Guinea Pigs Don't Talk

by Laurie Myers

  Guinea Pigs Don't Talk

  Laurie Myers

  * * *

  Illustrated by Cheryl Taylor

  * * *

  Clarion Books/New York

  * * *

  Clarion Books

  a Houghton Mifflin Company imprint

  215 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003

  Text copyright © 1994 by Laurie Myers

  Illustrations copyright © 1994 by Cheryl Taylor

  The text for this book was set in 13/16-pt. New Baskerville.

  All rights reserved.

  For information about permission to reproduce

  selections from this book, write to

  Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Company,

  215 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003.

  Printed in the USA

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Myers, Laurie.

  Guinea pigs don't talk / by Laurie Myers ; illustrated by Cheryl Taylor.

  p. cm.

  Summary: On Lisa's first day at a new school, she and

  a bossy classmate begin playing a series of tricks on each

  other, using the class guinea pigs.

  ISBN: 0-395-68967-8 PA ISBN: 0-395-92865-6

  [1. Schools—Fiction. 2. Guinea pigs—Fiction. 3. Moving,

  Household—Fiction.] I. Taylor, Cheryl, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.M9873Gu 1994

  [Fic]—dc20

  93-39642

  CIP

  AC

  VB 10 9 8 7 6

  * * *

  For Amy, Alan, and Paul

  * * *

  Contents

  Chapter 1 Cruisin' for a Bruisin' [>]

  Chapter 2 The Fur Flies [>]

  Chapter 3 The Lunchbox Plan [>]

  Chapter 4 Bruiser's Lucky Day [>]

  Chapter 5 Talking Dogs [>]

  Chapter 6 Squeaky Talks [>]

  Chapter 7 Achin' for a Breakin' [>]

  Chapter 8 Testing 1, 2, 3 [>]

  Chapter 9 The Almost Perfect Plan [>]

  Chapter 10 Trapped Under the Desk [>]

  Chapter 11 The Secret Ingredient [>]

  Chapter 12 The Truce [>]

  1

  Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

  "Let me guess," Lisa said, eyeing the two guinea pigs. "This must be Bruiser."

  She reached in and scratched the bigger guinea pig. He pushed his head into her hand.

  "Right," said Mrs. Flowers.

  "And that makes this one Squeaky," Lisa said, reaching into the second cage. When her hand touched the skinny black and white guinea pig, he squeaked and ran in a circle.

  "Right again," Mrs. Flowers said. She glided past the cages, and continued her tour of the classroom. "This is the coatroom." She pointed to a small room directly behind the cages.

  Lisa followed Mrs. Flowers.

  "And this is your desk," Mrs. Flowers said, gently tapping the top of one desk. "I placed you beside Traci Walters. I think you'll like her."

  A possible friend, Lisa thought. Good. First things first. When you get to a new school—make friends.

  Mrs. Flowers looked at her watch. "Class starts in about five minutes. You can look around the room until then."

  Lisa walked back to the guinea pigs' cages. She had always wanted a guinea pig, but her mother had said, "No pets. It's too much trouble when we move."

  "Hello, Bruiser. Hello, Squeaky," Lisa said. "I guess you are my first friends here." Bruiser looked up and purred. Squeaky squeaked.

  Friends were exactly what Lisa wanted. Unfortunately, guinea-pig friends were not what she had in mind.

  Lisa walked back to her desk and watched the kids come into the room. It was the usual mixture of boys and girls, loud-mouthed and quiet kids, tall and short, curly hair and straight. One girl with dark hair sat in the desk beside her.

  "You must be Lisa," she said. "I like your shirt. I have one exactly like it."

  Lisa looked down. She was wearing her endangered species t-shirt. It was her favorite.

  "You must be Traci."

  "How did you know?"

  "Mrs. Flowers told me."

  "She's a great teacher. You'll love her. She's so ... flowery." Traci laughed.

  Lisa nodded. "She was wearing the biggest earrings I've ever seen."

  "The daisies?"

  "Yeah."

  "Those are big," Traci said. "Mrs. Flowers always wears flowers."

