Hamster Magic (6 page)

“He did,” said Tate miserably. “But we didn’t listen.”

“I was the one who made the wish,” said
Celia. She flattened out her furry body on the sand. “So it’s really my fault.”

“If it hadn’t been Celia,” said Derek suddenly, “it would have been me. I was going to wish for tunnels. Lots of them.”

The Great Hamster’s stern, whiskered face softened. “Well, at least you stand up for each other, as litter-mates should.”

Derek looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes,” he said.

The Great Hamster smiled, her cheeks bunching, and waddled over to the nearest tree. She climbed up the exposed roots to a perch the height of Derek’s shoulder, and settled herself with the dignity of a queen on a throne, or a storyteller.

There was an awkward silence.

“What now?” whispered Tate. “Should we just go home?”

Abner shook his head. “I don’t want to give up,” he whispered back. “Not while Celia is still a hamster.”

Celia crept closer. “I don’t mind it,” she said. “Not really. And I like giving Derek rides.”

Derek threw an arm over Celia’s round, fuzzy back. “When my hockey stick is all chewed up, I’ll let you have my bat,” he promised.

Tate yawned. “Maybe everything will be all right in the morning. Can’t we just go home and go to bed? I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” said Derek, catching Tate’s yawn.

“I should be sleepy,” said Celia, bouncing on her paws, “but I’m not. Can I run, Abner?”

Abner smothered his own yawn and nodded. “Go ahead, but stay close, and come back when you get tired. Come on, the rest of you. I want to ask the Great Hamster a few questions.”

The roots of the giant cottonwood rose high out of the sand and sheltered a hollow place beneath. Derek lay flat on his back, facing the summer night’s sky, and Tate curled up in the sand, her head pillowed on a wide, low root. Abner leaned against the smooth wood—the roots were surprisingly comfortable—and looked up at the Great Hamster, who sat a few inches above his head.

He cleared his throat. “So how does the magic build up? And what do you mean, you let it soak in?”

The Great Hamster shrugged her furry shoulders. “Who knows how it happens? I just know it comes from beneath.”

Abner scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. “The magic is below ground?”

The Great Hamster nodded. “It might be from the earth, or stone, or water, or something else. But the more time an animal spends underground, the more magic it soaks up.”

“So that’s why you said it was
burrowers
who weren’t ordinary animals.”

“And only burrowers
in
Hollowstone Hill. From the river to the road, and the road to the forest.”

“That means our house is smack in the
middle,” said Abner slowly. He toyed with the idea that came to him. There would be other small animals near the house, easily caught, who might grant wishes, too. Maybe it wasn’t too late to wish for a dog. If two or three burrowers wished together, it wouldn’t be too much for any one of them.

“Why do you call it
Hollowstone
Hill?” asked Tate sleepily.

The Great Hamster chuckled. “You humans and your questions. It’s called Hollowstone because that’s what it’s always been called. Who knows why? Who cares?”

Celia came zipping past, a flash of teeth and moonlight-tipped fur. Behind her ran a number of smaller shadows. “We’re playing tag!” cried Celia. “I’m faster than anybody!”

Abner looked after her thoughtfully. “Listen,” he said, “I can see why you wouldn’t want to
use up your own magic to wish Celia was a girl again.”

“Certainly not,” said the Great Hamster. “I need all my magic to manage these burrowers and keep them from more dumb-fool mistakes like the one Forvten, here, made.”

Abner glanced at Forvten, formerly known as Hammy. He was curled up on a knot of wood and snoring lightly.

“But what if,” Abner began, “it wasn’t just
you
wishing? What if you got a lot of the burrowers together, and they all used just a little of their magic? Could they turn Celia back again?”

The Great Hamster looked at him shrewdly. “And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

The question hung in the air. Abner looked to Tate for help, but her eyes were closed.
Derek, flat on the sand next to her, was breathing deeply.

“Just to be nice?” Abner suggested.

The Great Hamster chuckled. “Not good enough. Find me something I want, young man, and I’ll consider it. You humans,” she said again, tapping her claws against the hard tree root. “It’s always ‘What can the rodent do for me?’ and never ‘What can I do for the rodent?’ You dig up our burrows. You interfere with our lives. And you half killed my son with your silly wish!”

“We didn’t mean to.” Abner jammed his hands in his pockets. He nervously rolled lint and crumbs between his fingers—and then he stopped. “I know something you might want,” he said slowly.

The Great Hamster sniffed. “I doubt it.”

Abner brought his hand out of his pocket.
In his palm was a half-chewed dog biscuit.

The Great Hamster’s nose quivered. She slid down the tree root to the ground.

