Trouble According to Humphrey (18 page)

“My glasses!” she said. “Where are my glasses?”

She looked for them on her desk,
in
her desk, in her handbag. Once before, when Mrs. Brisbane lost her glasses, they were actually sitting on top of her head. This time, they weren’t there, either.

“Let’s do a search,” she told the class. My friends ran around the classroom, checking every nook and cranny. It was like a treasure hunt, but they never found the glasses. And believe me, they looked everywhere!

“Sorry, class. I guess I won’t be reading today.”

My classmates were as disappointed as I was, so Mrs. Brisbane asked Tabitha to read a few pages, followed by Kirk. They are good readers, but not quite as good as Mrs. Brisbane.

Once school was over and the room was empty, Mrs. Brisbane checked the entire room again. “They have to be here, Humphrey,” she said. “You haven’t seen them, have you, Og?”

Og splashed in his water, and I tried to tell her that I hadn’t seen them. Since I couldn’t get out of my new cage, I wouldn’t be able to help her.

Mrs. Brisbane finally put on her coat and left, muttering under her breath as she did.

When I was sure she was gone, I went to the side of my cage closest to Og.

“Og, I have something to tell you. Are you listening?”

“BOING-BOING!” Og answered.

“Good. I’m glad that Miranda is out of trouble, but now I’m the one in trouble. This new cage they bought me has a lock that I can’t open. Mr. Brisbane tested it and made sure of that.”

“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og repeated. He sounded truly alarmed.

“Now I won’t be able to come over and have chats with you. And I won’t be able to get out and help my friends. Og, my job as a classroom hamster won’t be so much fun anymore.”

Og dove into the water, splashing furiously. I guess he had heard enough.

“It wasn’t right for Miranda to take the blame,” I said, talking to myself. “Not right at all.”

Og stopped splashing. Everything was silent until I heard the RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE of Aldo’s cart. He hurried over to my cage. “Welcome back, Humphrey!” he said. “Your pal Og really missed his buddy. Come to think of it, so did I!”

“I missed you, too!” I squeaked loudly.

Aldo pulled up a chair and took out his lunch bag. “We’ve got some catching up to do. I hear you went to the vet! Richie told me.” Repeat-It-Please-Richie is Aldo’s nephew. “He said you were healthy as a horse.”

Although I wasn’t sure I liked being compared to a horse, I knew Aldo meant well.

“Guess what. I went to the doctor, too. And you know how I was tired all the time? Seems like I was low on some vitamins and I was drinking way too much coffee. I’d get a burst of energy and then be even more tired than before! Now I cut back on the coffee, make sure I eat better and I feel like my old self again. Maria and I even went bowling this weekend.”

I was glad. Aldo really likes bowling.

“Speaking of vitamins, here’s something for you.” He took a juicy orange slice out of his bag and pushed it through the bars of my cage.

“I see you got a new cage, too. Looks pretty much like your old cage, but at least you can’t get out anymore.”

Thanks for reminding me, I thought. Still, Aldo meant well and the orange was extremely tasty.

“You know, a guy like you could get hurt out here in the classroom. You could fall and break something or get caught in a drawer and not have any air. You could be stepped on or sat on or eat something that would make you sick.”

Aldo was making me nervous. On the one paw, I’d been out of my cage many times and nothing bad had happened to me. On the other paw, maybe I’d just been lucky!

“Anyway, pal, glad you’re safe and sound and back with Og.” Aldo folded up his lunch bag and went to work cleaning the room. He worked fast—no napping tonight—which made me GLAD-GLAD-GLAD.

Before he left, Aldo opened the blinds so I’d have light coming from the outside streetlamp. He said good night, turned off the lights and left.

The full moon that night gave the room a soft, silvery glow. I sighed and stared longingly through the bars of my cage. Never again would I slide down the table leg to get to the floor. Never again would I scramble under someone’s table to nibble on a nut or to perform one of my extraordinary deeds to help a friend.

As I gazed around the room, I saw something sparkling under Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. “Og, look! It’s a diamond! Or maybe it’s pirate treasure!”

Og splished and splashed.

I stared at the twinkling object. Aldo had probably missed it with his broom. The more I thought about it,
I realized there probably hadn’t been any pirates around lately. So what was it?

I kept my eyes on the glittering thing under the desk, and as it started to get light early in the morning, I finally saw what the treasure was: Mrs. Brisbane’s glasses!

She had missed them, my classmates had missed them, Aldo had missed them. I hadn’t missed them, but now I had no way to recover them and no way to tell anyone where they were.

“Og! Og, wake up!” I said. It’s hard to tell when a frog is sleeping because he does it with his eyes open. “I found Mrs. Brisbane’s glasses! They’re under her desk.”

“BOING?”

“If only I had my lock-that-doesn’t-lock!”

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged loudly, bouncing up and down. What on earth was my green and lumpy friend trying to tell me?

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og actually hit the top of his glass house.

“Are you trying to get out? What are you saying?” I squeaked.

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og was going to get a sore throat from all that croaking. Obviously, he wanted me to get Mrs. Brisbane’s glasses, but how?

“Okay, okay, I’ll try,” I squeaked, hoping to stop the racket for a while.

I’d already watched Mr. Brisbane test the cage door, but I decided to try again. I jiggled it, just as I had on my
good old lock-that-doesn’t-lock. It didn’t budge. I pushed up. I pushed down. I pushed with all my might.

The door stayed shut.

