The world looked pretty wonderful from my cage until the day Ms. Mac left to go to Brazil and Mrs. Brisbane—who was the real teacher—came back.
It turned out that Ms. Mac was just a substitute.
It turned out that Mrs. Brisbane didn’t like me.
It turned out that I didn’t like her back!
But over time, I learned that Mrs. Brisbane was a very good teacher who cared about her students.
And over time, she learned that I was a very good hamster who cared about her students as much as she did.
A wonderful thing happened. We came to like each other. In fact, Mrs. Brisbane became one of my favorite humans in the whole, wide world.
Until now. The Mrs. Brisbane I grew to like—even love—wouldn’t just head off for a faraway land without making sure I was well taken care of. So maybe I was right not to like her in the very beginning. But that couldn’t be! She’d taken good care of me for a long time now.
I was just going to have to trust her and believe that whatever surprise she had in store for Og and me would be something good. Even though I knew from experience that surprises can also be bad things, like meeting up with Clem the dog or Sweetums the cat!
Just in case I was wrong, I stayed up late writing in my notebook that night.
My last night at school.
Things I could do when school is over • Go back to Pet-O-Rama (the pet store I came from—not a good idea)
• Teach other hamsters to read and write (Where? Pet-O-Rama? What about Og?)
• Find a school that doesn’t end (How would I find one? In my hamster ball?)
• Work at Maycrest Manor (I’ve already gone there to help people who are sick or injured. Maybe they’d like Og, too.)
• Hit the road with Og and roam free (not after seeing those scary creatures in the movie in the library last night!)
My list didn’t look too promising.
The sun came up the next morning, like any ordinary day.
The bell rang and my friends rushed in, like any ordinary day.
But that BAD-BAD-BAD feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this was not an ordinary day.
“Og?” I squeaked loudly so my neighbor could hear me. “I hope we’ll stay together, but if we don’t, you’ve been an unsqueakably nice neighbor and I’ll miss you.”
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged. He splashed so loudly, I thought he’d pop the top right off his tank. He’s done that a time or two before.
I felt a little bit better knowing he agreed with me, but I was still worried. I hopped on my wheel for a fast and furious spin, just to let off some steam.
It was a very busy day in Room 26. Mrs. Brisbane collected all of my friends’ textbooks but not my little notebook. (I keep it well hidden.)
Instead of reading and writing and taking tests, Mrs. Brisbane and my fellow students were busy packing up their desks and straightening up. Room 26 had never been so neat before!
At the very end of the day, Mrs. Brisbane said that we were the most wonderful students she’d ever had and she knew that we’d all go on to great futures.
That was nice, if only I knew what my future would be!
Then she made a Very Important Announcement.
“Report cards will be mailed out this week,” she said. Some students groaned.
“Now, now,” Mrs. Brisbane continued. “None of you have anything to worry about.”
That seemed to please my friends a lot.
“But there are two students getting their report cards today,” she said. “They are very special students who helped make this the best class I ever had.”
Then, to my surprise, she picked up two small cards from her desk and walked over to the table where Og and I lived—at least for the moment. She read the first card.
“Og, you have gotten top grades in Water Skills, Loud Noisemaking, Splashing and Being Very Green. All A’s,” she announced.
My classmates clapped and cheered as she placed the card up against Og’s tank.
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.
Then Mrs. Brisbane turned to me.
“Humphrey, you have gotten top grades in Wheel Spinning, Hamster Ball Rolling and Squeaking. All A’s.” Mrs. Brisbane hesitated. “But you have gotten an A+ in one other subject: Helping Your Friends. You are truly the most helpful hamster I’ve ever known.”
Oh, how my friends clapped and cheered. They whistled and stomped. Then they stood up and applauded some more.
“Hum-phree! Hum-phree! Hum-phree!” they chanted.
I was just about the proudest hamster in the whole, wide world.
“THANK YOU-THANK YOU-THANK YOU,” I squeaked as loudly as I could.
