by Lynne Jonell
Abner frowned. “I guess we could. The people living in our house now are only renters. Mom and Dad could tell them they had to go.”
“But what about Dad?” Tate laced her fingers together around her knees. “He’s doing important work for the university this year. That’s why we moved in the first place. And what about Mom? She’s taking the year to paint.”
The children were silent. They didn’t want to ruin their father’s work, and their mother had been wanting to paint pictures for a long time. And now, with a year off from her other job, she could.
The sun, lower in the sky, streamed through the windows and lit the rafters of the big, shabby Loft, turning them orange. Abner put his elbows on the sill of an open window and stuck his head through.
“This isn’t such a bad place, Derek,” he said. “We can have a lot of fun here.”
The others came to stand beside him. They looked out at the rosy sky, down at the trees that circled the house, and past the trees to the river, glinting like a golden thread in the last rays from the sun. The stone bridge arched above the water like something from a fairy tale, and all the children remembered at once that they hadn’t yet run down to see it.
Derek slumped. “Okay,” he said. “I guess we could just get motorbikes, then.”
Hammy rattled the bars of his cage to get their attention. “You don’t understand,” he said unhappily. “I can’t give you motorbikes or anything like that. You have to make a hamster wish.”
The children turned from the window to stare at him.
“So what is a hamster wish?” asked Tate.
Hammy sat back and picked lint from between his toes. “Something a hamster would want, of course.”
Tate knelt on the floor and began to paw through the books she had sorted.
“We have to wish for something a hamster would want?” repeated Derek. He stopped tossing the tennis ball. It fell from his hands and rolled to the middle of the floor.
“Well, if that’s not good enough for you,” said Hammy stiffly, “then you don’t have to wish for anything at all.”
“We didn’t say that,” said Abner, “but—”
“I found it!” Tate held up a small volume. “How to Care for Your Hamster,” she read aloud.
The others looked at her blankly.
“Don’t you see? This will tell us everything that hamsters want!”
Abner and Celia moved to either side of Tate, and all three huddled over the pages. “ ‘Hamsters like seeds,’ ” Tate read. “ ‘They like unsalted nuts and chew toys. They love to gnaw—’ ”
“I don’t want to give up a dog for chew toys,” said Abner. He ran his finger down the page. “Let’s see. They love to climb. They’re desert animals and don’t like to get wet—”
“There goes the swimming pool,” muttered Derek from behind them. “Celia, move over, will you?” He gave her a little shove.
“But I want to see,” protested Celia.
“You can’t even read,” said Derek, edging in beside Tate.
“I can, too!” Celia cried.
“Just baby books.” Derek bent over the book. “Hey, it says some hamsters like to sit in their food dishes!”
Everyone laughed except for Celia, who was mad at Derek and feeling sorry for herself. She saw Hammy’s wounded look and went to stand by his cage. She felt sorry for him, too.
“Look at what else they like to eat!” Derek pointed to a picture. “Worms! Beetles! That’s gross!”
“It’s not gross to Hammy,” said Celia. She reached out a finger to the paw that Hammy had poked through the bars. “And he likes dog biscuits, too.”
Hammy looked at her gratefully. “Woofies,” he whispered. “They’re the best.”
His tiny hamster paw gripped her finger. It tickled, and Celia tried not to laugh. She didn’t want Hammy to think she was making fun of him.
“Wait, I’ve got it!” Derek rolled back on the floor, snickering. “Let’s wish for a hamster wheel! We could take turns!”
“Stop it!” cried Celia. “You’re hurting his feelings!”
No one seemed to hear.
“ ‘Hamsters like to burrow in wood shavings,’ ” Tate read aloud, “ ‘and hay.’ ”
“I remember our old hamsters doing that,” said Derek, sitting up. “But I never knew why.”
“I think it’s because—” began Celia.
“It’s because they dig in the wild,” said Abner. He moved his finger along a line of text. “ ‘Hamsters create tunnel systems, with separate spaces for food, sleeping, baby hamsters—’ ”
“Tunnels might be good,” said Derek.
