Summer According to Humphrey (2 page)

“We’re leaving, too,” she said. “Jason’s getting married in Tokyo and we’re going for the wedding.”

Mrs. Brisbane was positively beaming with joy. Jason was her son, and he lived in Tokyo, which is FAR-FAR-FAR away.

So I guess she was going FAR-FAR-FAR away, too. Was that her surprise—
everybody
was leaving?

“What about us?” I squeaked to Og.

He splashed loudly in his tank.

“I guess we’ll have to hit the road, too,” I said. But it didn’t sound like fun.

That night, I dreamed about Og and me on the open road. It was a scary dream because we had to dodge huge cars and trucks that were whizzing by. Once, I saw Principal Morales and his family speed right past us. Then I heard a loud engine buzzing. I looked up and saw Mr. and Mrs. Brisbane waving to us from an airplane. Later, a big bus passed us and a lot of my friends from Room 26 shouted and waved: Golden-Miranda and Repeat-It-Please-Richie and Don’t-Complain-Mandy Payne.

Og and I walked and hopped for hours and hours, but we didn’t get very far. I was glad to wake up, I can tell you that. And I was tired from all that walking.

But I was happier than ever to see my friends the next morning. I looked around at them. They were smiling, fidgeting, whispering. They looked unsqueakably happy. Why was I the only one who was upset that Longfellow School was closing down?

Nobody seemed to mind the End of School . . . except me and possibly Og.

The next night, after Aldo’s visit, I opened my cage’s lock-that-doesn’t-lock (it just looks locked, which allows me to get out and have adventures without anyone knowing) and wandered over to Og’s tank.

“Whatever happens, Og, let’s stick together, okay?” I suggested.

It’s always a little hard to tell if Og is listening, because he just stares with those googly eyes and a huge frozen smile on his face.

“BOING-BOING,” he said, jumping up and down.

I can’t understand everything Og says, but that sounded like he agreed with me.

At least I wouldn’t be alone. That was the good news.

But hamsters and frogs have very different likes and needs. That was the bad news.

I decided it was time to take a final walk through the halls of my beloved Longfellow School. Such a fine building—why on earth would humans close it down?

I felt a little sorry for Og as I started my journey. After all, he isn’t able to get out of his tank and roam freely, the way I do. Even if he could, he’d probably start to dry out after a while, which wouldn’t be comfortable for a frog.

After bidding Og farewell, I slid down the leg of the table and scampered across the floor. I took a deep breath, then slipped through the narrow space under the classroom door.

It was DARK-DARK-DARK in the hallway, though there were some low lights around the school. There was a time when Longfellow School at night seemed mysterious and even scary, but not anymore.

I visited the library first, sliding under the door. Even in the semidarkness, I could see the big aquarium, glowing and alive with brightly colored fish. I scurried forward to take a peek at the little sunken ship lying at the bottom of the tank. It always gave me a thrill—and a chill.

I wondered what would happen to the fish when Longfellow School was no more.

Then I hopped up a series of shelves next to the desk until I reached the top. I pulled hard with all my might and raised myself up onto the desktop. It was a few quick steps to the remote control that was always there. I hit the “on” button and was thrilled to see pictures appear before me on a big screen as music played.

I never knew what I’d see on my trips into the library at night.

This time it was an exciting but frightening movie about a dense jungle with beautiful, dangerous creatures, such as lions, gorillas, tigers and brightly colored parrots. I was gripped by all the howls and growls, the teeth and claws!

When the show was over, I tapped the “off” button, a little reluctantly since I didn’t know when—if ever—I’d have the chance to see a movie like that again. I hurried back down the shelves to the floor of the library. Without bothering to glance back at the aquarium and the sunken ship, I scurried out into the hallway, to have one last look around.

I strolled along the darkened hallways, past other classrooms, down to Principal Morales’s office. I looked up at the sign that said Principal, the glass window and the suggestion box hanging high up on the big door.

I couldn’t reach the suggestion box, but if I could have, I know what my suggestion would have been: Don’t close school!

On my way back, I passed the big double doors to the cafeteria. That’s where my friends had lunch every single day. I’d always wanted to see it, and this was my last chance. I slid under the door but was disappointed to find that it was a large empty room with tables folded against the wall and not a crumb of food left on the floor!

