Trouble According to Humphrey (17 page)

BOOK: Trouble According to Humphrey
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It’s not easy being a rat. It’s easier to make a decision. And even a rat like me can make the right decision. Of
course, I’d always known what the right thing to do was. Deciding to do it was another thing.

Later that evening, after their dinner, the Brisbanes sat near my cage and played a game of dominoes. It seemed like an interesting game with lots of dots on rectangular tiles. They moved the dominoes around, making long rows that crisscrossed the table. Occasionally one of them would shout out, “Good one!” or “Oh, no!”

I took a deep breath. Then, as I had done so many times before, I reached out, jiggled my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and opened the door to my cage. I darted out onto the table and danced across the dominoes, figuring I might as well enjoy my last bit of freedom.

Mrs. Brisbane gasped. “Humphrey!”

Just then, I lost my footing on the slick tiles and skidded across a row of dominoes, sending them scattering in different directions.

“Hey! I was winning,” said Mr. Brisbane. He scooped me up in his hand and stroked my fur. “Calm down, calm down.”

“How on earth did he get out?” Mrs. Brisbane leaned over to inspect the door of my cage. “I guess I didn’t close it all the way.”

“I guess not.” Mr. Brisbane gently put me back in my cage and closed the door. He tested it from the outside. “Now it’s closed tightly. Want to try another game?”

“Sure.” Mrs. Brisbane turned all the dominoes facedown so I couldn’t see any of the dots. She mixed them all up and she and her husband each drew seven tiles—which
they called “bones.” Mr. Brisbane drew one tile and put it in the center of the table and the game began.

I stopped to catch my breath. Mrs. Brisbane was convinced that she hadn’t closed the door properly. I still had a chance to keep my freedom (and keep being a rat). But I’d made up my mind and there was no turning back.

I waited until there were rows of dominoes going in all directions. Picturing Miranda’s face, I pushed my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and the door to my cage swung open. I scurried across the table, leaped onto the dominoes, and squeaked, “Don’t you get it? Miranda didn’t leave my cage door unlocked!”

I knew it sounded like “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK” to the humans, but I had to get my point across.

The Brisbanes looked more than surprised. They looked stunned.

“How did he do that?” Mr. Brisbane asked after a few seconds of silence. “I know that door was locked.”

Mrs. Brisbane picked me up. “Humphrey, what are you trying to tell us?”

Mr. Brisbane went over to my cage and fiddled around with the door again. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it,” he muttered.

He closed the door and joggled it. “It sure seems like it’s locked tightly. Hey, I have an idea.” He grabbed a pencil from the table and pushed it through the bars of my cage, pushing it against the inside of the lock.

This was one smart man.

He pushed it and nothing happened until he twisted it from the inside, the way I do. Of course, the door swung right open.

“That’s it! It looks as if it’s locked on the outside, but Humphrey can open it. I wonder how many times he’s done that?”

If they only knew!

“I always knew Humphrey was smart,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

Mr. Brisbane kept fiddling around with the lock. “It’s clearly defective. I guess we’ll have to get a new cage.”

“Or a new hamster,” said his wife. “Just kidding, Humphrey.”

She put me back in the cage and Mr. Brisbane closed the door. He wheeled out of the room for a minute and came back with a big piece of wire. “I’ll keep it closed for now. The wire will work, but it might be hard for your students to use. And who knows if Humphrey can undo it, too?”

I hoped I could.

Mrs. Brisbane suddenly stood up with a look of horror on her face. “Miranda!” she said with a gasp. “I punished her for not locking the cage and she was sure she did.”

“She probably did,” Mr. Brisbane agreed.

“Oh, I feel terrible, Bert. She even cried.”

So Mrs. Brisbane felt as bad about Miranda as I did.

“Well, nothing’s done that can’t be undone,” Mr. Brisbane said.

He was wrong. There was something done that could never be undone. My freedom and the chance to get out to help my friends were over.

Mrs. Brisbane decided to keep me home another day so her husband could get me a new cage. I was SAD-SAD-SAD to see my cage all wired up. But I went into my sleeping hut and slept soundly most of the day because I had a clean conscience for the first time in a long time.

I was no longer a rat.