Celia was tired of being ignored just because she was the smallest. And, looking at Hammy, she knew he felt the same way. “I know something a hamster wants,” she said suddenly. “Hammy’s tired of being little, and I am, too. I want to be big.”
Derek eyed her with scorn. “That’s not a hamster wish. Why would a hamster want to be big?”
“Some hamsters might,” said Celia stubbornly. “And I do want to be big! I wish I was bigger than you!”
Hammy blinked. “You wish? Okay, then,” he said. He blew out his cheeks and shut his eyes. His toes curled. His ears went flat.
And Celia began to feel very strange indeed.
CHAPTER 3
What a Hamster Needs
There was a swoosh in the room, and a swirling of grit like blowing desert sand, and the children shut their eyes. When they opened them again, Celia had become big.
She had also become a hamster.
She was a pretty big hamster—about the size of a large dog—and her fur was pale, with gray markings. She had a pink nose, small alert ears, and startled blue eyes.
There was a moment of shocked silence.
“My sister’s a hamster,” said Abner in a tone of disbelief.
“Tunnels would have been better,” Derek said. “Why did you make such a dumb wish, Seal?”
“I didn’t want to be a big hamster!” Celia wailed. “I wanted to be a big girl!”
“Yeah, well, no hamster would wish for that,” Derek pointed out.
Tate tipped her head to one side. “She’s kind of cute. And she still looks like Celia, sort of.”
Strangely enough, she did still look like Celia. Blue eyes, pale fur—and a paw in her mouth.
“Honestly,” said Tate, “stop sucking your thumb, Celia—I mean, paw. I thought you broke that habit.”
Celia hastily took her paw out of her mouth. “I just wanted to see if it tasted different.”
“But what are we going to do now?” Abner turned to the others. “I mean—she’s a hamster. I don’t mind it myself,” he added hurriedly as the tears stood in Celia’s blue hamster eyes. “But the parents aren’t going to like it at all.”
Tate leaned over the cage. “Hammy, why did you do that? You’re going to have to take it back. And you must have known it wasn’t our real wish.… Stop snuffling, Celia,” Tate added crossly. “You wanted to be big, so now you should act like it.”
Hammy stood up on his hind legs and squeaked.
Abner rolled his eyes. “Give it up, already. We know you can talk.”
“No, I think he’s trying,” said Tate. “Look at him!”
Hammy’s mouth was working, and his paws were waving, but nothing came out but squeaks.
“You used up all his magic,” said Derek. “Nice going.”
“Tunnels would have used just as much,” Celia answered hotly, her fur ruffling.
“But what are we going to do?” Abner muttered, and then swung sharply on his heel. “What’s that?”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. There was a knock on the door. “Suppertime!” called their father.
The four children—rather, three children and a hamster—looked at one another in panic as the doorknob turned.
Tate snatched the blanket and flung it over Celia. “Snuffle!” she hissed.
“Now you want me to snuffle?” Celia
whispered.
Father poked his head in. “Are you coming?” He paused. “What’s Celia doing under the blanket?”
“She’s playing hamster,” said Tate, prodding Celia with her foot. “And we were wondering …”
Celia began to make snuffling noises, and the blanket moved from side to side.
Tate moved toward her father. “Would it be all right if we had supper up here in the playroom, on trays? We’d carry everything,” she added quickly.
Celia’s snuffles and squeaks became louder. Tate shot a look at Abner, who thumped the blanket-covered mound and hissed something under his breath. Celia fell silent.
Tate laid a hand on her father’s arm. “We hurt Celia’s feelings,” she said, speaking low. “So she pretended to be a hamster instead of our sister. And then we thought if we went along with it, and let her eat hamster food off a tray, she might feel better. We really do feel bad.”
She gave Derek a sharp glance, and he arranged his face in a look of sorrow.
Father raised an eyebrow. “That’s very nice of you kids. I’ll see what I can work out with your mother.”