By the time I got back to Room 26, I was pretty tired, because the hardest part of my adventures comes when I return to my table. I can slide DOWN-DOWN-DOWN my table leg, but I can’t slide UP-UP-UP. Instead, I have to grab onto the cord to the blinds, which is very long, then swing it back and forth until I’m up to the table level.

Then I cross my paws, close my eyes and leap onto the table. Whew!

Still, as tired as I was, I had a lot of thinking to do. So I took out the little notebook I keep hidden behind my mirror, and the little pencil that goes with it, and I began to write.

T
he last few days passed quickly.

Mr. Fitch, the librarian, came to Room 26 and collected all the library books. Every last one of them. This was unsqueakably sad to me, because I love the library and I love to hear Mrs. Brisbane read to us. But now, that was over.

Then Mrs. Wright, the physical education teacher with the loud, shiny whistle, came in with a list of games and equipment that my friends had checked out. (I guessed I wouldn’t miss
her
too much.)

At the end of the day, Mrs. Brisbane told all of us about her upcoming trip to Tokyo and showed pictures of the wonderful places she would visit—without me.

The next day would be the last day of school. That night, when the door swung open and Aldo said, “Give a cheer, ’cause Aldo’s here,” I felt happy and sad and all mixed up inside. I was happy because I was always glad to see Aldo. But I was sad, because I didn’t know when—or if—I’d
ever
see him again.

“This is it, pals,” said Aldo. “Tomorrow, school is over.”

“Don’t remind me,” I squeaked.

“I’ll be here tomorrow night,” Aldo continued. “I’ll be waxing the floors. But you guys will be gone . . . somewhere.”

He suddenly stopped twirling his broom. “Where
will
you be?”

My heart skipped a beat. Aldo didn’t know where we’d be and I certainly didn’t know where we’d be. So who
did
know?

Aldo chuckled and started sweeping again. “I’ll bet Mrs. Brisbane has cooked up something special for you. She’s one nice lady.”

Aldo got through his work early and hurried through his dinner, but he remembered to give me a bit of lettuce. I wasn’t very hungry, though, so I hid it at the bottom of my cage. I’d been saving food all week—just in case Mrs. Brisbane
hadn’t
cooked up something special for us the way Aldo said.

Way back in September, when a beautiful woman named Ms. Mac brought me from Pet-O-Rama to Room 26, I was excited and amazed to find myself surrounded by so many bright and bouncy students (no frogs yet). Learning about humans was FUN-FUN-FUN, and I also learned to read and write.

The world looked pretty wonderful from my cage until the day Ms. Mac left to go to Brazil and Mrs. Brisbane—who was the real teacher—came back.

It turned out that Ms. Mac was just a substitute.

It turned out that Mrs. Brisbane didn’t like me.

It turned out that I didn’t like her back!

But over time, I learned that Mrs. Brisbane was a very good teacher who cared about her students.

And over time, she learned that I was a very good hamster who cared about her students as much as she did.

A wonderful thing happened. We came to like each other. In fact, Mrs. Brisbane became one of my favorite humans in the whole, wide world.

Until now. The Mrs. Brisbane I grew to like—even love—wouldn’t just head off for a faraway land without making sure I was well taken care of. So maybe I was right not to like her in the very beginning. But that couldn’t be! She’d taken good care of me for a long time now.

I was just going to have to trust her and believe that whatever surprise she had in store for Og and me would be something good. Even though I knew from experience that surprises can also be bad things, like meeting up with Clem the dog or Sweetums the cat!

Just in case I was wrong, I stayed up late writing in my notebook that night.

 

My list didn’t look too promising.

The sun came up the next morning, like any ordinary day.

The bell rang and my friends rushed in, like any ordinary day.

But that BAD-BAD-BAD feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this was not an ordinary day.

“Og?” I squeaked loudly so my neighbor could hear me. “I hope we’ll stay together, but if we don’t, you’ve been an unsqueakably nice neighbor and I’ll miss you.”

“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged. He splashed so loudly, I thought he’d pop the top right off his tank. He’s done that a time or two before.

I felt a little bit better knowing he agreed with me, but I was still worried. I hopped on my wheel for a fast and furious spin, just to let off some steam.