  "I'm glad her name isn't Mrs. Onion," Lisa said.

  Traci laughed. "Or Mrs. Fish."

  They both laughed.

  "I'm new too," Traci said. "Well, sort of. I came at the beginning of the year."

  "Lucky you," Lisa said. "I hate middle-of-the-year moves."

  "Me too. They're the worst," Traci said. "Is your father at the Navy base?"

  "No, the university."

  "Oh. I didn't think professors moved very much."

  "Three times in four years. But he was a student then; now he's teaching. My mom says we'll be here awhile."

  "You got me beat," Traci said. "Two moves in four years. My father's in the Navy. But he says we'll be here at least four years."

  "Great!" Lisa said.

  Lisa noticed a girl with long white hair walk into the room. A boy with spiked hair was walking with her. They were laughing.

  "Who's that?" Lisa asked.

  Traci frowned. "Angel and Joe," she said.

  Lisa looked at Angel's long, silky hair. It wasn't blond, it was white. She had bright blue eyes.

  "She looks like an angel," Lisa said.

  "Angel is no angel, and neither is Joe," Traci said firmly. "I've only been here half the year, but I already know about Angel and Joe."

  Lisa nodded. "I know the type—always cruisin' for a bruisin'."

  "Exactly."

  Angel marched down the aisle, and sat two seats in front of Traci. Then she turned quickly and glared at Lisa.

  "That used to be my desk until you came," she snorted.

  Lisa turned to Traci. "You're right," she whispered. "She's no angel."

  Traci smiled.

  "Morning glories, it's time to get started," Mrs. Flowers called. Everyone got quiet. "We have a new student. Lisa Rogers."

  Lisa tried to smile as everyone stared at her. This was what she hated most about being new.

  "We have a busy afternoon planned so we need to take our timed math test this morning before gym," Mrs. Flowers continued. "Everyone get out paper. And I want absolute quiet."

  She turned to Lisa. "Since you're new, you won't need to take the test. If you want to, you can feed the guinea pigs, and change the paper in Bruiser's cage."

  "Sure," Lisa said.

  "Lucky you," Traci said. "I love to take care of the guinea pigs. They're soooooooooo fun."

  Lisa smiled. This was shaping up to be a pretty good first day. She stood to go to the guinea pigs' table.

  "Psssssssssst."

  The noise came from the front of the room.

  "Psssssssssst."

  It was Angel. She held a folded piece of paper toward Lisa.

  "Me?" Lisa asked, pointing to herself.

  Angel nodded.

  Lisa wondered why Angel would send her a note. What could Angel possibly have to tell her? Lisa took the note with her to the guinea pigs' table. She had a strange feeling about the note. She remembered Lisa's words, "Angel is no angel, and neither is Joe."

  She read the note.

  Put Bruiser in Squeaky's cage

  while you change the paper.

  They love to play.

  Is that all? Lisa thought. She felt silly for being suspicious. She refolded the note, and stuck it in her pocket. Maybe Angel wasn't so bad after all. If Bruiser and
Squeaky liked to play, then Lisa would put them together. What harm could there be?

  2

  The Fur Flies

  "We must have complete quiet during the test," Mrs. Flowers said. "No distractions. Is everyone ready? Begin!"

  The students quickly began working the math problems.

  Lisa got the clean newspaper from under the guinea pigs' table. She was especially careful not to crumple the paper or make any noise. She didn't want everyone staring at her again. She quietly lifted the lid off Bruiser's cage.

  "You want to play with Squeaky?" she whispered.

  Bruiser tilted his head to the side, and looked up at her. He was all brown except for a white streak on his forehead. When she picked him up, he didn't wiggle or squirm. He felt like a solid ball of fur.

  When Lisa lifted the lid off Squeaky's cage, he jumped and ran in a circle.

  "Company's coming," she cheerfully whispered to him.

  "Now keep quiet," she instructed as she lowered Bruiser into Squeaky's cage, "because they're taking a test, and Mrs. Flowers doesn't want any noise."

  Bruiser and Squeaky stood face to face. Lisa watched with excitement. She was waiting for them to start a game of guinea-pig tag, romping around the cage, playfully nudging each other with their noses.

