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Authors: Betty G. Birney

School Days According to Humphrey (11 page)

BOOK: School Days According to Humphrey

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Small-Paul's dad wore a suit when he picked me up. He had taken off from work early to get us. I have to admit, I felt unsqueakably important, but I did remember to say good-bye to Og as Mr. Fletcher carried my cage out of the classroom.

“I'll tell you all about it Monday! Bye!” I said.

At their home, Mr. Fletcher got me settled on a desk in Paul's room. “Humphrey, I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” he said.

“Thanks a lot!” I replied, which made Paul and his dad laugh, even though I'm pretty sure they didn't understand exactly what I'd said.

My weekend at Small-Paul's house was pretty quiet, except for his little brother, Max. Every time he saw me, Max jumped up and down, flapped his arms and squealed. I think that meant he liked me. He was only two years old and much smaller than Paul. Sometimes Paul picked his brother up and carried him around.

To Max, Small-Paul was extremely tall.

The Fletcher family did fun things like watch movies and play games and eat popcorn, like the other families I'd stayed with.

Paul, of course, did his homework, because he was a VERY-VERY-VERY good student.

On Sunday afternoon, Paul cleaned my cage while Max watched.

“Poopy!” Max said, flapping his arms up and down and squealing.

I was glad Paul didn't squeal.

Afterward, Paul settled down at his desk and worked on his model planes. They had small wings and a small cockpit that were just about my size. I wondered how it would feel to fly. But then I remembered the unsqueakably dangerous boat ride I took once and tried not to think about it anymore.

There were dozens and dozens of tiny parts to be glued together and the amazing thing was, Paul knew just where to put them.

While he worked, he talked to me. Luckily, I'm a very good listener.

“Just my bad luck, Humphrey, having another Paul in class,” he said as he carefully glued a wing in place.

He sighed a very large sigh. “He
would
have to be tall.”

“He can't help that,” I squeaked, trying to be helpful.

“Have you noticed? He's always showing off how tall he is.” Paul carefully held the wing in place while the glue dried.

I was puzzled. Paul G. had never shown off, as far as I could see.

“I don't think he's a show-off,” I said.

“The big bragger,” Paul muttered.

Oh, if just once a human could understand my squeaks! Especially when I'm trying to be helpful.

“The worst day of my life was when he came to our school.” Paul let go of the wing and it stayed in place.

Small-Paul was extremely smart, but that didn't mean he was always right.

“Someday, I'm going to design, build and fly my own planes, Humphrey,” he said, looking down at his model with pride. “Look at this. A Hornet. Mach two. I guess you don't know what it is. But someday, maybe I'll take you for a ride.”

“Thanks,” I squeaked. “I think.”

That night, I had one of those weird dreams. This time, I was flying in one of Paul's little wooden planes. I was zooming high into the sky when suddenly a giant hand reached out and grabbed the plane.

I looked up at the face of the person holding the plane in his hand.

It was Paul Green. Tall-Paul.

“Now you know what it feels like to be tall,” he said.

Then he raised his arm and let the plane goâUP-UP-UP into the clouds. I kept going and going until, thank goodness, I woke up.

Like I said, it was a weird dream.

On Monday morning, Max gave a final squeal and I was on my way back to Room 26. Small-Paul, as usual, got to class early.

Kelsey was right behind us and she bumped Paul's arm, which jiggled and joggled my cage like crazy.

“Be-Careful-Kelsey,” Paul snapped at her.

“Sorry!” she said. “Is Humphrey okay?”

“Yes,” I squeaked weakly.

Kelsey seemed like a nice girl, but I wished she could pay a little more attention.

“How was your weekend with Humphrey?” Mrs. Brisbane asked when Paul placed my cage back on the table by the window.

“Great!” Small-Paul said.

“Maybe you can show Paul G. how to take care of Humphrey, now that you have experience,” she suggested.

Paul looked shocked. “Do I have to?”

“Well, it would be nice,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “He's new to the school, and he'd like to be included.”

“I'll think about it,” Small-Paul answered.

I could see by the look on his face that he'd already made up his mind.

Just then, the final bell rang. Hurry-Up-Harry raced through the door while it was still clanging. He rushed to his seat and sat down, panting but looking proud.

“I'm not tardy, am I?” he asked.

“No,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

He looked pleased. But when I glanced at Small-Paul, he wasn't looking pleased at all.

