Mysteries According to Humphrey (5 page)

5

The Case of the Afternoon Accident

T
he rest of the morning was a blur.

First, Mr. E. reached in his sack and pulled out a big rolled-up map. He tacked it on the bulletin board and taught my friends a game called Map Attack. I couldn't really see what was going on because they stood in front of the map and blocked my view. It got very noisy, and the rest of the class seemed to have fun.

Next came Animal Addition. This time, Mr. E. pulled out finger puppets in different animal shapes and the class played some kind of adding and subtracting game. I don't know why they needed
fake
animals when there were two perfectly good
real
animals in the room. But nobody seemed to notice Og and me.

My classmates enjoyed the game, but I thought the problems were a little easy for them. Especially for Small-Paul, who is a math whiz.

Then right after lunch, something odd happened.

The door opened and my friends all streamed in, talking and giggling as usual.

But when they were all in their seats, I noticed that one chair was empty. Were they playing the game they'd played yesterday?

“Who's missing?” I squeaked loudly.

I guess I didn't squeak loudly enough.

Luckily, Helpful-Holly also noticed that Harry was missing.

“Excuse me, Mr. E.?” she said.

“Yes, Holly?” he asked.

She pointed at Harry's empty chair. “Harry didn't come back from lunch.”

Mr. E. looked at the empty chair and scratched his head. “Oh,” he said. “Does anyone know where he is?”

I didn't have any idea, and neither did any of my friends.

Holly's hand shot up. “I'll go look for him,” she said.

“I'm sure he'll turn up in a minute,” Mr. E. said.

I don't think Mrs. Brisbane would ever say that. She'd worked hard since the beginning of school to help Hurry-Up-Harry learn to be on time.

Mrs. Brisbane spends a lot of time thinking up ways to help her students. Or at least she
did
.

I spent a lot of time thinking up ways to help Mrs. Brisbane. But how could I help her if she wasn't here?

Mr. E. was trying to tell my friends how to play Word War when the door opened and Harry strolled in.

“Welcome back,” Mr. E. said. “Glad you can join us.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

That was it! Did Mr. E. think it was fine for Harry to come to class whenever he felt like it?

The game began when Mr. E. wrote a word on the board. Then two students ran up and made a list of new words by adding letters to the beginning or end. They started with
ate
and wrote
mate
and
hate,
then
hated,
late,
later,
and
slate.

Whoever came up with the most words won that round. I could tell my friends enjoyed being able to run in the classroom.

They got louder and louder as they cheered each other on as the game got more and more exciting.

Then Mr. E. wrote another word on the board:
eat.

“I've got it!” Slow-Down-Simon shouted as he raced to the board.

“I know!” Be-Careful-Kelsey said as she ran up to the board.

Simon didn't slow down.

Kelsey forgot to be careful.

The two of them rammed right into each other.

“Ow!” Simon yelled, holding the side of his head.

“Ow!” Kelsey shouted, clapping her hand over her eye.

Kelsey cried a little and Simon kept saying, “Ow! Owww!”

How many times had Mrs. Brisbane tried to think of ways to slow down Simon?

How many times had Mrs. Brisbane encouraged Kelsey to think before doing things? And now that Mrs. Brisbane was gone, look what had happened!

Mr. E. decided to send them to the nurse's office.

“I could go with them,” Holly volunteered.

“I think they can manage on their own,” Mr. E. told her.

That was the end of Word War, thank goodness.

“What next?” Mr. E. said.

Helpful-Holly raised her hand. “It's time to look after Humphrey and Og,” she said.

“Oh, right,” Mr. E. said.

Then Holly said, “Humphrey needs his veggies.”

“Did anybody bring veggies for the hamster?” Mr. E. asked the class.

The hamster.
As if I didn't even have a name.

“Oh, no!” Phoebe exclaimed. “I forgot. Sorry, Humphrey.”

I might have felt discouraged, except for the fact that six hands went up in the air. A lot of my friends had remembered to bring me a treat.

