Winter According to Humphrey (9781101591222)

by Birney, Betty G.

  I saw his point, but I also thought that if you don’t practice something, you’ll never, ever get better at it. There was no use trying to explain that to Daniel, though. I knew that all he’d hear would be squeaks.

  Daniel stared at the cover of the book. “This D. D. Denby is a genius,” he said. “Imagine writing a book like this.”

  Then he opened the book again and leaned back on his pillow. “I’ve got to find out what happens next.”

  Reading is great, but it’s not too interesting to watch someone read. So I hopped back on my wheel and did some more spinning. I went faster and faster and faster until I suddenly screeched to a stop.

  My brain was still spinning, though, because I had an idea. What if there was a story about a hamster who had a magic wheel? He could spin that wheel and go anywhere he wanted! Now, that was a story I’d like to read in a book. I got so caught up thinking about that idea, I didn’t notice that it had gotten dark. Daniel had turned on the lamp by his bed.

  He suddenly closed the book and sat up. “That’s it!” he said. “Finished.”

  He stared down at the cover. “I sure wish I had a magic backpack to help me get out of playing piano at school,” he sighed.

  “But you don’t!” I squeaked. “So you need to practice.”

  Daniel read the back of the book’s cover. “There are five more magic backpack books,” he said. “I hope I get the next one for Christmas.”

  Just then, Grandpa Popwell came into the room. “It’s awfully quiet,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d fallen asleep.” Then he chuckled. “I guess maybe I dozed off myself. So, how about showing me what a great piano player you are?”

  “I’m hungry,” Daniel said. “Can we do it later?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Grandpa said. “You play a song for me now and then we can eat.”

  Daniel wrinkled his nose. “Just one song?”

  Grandpa agreed.

  They started out the door, but Grandpa came back for my cage. “I bet you don’t want to miss this. Do you, Humphrey?” he said.

  He was RIGHT-RIGHT-RIGHT. But I was prepared to dive under my bedding if Daniel’s playing sounded as terrible as it had at school.

  Back in the living room, Grandpa put my cage right on top of the piano so I had a hamster’s-eye view of the keys. I was unsqueakably thankful!

  Daniel sat down on the piano bench, opened a piece of music and began to play.

  I was expecting to hear “Jingle Bells,” but instead he played another song. I knew that song, too. It’s called “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

  I was sorry that Daniel wasn’t practicing “Jingle Bells,” but at least he hit the right notes for “Twinkle, Twinkle.”

  Grandpa clapped when Daniel finished. “Well done,” he said. “But wasn’t that a song you played when you first started lessons?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “I’d like to hear one of your new songs. I think your mom said something about you playing ‘Jingle Bells,’” his grandfather said.

  “But you said I just had to play one song,” Daniel told him. “You didn’t say which song to play. And I’m so hungry!”

  “Play it one time through and we’ll eat,” Grandpa said.

  Daniel grumbled under his breath, but he found the music and set it on the piano, right by my cage.

  “It’s pretty hard,” he complained.

  “Practice makes perfect,” Grandpa said. “Try it.”

  Daniel tried, I guess.

  He even hit some of the right notes.

  But he hit a lot of wrong notes, too.

  When Ms. Lark played “Jingle Bells,” I could almost see the prancing horses and a sleigh gliding through the snow.

  When Daniel played “Jingle Bells,” I could see horses tripping on the snow and a sleigh caught in a snowdrift!

  “See? I told you I can’t play it,” Daniel said when he was finished.

  “Sure, you can play it,” his grandfather told him. “All you need is practice.”

  Daniel patted his tummy. “But I’m starving!”

  Grandpa chuckled. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

  He and Daniel went into the kitchen, leaving me in my cage on the piano.

  While good smells started coming out of the kitchen, I stared down at the keys. I wasn’t sure how they worked. There was a piece of paper propped up above the keys. But the paper didn’t have words on it—only lines and dots. Somehow, those showed people what keys to push. And when a person pushed the keys, sounds came out.

  When Ms. Lark pushed the keys, the music sounded good.

  When Daniel pushed the keys, the music sounded bad. At least when he played “Jingle Bells.”

  I thought of how the song goes. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.”

  SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK. SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK.

  That part didn’t seem too difficult, if you could find the right key and hit it three times, then three times again.

  And what was the next part? “Jingle all the way.”

  Or, as I imagined it in my head: SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK.

  That time, you played the same note as the first part once, then three other notes, then ended up on the note where you started!

  SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK.The first note, then a note that was higher, two notes that were lower, then back to the first note.

  If only I had a way to get on that keyboard, I thought I could play those notes.

  Then I might be the only piano-playing hamster in the world!

  But I wouldn’t want to get caught out of my cage. For one thing, there was always the possibility that Lulu would get out of the den and come straight for me.

  And even if I survived Lulu, there was the possibility that Grandpa Popwell would change my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and I’d be stuck in my cage forever!

  So I stayed in my cage and thought and thought and thought some more, until I knew “Jingle Bells” so well, it was almost a part of me.

  After dinner, Daniel and his grandpa came back in the living room.

  “Let’s give Lulu a break and take her for a walk,” Grandpa said.