“And maybe,” said Tate brightly, “you and Mom could have a nice dinner alone, for a change! With candles!”
Father grinned. “Come on down, then, all of you. You can get your trays.”
“But not Celia,” Tate reminded him. “Because she’s a hamster, of course.”
“Of course,” said Father.
Abner caught at Tate’s sleeve as Father left the room. “How do you do that?” he whispered. “Think on your feet like that, so fast?”
Tate shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do.”
“Well, it’s a very useful skill,” said Abner with feeling as he followed her down the stairs.
Mother had sent up a bowl of fruit with supper, as extra hamster food, and Celia was entertaining Derek by stuffing her cheek pouches with apples.
“Can you fit in two bananas?” asked Derek with deep interest.
“Mmph woom,” said Celia.
Abner eyed Celia’s bulging cheeks with gloom. “We are in deep, deep trouble.” He had finished his supper, but he had not enjoyed it.
“I know,” said Tate. “And Hammy still isn’t talking.”
Celia was having a great deal of fun being a hamster, and she didn’t plan to worry until she had to. She spit out the apples and grinned at Derek with her long hamster teeth. “What’s for dessert?”
Derek lifted the lid of a square pan and whooped. “Chocolate cake!”
“You can’t have any, Celia,” said Tate. “Chocolate is poison for hamsters. I read it in the book.”
“No fair!” cried Celia.
“Can I have her piece?” asked Derek.
Celia humped her shoulders and rested her nose on her chest. She felt strangely unsatisfied. She wasn’t exactly hungry anymore, but she had a powerful urge to chew something—something hard, like wood.…
“Hey! Stop that!” Abner dragged her away from the sofa leg. “Look at those teeth marks!”
Tate picked up the hamster book again. “She can’t help it. Hamsters need to gnaw. It keeps their teeth from getting too long.”
Celia had found something new to chew.
“No! Not my hockey stick!” Derek’s cry was anguished.
Celia looked up guiltily.
“Oh, let her have it,” said Abner. “It’s wrecked now, anyway, and it’ll keep her happy while we think of what to do next.”
“It won’t keep me happy,” said Derek miserably, watching as his beloved hockey stick began to look like a chew toy.
Tate patted him on the shoulder. “It’s for a good cause.”
“All right,” Abner went on, “let’s figure this out. Hammy said something about a Great Hamster.”
Tate nodded. “She was supposed to approve any wishes.”
“We should have listened,” whimpered Derek.
“Too late now.” Abner gazed at the small hamster in the cage. “I think we should try to find this Great Hamster and see if she can help. If she has the power to approve wishes, maybe she can do something to take them back.”
“But we don’t know where she lives.” Tate bent over the book again. “It says here that hamsters are really good runners. They’ll run as much as five miles for something to eat!”
“Really?” Derek looked at Celia with new respect.
“So think about it. The Great Hamster could be really far away.”
“But she’s not,” said Derek. “She’s—Whoa!”
Celia had dropped the hockey stick to do acrobatics on the couch. She scampered up the arm to the back and flipped off, tumbling into Derek before rolling away. Her claws clicked across the wood floor in a rapid tattoo. She raced the length of the playroom and skidded into the boys’ bedroom at the far end.
“Wow,” said Derek.
Celia came dashing back again, a pale, fuzzy streak darting past in a bundle of fur and paws. She disappeared into the girls’ bedroom on the other side, and there was a faint crash.
In his cage, Hammy was racing, too, but on his hamster wheel. The dry squeal of metal going round and round mixed with Celia’s panting as she came lolloping back.
“Sorry!” she gasped. “It was just the lamp.” And she was gone again, circling the room like a dust mop gone mad.
“Kids? Are you done with those trays yet?” Mr. Willow called from the stairway.
“Coming, Dad!” Tate rattled the plates convincingly. She added to Abner under her breath, “You’ve got to stop her!”
Abner snatched up the blanket and shoved one end in Derek’s hands. Together, they advanced on Celia. She was madly leaping, trying to see how high she could climb up the wall.