Just-Joey offered a piece of lettuce. Tall-Paul brought me a blueberry. Small-Paul brought sunflower seeds—my favorite. Rolling-Rosie had some yummy celery, and Holly offered a tiny bit of broccoli. Thomas gave me his carrot sticks again (which isn't really a good thing because he should eat his veggies every day).

There were so many hamster-licious things to eat, I hid some of them in my cheek pouch and the rest in my bedding.

It's always nice to save a little something for the future.

I was still busily nibbling when Simon and Kelsey came back.

Simon was holding an ice pack on the side of his head. Kelsey held an ice pack on her eye.

“Everything all right now?” Mr. E. asked.

They both nodded and took their seats.

“I think it's story time,” Mr. E. said.

My ears twitched when he said that. Was he finally going to read the rest of that Sherlock Holmes story from the big red book?

My friends were on the edges of their chairs as well.

Mr. E. reached in his sack and pulled out a piece of paper, which didn't look anything like a book.

“Let's write our own silly stories,” he said.

I sighed. Was I ever going to hear the rest of “The Red-Headed League” and learn how a real detective works?

Mr. E. then asked the class to supply different words: nouns, verbs, words that describe things—oh, I didn't know there were so many different words. He wrote each of them on the piece of paper. Then he made up a silly story using all those words.

The story made no sense at all, but my friends liked it.

The door suddenly burst open and standing there was Mrs. Wright. Her fingers were on her whistle, which made me nervous.

Luckily, she didn't blow it.

In one hand, Mrs. Wright held a clipboard.

“It's Mrs. Wright!” Mr. E. said. “Right?”

“Mr. Ednopop . . . Ednolopopolopolis,” Mrs. Wright said. “I'm co-chairperson of the School Safety Committee. I understand there've been injuries in the classroom.”

“A little accident,” he said. “Kids will be kids.”

Mrs. Wright shoved the clipboard toward him. “You will have to fill out an accident report. Their parents will be notified.”

“It was just an accident,” Mr. E. said.

“There were injuries on school property,” she said. “A report must be filed.”

Mrs. Wright took a few more steps into the classroom and looked around. “I also had a report of a student wandering the halls after the lunch bell rang. Was that one of yours?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Mr. E. said. “Was it?”

“The hallways should be empty after the bell rings,” Mrs. Wright said. “I've put a copy of the
rules
under the accident report.”

She fingered that silver whistle around her neck. “The report is due in the morning.”

I was REALLY-REALLY-REALLY worried that she was about to blow the whistle.

Instead, she turned and walked out the door.

I was glad to see her go. But I was also glad to see that someone was concerned about my classmates besides Og and me!

In the afternoon, I dozed through some other kind of game, but I woke up when I heard Mr. Morales's voice.

It's always important to listen to what the principal has to say. I darted out of my sleeping hut and saw him in front of the class, holding a piece of paper.

“Class, I just received a note from Mrs. Brisbane that she wanted me to share with you all,” he said.

“Did you hear that, Og?” I squeaked at the top of my lungs. “A note from Mrs. Brisbane!”

Og splashed wildly, so I guess he heard.

“The note says, ‘Dear class, I miss you all and I miss Longfellow School. I miss being home, too. But the good news is that they say I'll be up on my feet and dancing before long! It's funny to think that this all came about because of Humphrey. Please listen to Mr. E. and make me proud of you. Your teacher, Mrs. Brisbane.'”

This all came about because of Humphrey.

Was it really my fault that Mrs. Brisbane was gone?

If she's going to be up on her feet, she must be sitting. But where
is
she?

Why would she leave her class to go dancing? I'd never seen her dance before.

I wasn't just
piewhacked.
I was super-duper
piewhacked.

After Mr. Morales left, Holly's hand shot up. “Mr. E., where is Humphrey going this weekend?”

“I give up,” Mr. E. answered. “Where is he going?”

Holly explained how I go home with a different student each weekend.

“Okay,” Mr. E. said. “So who wants to take Humphrey home?”