  That was fine with me, as long as she didn’t walk close to my cage!

  “Now?” Daniel asked. “It’s cold out.”

  “We’ll bundle up,” Grandpa said. “Lulu needs the exercise. Come to think of it, so do we, after all that chili.”

  Soon, Daniel and Grandpa Popwell were wearing coats and hats, gloves and scarves. Then they went into the den and came out with Lulu. Luckily she was on a leash. And she was actually wearing a sweater, which seemed strange to me.

  She barked at me, of course, but Daniel took her outside while Grandpa locked the front door.

  “We’ll see you later, Humphrey,” he said as they left.

  “Bye!” I squeaked back. “Don’t hurry back!”

  And there I was. No Lulu, no humans, just me and the piano.

  HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: I wonder why a dog needs a sweater when she already has a fur coat?

  11

  The Keys to Success

  I stared down at the keys. There were big shiny white keys. And in between some of them were thinner shiny black keys.

  I wondered how long Daniel and his grandfather would be gone. On the one paw, it was cold outside and they might hurry back. On the other paw, it might be the only chance I’d ever have to be alone with a piano, without Lulu around. And I didn’t have far to go.

  So without hesitation, I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and slid down onto the keys.

  CLANK-CLINK-CLUNK! CLUNKETY-CLINK-CLINK!

  When I tumbled down on the keys, the notes sounded even worse than Daniel’s playing.

  I st
opped to get my breath before I looked down at the keys I was standing on.

  I remembered that Daniel was playing the keys in the middle of the piano, so I carefully made my way there, note by note.

  BING-BANG-BING!

  I settled on the middle key and pushed it.

  TINKLE!

  That didn’t sound quite right. I pushed the next key with my paw, but that didn’t sound right, either.

  JANGLE!

  I s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d my paw up one more key and pressed it.

  JINGLE!

  That was it! That was the note where Daniel had begun. (At least he got that part right.) I scurried up to that key to begin and I hit that key three times.

  “Jingle bells.”

  Then I pressed it three times again.

  “Jingle bells . . .”

  Next came the tricky part. I had to s-t-r-e-t-c-h my paws up, skip the next key and push the one next to that. Then, I quickly turned and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d my paws the other way and pressed the note two keys down from the starting point.

  So far, so good. I pressed the next key up and then pressed the key I started with.

  “Jingle all the way!” I squeaked.

  I’d hit the right notes, but it still sounded wrong. The music was too jerky.

  Then I remembered that Grandpa Popwell had said, “Practice makes perfect.”

  So I played that part again. And again.

  The more I practiced, the more it sounded like the way Ms. Lark played it. (Of course, she played with two hands, but I wasn’t ready to tackle that yet! I do have four paws to work with, but I can only stretch so far.)

  It was a GREAT-GREAT-GREAT feeling. In fact, I was having so much fun, I lost track of the time. So I was surprised to hear the door open and footsteps. Daniel, Grandpa and Lulu bounded through the door.

  The dog started barking at me right away. I was so shocked, I fell back on the keys with a CLINK-PLINK-PLUNK!

  Daniel shouted, “Humphrey’s out of his cage!” Grandpa Popwell dragged Lulu off to the den and slammed the door.

  “How did he get out?” the old man asked.

  Daniel had his hands cupped around me so I wouldn’t fall. “I don’t know. I checked to make sure the cage was locked.”

  “Well, put him back in,” Grandpa said. “I hate to think what would happen if Lulu got near him.”

  I hate to think about it even more than Grandpa. I imagine if she got near me, she’d use those sharp teeth in a highly unfriendly way!

  Daniel relaxed his hands a bit. “Maybe Humphrey wants to play the piano,” he said with a laugh.

  “See what he does,” Grandpa said. “But keep your hands there so he won’t fall. It’s a long way down.”

  “I’ll be careful!” I squeaked, which made Daniel and his grandfather chuckle.

  I was SORRY-SORRY-SORRY to be caught out of my cage. But at least I had the chance to show Daniel what a little practice can do.

  I made sure I started on the right key and played what I’d learned so far.

  “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,” the notes played.

  Daniel gasped. “How did he do that? He played ‘Jingle Bells’! ”

  “It sounded like ‘Jingle Bells,’ but I’m sure it was a fluke,” his grandfather said.

  “What’s a fluke?” Daniel asked.

  “Like an accident. Something that happened by chance,” Grandpa Popwell replied.

  He thought it was an accident that a hamster could play the first part of “Jingle Bells” perfectly? What about “practice makes perfect”?

  To prove that it was no fluke, I played the notes again, taking great care to make sure I hit the right keys.

  “Wow, that really was ‘Jingle Bells,’” Daniel said. “Humphrey can play the piano!”

  Grandpa looked down at me, shaking his head. “I guess so, but nobody would believe it if we told them. In fact, maybe we should keep quiet about it, so folks don’t think we’re crazy. But he definitely played ‘Jingle Bells.’”

  “Play it again, Humphrey,” Daniel said.

  So I played it again, without any mistakes.