The new cage looked a lot like the old one, especially after Mr. Brisbane transferred all of my belongings: my seesaw, my tree branch, my climbing ladder, my bridge ladder, my wheel (of course), my water bottle and my mirror—even the cage extension. I held my breath when he took that mirror out of my old cage. After all, I keep the secret notebook and pencil that Ms. Mac gave me behind it.

Luckily, I had planned ahead. The previous night, while the Brisbanes were sleeping, I spent a long time pushing the notebook and pencil against the back of the mirror. They fit perfectly into the little notch behind it. When Mr. Brisbane pulled the mirror out, he didn’t even notice the notebook and pencil. He hung the mirror on the side of my new cage. Whew! I might have lost my freedom, but at least I had my notebook and pencil to keep me busy.

Unfortunately, it was Friday, which meant that there was no school the next day, and nowhere to spend the weekend except with the Brisbanes.

It was a nice weekend, mostly quiet except when Bert Brisbane took me out of my cage and set up an amazing maze for me to run. The exercise felt good and I ate some more afterward.

I guess I was healthy after all.

On Monday morning, Mrs. Brisbane covered my cage with a blanket and took me back to school.

Room 26 was strange and yet familiar. For one thing, I’d been away for almost a whole week. For another thing, the houses of Humphreyville had been arranged on tables along the side of the room so it really looked like a town.

Everybody seemed glad to have me back.

“Hiya, Humphrey Dumpty,” said A.J.

“I missed you, Humphrey,” Sayeh said softly.

“It was lonely here without you,” Miranda told me.

“It was hard to sit still without you here,” Seth whispered. “But I did a pretty good job.”

“BOING-BOING!” Og greeted me. Even the crickets chirped.

The bell rang and my friends settled down in their chairs.

“Boys and girls, before we do anything else today, I have something important to say.”

The room was very quiet after those words. “Something
important” could mean a pop quiz, a special guest, or someone getting into trouble.

“I’m a teacher, but I’m also a human being. And all human beings make mistakes. I want to tell you about a mistake I made.”

There was one small giggle, probably from Gail. Then the room became even quieter.

“A few weeks ago, I accused Miranda of leaving Humphrey’s cage open. Because I felt that Humphrey could have been seriously injured, I had to lower her grade. That was my mistake.”

I glanced over at Miranda—and so did a number of my friends. She stared at Mrs. Brisbane, her eyes wide with surprise.

“It turns out there was something wrong with the lock on Humphrey’s cage. It appeared to be locked, but he was able to open it from the inside. He did the same thing to me that he did to Miranda.”

Now all eyes were not on Miranda. They were on me.

“Humphrey has a new cage now with a lock that works. Miranda, I am restoring your good grade.”

All eyes turned back on Miranda. She was smiling.

“Most important, class, I want to publicly apologize to Miranda for wrongly accusing her and for not believing what she said was true. She is an honest person and I hope she will accept my apology. Will you, Miranda?”

“Of course, Mrs. Brisbane. I was never sure—”


I
am sure,” said the teacher. “Now, please take out a piece of paper for our spelling test.”

Spelling test! I’d been gone all week and I didn’t even know what the words were. I went into my sleeping hut for a nap and slept quite comfortably knowing how happy Miranda was and how happy the whole class was for her.

Miranda—being Golden-Miranda and practically perfect—came over to my cage at the end of the day. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck in your cage, Humphrey. I bet you liked your freedom.”

Now
that’s
why I had to do what I did. “YES-YES-YES,” I squeaked out.

“I love you, Humphrey.”

Even being locked up in a cage didn’t seem so bad after all.

HUMPHREYVILLE REJOICES
AS HAMSTER RETURNS TO ROOM 26!

Mrs. Brisbane apologizes to Miranda Golden.

The Humphreyville Herald

In a Tight Spot

T
hat afternoon, feeling rested and raring to go, I crawled out of my sleeping hut because Mrs. Brisbane was going to read to us. She was an excellent reader and was starting a new book that had something to do with pirates and buried treasure. That was interesting to me because I like to bury my treasures (like nuts and other tasty nibbles) in my bedding.

Mrs. Brisbane sat down with the book, but she never did read.

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