  No game started.

  Squeaky's upper lip quivered, and he scratched the ground with his feet. There were no happy squeaks, as Lisa had expected. Instead, a throaty growl rumbled from the cage.

  Squeaky jumped to the side. Bruiser pivoted to face him. Squeaky made another quick jump, then circled around behind Bruiser. Again Bruiser pivoted and they stood face to face—perfectly still.

  Lisa had a feeling that this was not the beginning of a friendly game.

  Suddenly there was a blur of activity. The guinea pigs had started to fight! Squeaky darted around the cage, jumping at Bruiser and grabbing mouthfuls of his fur. Bruiser bit Squeaky at every opportunity.

  They lunged at each other. They rolled around the cage, biting and scratching and knocking over the food bowl.

  Lisa was afraid to reach in and stop the fight.

  Worst of all was the noise. The guinea pigs squealed loudly, almost screaming, as they fought.

  When Lisa looked up, she realized that everyone in the class had turned to watch the commotion.

  "Do something," someone yelled.

  Lisa turned back to watch the single, rolling ball of fur that was two guinea pigs. She wanted to do something, but her arms hung limply at her side.

  Mrs. Flowers jumped up and hurried toward the back of the room.

  One girl started to cry. "They're going to kill each other," she said.

  Lisa stood by helplessly. Everyone was watching her. She felt her whole face turn red. Mrs. Flowers finally arrived, daisy earrings jingling. As she reached into the cage, Squeaky grabbed Bruiser's ear and bit off a piece.

  "Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek." Bruiser's final scream was a loud one. Mrs. Flowers grabbed him and lifted him out of the cage. He was panting.

  "You're okay," she said, holding him close to her and stroking his head. She looked at Squeaky. "You're fine too."

  "What about the test?" Joe asked.

  Mrs. Flowers glanced at her watch and let out a sigh. "We don't have time to finish. I guess we'll have to try it again tomorrow."

  The class groaned. Lisa lowered her head.

  "I'm sorry, Lisa," Mrs. Flowers said. "I should have told you that Bruiser and Squeaky fight when they are together. That's why we keep them in separate cages."

  Mrs. Flowers's kindness didn't make Lisa feel any better. Bruiser was still missing a piece of his ear, even though it wasn't bleeding. It looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and snipped out a slice.

  "Animals can be very territorial," Mrs. Flowers explained.

  "What's territorial?" Joe asked.

  "When an animal lives in an area, he begins to feel that it belongs to him. He wants to protect the territory, and sometimes he will fight when a new animal comes in, especially if it's another male."

  I should have figured that out myself, Lisa thought. Why in the world did I do such a stupid thing? She shoved her hands in her pockets. When she did, she felt Angel's note.

  Angel had told her to put the guinea pigs together! That's why she had done it. And Angel had known exactly what would happen.

  Lisa's eyes widened with anger. She looked at Angel. Angel was smiling. Her eyes were glued to Lisa. Lisa blinked and turned away. She didn't like looking at Angel. Angel's eyes were ... She thought for a moment. Piercing! That was it. Angel's eyes were piercing.

  Piercing eyes looked at you as though they could tell what you were thinking. Lisa didn't like that. Angel Peterson was the last person she wanted to know her thoughts. Because, at that moment, Lisa had only one thought. Revenge!

  3

  The Lunchbox Plan

  "That Angel is itchin' for a switchin'," Lisa said. She sat on her bed with her arms folded behind her head.

  "Angel is always trying to start trouble," Traci said as she studied Lisa's collection of ceramic animals. She picked up a small tiger. "Angel loves trouble. I think she is addicted to it—like some people are addicted to drugs."

  "Do you think she was mad because I had her desk?"

  "Could be," Traci answered. "Angel's like that. Any excuse to cause trouble."

  "That's terrible," Lisa said. "Why does Joe hang around her? She's always telling him what to do. At lunch today she made him get her a straw. Then she made him carry her tray and throw her garbage away."

  Traci put the tiger back on the shelf and picked up a monkey. She studied his face. "I guess he's used to it," she said. "He has lots of older brothers and sisters. They're always telling him what to do."