Every single student raised a hand. Every one!

“Mr. E.!” Holly said. “You have to get written permission from the parents.”

Sometimes, I think Holly will grow up to be just like Mrs. Wright. That's not a bad thing, unless she also gets a whistle.

Just then the bell rang, ending the school day.

Some of the students rushed out to catch the school bus. Others crowded around Mr. E., begging to take me home.

“Whoa!” he said. “Calm down. I'm sure Humphrey will be fine on his own this weekend.”

Sorry, but I would
not
be fine without tasty treats and clean water and a poo cleanup!

A red-haired woman hurried into the classroom looking worried. She saw Kelsey with the ice pack on her eye and gave her a hug.

It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that she was Kelsey's mom.

“Are you okay?” she asked, moving the ice pack. “The nurse called.”

“Yes,” Kelsey said. “Sort of.”

“Wow, you're going to have a black eye,” her mom said.

“Mom, could we bring Humphrey home for the weekend?” Kelsey asked.

I rushed to the front of my cage to hear what Mrs. Kirkpatrick had to say.

“Humphrey? Oh, little Humphrey! Well, sure. Why not? He'll help take your mind off your eye,” she replied.

Mr. E. came over and introduced himself and said he'd be very grateful if she'd take me home. “I think we need some kind of written permission,” he said.

“In the middle drawer!” I shrieked. “That's where she keeps the forms.”

Mr. E. didn't understand, of course, but Mrs. Kirkpatrick just wrote on a plain piece of paper, and before I knew it, Kelsey was carrying my cage out of Room 26.

“Sorry, Og! I mean, bye! I mean, have a nice weekend!” I shouted.

“BOING-BOING!” he said. It was a slightly sad sound.

I always feel guilty when I go away for the weekend and leave Og behind.

But that Friday, I felt absolutely rotten. After a few days without Mrs. Brisbane, he would probably be extra lonely this weekend.

 

HUMPHREY'S DETECTIONARY:
A mystery: why are some people, even teachers, pawsitively clueless about how to care for a hamster?

6

The Case of the Baffling Ballerina

I
n the car, Mrs. Kirkpatrick wanted to hear about how Simon and Kelsey bumped heads.

But Kelsey just wanted to talk about me!

“I can't believe it,” she said. “I've wanted to bring Humphrey home since the first day of school.”

That made me feel very nice. But thinking about what Mrs. Brisbane said still made me feel not-so-nice.

This all came about because of Humphrey.

What on earth had I done to send Mrs. Brisbane away?

And how could I undo it?

Kelsey's house was white, with bright orange shutters around the windows that reminded me of Kelsey's hair—and her mom's.

Her big brother, Kevin, was already home from school. He was very tall, and his hair was darker than Kelsey's.

“What's that?” he said, pointing at me.

“Humphrey!” Kelsey answered. “He's our classroom hamster.”

“Oh,” Kevin answered. “Mom, what's there to eat? I'm so hungry, I could eat anything in sight.”

I was glad I'd hidden all those yummy treats in my cheek pouch and bedding. I like to share, but I'm never quite sure when I'll be fed again.

Kevin and his mom went to the kitchen while Kelsey took my cage to her room.

“Humphrey, you're the cutest hamster I ever saw,” she told me.

“Thanks,” I squeaked. “And you're one of the nicest girls . . .”

Before I could finish my sentence, I looked at Kelsey. She was nice, but the skin around one of her eyes had turned a bright shade of purple with streaks of green and black.

“Eeek!” I squeaked.

Luckily, Kelsey just giggled. That was one time I was happy a human couldn't understand my squeak. I would never want to hurt a friend's feelings.

Kelsey made sure that everything in my cage was in order. Then her mom came in to check on us.

“Oh, Kelsey! Look at your eye!” her mom said. “I'm afraid it will look a lot worse before it goes away.”

Kelsey raced to the mirror and looked at herself.