“What’s all that noise?” Father’s feet sounded on the steps.
“Oh—they’re all playing hamster,” called Tate. She stacked the trays and staggered to the door with her arms full. Behind her, the room echoed with thumps and squeaks and muffled grunts, but she didn’t dare look back.
The door opened inward, catching her elbow and sending the trays flying. Plates and silverware and cups and bits of uneaten food fell with a clatter to the floor. Father made sure that Tate was all right, then helped to pick up the mess. When he at last looked up, Abner and Derek were sitting on the couch, breathing hard, with a blanket-wrapped bundle between them.
“Playing hamster seems like a very energetic game,” Father observed. “Celia, are you all right?”
Abner nudged the bundle.
“I’m fine, Dad!” Celia’s voice, while slightly muffled, was clearly happy. “I’m having lots of fun!”
“You’re being true to nature, anyway,” said Father. He glanced at the hamster cage, where the wheel was still going round. “Hamsters do seem to get very active in the evening. And all through the night, of course.”
Abner’s face held a look of doom. “Hamsters stay up all night?”
Father grinned. “Well, yes. They’re nocturnal. But you four hamsters are going to have to go to bed soon, I’m afraid.”
When Father had gone away with the dishes, Abner let Celia out of the blanket on the condition that she stay perfectly still. And just to make sure, two pairs of hands held her firmly in place.
“No more running,” said Abner sternly. “No more crashing into things.”
“And no more climbing the walls,” added Tate, petting her sister between the ears to calm her.
Celia looked from one to the other. “I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s like something comes over me, and I just have to move.”
“I feel the same way when I play sports,” said Derek. He picked up the hamster book and paged through it. “Hamsters really do need a lot of exercise. Too bad we don’t have a giant hamster wheel.”
Celia was wriggling again. She slipped from under Abner’s and Tate’s hands and popped up on the couch, panting. “You can’t make me stay still all night,” she begged. “Please let me run? I’ll be very, very quie
t.”
Abner shook his head. “Mom and Dad’s room is right under ours. They’ll hear you, for sure.”
Celia kicked her short hind legs, banging them against the couch. “You don’t know how it feels!” she cried in a passion. “I’m a hamster! I was born to run!”
“I’d like to see her run bases,” said Derek. “She is fast. Couldn’t we take her outside?”
“Oh, yes!” Celia clasped her paws together. “Please? Please please pleeeeeeeeease?”
“We could take her out after the parents are asleep, maybe,” said Tate, stroking Celia’s back.
“And we were going to look for the Great Hamster, anyway,” added Derek.
“But we don’t know where she is,” said Abner. He leaned over Hammy’s cage, where the little hamster was still racing in his wheel. “You could find the Great Hamster, couldn’t you?”
Hammy threw a startled glance at Abner’s looming face, jumped off the wheel, and dove into a pile of wood shavings in the corner. He burrowed until there was nothing to be seen of him but one furry golden ear.
“I get the feeling he doesn’t want to,” said Tate. “I bet he thinks he’s going to get in trouble.”
Abner stared at the hamster’s quivering ear. “He deserves it,” he said. “And he didn’t even tell us where the Great Hamster lives so we could find her ourselves.”
“Yes, he did,” said Derek. “Don’t you remember? When he told us he wouldn’t bother her about our wish. He said her burrow was almost to the river, and if we went we would get our feet all sandy.”
Abner looked at the oversized, slightly sweaty hamster that was Celia and thought things over. He wasn’t a boy who liked to sneak around behind his parents’ backs, and he didn’t like doing things that could get him into trouble. But he couldn’t let his sister stay a hamster forever.
“All right,” he said. “As soon as we’re sure Mom and Dad are asleep, we’ll go to the riverbank and look for the Great Hamster.”
CHAPTER 4
The Great Hamster Speaks
Of course, the children had to get into their pajamas and say good night to their parents. Celia, who usually liked to be tucked in and kissed good night, called out from the girls’ room that hamsters did not want kisses and hugs.
