Winter According to Humphrey (9781101591222)

by Birney, Betty G.

  “I love tamales. Tell us more about how you make them,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  Rosie nodded. “We put all kinds of yummy things in the masa—that’s made from corn. Then we roll them up in corn husks and tie them so they can cook. Our whole house smells like tamales. The whole street smells like tamales!”

  Just thinking of yummy things wrapped in corn had my whiskers wiggling! I’d love to stay at Rosie’s house over the winter break.

  “Yum, I can almost taste them,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  Sophie’s hand was waving wildly, so Mrs. Brisbane called on her next. “I get to set up the little Nativity scene that goes under our tree. The people and the carved animals are tiny, so I have to be careful not to break anything, especially the baby in the manger. See? Here’s one of the wise men.” Sophie pulled out a small carved figure of a man in robes riding a camel.

  “Ooh, and I love the presents and cookies and carol singing, and stockings,” she said. “Oh, did I mention the cookies? And the tree!”

  It all sounded GREAT-GREAT-GREAT. I would love to see that Nativity scene sometime.

  Stop-Talking-Sophie probably could have gone on for quite a while, but Mrs. Brisbane said it was Kelsey’s turn to talk.

  “My mom and dad took me to see The Nutcracker last week,” she said. “That’s a ballet and I love ballet!”

  She held up the program with a picture of a little girl dancing on her toes in front of a beautiful Christmas tree.

  Mrs. Brisbane asked her to share part of the story with us.

  “There’s a little girl named Clara. And the dancer was actually a little girl,” Kelsey explained. “At midnight on Christmas Eve, all the toys come alive and then mice come in and they get in a big fight. And then there’s dancing candy from around the world and—oh, it’s hard to explain! But someday, I hope I can dance in The Nutcracker. ”

  She explained it well enough for me to wish I could see The Nutcracker, too.

  “We celebrate Christmas and Kwanzaa,” Forgetful-Phoebe said. “Kwanzaa starts on December twenty-sixth. Last year, Mom and Dad and I lit seven candles. Each one represented something important. And we ate fruit and had lots of fun.”

  I like fruit, so I think I’d like Kwanzaa, too.

  “But this year, I’ll just be talking to them on the phone,” she added. “That’s the only present I want.”

  Phoebe lives with her grandmother while her parents are far away in the military.

  I REALLY-REALLY-REALLY hope she gets that call.

  “Of course, Phoebe. The holidays are all about family,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “That’s what I like,” Hurry-Up-Harry Ito said. “Everyone comes to our house. I have six cousins. First we play board games. Then we play Ping-Pong and end up chasing each other all over the house!”

  I’ve seen Harry play Ping-Pong, but I’d like to see him with his cousins—all six of them.

  Slow-Down-Simon raised his hand. “I like Chanukah, the way Paul G. does. I like the eight days of presents. I like lighting the menorah. But my favorite part is spinning the dreidel!”

  It sounded as if he said “dray-dull.” Who would like something dull?

  Simon reached in his pocket and pulled out a small wooden top. So that was a dreidel! I’d heard about it last year when Simon’s big sister, Gail, took me to their house for Chanukah, but I’d been too far away to see what it looked like! He put it on the table in front of him and made it spin.

  I dashed up to the tippy-top of my cage to get a better look.

  The dreidel had markings on each of the four sides. “Those are letters from the Hebrew alphabet,” Simon said.

  He explained that you spin the dreidel and depending on what side it lands on when it stops, you either get money or give up money.

  “But it’s not real money,” he told us. “It’s made of chocolate!”

  I think chocolate money would taste a lot better than real human money.

  Simon let his friends try spinning the dreidel and he even taught them a little song.

  “Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel . . . ,” everybody sang. I squeaked along.

  I was hoping that maybe I’d get to go home with Simon for Chanukah again!

  “I like to go caroling,” Tell-the-Truth-Thomas said next. “We go door-to-door around the neighborhood, singing songs. Then everybody comes to our house and we drink hot chocolate. My mom makes the best hot chocolate.”

  This time, I didn’t think Thomas was exaggerating at all.

  Small-Paul finally spoke up. He said he liked adding things to his elaborate train set to make it look like the holidays.

  “I put a pine tree in the middle and decorate it,” he said. “And I put candy canes in all the cars. I even put Santa’s sleigh with his reindeer on the roof of one of the houses. If you want to see it, come on over,” he said. “Just call first.”

  It sounded wonderful. But I’d had an unsqueakably scary experience on that train, so I didn’t mind skipping that one.

  Mrs. Brisbane looked at the clock. It was almost lunchtime.

  Then she noticed Just-Joey. He was looking down at his feet again.

  “How about you, Joey?” she asked. “There must be something you like about the holidays.”

  Joey looked up. “One year, my dad and I made a regular snowman. Then we made a second snowman, but that one was standing on his head. That was hard to do but it was fun.”

  “I guess you’re hoping it snows this Christmas,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “Not really,” Joey answered. “Even if it snows, Dad might not get here this year.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  My tail twitched and my whiskers wiggled. I was SORRY-SORRY-SORRY to hear that.

