.J. said with a chuckle. “Bean brain.”
“Bean breath,” said Garth.
The boys started laughing.
“Bean bag!”
“Bean jeans!”
“Green Bean!”
; “Mean Bean! Hey—that rhymes! Mean green Bean!”
Mrs. Brisbane would be proud to hear them rhyming! I liked hearing them laugh. However, I was worried. Bean had said something about a mousetrap. The mere mention of those contraptions makes me shiver and quiver. And I didn’t want to see anybody get tripped or pushed again.
“Ready to go back in, Humphrey-Dumpty?” asked Garth.
“YES!” I squeaked, which for some reason made the boys howl with laughter again.
Once I was back in the cage, the boys went up to play in Garth’s room. That gave me time to think. Here were Garth and A.J., really good friends. They were nice to each other and stuck together. Marty Bean wasn’t friendly to anybody and he didn’t have any friends.
All my classmates liked Og, but when I offered to be his friend, he leaped at me in a very rude way. The business of friendship is not as easy as it sounds, I figured, just before dozing off for a long afternoon nap.
It was nice at Garth’s house that weekend. The announcer on TV said it was COLD-COLD-COLD outside, so the Tugwells stayed inside. The family popped popcorn—did that smell good! And they watched TV and snuggled on the couch. As happy as I should have been, I worried about Monday’s bus ride. What I needed was a Plan. And maybe a little psychology.
“Are you sure the little guy won’t catch cold?” asked Mrs. Tugwell as Garth was ready to leave for school on Monday.
“He’s got a fur coat. And I’ll cover him,” Garth assured her. I was plunged into total darkness as he threw a blanket over the cage.
“Bye, Ham!” shouted Andy.
“Bye, Andy!” I squeaked back. After all, a “ham” isn’t the worst thing that a person can call you.
Soon, I heard the squeal of the bus’s brakes as it stopped in front of the Tugwells’ house.
“All aboard!” I heard Miss Victoria say. “Find a seat.”
“This cage is too big. Can’t I sit up here?” asked Garth.
“Do you see any empty seats up here?” the bus driver replied. “Get moving and keep moving.”
Friendship According to Humphrey Page 3