“Og,” I squeaked to my neighbor. “We really have our work cut out for us.”

“BOING!” he agreed.

HUMPHREY'S RULES OF SCHOOL:
NEVER-NEVER-NEVER be tardy and ALWAYS-ALWAYS-ALWAYS listen to the classroom pet (even if you have trouble understanding).

The Very Worst Day

T
hat Monday was an unsqueakably difficult day. More difficult than any day we had last year in Room 26.

First, Thomas said that he'd seen a
wolf
while he was walking to school. But Mrs. Brisbane got him to admit it might have been a big dog.

Mrs. Brisbane reminded him not to exaggerate.

Worse yet, Phoebe had forgotten her spelling homework and burst into tears, which made me feel SAD-SAD-SAD.

Next, Mrs. Brisbane asked Paul to come up to the board for some math problems, and both Small-Paul and Tall-Paul jumped out of their seats. When they got up to the board at the same time, they glared at each other.

The other students laughed.

“Sorry, guys. I meant Paul G.,” Mrs. Brisbane explained.

Tall-Paul turned red and Small-Paul scowled as he returned to his seat.

Small-Paul liked to do math problems in front of the class. Tall-Paul got the problem wrong and turned an even deeper shade of red.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Kelsey skinned her knee at recess and had to go to the nurse's office.

Then Mrs. Brisbane had an excellent idea (as she often does). She decided to put me in my ball and let me roll up and down the aisles. She probably wanted to get her students' minds off their problems.

It would be very interesting if all humans could get a hamster's-eye view of their world at least once. If they did, they would probably clean their shoes more oftenâthere really are unsqueakably
awful
things stuck to the bottoms of many shoes. Humans should pay more attention to their socks, too. On that day, both Thomas and Kelsey had on mismatched socks.

They'd also realize how much they tap their feet and move around in general, even when they think they're sitting still. As I spin around the classroom, I'm always GLAD-GLAD-GLAD I have that ball to protect me.

Despite the dangers, I kept rolling around lazily. The students were reading to themselves and after a while didn't even seem to notice me.

As I approached Rosie's table, I decided it would be interesting to get a closer look at her wheelchair. I still hadn't figured out exactly how she would “pop a wheelie.”

Rosie saw me coming closer and her eyes sparkled.

“Hi, Humphrey,” she whispered.

But when I got a little closer, Holly let out a yelp and grabbed my hamster ball, picking it up so quickly I was doing somersaults inside.

“Eek!” I squeaked.

“What is it, Holly?” the teacher asked.

“Humphrey could trip up Rosie's wheelchair! He got way too close,” she said, holding up the ball. “But I've got him now.”

“He wasn't too close,” Rosie protested. “I saw him there.”

“I think it's dangerous,” Holly said.

“The way you picked him up is dangerous,” Rosie replied. “You could have hurt poor little Humphrey.”

I don't like to think of myself as “poor little” anything, but she was right. I wasn't hurt, but I was definitely dizzy.

“You must remember to be gentle with Humphrey,” Mrs. Brisbane said as she took the ball from Holly. She peered in through the yellow plastic. “Are you all right?”

I squeaked, though it was a weaker squeak than usual.

Mrs. Brisbane put me back in the cage, satisfied that I was okay.

I headed straight for my sleeping hut, which was the safest, quietest place I knew.

I crawled out a little while later when I heard Rolling-Rosie ask if she could speak to Mrs. Brisbane.

The room was empty because it was lunchtime.

“You didn't pop a wheelie again, did you, Rosie?” the teacher asked.

“No,” Rosie answered. “It's about my assistant.”

“Holly?” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Why don't you tell me what's on your mind.”

Rosie wheeled up close to the desk and she and Mrs. Brisbane talked. Og and I were as silent as could be so we could hear every word they said.

“I don't think I need an assistant,” she explained. “I can do almost everything myself. So could you tell Holly not to help me anymore?”

Mrs. Brisbane was silent for a moment. “I could,” she finally said. “But do you really want me to?”

“Yes!” Rosie answered. “I know Holly wants to help, but she helps way too much. She helps me when there's no problem at all. Sometimes, she gets in the way.”

“Have you told her that?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

Rolling-Rosie nodded. “I said she didn't need to help so much. It didn't work.”

BOOK: School Days According to Humphrey

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