  "What about Angel?"

  "Nobody tells her what to do."

  Lisa fell back on her pillow. "Poor Bruiser," she said. "I feel awful about his ear."

  "Don't worry about Bruiser," Traci said, picking up a family of fat pink ceramic pigs. "He's just like these pigs."

  "Pigs?"

  "Yeah," Traci said. "All Bruiser cares about is eating! That's why he's so fat."

  "What does he eat?"

  "Anything and everything. Once I made him a shoebox house. He loved to go inside and hide. Then we noticed that the door to his house was getting bigger and bigger. He was eating his house! He loves cardboard."

  "Noooooooo!" Lisa said. She rolled across die bed, laughing.

  "And at Thanksgiving we had a big turkey made out of construction paper. It was too close to his cage and he ate the head off the turkey."

  Lisa grabbed her sides as she laughed again.

  "But his very favorite is when kids feed him their leftover lunches. Mrs. Flowers says we shouldn't give him junk because he's fat."

  Lisa sat up and wiped her eyes. "Bruiser likes people food?" she said.

  "He loves it," Traci said. She put the pigs back on the shelf. "I've even seen him eat broccoli."

  "That's it!" Lisa said.

  "That's what?" Traci asked.

  "That's how I'll get my revenge," Lisa said.

  She jumped off the bed and pulled her desk drawer open. She grabbed a pencil and paper.

  "What are you doing?" Traci asked.

  "I'm going to write a poem," Lisa answered. She tapped the pencil against the paper as she thought.

  "For whom?"

  "Angel," Lisa said. Then she stopped tapping. "I've got it!" She started to write.

  "Angel?" Traci asked. "Why would you write a poem for her?"

  "This is not just any poem ... There!" She firmly dotted the final period on the paper.

  "Read it to me," Traci said eagerly.

  Lisa cleared her throat.

  I think that I shall never see

  A guinea pig as hungry as can he.

  Bruiser's his name and instead of a fight

  He'll eat your lunch when he's out of sight.

  "Bruiser is going to ea
t Angel's lunch?" Traci asked.

  "He sure is," Lisa said.

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow, when I hide him in her lunchbox," Lisa said.

  Traci's face lit up. "That's a great idea! Angel has one of those nylon lunchbags with the Velcro top."

  "Double perfect," Lisa said. "He'll get plenty of air, and the Velcro will open easily." She paused, then asked, "Do you think that will be too much junk food? I wouldn't want him to get sick."

  "Are you kidding?" Traci said. "Angel's mother is a health-food nut. Her lunchbag is probably filled with carrot sticks!"

  "Perfect for the dieting guinea pig!" Lisa exclaimed.

  Traci laughed. "Bruiser," she said, "tomorrow is your lucky day!"

  4

  Bruiser's Lucky Day

  "Turn to page twenty in your science book," Mrs. Flowers said brightly. "This is my favorite unit—flowers!" She began writing on the board. Her necklace of wooden day lilies clinked as she wrote.

  Lisa punched Traci and whispered, "The poem is in Angel's science book."

  Traci nodded.

  The two friends watched with anticipation as Angel opened her book. Her shoulders twitched when she read the note. She turned slowly and looked at the lunch containers, which were lined up by the door. Hers was moving slightly. Angel looked with concern at her lunchbag.

  "Angel, what is your favorite?" Mrs. Flowers asked.

  Angel quickly turned back to her book. "My favorite? Uh ... Yummy Tummy Cream Cakes," she blurted out.

  Everyone laughed.

  "Not food, dear. Flowers," Mrs. Flowers said, fingering her day lilies. "What is your favorite flower?"

  Angel looked over her shoulder and saw Lisa grinning. A knowing look crossed Angel's face.

  "Venus's-flytrap," she said loudly.

  Lisa quickly turned her attention to Mrs. Flowers. She couldn't face Angel. If she did, she would laugh right out loud. She had never been good at hiding her feelings.

  "That's not really a flower," Mrs. Flowers said cheerfully. "But it does have a lovely bloom."