Oddly enough, she smiled. “I'll probably be the only girl at Longfellow School with a black eye,” she said. “Probably the only person!”

Kelsey's mom bit her lip and looked at the eye more closely. “I guess I don't need to take you to the doctor,” she said. “The nurse said it was fine.”

Kelsey assured her mom that she could see all right.

“I hope you can go to your ballet lesson tomorrow,” Kelsey's mom said. “I'd hate for you to miss the very first one.”

At the mention of the word
ballet,
Kelsey suddenly looked unsqueakably unhappy. She reached up and touched her purple eye. “It does hurt a little,” she said.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick shook her head. “Poor Kelsey. Tell me again how it happened. That boy, Simon, ran into you?”

Kelsey nodded, but there was more to the story than that, and I knew it.

“You ran into each other!” I squeaked.

“And you were just standing there?” Kelsey's mom asked.

Kelsey squinched up her face and thought for a bit. “No. I was running up to the board to answer a question. We both were running up to the board.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said. “So you bumped into each other.”

“YES-YES-YES!” I squeaked.

“I think I'll call Simon's mother to see how he is,” Kelsey's mom said.

“He's fine, Mom,” Kelsey said, rolling her eyes. “It's no big deal.”

But Kelsey's mom had already left the room.

A little while later, Kevin wandered into Kelsey's room. He was eating a large (and yummy-looking) sandwich. “What's up with your eye?” he asked.

“A boy ran into me,” Kelsey said.

Kevin stared at her eye. “Wow, that's going to be an amazing shiner, Clumsy. I mean Kelsey.”

“How rude!” I squeaked loudly.

Clumsy! Kelsey wasn't always careful, but I didn't think she was clumsy!

And what on earth was a “shiner”? Another mystery word!

“Birdbrain,” Kelsey muttered.

Kevin just chuckled and wandered out again. I was glad he was gone.

Once we were alone, Kelsey flopped down on the bed. “That's what I am, Humphrey. Clumsy Kelsey, like Kevin said.”

I climbed up the side of my cage and looked right at Kelsey. “That's the silliest thing I ever heard,” I told her.

“I am,” Kelsey said. “I'm always running into things and getting bumped and bruised.”

“Because you aren't careful,” I explained. “That's what Mrs. Brisbane says. You need to take your time.”

“Mom thinks ballet will make me graceful,” she said. “But I think it will just make me more clumsy.”

I knew ballet was some kind of dancing. In her note, Mrs. Brisbane said she was going to be dancing soon.

Maybe she was learning ballet. Did she think it would make her more graceful?

“What's so great about twirling around on your toes?” she asked.

I thought about it. Twirling was kind of like spinning on my wheel, which is something I LIKE-LIKE-LIKE to do. And I use my toes for all kinds of things, from climbing on my cage to grooming myself.

“Sounds pawsitively great!” I said.

Kelsey got up off the bed, looked in the mirror and smiled. “It's a great shiner,” she said. “But whoever heard of a ballerina with a black eye?”

“I don't know,” I squeaked. “I've never actually seen a ballerina.”

Kelsey walked over to her dresser and picked up a pink box. “Here, Humphrey. I'll show you,” she said.

Sometimes I wonder if humans really
can
understand me.

After setting the box next to my cage, Kelsey opened the lid and I saw an amazing thing. There was a tiny dancer—smaller than me—in front of a small mirror. Tinkly music began to play as the ballerina twirled around.

The ballerina was all in pink, with a short pink skirt, and she danced right up on her tippy toes. I was spellbound as I watched her go ROUND-ROUND-ROUND again and again.

“See, that's a ballerina,” Kelsey said. “She never trips and falls. She never gets a black eye.”

I was disappointed when she suddenly slammed down the lid of the box. The ballerina disappeared from view and the music stopped playing.

“I could never be graceful like her,” Kelsey said. “Watch.”

Kelsey started spinning around the room. I have to admit, she didn't exactly look like the twirling ballerina. While the tiny dancer twirled in one place, Kelsey lurched around wildly until I was afraid she was going to stumble right into my cage.

