The World According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  WHEW-WHEW-WHEW!

  Miranda was very sorry. She opened the cage and reached in to pick me up. “Poor Humphrey,” she said, hugging me. She set me on her desk and stroked me gently with one finger. “I’m so sorry, Humphrey. So sorry.”

  Ohhhhh. I don’t know what felt better: the petting or Miranda’s soothing words.

  Miranda felt so terrible about what had happened, she let me play on her desk. She lined up books all along the edges so I wouldn’t fall off. Then she let me wander around and see the sights.

  A desktop is a very interesting place, in case you’ve never explored one. Miranda’s desktop had a big cup with hearts all over it. The cup was filled with pencils. Ah, pencils smell so sweet. She had a round silvery container of paper clips and a square purple container of rubber bands. She had lots of paper in a pink box. And she had a great big fat dictionary. I could really use one of those. I wonder if they make doll-sized dictionaries you can hide behind a hamster’s mirror?

  Miranda giggled as she watched me check things out. When I tried to climb into the paper clip box, she stopped me with her finger.

  “No, no, Humphrey. Those would hurt you.”

  She did the same thing when I tried to roll in the rubber band box.

  “No, Humphrey. Rubber bands can be very dangerous,” she told me.

  Well, I guess I knew that. Hadn’t Garth shot a rubber band at A.J. last week and almost got sent to Principal Morales’s office? Hadn’t A.J. held his arm and said, “Ow,” when the rubber band hit him?

  Anyway, I really enjoyed my time on the desk, until I heard Clem barking. Then I made a beeline for home.

  “Oh, Humphrey, I won’t let Clem hurt you. Honest,” Miranda assured me as she gently helped me back in my cage.

  I believed her. I really did.

  But when it was bedtime and Miranda’s mom came into the room to say good night, she said some words that sent a chill up my spine.

  “Don’t forget, we’re going to the Nicolsons’ house tomorrow night.”

  Miranda protested. “I hate to leave Humphrey. Clem gives him such a hard time.”

  “We’ll lock the door this time, honey. He’ll be okay,” her mom said. “And tonight, Clem will be in my room.”

  After her mother left, Miranda assured me that Clem loves to sleep in Mom’s room. “But if anything happens and you get scared, just give me a squeak,” she told me.

  “Don’t worry, I will!” I assured her.

  I didn’t sleep that night. For one thing, the stars on Miranda’s ceiling glow in the dark and they’re so beautiful, I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

  For another thing . . . well, I am nocturnal.

  But mainly I didn’t sleep because I was worried about Clem.

  After my experience that afternoon, I believed that no lock could hold him back. And how could a little hamster fight back? What weapon would I have against a big, hairy, bad-breathed, small-brained creature?

  What weapon, indeed! I had an Idea.

  Clem hadn’t made a peep for hours, so I took a chance and quietly opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and dashed across the desktop to pick my weapon, just in case of another encounter with Clem. Then I scampered back to the cage with it and quietly closed the door.

  I hid my weapon behind my mirror, next to the notebook, where no one could find it. Then I managed to get forty winks or so of sleep around sunrise.

  Miranda and her mom kept Clem out of my sight all day, until it was time for them to go to their party.

  “I’m still worried,” said Miranda.

  “I’m locking your door with a key on the outside,” her mom said. “I’m locking Clem in my room. And Humphrey’s cage is closed tightly. Right?”

  Miranda checked it. Everybody always checks it. It always seems locked from the outside. It even makes a clicking sound. But from the inside, believe me, it’s a piece of cake to open.

  Miranda seemed satisfied with the arrangement, but I wasn’t. So I remained on high alert all that afternoon and evening. And here’s what happened.

  After Miranda and her mom left, Clem barked for a while.

  Then I heard jiggling and joggling for about an hour.

  Next, I heard big hairy feet padding down the hall toward Miranda’s room. Toward my room.

  I sucked in my breath and waited. Yes, I knew Miranda’s mom had locked the door with a key. But Clem didn’t seem to let little things like that stand in his way.