Everything was perfect. Except that little part about not knowing what I was going to do for the rest of my life!
“Mrs. Brisbane?” a voice called out.
Someone was speaking out of turn, but for once, it wasn’t Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi.
It was Sayeh, the shyest girl in Room 26. Or at least she used to be the shyest girl in class.
“Yes, Sayeh?” Mrs. Brisbane said.
Sayeh stood up next to her desk. “I’d like to thank Humphrey for helping me learn to speak up,” she said in a strong voice. “I will never forget him. Not for my whole life.”
“You’re welcome, Sayeh!” I squeaked.
Suddenly, Sit-Still-Seth Stevenson stood up. “And I’d like to thank Humphrey for helping me settle down. At least a little.”
Then one by one, they stood up. Don’t-Complain-Mandy thanked me for helping her meet her hamster, Winky. Pay-Attention-Art said I’d helped him with his math. (And it’s not even my best subject!) And Golden-Miranda thanked me for being her best friend.
“And I want to thank Og for being a great frog,” Heidi Hopper said. And she even raised her hand before saying it.
Later, Principal Morales came into the classroom. He was wearing a tie that had tiny cars all over it.
“Students in Room 26, I want to congratulate you on a great year,” he said. “And I wish you a wonderful summer ahead.”
He was in and out of the room quickly, but as he left, I didn’t know if I would ever see The Most Important Person at Longfellow School again.
I was happy, I was tired. I was nervous. As the clock went TICK-TICK-TICK, I wondered what my future—and Og’s—would be. I hopped on my wheel again and spun.
Then something surprising and wonderful happened. Ms. Mac entered Room 26.
Ms. Mac! With bouncy black curls tumbling around her lovely, happy face. With her big dark eyes and that slight smell of yummy apples. My friends all cheered when they saw her. Like me, they had started off with her as their teacher.
She’d broken my heart when she went to Brazil. But I forgave her when she came back. That’s what happens when you love somebody.
“Am I too early?” Ms. Mac asked.
Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “No, your timing is perfect. Please, go ahead.”
Ms. Mac was wearing a pink blouse and a bright red skirt and TALL-TALL-TALL red shoes.
“Students,” she said, in a way that made the word sound wonderful. “I know you all have exciting plans for the summer. And Mrs. Brisbane has exciting plans, too. But I just want you to know that your friends Humphrey and Og are going to have a fantastic summer, too. Because they are coming with me!”
“Eeek!” I actually tumbled off my wheel. Of all the wonderful, fabulous, remarkable and amazing things Og and I could do for the summer, being with Ms. Mac would be the most wonderful, fabulous, remarkable and amazing of all!
“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og obviously agreed with me.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” said Ms. Mac. “Because we are going to have a great adventure.”
I was overjoyed. Og and I didn’t have to go to Pet-O-Rama or search for unending schools or hit the open road. We were going to have a great adventure!
I had a big lump in my throat, just thinking of leaving my f
riends.
But my heart went pitter-patter at the thought of being with Ms. Mac again.
And then, it happened. The bell rang and my friends all raced out of Room 26, out of Longfellow School.
“BYE-BYE-BYE!” I squeaked, but I don’t think anyone could hear me.
Og dived into his tank and made a huge splash.
“Well, boys, here comes summer,” Ms. Mac told us with a big smile on her face.
Summer! What a wonderful word. I hoped.
NOTE TO SELF: Anytime you think humans don’t know what they’re doing, they’ll usually prove you WRONG-WRONG-WRONG.
3
The Mysterious Journey
After my friends left, Ms. Mac and Mrs. Brisbane stayed and talked. They chatted about Mrs. Brisbane’s trip and her son’s wedding. They spoke about the nice weather. They discussed what a good class it had been.
They talked about just about everything except the great adventure Og and I were going to have.
I thought they’d never stop talking, but finally Principal Morales came in to say good-bye. Then he helped Ms. Mac carry our supply of Nutri-Nibbles and Mighty Mealworms and Og’s unsqueakably yucky crickets out to her car.
