Mysteries According to Humphrey (6 page)

BOOK: Mysteries According to Humphrey
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The music slowed down again and we all stopped dancing.

“That reminds me. I have to start ballet lessons tomorrow,” Kelsey said. “I don't see how I'll ever dance on my toes.”

“Ah, my sister takes ballet. You don't start out on your toes. You start out with simple stuff,” he said.

Slow-Down-Simon's sister was Stop-Giggling-Gail. She'd been in Mrs. Brisbane's class last year. I knew she was a great laugher, but I didn't know she took ballet lessons, too!

“Really?” Kelsey said.

“Really,” Simon said.

“Let's watch Humphrey dance again,” he said.

So I DANCED-DANCED-DANCED some more until finally, it was time for Simon to go home.

Before she went to bed that night, Kelsey watched the music box ballerina again for a while.

“It would be nice to have a pretty pink tutu like that,” she said. “Maybe I'll like ballet after all.”

Tutu?
I was
piewhacked
until I realized she was talking about the dress.

Well, I liked ballet, but there was no way
I
was going to wear a pink tutu—ever!

I guess Kelsey read my mind, because she said, “Of course, boy ballet dancers don't dress like that. They wear tights. They don't dance up on their toes, but they lift the girl dancers way up in the air.”

Whew! I was relieved to learn that.

Kelsey slept well that night. And even though I'm usually awake for some of the night, I slept unsqueakably well, too.

I guess it was all that twirling.

On Saturday afternoon, Kelsey left for her dance class. I crossed my toes and hoped that she would enjoy her first lesson.

While she was gone, I couldn't resist leaving my cage to watch the tiny ballerina dance again. I made sure I was back in my cage long before Kelsey got back.

“Humphrey, Humphrey!” she shouted as she raced into the room. “Wait until I show you!”

She stood in front of my cage and noticed that the music box was open.

“I closed that before I left,” she said. “Maybe there's something wrong with the lid.”

I didn't squeak one word.

“Anyway, I want to show you what I learned at ballet class,” she said.

“GOOD-GOOD-GOOD,” I replied.

She pointed at her shiny pink shoes. “These are my ballet slippers,” she said.

Next she showed me five positions for the feet. And then she did some very graceful dipping moves.

“It was so much fun, Humphrey! And I can be graceful. I just have to pay attention to what I'm doing. That's what our teacher said,” Kelsey explained. “At the end of the class, we got to dance around the room with scarves. It was beautiful.”

The next day, Kelsey's eye was a rainbow of colors. But it didn't seem to bother her. She spent a long time practicing the five positions.

I practiced, too, but I guess a hamster's feet work a little differently than human feet. The first three positions weren't too bad, but the fourth and fifth were . . . well, let's just say, I'm going to have to practice a whole lot more.

And
pay attention to what I'm doing.

 

HUMPHREY'S DETECTIONARY:
I don't know if Sherlock Holmes ever tried ballet dancing, but he should have because it's FUN-FUN-FUN.

7

The Case of the Colorful Cards

W
hen Kelsey brought me back on Monday morning, everybody rushed over.

“Whew! That's some black eye!” Rosie exclaimed.

Actually, it was purple and gray with pink and green stripes, but I didn't correct her.

“How's it feel?” Mr. E. asked her.

“Fine,” Kelsey said.

She set my cage on the table in front of the window and walked very carefully—and gracefully—back to her desk.

“BOING-BOING!” Og greeted me cheerily.

Then Simon came in and everybody wanted to touch the bump on his head.

“Okay,” he told Small-Paul. “But not too hard.”

“That's nothing,” Thomas said, holding the back of his head. “I hit my head and had to get ninety-five stitches here.”

“That explains a lot,” Just-Joey muttered as he walked by.

Tall-Paul bent down and looked at Thomas's head. “Funny, there's no scar.”

“Ninety-five?” Simon asked. I'm pretty sure he didn't believe Thomas. “Are you sure?”

“If you got ninety-five stitches in your head, you'd be sure,” Thomas said.

My friends all went to their seats, and as soon as the bell rang, Helpful-Holly raised her hand.