  The doorknob squeaked and rattled. It twisted and turned. Nothing happened. But that didn’t seem to bother Clem the barbarian.

  He jiggled-rattled-and-twisted it some more. When he got tired of that, he threw his whole body at the door.

  And then, very slowly, the door opened.

  Clem actually seemed surprised, but I wasn’t. I had spent the last two hours carefully preparing for this moment.

  Not that my heart wasn’t going THUMP-THUMP-THUMP very loudly. Even Fanny the fish seemed nervous.

  Clem trotted right up to my cage and stuck his big wet nose up against it.

  “Stay away! Keep your distance!” I squeaked. “I’m warning you.”

  Clem wasn’t discouraged one bit.

  “Woof!” he barked, sending a foul cloud of doggy breath my way.

  I didn’t even flinch.

  He barked a few more times and then began poking his big nose against the cage door. I wondered if he actually knew the lock was broken.

  The time had arrived to put my Plan into action. I was in grave danger and I had no choice. I would only have one chance at Clem because I only had one weapon: a rubber band. It had taken me a long time to get it hooked around the edge of my food dish. Now I carefully pulled it back as far as I could, aiming directly at those big doggy nostrils.

  “You asked for it, beast!” I squeaked.

  Then I let loose. The rubber band snapped and sailed through the air, hitting Clem squarely on the nose.

  He yelped like a baby and raced out of the room as if he’d seen a ghost. Too bad I didn’t still have my ghost costume. That would have been a nice touch.

  I guess Clem wasn’t quite as dumb as I had thought, because he never even tried to come back in the room again.

  Of course, Miranda and her mom were really puzzled when they came home and found both bedrooms unlocked and Clem cowering under the living-room sofa.

  “I don’t get it,” said Miranda. “Humphrey looks just fine. Maybe it was a burglar.”

  But Miranda’s mom checked the closets and drawers, and nothing was missing.

  “Now, that’s a mystery,” said Miranda’s mother after she’d searched the whole apartment.

  Miranda stared at me, shaking her head.

  “If only Humphrey could talk,” she said.

  “But I can if you’d just listen,” I told her.

  “I bet you’d have a lot to tell us,” Miranda continued, not understanding my squeaks.

  Yes, I do, I thought. Enough to fill a book.

  TIP NINE: Hamsters do not enjoy contact with other animals. A cat or dog may eat a hamster or at least do it bodily harm.

  Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer

  10

  Garth Versus A.J.

  If you have dogs or cats, you have to be very careful not to let them get near Humphrey,” Miranda warned the rest of the class when we returned to Room 26.

  “You can say that again,” I squeaked. But she didn’t.

  I still considered Golden-Miranda to be a special friend and I had a very clean cage to show for my weekend, as well as a new respect for rubber bands. But I also decided that even though Miranda is practically a perfect person, I was not in a hurry to stay with her again.

  A.J. raised his hand and Mrs. Brisbane called on him.

  “May I have Humphrey this weekend? We don’t have a dog or a cat,” he bellowed.

  “Lower-Your-Voice-A.J. I’ll let you know on Thursday. There may be other students who want Humphrey as well.�
�

  At least half the hands in the classroom went up as kids started shouting, “Me, me!” I was quite flattered. But for some reason, the whole subject seemed to make Garth mad.

  Within minutes, he shot a rubber band at A.J.

  “Ouch!” A.J. complained loudly. When he told the teacher what had happened, Garth denied it.

  “Humphrey did it,” he said.

  Gail giggled. Mrs. Brisbane did not. “I don’t believe a hamster can shoot a rubber band,” she said sternly. A lot she knows!

  The next day, Garth stuck his foot out and tripped Art as he went to sharpen his pencil.

  “I didn’t do it! He’s just clumsy,” Garth protested when Mrs. Brisbane angrily scolded him.

  That same day, Garth pushed Gail at morning recess. He spent afternoon recess inside.

  “Garth Tugwell, you’re halfway to Principal Morales’s office right now.” Mrs. Brisbane sounded really angry.

  Garth just shrugged his shoulders.