  “Grandpa, we should make a show with Humphrey in it,” Daniel said. “We could be rich if we had a piano-playing hamster. And Humphrey would be a star!”

  Grandpa shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “That would be a lot of work for a little hamster. Humphrey might not like working so hard.”

  Daniel was disappointed, but I have to admit, my paws were feeling quite sore.

  Thank goodness Grandpa told Daniel he’d better put me back in my cage for a rest.

  My nice soft bedding felt especially good after scrambling around those hard piano keys.

  As I settled in, Daniel said, “If a hamster can play ‘Jingle Bells,’ then I can, too.”

  Those words were music to my ears! It was exactly what I was hoping.

  Daniel sat right down and practiced playing “Jingle Bells.”

  The music sounded shaky in the beginning and he hit a lot of wrong notes. But the more he played, the better the music sounded.

  After a while, Grandpa said, “Good job!”

  Daniel played the song a few more times and Grandpa said, “That sounds great!”

  Finally he said, “Daniel, that was perfect!”

  Practice makes perfect. I guess it works after all.

  That night, I rested quietly in my cage in Daniel’s room.

  Lulu was in the den with the doors closed, according to Grandpa.

  But I kept one eye open all night, just in case.

  The next day, Daniel practiced again, with my cage on the piano. He played so well, I could finally see the prancing horses and a sleigh gliding gracefully through the snow!

  Late that afternoon, Daniel’s mom came home.

  “Mom, Humphrey played ‘Jingle Bells’ on the piano!” he said.

  His mom laughed. “Humphrey? The little hamster? That’s a good joke.”

  “Well, he did,” Daniel said. “Didn’t he, Grandpa?”

  Grandpa chuckled. “Yes, he really did.”

  Daniel opened my cage and took me out. “I’ll show you.”

  He set me on the keys. I stopped and thought for a second.

  On the one paw, I was proud to show off what I’d accomplished to help Daniel.

  On the other paw, I know Daniel would tell everyone at school what had happened. And he’d said I might become famous as the world’s first piano-playing hamster. I might even end up on TV, which would be GREAT-GREAT-GREAT!

  But wait. If I became a famous TV star, I wouldn’t live in Room 26 anymore. I’d miss my friends and my job as a classroom hamster.

  So I made up my mind. I scurried up the keys and then back down.

  BING-BANG-CLINK-CLUNK-BANG-BANG-BING!

  Daniel’s mom laughed. “That doesn’t sound like ‘Jingle Bells’ to me!”

  “Play it, Humphrey, please!” Daniel begged me.

  I hated to disappoint Daniel, but I also wanted to stay in Room 26, so I scampered up and down the keys again.

  CLINK-CLINK-BONG-BANG-CLUNK!

  “I should have known better than to leave you two together—making up stories like that,” Daniel’s mom said. “What I want to hear is Daniel playing ‘Jingle Bells.’”

  And he did.

  The third time he played it, his grandpa and mom sang along.

  I squeaked right with them.

  Later that night, while Daniel was sleeping, I heard Lulu whining outside his bedroom door.

  I almost felt sorry for her.

  After all, she might have sharp little teeth, but I doubt that a dog could ever play the piano. Poor Lulu!

  Wh
en I got back to Room 26 on Monday morning, I had good news for Og.

  “Daniel practiced ‘Jingle Bells,’ Og. And he’s LOTS-LOTS-LOTS better now,” I said.

  Of course, no one else would find out if he was better until Ms. Lark arrived.

  As usual, when my friends came into Room 26, there was a lot of talking and commotion as coats and hats were hung up and students headed for their desks.

  Stop-Talking-Sophie was telling Phoebe and Kelsey all about the tree her family put up over the weekend.

  Small-Paul was showing Tall-Paul a drawing of his plans to expand his train layout.

  And over in the corner, Thomas, Harry and Simon were gathered around Just-Joey.

  I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but suddenly Joey let out a loud horse whinny.

  “Wheeehngeeeeh!”

  “Let me try,” Thomas said. “Weeheenwoooo . . .” I’m sorry to say that while Joey’s whinny sounded like a real horse, Thomas’s sounded more like a sick cow.

  “My turn!” Simon shouted. He tried to whinny, too. “Waaaghaawaagh!” It didn’t sound like a horse. More like a large dog.

  “My turn!” Harry said. Unfortunately his whinny sounded like a cat left out on the porch.

  “Wowwwoowowow!”

  “Goodness, what’s going on over here with you boys?” Mrs. Brisbane asked as she headed to the corner.

  “We’re whinnying like horses,” Simon said.

  Mrs. Brisbane laughed. “Your horses sound as if they’re in pain.”

  “Not Joey’s,” Thomas said. “He sounds just like a horse. Show her.” He nudged Joey.

  “Wheeehngeeeeh!” Joey whinnied.

  He sounded just like a horse.

  “That’s terrific,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Can you do it again?”

  “Wheeehngeeeeh!” Joey repeated.

  “You do sound like a horse,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “My dad taught me to do it,” Joey said.

  Mrs. Brisbane seemed excited. “I have an idea! I’m going to tell Ms. Lark about this.”

  The bell rang and Mrs. Brisbane took attendance.