  “I’m sorry, Joey. My mom and dad won’t be able to come to the Winter Wonderland show, either,” Phoebe said. “But my grandmother will be here.”

  “Well, my mom will be here,” Joey said.

  I was glad to hear some good news.

  I crossed all my toes, wishing that Joey’s dad would get home for the holidays.

  I hoped Phoebe would be back with her family soon.

  And I wished with all my heart that it would snow.

  (For Joey. As I said, I don’t particularly like snow.)

  Mrs. Brisbane stood up. But then Holly said, “What do you like about the holidays, Mrs. Brisbane?”

  I think our teacher was surprised at first. She hadn’t expected to be included.

  “Thank you for asking, Holly,” she said. “I was a little sad because our son, Jason, and his new wife live too far away to get home this Christmas. But I just found out that my sister is coming to visit. And she’s bringing my niece and her husband and their two young children. So I’ll also have my great-niece, Jenny, and great-nephew, Todd, for the holidays. I’m looking forward to having a big family celebration.”

  Early that evening, when Og and I were alone, I looked out of my cage and noticed something sitting nearby.

  It was dark outside, but the streetlight lit up our table.

  “Look, Og! It’s Simon’s dreidel,” I squeaked. “He must have left it here.”

  Og splashed noisily in his tank.

  I thought about how Simon had spun the dreidel.

  Spinning is something I like a lot. I spin on my wheel to pass the time, and it makes me STRONG-STRONG-STRONG. And when I’m rolling across the floor in my hamster ball, it sometimes goes into a spin that makes my tummy do a funny flip-flop.

  “I don’t think he’d mind if I gave it a spin . . . do you?” I asked my neighbor.

  “BOING!” Og agreed.

  So I opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and hurried over to the top. It was about the same size as I was and I saw that the sides were flat.
/>
  I got up on my tippy-toes and stood the dreidel up on its spinner.

  “Here goes!” I said, and I gave the top a spin.

  But—oops—I hung on a little too long. When I finally let go, I was feeling a little dizzy and I tipped over. The dreidel tipped over, too, and landed right on me!

  “BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I said.

  I’m not the kind of hamster who gives up easily, so I stood the dreidel up again and gave it a spin. This time, I quickly let go and scrambled out of the way.

  It whirled and twirled all around me. In order for me to keep my eyes on it, I had to spin around, too.

  “Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel,” I squeaked, the way Simon had taught us.

  The dreidel slowed, wobbled, then toppled over.

  I was about to see what side it landed on when I heard that RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE coming down the hall.

  “Eeek—it’s Aldo!” I scrambled back to my cage and pull the door behind me.

  I like Aldo, but I don’t want him to find me outside of my cage. A hamster has to have some secrets.

  “Greetings, my friends,” he said as he turned on the lights.

  He pulled his cart into the room and then came over to our table. “How’s my favorite hamster and favorite frog tonight?”

  “FINE-FINE-FINE,” I answered.

  Og hopped up and down. “BOING-BOING!”

  “What’s this?” Aldo asked as he picked up the dreidel. “Oh, I know. Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel,” he sang with a smile. “I’d better put this in a safe spot.”

  He took the dreidel to Mrs. Brisbane’s desk, which is a very safe spot.

  But before he went to work, he gave the dreidel a good spin. It was such a good spin, it spun right off the desk and landed on the floor.

  I was glad that it hadn’t spun onto the floor when I was hanging on to it!

  Aldo chuckled and put the dreidel back on the desk.

  Later, after Aldo was gone, I looked over at the dreidel.

  I love spinning, but I decided to leave it alone for the rest of the night.

  On quiet nights in Room 26, I have a lot of time to think. That night, I thought about what all my friends had shared earlier in the day. I thought Mrs. Brisbane was right when she said the holidays were all about family.

  But then I had a truly terrible thought.

  I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and hurried over to Og’s tank.

  “Og!” I squeaked. “Remember all those things they said in class about families?”

  “BOING-BOING!” he replied.

  “But what about us?” I asked. “I don’t have a family. I mean, I used to, but I hardly remember them.”

  I must admit, I do remember the wonderful smell of my mom. And I remember quite a few tiny brothers and sisters. But that’s about it.

  “BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged in his weird way.

  “Oh, no!” I said. It just slipped out. But I suddenly remembered a lesson on frogs we had long ago, when Og first came to Room 26.

  As it turns out, frogs are amphibians. They come out of eggs! So Og probably didn’t remember his mom at all. I wondered if he remembered his egg.

  Not only that, frogs come out as little tadpoles. They aren’t even frogs yet.

  I wondered if he remembered being a tadpole.

  I stared through the glass at my neighbor, with his green skin, his huge mouth and his googly eyes.

  “BOING!” he repeated.

  “I know, Og,” I said. “It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll spend the holiday . . . well, I don’t know where, but with some family.”

  He began to splash around in his water.

  “Besides,” I squeaked softly, “I kind of think that maybe, well, you and I are like a family. Because we live together and we share what goes on here. What do you think?”

  Og splashed and splashed and splashed some more.