  On Wednesday, Garth sneaked back into the room while Mrs. Brisbane went to the office during recess, and he headed straight for my cage. The two of us were all alone in the room.

  “Hello, rat. Why don’t you just run away? Then nobody will take you home on the weekend,” he said. He opened my cage door and grabbed me. “You’d like your freedom, wouldn’t you, rat?”

  He set me on the floor. My heart was pounding. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

  “Go on, rat. Skedaddle.” He gave me a little push with his hand.

  I scampered under the table. I wanted to say something, but for the first time ever, I was scared squeakless.

  “Have fun,” he said, and in an instant he was gone.

  I was pretty confused. For one thing, I didn’t want to run away. I was perfectly happy staying in Room 26 and having adventures on the weekend.

  Where would I go? What would I do?

  There was no time to waste. I scampered over to the cord that hung down from the blinds and grabbed on to it. Then I started the old swinging routine, back and forth, swinging a little higher each time until I reached the tabletop. Back-forth-back-forth-back-forth . . . leap! There wasn’t time to think about my queasy stomach as I raced into my cage, slamming the door shut behind me.

  Just then, Mrs. Brisbane returned. I darted into my sleeping house so she wouldn’t see how hard I was breathing.

  I saw her look at the window, puzzled. She walked over to it and stared at the blind cord, which was still swinging. She reached out and stopped it with her hand. Then she shook her head and walked away.

  When recess was over and my classmates filed back into the class, Garth looked over at my cage, half smiling. But that smile quickly disappeared when he saw that the door was closed. He leaped out of his seat and looked in my cage.

  “Howdy,” I squeaked at him.

  “Garth, please get back in your seat,” Mrs. Brisbane told him.

  “But Humphrey!” he protested.

  “Well, what is it?” Mrs. Brisbane was getting irritated.

  “He’s in his cage!” he said.

  A few of my classmates giggled, but not Mrs. Brisbane.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s always in his cage, Garth,” she said. “Now get back in your seat.”

  Garth did what she said, but for the rest of the day I noticed him staring over at me.

  On Thursday, Mrs. Brisbane announced that I would be spending the weekend at A.J.’s house.

  “Yes!” shouted A.J., delighted at the news.

  A few seconds later, a whole series of rubber bands hit A.J. on his neck, shoulder and head.

  “Cool it, Garth!” yelled A.J., jumping out of his chair. “Man, I’m tired of these rubber bands.”

  Garth acted innocent. “I don’t know where they came from. They could have come from anywhere.”

  “Garth did it,” Heidi said. “I saw him.”

  Mrs. Brisbane didn’t remind Heidi to raise her hand. But she did tell Garth to stay in during recess.

  “Not fair,” Garth muttered under his breath.

  When the bell rang for recess, Garth stayed in his seat. Mrs. Brisbane closed the door when all the other students had left and walked to his desk. Normally, I would have been napping at this time, but I was wide-awake and wondering what that boy had to say.

  “Garth. You’ve been acting strangely lately. You never got into trouble at all until two weeks ago. Now you’re shooting rubber bands at people and disturbing the entire class. Can you tell me why?”

  Garth slowly shook his head no.

  “Your grades are slipping, too. Has something changed in your life?”

  Garth slowly shook his head again.

  “How about at home? Is anything wrong?”

  Garth didn’t shake his head. He didn’t move a muscle.

  “Should I talk to your parents about your behavior, Garth?”

  Garth’s face got very red.

  “No,” he said with a choking sound.

  Mrs. Brisbane moved closer and put her hand on Garth’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “My . . . mom’s . . . sick,” he said. “Real sick.” Tears ran down his cheeks. I was feeling a little teary-eyed myself.

  “How sick?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

  “She lost all this weight and she was in and out of the hospital and now she’s just tired all the time and . . .” Garth didn’t try to finish his sentence.

  Garth wiped away the tears with the tissue Mrs. Brisbane handed him. “That’s why I can’t take Humphrey home. My dad says we can’t let anything bother Mom. Well, my little brother bothers her and we let him in the house.”

