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Authors: Betty G. Birney

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BOOK: School Days According to Humphrey
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“Go back to your own room or you'll be late!” I warned him.
Mrs. Brisbane told him to take a seat. Simon twirled around and rushed away, bumping right into a girl with bright red hair whose chair was sticking out in the aisle.
“You should be more careful, Kelsey,” he said.
“
You
ran into me!” The girl rubbed her arm. She probably got a big bruise. Ouch!
“What's happening just doesn't make sense!” I told Og. I don't think I was making a lot of sense, either. It was as if the world had just been turned all upside down and Og and I were the only ones who noticed.
“Hi, Humphrey,” a soft voice said.
I looked up and there was Paul Fletcher, whom I thought of as Small-Paul. He was the boy who came in for math class every day last year because he was unsqueakably good with numbers.
Paul was smart. I knew he'd understand.
“Why are these students in the wrong room?” I asked him.
He pushed up his glasses, which had slid down his nose. “This year I get to take you home,” he said. “I can't wait!”
What was he talking about? Only students in Room 26 got to take me home for the weekend.
“Settle down, class,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Please take your seats.”
Class? What was she talking about? This wasn't my class. Where were A.J. and Garth, Heidi and Mandy? Where were Gail and her giggles? Where were Richie, Art, Tabitha and Seth? Where were Kirk and his jokes? And where in the world was the almost perfect Golden-Miranda?
“Mrs. Brisbane?” I squeaked. “In case you haven't noticed
, this isn't our class
!”
Mrs. Brisbane was too busy counting the students to hear me.
“We're short one student,” she said. “But while we're waiting, let me welcome you all to Room Twenty-six!”
Crushed, I scrambled back down to the floor of my cage and scurried into my sleeping hut, where I could be alone and think.
I remembered that poem I'd just written about summer. Now I had an idea for a new verse:
Summer, oh, summer,
With days long and lazy.
Now that you're over,
Things are going crazy!
HUMPHREY'S RULES OF SCHOOL:
Before you take your seat in a classroom, it's always a good idea to make sure you're in the right room. This is important!
2
The Worst First Day Gets Worse
T
he final bell rang and everybody had taken a seat except the girl in a wheelchair, who was already sitting. There was still one empty chair left.
Mrs. Brisbane went to the door and looked out into the hall.
“Oh, there you are,” she said.
She opened the door wider and a boy walked in.
“You must be the missing student,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
“I'm not missing,” the boy answered. “I'm right here.”
I thought he'd be in big trouble, so I was surprised when Mrs. Brisbane smiled and directed him to the empty chair. Then she stood in the front of the class.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Last year, I had one of the best classes ever. But I think this class will be even better!”
“Better?” I squeaked. “That was the BEST-BEST-BEST class in the whole wide world!”
“BOING-BOING!” Og agreed.
I wasn't sure what I said was true. On the one paw, I couldn't imagine a better class than the one we'd had last year. On the other paw, it was the only class I'd ever been in. But where had my classmates gone?
“I'm going to rearrange the seating later in the day,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “But for now, I'll take attendance.”
“Are you listening, Og?” I asked my neighbor. I can never be sure, because he doesn't have any ears that I've ever seen. But he seems to understand me most of the time.
“Are we dreaming?” I wondered. So far, the morning felt like one of those dreams where everything seems almost the same as in real life but a lot weirder. For instance, I once had a dream where all of my human friends were rolling around in giant hamster balls. That was a very funny dream.
Once I dreamed that the class was being taught by Mrs. Wright, the P.E. teacher. That wasn't a funny dream because she was always blowing on her very loud whistle, which is painful to the small, sensitive ears of a hamster.
Again, Og didn't answer me. Maybe frogs don't dream.
Then Mrs. Brisbane began to call out the strange words she had been saying before. It turns out they were names.
“Kelsey Kirkpatrick?”
“Here,” the red-haired girl said, still rubbing her arm.
“Harry Ito?” Mrs. Brisbane called out.
Harry was the boy who had been late to class.
She called on Simon, who answered, “Present!”
Present? I didn't see any presents. Was it somebody's birthday?
“Rosie Rodriguez?” Mrs. Brisbane said.
The girl in the wheelchair waved her hand and shouted out, “Here!”
A boy named Thomas answered next, followed by a couple of girls, Phoebe and Holly.
“Are you paying attention, Og?” I asked my friend.
Og splashed a little but didn't answer.
And then something really odd happened.
“Paul?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
Right away, not one but two voices replied, “Here.”
One of them was Small-Paul from last year. The other Paul was the tall boy.
Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “I forgot. This year we have two Pauls in our class. Paul Fletcher and Paul Green. Now, how will we tell you apart?”
That was an easy question. One of them was SMALL-SMALL-SMALL and one of them was TALL-TALL-TALL.
Small-Paul and Tall-Paul eyed each other. Neither of them looked happy to have another Paul in the class.
“What did your teacher do last year?” she asked.
“He wasn't in my class,” Small-Paul said.
“I went to another school,” Tall-Paul added.
Mrs. Brisbane nodded. “I see. Do either of you have a nickname?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“Well, for now, let's say Paul F. and Paul G. Is that all right with you?” she asked.
Both boys nodded.
Then Mrs. Brisbane called out one more name. “Joseph?”
A boy with curly brown hair shifted in his chair a little but didn't answer.
Mrs. Brisbane looked around at the class. “Is Joseph here?”