While they were gone, Mrs. Brisbane stopped and looked at Og, then me.
“It’s been a pleasure having you in Room 26, fellows, but I hate good-byes,” she said. “So I’ll just say good luck.”
“Good-bye and thanks for everything!” I clung to the side of my cage as Mr. Morales and Ms. Mac returned and carried Og and me out the door, down the hallway of Longfellow School and outside to the car.
SLAM! The door was shut. Ms. Mac tooted her horn and waved good-bye to Principal Morales and off she drove.
I glanced back at Longfellow School. Would I ever see it again? Would I ever see Mrs. Brisbane or Mr. Morales again?
I was just about to ask Og when Ms. Mac turned up the radio and music began to blare. The windows were open, the music was jazzy and we were on our way—somewhere.
At least I knew that life with Ms. Mac was never ever boring.
I was a little disappointed over the next two weeks because, although it was nice to be with Ms. Mac again, our lives weren’t really that exciting.
Ms. Mac liked to cook and the apartment always smelled of YUMMY-YUMMY-YUMMY things. She had a lot of friends over and they ate the yummy food and listened to loud music and sometimes Ms. Mac played the bongo drums.
To my surprise, Og liked to BOING-BOING along with the bongos!
Still, I have to admit I missed Mrs. Brisbane and my friends in Room 26. Nobody called me “Humphrey Dumpty,” the way A.J. did. No one spoke as softly and sweetly to me as Sayeh. And no one giggled like good old Gail!
I was beginning to think my life was going to be an endless round of bongos and BOING-BOINGs when one day, Ms. Mac got out a large suitcase.
“Og?” I called to my neighbor, whose tank was next to my cage on Ms. Mac’s coffee table. “I think she’s leaving again! I hope she’s not going back to Brazil!”
Og splashed madly. “BOING-BOING!”
I could tell that he had come to love Ms. Mac as much as I did.
“Calm down, guys,” Ms. Mac said. “This summer, you’re going wherever I’m going. And I think you’ll like the place we’re going—a lot!”
“Did you hear that, Og?” I was almost crazy with delight. I started my wheel spinning at warp speed. “We’re going with her!”
“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.
Even though I had no idea where we were going, I was unsqueakably happy that Og and I were included.
“Of course, we’ll have to drive a long way,” Ms. Mac continued. “And you’ll be in very unfamiliar territory. In fact, it will be just a little bit wild.”
As soon as she said “wild,” I stopped spinning, which is never a good idea because I tumbled off the wheel and landed in a soft pile of bedding, a little closer to my poo corner than I like.
I thought about what I’d seen in the library just a few weeks earlier. Fierce animals with sharp teeth and sharp claws. They were marvelous beasts, but somehow I knew they wouldn’t be friendly to small furry creatures like me. Or small green, furless creatures like Og.
Especially at dinnertime, if you get my drift.
Ms. Mac didn’t seem worried, though. She was too busy washing clothes and sewing little labels into them.
She packed her clothes and got more food and supplies for Og and me. “We won’t be near a town,” she explained. “I’ll bet you guys will like getting out in nature as much as I will.”
“Wait!” I squeaked. “Exactly what do you mean by ‘getting out in nature’?” I asked. Because about the only time I’d been out in nature (in A.J.’s backyard), I was inside my hamster ball. And even so, something BAD-BAD-BAD almost happened to me.
“The call of the wild must be answered.” Ms. Mac laughed. Then she closed her suitcase and zipped it. “We leave first thing in the morning.”
I had to spin on my wheel for a long time that night, trying to get the thought of lions and tigers out of my head. And I tried to tell myself that Ms. Mac was a wonderful human who loved me.
I could trust her. Couldn’t I?
When Ms. Mac said first thing, she meant it. The sun was barely up when Og and I were in the car, cage and tank nestled among boxes and bags and pillows and bongo drums.
BUMP-BUMP-BUMP went the little car as it chugged down the road.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP went my heart (and tummy) with every bump we hit.