  Mrs. Brisbane smiled slightly. “Humphrey is a big responsibility, Garth. That’s why I don’t take him home. My husband’s been sick, too. Did you know that?”

  Garth shook his head. “No.”

  “So I know what it’s like. Listen, I’ll make a few calls tonight. Maybe we can find a way for you to spend some time with Humphrey,” she said.

  “But he hates me,” I squeaked.

  “I’d like to,” said Garth.

  Huh? I was confused.

  “But you have to promise me that you won’t disrupt the class anymore,” Mrs. Brisbane told him. “Is that a deal?”

  Garth nodded. “Deal.”

  As you know, I’m very good at coming up with plans to solve human problems. Very, very good. But try as I might, I couldn’t imagine what Mrs. Brisbane’s plan to get Garth to spend time with me could be.

  I was still trying to figure it out when Aldo arrived that night.

  “Humphrey, my man!” he yelled when he opened the door.

  I almost fell off my wheel.

  “You are the most handsome, intelligent hamster in the world! And I am the luckiest man in the world! Because I am dating the most beautiful woman in the world!”

  Aldo swept his way toward my cage, then lowered his voice. “Uh, but don’t tell anybody I said so. Not yet. After all, Maria and I have only been out three times. But, oh, what times we’ve had!”

  He pulled up a chair and sat very close to me.

  “And it’s all thanks to the Moonlighters Club. And that clipping over there. . . .” He pointed toward the spot where the overhead projector had once stood. “And you! I know you had something to do with it. I just can’t figure out what. Anyway, don’t tell anybody, but someday, I’m going to marry Maria. And when I do, I want you to be best man. Or best hamster, I guess. I really mean it. If you were a guy, I’d buy you a burger.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little piece of foil. “Instead, I got you this.” He unwrapped a piece of carrot and put it in my cage.

  “Thank you, Aldo,” I squeaked. “I wish you lots of happiness.”

  “I knew you’d be happy for me, Humphrey.” Aldo smiled and then jumped up. “Whooo! I’ve got so much energy, I can clean this room in half the time. I could climb a mountain and not even get tired! I could conquer the world!” He leaned forward and gri
nned through his glorious mustache. “Ain’t love grand?”

  “If you say so,” I replied.

  I’d never seen anyone so happy before. The only thing that would make me that happy would be if Ms. Mac came back.

  She’s not coming back.

  And I’m still stuck with Mrs. Brisbane. And she’s stuck with me.

  Say, what did she mean when she said she doesn’t take me home because her husband’s sick? Did she mean she would take me home if her husband wasn’t sick?

  I thought about it all night and came up with this answer: NO-NO-NO.

  She doesn’t take me home because she doesn’t like me.

  Maybe I’m lucky after all.

  TIP TEN: Hamsters are incredible acrobats and climbers. They seem to defy the laws of gravity.

  Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer

  11

  TV or Not TV

  Wow! Friday was a great adventure because A.J. took me on the school bus. It was noisy and smelly and very, very bumpy, and just about everyone on the bus wanted to get a good look at me, including the driver, Miss Victoria.

  It was exciting—almost too exciting because A.J. couldn’t hold my cage steady and I was slipping and sliding and bouncing until I was quite dizzy.

  “Sorry, Humphrey. I’m trying to hold still,” A.J. told me as someone bumped his elbow and sent me sprawling on the floor of my cage.

  “It’s all right,” I squeaked weakly.

  The bus let us off close to A.J.’s house. It was a two-story old house with a big porch. As soon as I entered, I got a warm welcome from A.J.’s mom, his younger brother, Ty, his little sister, DeeLee, and his baby brother, Beau.

  “Anthony James, introduce us to your little friend,” his mom said, greeting us.

  Anthony James? Everybody at school called A.J. by his initials or just “Aje.”

  “This is Humphrey,” he answered.

  “Hello, Humphrey,” said Mrs. Thomas. “So how was your day, Anthony?”

  “Lousy. Garth kept shooting rubber bands at me. He won’t leave me alone.”

  “But you two used to be friends,” his mother said.

  “Used to be,” said A.J. “Until he turned into a JERK.”