Mysteries According to Humphrey (3 page)

BOOK: Mysteries According to Humphrey
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Then the ball went to Paul G. “Six plus five,” Mr. E. said.

Tall-Paul bounced it one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten times. Then he stopped.

“One more time!” I squeaked. I guess he didn't hear me.

Mr. E. gave him another chance, which was nice, and Tall-Paul got the problem right.

As the game went on, the pace went faster and faster. As it got more exciting, it also got louder and louder.

And then . . . the door to Room 26 swung open. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Wright.

Mr. E. looked pretty surprised when he saw her. Maybe he noticed her whistle. I certainly did.

“Hello?” he said. It was more a question than a greeting.

“You're the substitute for Mrs. Brisbane?” she asked.

“Yep. I'm Mr. E.,” the substitute said.

Mrs. Wright looked puzzled. “Mr. E.?” she asked. “That's your name?”

Mr. E. laughed. “My name is Edonopolous, but Mr. E. is fine with me.”

Mrs. Wright frowned. I guess Mr. E. wasn't fine with her.

“And you are . . . ?” Mr. E. asked.

“Mrs. Wright,” the PE teacher answered.

To my GREAT-GREAT-GREAT surprise, Mr. E. laughed. “Mrs. Wright? I guess you're never wrong!”

Some of my classmates giggled, but Mrs. Wright wasn't the giggling type. She stepped into the classroom and looked around.

“Is that basketball the property of Longfellow School?” she asked.

The substitute shook his head. “Nope. I brought it from home.”

That didn't seem to please Mrs. Wright at all. “You're probably not aware that basketballs are only allowed outside on the playground. No ball-playing in the classroom,” she said. “And only official Longfellow School equipment is allowed.”

“Really?” Mr. E. seemed surprised.

“Really,” Mrs. Wright said. “I'm the chairperson of the Committee for School Property. There are safety issues with having a ball in the classroom. And by the way, the noise level in this classroom is unacceptable. I could hear you all the way down the hall.”

“We were doing math,” Mr. E. said. “Right, class?”

My friends all nodded.

Mrs. Wright fingered the whistle and I braced myself for an unsqueakably loud noise. Luckily, none came.

“That's funny,” she said. “I thought you were playing basketball.”

Mr. E. smiled and looked at my classmates. “What were we playing?”

“Mathketball!” my friends all answered.

Mrs. Wright frowned even more, if that's possible. “Perhaps you can do math more quietly in the future,” she said. “Of course, I'm sure Mrs. Brisbane will be back tomorrow.”

I crossed my paws and hoped that she was right.

Oh, how I hoped that she was right.

Because school with Mr. E. was making me VERY-VERY-VERY
piewhacked
!

(That means “confused.”)

 

HUMPHREY'S DETECTIONARY:
It's not easy to solve the mystery of a missing person. Especially if you miss that missing person a lot!

3

The Case of the Mystifying Mr. E.

A
fter Mrs. Wright left, Mr. E. said, “We've had enough Mathketball for today. But if I'm here again tomorrow, we're going to have a Word War!”

My friends seemed excited about that, but I was worried. Wasn't Mrs. Brisbane coming back tomorrow? Where was she? What was wrong?

I had no clue.

I was ready for a nap, but right away, Mr. E. started another game called “Who's Missing?”

First, he picked Daniel to sit with his back to the classroom. Then, all the other students had to run around and switch places at their tables, except for one. He silently led Forgetful-Phoebe to the cloakroom to hide.

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.

BOOK: Mysteries According to Humphrey
10.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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