We drove and drove and drove some more. I couldn’t see out the window, so I didn’t know if there were any gorillas or lions around. I believe lions can make a lot of noise, but even if they were roaring right next to the car, I couldn’t have heard them because Ms. Mac had loud music playing.
After several hours, the tummy-thumping BUMP-BUMP-BUMPs became slower BUMPETY-BUMP-BUMPs and I knew that we had turned off the main road.
Ms. Mac turned off her music. “Ah, there’s the sign,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
I crossed my paws and hoped that was good news.
When you’re a small creature who can’t see out of the car windows, you learn to listen for clues. Here’s what I heard as the car slowed down:• A crunching sound beneath the wheels, which meant we weren’t on a paved road anymore
• More and more bumps
• Birds chirping
• Buzzy sounds
Here’s what I didn’t hear:• Other cars whizzing by
• City noises
• People
Then I heard Ms. Mac say, “Oh, wow.”
The car stopped. She opened the door and told Og and me that she’d be right back.
The windows were open and a nice breeze drifted in. I didn’t smell chalk and erasers and markers and paper bag lunches, like I had in Room 26. I smelled grass and trees and things I couldn’t even name.
“Can you see anything, Og?” I asked my friend.
No answer. Maybe the car ride had upset his tummy. He looked a little greener than usual.
I tried to concentrate on the sounds of the birds singing and the buzzy things. Then I heard other noises, too.
SKITTER-SKITTER-SKITTER.
SCRITCH-SCRITCH-SCRITCH.
That sounded like small creatures scurrying about. I wondered if there were other hamsters around.
Then I heard footsteps. Not Ms. Mac’s footsteps, though. These were CLOMPITY-CLOMPITY-CLOMP footsteps. Ms. Mac would never clompity-clomp.
Suddenly, a man’s big red face with bright red hair under a red and white baseball cap popped right in through the open door!
“Well, who do we have here?” Goodness, his voice was almost as loud as Lower-Your-Voice-A.J.’s.
“I’m Humphrey!” I squeaked back. “Who are you?”
“Yoo-hoo!” Ms. Mac was calling in the distance.
The man’s face disappeared. “Hello!” his voice boomed out again.
“Hi, Mr
. Holloway!” I heard Ms. Mac say. “I was just up at the office looking for you. I’m Morgan Mc-Namara.”
Oops! I’d almost forgotten that Ms. Mac had a longer name.
“I remember from your interview. Call me Hap,” the man replied. “And welcome to Happy Hollow.”
“Did you hear that, Og? We’re in a place called Happy Hollow!” I squeaked to my friend. “That’s a nice name. It must be a nice place.”
“BOING!” Og replied.
Then I heard Hap Holloway say, “I see you brought your friends along.”
“Yes, the hamster and the frog, as we discussed,” Ms. Mac answered.
“That’s us!” I told Og.
“Great! Why don’t you get unpacked and then come on up and we’ll get organized. You’ll be in Robins’ Nest tonight. Just up the hill on the right. It’s all clean and aired out.”
Ms. Mac hopped back in the car and drove up the hill. I was unsqueakably excited. Were we really sleeping in a birds’ nest? Would it be up in a tree? Would the robins actually be there? And would a small furry hamster be welcome?
Room 26 suddenly seemed FAR-FAR-FAR away.
NOTE TO SELF: No matter what you think humans have planned, they’ll always surprise you (like it or not).
4
Camp Happy Hollow
I wasn’t too disappointed to discover that Robins’ Nest was not a nest at all. It was a little wooden house surrounded by trees and grass and more trees and more grass.
“Here’s our cabin,” Ms. Mac said as she gently lifted my cage out of the car.
“Looks nice!” I said.
My, the air smelled fresh, and I smelled something I’d never smelled before. It was the scent of something wild.
Outside, the cabin looked like a normal house with a covered porch. Inside, it was a room with four beds—actually, eight beds stacked on top of each other in pairs. Ms. Mac called them bunk beds.
Summer According to Humphrey Page 2