“Mr. E., we always have a vocabulary test on Monday,” she said.

There were lots of groans from the other students and some of them went “Shhh! Shhh!”

“Well, we won't have one this Monday,” Mr. E. replied. “Because today we'll have—”

He didn't finish his sentence because just then Mr. Morales walked into the classroom. He was wearing a tie with horses all over it. (I wonder if they make a tie with hamsters all over it?)

“Class, I have another note from Mrs. Brisbane. She says, ‘I'm getting stronger every day. Today, I was actually able to put on my slippers. I think of you all every day.'”

Slippers? Kelsey said that's what ballerinas wear. And Mrs. Brisbane had said she'd be dancing soon.

So, just as I thought, Mrs. Brisbane really was learning ballet!

“I have an address for her now,” Mr. Morales said. “So I think it would be nice if you'd all make cards and we'll send them off to her.”

“Great idea,” Mr. E. said. “We'll start on it right away.”

After Mr. Morales left, Mr. E. passed out colorful paper. He told my classmates to start writing their messages to Mrs. Brisbane while he gathered up art supplies.

Holly's hand shot up in the air. “They're over there on the shelves. I can show you!”

“No, thanks, Holly. You start writing,” Mr. E. replied. “Now be sure to make your card reflect your personality.”

“Can I take this home and work on it tonight?” Daniel asked.

“Try to Do-It-Now-Daniel,” Mr. E. told him. “If you don't finish, you can take it home.”

Soon, all of my classmates were bent over their tables, working.

All except for Joey. He stared at his paper, but he didn't write one word.

I scrambled up to the top of my cage to see if I could read what my other friends were writing, but I couldn't make out the letters from so far away.

I wanted to write to Mrs. Brisbane, too, but I didn't dare take out my notebook in case someone saw it. And as much as I like my friends, my notebook is private. (No one should
ever
read something that's private.)

While my friends wrote, things were clinking and clanging and rattling and rolling around as Mr. E. poked around in the art supply bins. Soon, there was a big mound of markers and boxes of colored pencils and crayons on the desk. I saw more construction paper, brightly colored yarn, scissors, glue, and jars of buttons, beads and glitter.

When Mr. E. told my friends to take what art supplies they needed for their cards, everyone raced forward at once.

“I wanted those markers!” Simon said.

“I got here first,” Thomas replied, clutching the markers to his chest.

“Oooh, feathers!” Phoebe said.

Rolling-Rosie rolled toward the desk. “Hey, I need those,” she said.

“Ow! Rosie ran over my foot!” Sophie complained.

“Did not!” Rosie said.

My friends never acted like that when Mrs. Brisbane was in the classroom.

I could hardly tell what anyone was saying because there was so much commotion.

Suddenly, my whole body was shaken by the shrill and painful blast of a whistle!

Everyone got quiet then.

I didn't even have to look to know that Mrs. Wright was standing in the doorway.

“What's going on here?” she asked.

“We're making cards for Mrs. Brisbane,” the substitute answered.

“What you're making is an uproar,” she said. “I could hear you way down the hall. And according to the school policy, you should
not
be able to hear what's going on in a classroom from the hallway.”

Mrs. Wright walked into the classroom, and I saw that she wasn't alone. Hurry-Up-Harry was with her.

“I don't suppose you noticed that one of your students was missing,” she said.

Harry hung his head and looked extremely unhappy.

“I guess I'm still getting used to all the students,” Mr. E. said. “Come on in, Harry. Make a card for Mrs. Brisbane.”

Mrs. Wright fingered the whistle hanging down from her neck. I braced myself, just in case she blew it again.

“Mr. Edopopopolous, at Longfellow School, we don't permit our students to roam the halls whenever they want,” Mrs. Wright said. “I found Harry staring into the window of Room Fourteen!” She sounded shocked.

“They're building an amazing tower,” Harry explained.

“What's amazing is that you weren't in your classroom, like all the other students at school,” Mrs. Wright said. “I will have to report Harry to the principal.”

“I'll handle this,” Mr. E. said.

Mrs. Wright looked surprised. “Really? You'll put in a report?”