  His splashing made me feel a lot better. It turns out that having a frog in the family is a GREAT-GREAT-GREAT idea!

  HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: I wonder if my family ever wonders what happened to me, because sometimes I wonder what happened to them.

  8

  Sad Lad, Glad Dad

  The next day, after our morning math and vocabulary, Ms. Lark came back to help our class rehearse for the Winter Wonderland program.

  First, the girls practiced their snowflake song. They were getting better and better.

  Then the boys sang “Jingle Bells.” They sounded good! Maybe it was because Joey wasn’t singing along. He kept his mouth firmly closed.

  “You know, Joey, I miss hearing your voice,” Ms. Lark said when the song had finished. “Please join in with the others.”

  “That’s okay,” Just-Joey said.

  “Well, I want you to,” Ms. Lark told him.

  “So do I,” Mrs. Brisbane said, smiling brightly at Joey.

  I was smiling, too. At least I was smiling inside.

  The boys sang “Jingle Bells” again. Joey sang along—in a softer voice—but I have to admit, he did sound a little bit like a frog.

  Next, Ms. Lark talked about the costumes.

  And what costumes they would be!

  The girls would wear white shirts. Then they were going to make big snowflakes to wear on their backs and smaller ones to wear on their wrists. They’d be shiny and glittery and the girls would spin around like falling snowflakes.

  The thought of all that spinning made me head straight for my wheel. After all, spinning is something I’m VERY-VERY-VERY good at.

  The boys were going to make tails to wear and they’d have bells that would jingle and jangle as they pranced around like horses.

  I hopped off my wheel and tried prancing. I’m not sure I looked like a horse, though.

  My classmates were as excited as I was about the costumes, and after Ms. Lark left, Mrs. Brisbane had a little trouble getting them to settle down.

  But Mrs. Brisbane is such a good teacher, she knew exactly what to do.

  She started talking about snowflakes again, and this time, she told us there are seven different types of snowflakes. She showed pictures of interesting shapes and patterns and then my friends got to draw their own snowflakes.

  “Og, don’t you think snowflakes are beautiful?” I squeaked to my neighbor as the class was busily drawing.

  “BOING!” he replied. He dived into the water side of his tank and splashed like crazy.

  The bell for lunch break rang and most of my friends hurried out of the classroom.

  All except Hurry-Up-Harry. He came over to my cage and said, “Hey, Humphrey, I’ve got a song for you!” Then he sang, “Jingle bells, your feet smell . . .”

  “Hurry-Up-Harry! We’ve got to get to lunch,” Slow-Down-Simon shouted.

  “See you later, Humphrey,” Harry said.

  After he left, I sniffed my paws. Harry was right. My paws smelled like strawberries and carrots and my favorite Nutri-Nibbles. I think they smelled hamster-licious.

  When I woke up a little later, I heard a voice say, “Are you in there, Humphrey? I can’t see you.”

  I poked my head out of the sleeping hut, but all I could see was a gigantic eyeball!

  I didn’t dare leave my little house with a thing like that outside.

  But then the eye blinked and then a face moved and I could see that the eyeball belonged to Just-Joey.

  I scurried out to show him I was there after all.

  “Hi, Joey!” I squeaked.

  “Oh, there you are,” Joey said. “Mrs. Brisbane said I could give you some fresh water.”

  A giant hand reached in the cage and removed my water bottle. “I’ll be rig
ht back.”

  It’s a little disturbing when someone removes my water bottle, but so far, no one has ever forgotten to bring it back, not even Forgetful-Phoebe.

  Sure enough, Joey quickly returned and put it back in place.

  “Here you go, Humphrey,” he said. “It’s raining, so we couldn’t go out for recess.”

  I looked out of my cage and saw that the rest of the class was busy drawing and cutting things out and talking to each other.

  “Mrs. Brisbane said we could work on our costumes for the Winter Wonderland show.” Joey sighed. “I wish there wouldn’t even be a Winter Wonderland show.”

  I wiggled my nose. Did he mean that?

  “What’s the point? I can’t even sing because my voice is so bad,” he said.

  “It’s not that bad,” I squeaked, but Joey didn’t understand.

  “Just as well,” he said. “My dad doesn’t think he’s going to be able to come. He lives far away, and he doesn’t know if he can get off work on time. And the roads will be bad if it snows.”

  “Eeek!” I squeaked. I knew that Joey wished he could see his father more.

  “Come on, Joey. We’ve got to work on our tails,” Thomas said.

  When the break was over, Mrs. Brisbane made my classmates put away their costume pieces and talk about science again.

  “It’s too bad it’s raining and not snowing,” she said. “Then we could go out and gather snowflakes and study them.”

  “Wouldn’t they melt right away?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes, but I have an idea about that. We would have to look at them quickly,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  She went on to explain how snow actually helps crops grow by protecting them from the cold.

  It was interesting, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the Winter Wonderland program was making everybody feel GOOD-GOOD-GOOD except for Joey.

  It was making him feel BAD-BAD-BAD.

  When Og and I were alone after school, I was still thinking about the problem. “I think Joey sings fine, don’t you?” I said.