The boy with curly brown hair nodded. “Yes, ma'am,” he said. “But it's not Joseph. It's Joey. Just Joey Jones.”
Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “All right, then. Just-Joey it is. Now, class, I'm very excited to get to know you and for you to get to know me. In case you don't know, I'm Mrs. Brisbane.”
The teacher wrote her name on the board.
“There are two other members of the class you need to know,” she said.
Then she wrote my name on the board. “Humphrey is our classroom hamster,” she said.
Everybody—and I mean everybody—turned to look at me.
Next, she wrote Og's name on the board. “Og is our classroom frog. You'll get to know them both very well this year. You'll also have a chance to take Humphrey home for the weekend. I'll tell you more about that this afternoon,” she said.
The students all giggled and whispered and turned in their seats to look at us.
“Tell them they're in the wrong room!” I suggested, and some of the students close to my cage giggled when they heard me go, “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK.”
The teacher ignored me. “First, let's get to know each other a little better. Would you take out your summer boxes?”
“Summer boxes?” I squeaked. “What are they, Og?”
Summer was sunshine and campfires and unsqueakable fun. Summer wasn't something you could just put in a box.
I'm not sure Og could hear me since he was splashing like crazy in his tank. But the strange students in class seemed to understand. They reached into their backpacks and pulled out boxes—all kinds of boxes—and put them on their desks.
“How did they know about the boxes?” I squeaked to Og. “Why didn't we know?”
Og had no answer.
During the previous school year, I tried hard to keep up with my friends' homework, taking tests along with them, writing papers and even poems. Mrs. Brisbane didn't know I did the work, but I knew it, and that's what counts.
“All right, students. Let's share our summer experiences,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “That way, I'll learn a little bit about all of you. And you'll learn about me, because I brought a box, too.”
Mrs. Brisbane took a box out of a drawer and placed it on her desk.
“I'll tell you about my summer first,” she said.
That got my attention. While I was at camp for the summer, Mrs. Brisbane was doing something else, but I still wasn't really sure
what.
“My son lives in Tokyo, Japan,” she said. “He's a teacher there. This summer, he got married, so my husband and I went to Japan for the wedding.”
The smile on Mrs. Brisbane's face let me know that she'd had a GREAT-GREAT-GREAT time.
“Weddings in Japan are very beautiful,” she said. “The couple dresses in traditional Japanese kimonos.”
She held up a picture of a couple in very fancy clothes. “That's my son, Jason, and his new wife, Miki.” Mrs. Brisbane sounded very proud.
She passed around some Japanese money for the students to see. Next, she took out a red plastic ball she'd bought in Tokyo. I couldn't see it very well.
“Something's inside, Og!” I scampered up to the top of my cage to get a better look.
“BOING!” he replied. I guess he couldn't see, either.
“I hope Humphrey won't be jealous,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Meet Aki.”
She set the ball on the desk and the students howled with laughter as the ball started spinning wildly and colored lights flashed.
“Rockin' Aki!” a strange, loud voice wailed. “Rock 'n' roll rules!”
The ball looped and twirled unexpectedly as the lights kept flashing and the music blared.
“Where is Aki?” I shouted to Og, as if anyone could hear my squeaks over the noise. “WHERE'S AKI?”
Mrs. Brisbane shut the thing off.
“Show it to Humphrey,” Simon suggested.
“Yes, show Humphrey,” the other students begged.
So Mrs. Brisbane brought the ball over to our table and set it down in front of my cage.
“I hope Aki doesn't scare you, Humphrey, but here goes.” She pressed a button on the ball and it all began again: the flashing lights, the looping and twirling and that song, “Rockin' Aki! Rock 'n' roll rules!”
Now I could see what everyone was laughing at. Aki, a tiny toy hamster with wild, rainbow-striped fur, was rolling around in the hamster ball. Somehow, as the ball turned, he always remained upright as he danced.
I wasn't scared—not one bit. But I was quite impressed!
“Rockin' Aki!” I squeaked along. Of course, no one heard me. I couldn't even hear myself. “Rock 'n' roll rules!”
I was truly sorry when Mrs. Brisbane switched Aki off.
“I think that's enough rocking and rolling for today,” she said.
Some of the kids moaned and I agreed with them.
Mrs. Brisbane returned the ball to her desk. “So now you know what I did this summer. I also sent letters to all of your homes asking you to bring in a box with something that represents your summer. Who would like to share next?”
I just had to squeak up for myself. “Hey, nobody sent me a letter!”
“BOING-BOING!” Og added.
Some hands went up in the air and Mrs. Brisbane called on Simon. “Say your name first,” she said.
Simon jumped up out of his chair, opened his box and took out a photo of a very familiar place.
“Simon Morgenstern. Here's where I went. Camp Happy Hollow. They had a Howler and I was a Blue Jay and I burped the loudest and . . .”
Mrs. Brisbane interrupted him. “Slow-Down-Simon,” she said. “Take your time.”
Simon tried to slow down and told the class about some of the adventures he'd had at Happy Hollow. I'd had adventures there, too, but of course, I didn't have a box because
no one told me to bring one.
One by one, the other students shared their summer stories. Rosie had gone to a different camp. She held up a medal she won for winning a wheelchair race and a picture of her crossing the finish line. Boy, that Rosie could roll!
Harry held up a T-shirt that said I Survived the Blaster and told about riding a REALLY-REALLY-REALLY fast roller coaster. It sounded unsqueakably exciting to me!
BOOK: School Days According to Humphrey
10.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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