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og started up again. I gazed at him through the bars of my cage. He was bouncing higher and higher with each leap and he was twisting and turning in a very unfroglike way. Gail had demonstrated an old dance like that for the class one day. She called it “The Twist.”

“BOING-A-BOING-A-BOING-A-SCREEEE!” Again Og twisted himself from side to side. Maybe he needed to see the veterinarian.

Or … maybe he wanted me to
twist
the door handle?

I twisted it to the left and I twisted it to the right. I jiggled it and I joggled it. At least Og couldn’t say I hadn’t tried.

I was getting discouraged—and out of breath—when I had a new idea. I crouched down and got underneath the lock. Then I pushed up with my back and twisted it to the right.

The door flew open so fast, I tumbled out onto the table and did a double somersault.

I’d opened the door! Just as I did, Og leaped so high, he popped the top off his tank. He splashed around in the water with glee. I was a little dazed, but once I got my bearings, I thought about what I had to do. I didn’t want to get crushed or trapped or crunched or smashed. As always, I had to have a Plan.

I went over the route in my head for a few seconds.

TICK-TICK-TICK. I checked the clock and realized that school would start soon. It was time for action.

“Wish me luck, Oggy!” I said as I leaned over the side of the table, grabbed onto the top of the table leg and slid to the ground.

The floor was really slick—Aldo must have polished it while I was gone—so instead of running across the floor, I skated as if I were on old Dobbs Pond with Dot. Right paws—slide. Left paws—slide. Right paws—whoa! I spun around in a circle. I slowed down and managed to slide my way to Mrs. Brisbane’s desk.

There’s just the tiniest space between her desk and the floor. No wonder Aldo had missed seeing the glasses. Only a hamster could fit in such a tiny space. Being a small hamster often comes in quite handy.

I never realized that a pair of glasses could be so large and heavy—at least compared to me. I tried pulling them, but that didn’t work. Instead, I moved behind them and PUSHED-PUSHED-PUSHED until they were out on the floor, out in the open. But how was I going to get them back on the desk?

Og was going BOING-BOING-BOING again. I checked the clock. Oops! It was getting dangerously close to school time. Sometimes Mrs. Brisbane comes in early, and I couldn’t risk getting caught again. I decided to leave the glasses on the floor, cross my paws that no one would step on them, and get back to my cage. Try as I could, I wasn’t getting anywhere
until
I remembered
watching kids on sleds after the big snowstorm in January. I threw myself on the floor and slid all the way across on my stomach. You know what? It was fun!

I got back to my table safely. Now came the tricky part. I’d done it before and I could do it again. I had to take a deep breath, grab the long cord hanging down from the blinds and start swinging. I pushed to start the cord swinging. Hanging on tightly, I pushed harder and harder so each swing carried me higher. I tried to ignore that churning in my tummy. There was no time to waste!

At last, I was even with the side of the table. I closed my eyes, took a dive and slid across the table, straight to my cage. Panting, I raced inside and shut the door behind me.

“BOING-BOING-BOING!” said Og.

“Thanks,” I squeaked.

At that exact moment, the classroom door opened and the lights came on. Mrs. Brisbane had arrived.

“Good morning,” she said. “You fellows are certainly talkative this morning.”

She took off her coat and walked toward her desk. All I could think was: PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE let her see those glasses!

She walked straight toward them. In fact, it looked as if she was going to walk right over them.

“STOP! LOOK! LISTEN!” I squeaked.

“BOING - BOING - BOING - BOING - BOING!” Og chimed in.

Mrs. Brisbane turned to Og and me. “What on earth are you trying to say?”

Realizing there was nothing to say that she would understand, Og and I became quiet.

Then—oh, joy—Mrs. Brisbane looked down. “My glasses!”

She had a big smile on her face as she picked them up. “Why, I spent last evening tearing up my house looking for these. How did I miss them yesterday?”

She stared down at the glasses. “Aldo might have found them, but he wouldn’t have left them on the floor.”

Mrs. Brisbane swung around and walked toward Og and me. “I wish you could tell me how they got there.”

“Me, too,” I squeaked weakly.

Og dove into the water and splashed around.

“Well, all I can say is thank you. And I hope you understand what I’m saying,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

She turned and headed back to her desk. “I must be losing my mind. I’m talking to a hamster and a frog,” she said softly under her breath.

But I knew she wasn’t losing her mind. I was just happy that she’d found her glasses.

MRS. BRISBANE’S EYEGLASSES
MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEAR!

Just as mysteriously, they reappear the next day.

The Humphreyville Herald

C
LANG-CLANG-CLANG!

“Hear ye, hear ye! The town of Humphreyville welcomes you!” That was A.J., ringing a bell and wearing a funny three-cornered hat. I guess Mrs. Brisbane picked him to be the town crier because he had the loudest voice in the class.

“It’s seven o’clock and all is well. Your tour guides will now show you around the town.”

After two weeks of excitement and lots of hurried, scurried hard work, Parents’ Night finally arrived.

I’m so used to being alone in the quiet classroom with Og on weeknights—with a visit from Aldo—that it was strange but wonderful to see the whole room filled with my classmates’ families. I knew most of them from my visits to their houses: A.J. and all the Thomases; the Tugwells; Heidi and Gail and their families; the Rinaldis; the Patels; and all the Golden family (except the dog, Clem, thank goodness), including her mom, dad, stepmom, brother Ben and stepsister Abby.

Even Paul and his mom were there. The class had voted to make him a full citizen of Humphreyville.