Abner held out his hand. “Try it,” he coaxed. “Just take a
little
taste.”

“It looks like a piece of wet cardboard.” The Great Hamster closed her eyes, swaying a little. “But it smells—”

“Delicious?” suggested Abner. He moved his hand a little closer. “Scrumptious? Too yummy to resist?”

The hamster leaned forward and took a small nibble.

“Oh,
my.”
Her paws fluttered before her furry chest, and she gazed at the dog biscuit in awe.

“It’s Woofies,” said Abner. “The very best kind.”

There was a sound like a strangled bark as the Great Hamster lunged forward. Soft, fuzzy jowls pressed against Abner’s fingers as she mouthed the doggy treat and settled down to a blissful crunching.

“I can get you some more,” said Abner.

The hamster swallowed, licked her whiskers, and looked up. “More?”

Abner turned his head. An excited babble
of squeaking voices grew louder, and Celia appeared again, surrounded by leaping small rodents. They were mostly chipmunks and gophers, as far as Abner could see, and they seemed upset.

“Listen!” Celia held up her paws. “Of course I always win. I’m the fastest—what do you expect?”

An eruption of squeaks filled the air.

“I can’t help it if I’m the biggest!” Celia reared back, her whiskers quivering.

More squeaks. Much waving of paws.

Celia listened, her head lowered. “Oh, all right. Let’s play something different, then. How about capture-the-acorn? You can have more on your team.…”

They moved off, their shrill voices fading. Abner turned back to the Great Hamster, who was licking her paws to get the last tiny crumbs.

“I know where there are lots more dog biscuits,” Abner said. “And I can bring them tonight,
if
you turn my sister back.”

“Oh … oh, dear …” The Great Hamster’s delicate paws combed her cheek fur and scrubbed her ears. “I don’t know if it will work. I just don’t know. It’s not really a hamster wish, to turn into a human—not usually, anyway. I’m sure the rest of the burrowers feel the same. But perhaps all together …”

“Just try it,” urged Abner. “I’ll bring the whole bag of Woofies if you promise to try your best.”

The Great Hamster tapped her claws together. “Very well. But if it works, I want you to promise me something, too.”

“What?”

The Great Hamster leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

Abner looked at her for a moment. It was not a promise he wanted to make.

“Okay,” he said, sighing.

“And what about those others?” The Great Hamster nodded at Tate and Derek, still fast asleep on the sand. “Can you speak for them, too?”

“Yes.” Abner looked at his sister and brother. They would agree. And if they didn’t, he’d just have to make them understand.

“All right, then.” The Great Hamster scampered down from the tree root and onto Abner’s knee. “Let them sleep. It will take me most of the night to gather the burrowers. And in the meantime—”

Abner nodded. “I’ll get the Woofies.”

The burrowers stood lined up in rows, small to large. Rabbits and woodchucks were at the back. Gophers, hamsters, and chipmunks came next. And the tiny moles and meadow mice were in front. They looked soberly at Celia, lying asleep in a fat, furry bunch among the tree roots, and then at her brothers and sister watching anxiously from the sidelines. Abner clutched the bag of Woofies and held the chewed corner shut.

“Ready?” said the Great Hamster, raising her paws like a conductor. “And—begin!”

The burrowers screwed up their eyes and flattened their ears. Paws tightened and whiskers trembled.

But Celia stayed a hamster.

“Up one more notch!” called the Great Hamster, and the burrowers tried even harder. Cheeks puffed out and hind feet thumped.

“There!” Tate pointed. “Is something changing?”

“I don’t see it,” said Derek after a pause.

“It’s only the light,” said Abner heavily. He looked to the east, where the sun was just lifting above the trees, and his shoulders slumped. His parents would be getting up soon, and Celia was still a hamster.

“I don’t dare tell them to increase the magic,” said the Great Hamster. “It’s almost too much even now.”

“The rabbits do look a little faint,” said Tate.

“Maybe it takes a while to have an effect?” suggested the Great Hamster. “I don’t really know. We’ve never tried to reverse a wish like this before.”

Abner nodded, but without hope. They had run out of time. He tucked the bag of Woofies dog biscuits among the tree roots and backed away. “We’ve got to get home,” he said. “Thank you for trying.”

But Celia proved impossible to wake up. She lay in a soft, fuzzy heap, her head pillowed on her paws and her sides moving in and out with her breath.

“She was awake enough last night,” said Derek. “She never stopped running.”

“That’s why she’s so tired now,” Tate said. “Hamsters stay up at night and sleep during the day. But Celia was a girl yesterday, not a hamster, and so she didn’t sleep then, either.”