She didn't. Instead, she wobbled and fell backward, landing on her tail. (Well, the place where humans would have a tail, if humans had tails.)

“Ouch!” she said.

“Eeek!” I squeaked.

Just then, Simon raced into the room. His mom and Kelsey's mom were right behind him.

“Hi, Kelsey,” he said. “My mom wanted to see your eye.”

“Kelsey, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Kirkpatrick asked.

Kelsey got up and rubbed her rear end. “Practicing ballet,” she said.

Simon walked up to Kelsey and looked closely at her eye. “Wow, that's amazing,” he said.

“Does it hurt?” Mrs. Morgenstern asked.

“Not really,” Kelsey answered. She pointed at the side of Simon's head. “Hey, you've got a bump.”

Simon rubbed his head. “Gee, I'd rather have a shiner.”

So . . . a shiner must be a bruised eye!

He turned and saw me. “Hi, Humphrey! Look at my bump.”

“Eeek!” I squeaked again. But Simon didn't seem to mind.

“We thought if we all went out for ice cream, you two might forget your injuries for a while,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said.

Kelsey and Simon seemed happy and didn't even remember to say good-bye to me when they all left the room.

When I was alone, I thought about the twirling ballerina.

I can spin on my hamster wheel or in my hamster ball, but twirling looked like fun.

I stood up and tried to twirl, but I tumbled head over toes instead. Somersaults are fun . . . unless you aren't planning on one.

I got up and tried again. This time I manage to twirl around once.

But something was missing: the music!

I knew that it would take my friends a while to get ice cream, so I jiggled my lock-that-doesn't-lock and pushed on it. Once I was out of my cage, I hurried over to the pink box.

I could barely reach the lid, and the first time I pushed, the lid popped up and crashed right back down. But even standing on my tippy toes, I wasn't tall enough to open it.

However, I don't give up easily. So I scurried over to the side of the box near the hinge. And finally, I pushed with all my might and the lid swung open. Phew, that lid was heavy!

The music began to play, and I raced to the front of the box to watch the pretty little ballerina go round and round.

Kelsey was right. The ballerina was a graceful dancer. I watched her whirl and twirl until I felt a little dizzy.

Then, I raised myself up and tried twirling again. I stood UP-UP-UP on my toes and spun myself around in a circle. Then I made another circle. And another. I was twirling and not falling over!

I wished Kelsey could see me. If a furry little hamster could learn to twirl around gracefully, I knew she could, too!

Although I was unhappy about Mrs. Brisbane leaving Room 26, I hoped she would enjoy dancing as much as I was.

My twirling was interrupted by a loud bang and footsteps. Kelsey and Simon were back!

I raced back to my cage and pulled the door behind me. The ballerina was still dancing and the music was playing.

“Humphrey! We brought you a strawberry,” Kelsey shouted as she raced into the room.

Simon was right behind her. “Where's the music coming from?” he asked.

“My music box,” Kelsey said. “That's funny. It was closed when I left.”

Simon laughed. “Maybe Humphrey opened it.”

That made Kelsey laugh. “Sure, it was Humphrey.”

With the music still going, it was my chance to show Kelsey that anybody could learn to twirl . . . even a hamster!

I got up on my toes and spun around again and again.

“Look! Humphrey's dancing!” Simon pointed at me.

Kelsey leaned down to watch. “He makes it look easy,” she said.

They giggled, of course. The music was getting slower and slower. So was I.

“Can you make it go again?” Simon asked.

Kelsey closed the lid and opened it again. The music was back to speed and the ballerina was spinning.

“Let's do a Humphrey dance,” Simon said. He started twirling around the room and laughing.

Kelsey chuckled and started twirling again, too.

“The trick is to pick one place to look,” Simon said. “Each time you spin around, look at that spot.”

He was a pretty good twirler.

“Hey, it works,” Kelsey admitted.

She wasn't staggering. She wasn't stumbling. She was just spinning.