Mr. E. nodded. “That's right, Mrs. Wright.”

I was surprised—and relieved—when Mrs. Wright and her whistle left the room. But I was sorry that Hurry-Up-Harry was going to get in trouble. He'd gotten in trouble a lot at the beginning of the year for being late. But he'd been so much better . . . until Mr. E. arrived.

“Do I have to go to the office?” Harry asked.

“No, Harry. But this class is just as much fun as Room Fourteen,” Mr. E. said. “Come on. Let's make cards! Make them funny and bright with lots of pizzazz!”

Pizzazz?
What on earth was
pizzazz
? I'd never heard that word before. I'd never seen it on a vocabulary list, either.

Was it like glitter and beads and glue? Or was it like pizza?

Whatever it was, it was definitely a mystery word that I found very
piewhacking
!

My friends spent the rest of the morning on the cards, working furiously. Feathers flew, scissors snipped, and there was glitter everywhere.

Joey still seemed to be struggling as he stared at his card. Maybe Joey needed help, but Mr. E. didn't seem to notice.

I think Mrs. Brisbane would have noticed.

When the bell for lunch rang, my friends raced out the door while Mr. E. restacked the art supplies.

“Everything okay?” Ms. Mac said as she poked her head in the door.

“Fabulous,” Mr. E. said. “Better than I ever expected. Wait . . . I'll walk to the lunchroom with you.”

At last, Og and I were alone!

“Og!” I squeaked excitedly.

“BOING!” he twanged.

“The class is a mess without Mrs. Brisbane!” I shouted. “The students are falling back into their bad habits! Harry's late again, and there's too much noise and no vocabulary quiz or Sherlock Holmes!”

Og splashed wildly in the water side of his tank. “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!”

I could tell he was almost as upset as I was.


And
I want to make Mrs. Brisbane a card!” I said.

“BOING-BOING!”


And
I want to find out where she is!” I added.

“BOING-BOING-BOING!”

There was so much to think about.

I wondered if Harry would get back to class on time.

I wondered if Mr. E. would teach us something in the afternoon.

I wondered if Mrs. Brisbane would EVER-EVER-EVER be back!

My fellow students came back after lunch—all except one.

Hurry-Up-Harry wasn't missing, but Forgetful-Phoebe was!

However, she showed up right after the bell rang.

“Sorry, Mr. E.,” she said.

“Not a problem,” he answered. “Take a seat, because now we're going to play . . . Math Monsters!”

He took his fingers and pulled out the corners of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. He looked pretty creepy, especially when he made a scary laugh, like a witch.

“After all . . . you know what's coming soon!” he continued.

There was a pause and then Thomas shouted, “Halloween!”

Then everyone else started shouting, “Halloween!”

My classmates seemed happy about it. But I remembered last year's Halloween, with creepy smiling pumpkins and ghosts and goblins and monsters. Now it was coming back? Eeek!

After school, Og and I had some visitors.

“Hello,” Mr. E. greeted them. “What can I do for you?”

“We were in this class last year,” a soft voice said. It was Speak-Up-Sayeh! She was one of my best friends in Room 26 last year. “We came to see Humphrey and Og.”

“Be my guest,” Mr. E. said, and soon, Og and I were surrounded by familiar, friendly faces.

“Hi, Humphrey Dumpty! Boy, bad news about Mrs. Brisbane!” That was good old A.J.'s loud voice.

“YES-YES-YES!” I agreed.

“Poor Humphrey! Poor Og! You must miss Mrs. Brisbane a lot,” said Golden-Miranda. She was such a wonderful friend . . . with a terrible dog. “But I'm sure she misses you, too.”

“Hi, Humphrey! Winky says hi!” said Mandy, whose hamster, Winky, was a friend of mine.

It was great to see my old friends. But it was sad, too, because they reminded me of happy days in Room 26 with Mrs. Brisbane.

My teacher.

Or was she?

 

HUMPHREY'S DETECTIONARY:
It's a mystery to me why humans enjoy a very frightening holiday like Halloween!

BOOK: Mysteries According to Humphrey
12.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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