Winter According to Humphrey (9781101591222) (4 page)

It didn't sound like “Jingle Bells,” but at least Og was trying his best.

Later, I snuggled under the bedding in my cage with the notebook and pencil I keep hidden. I tried to draw two snowflakes that were exactly alike, but you know what
?
I couldn't do it!

I liked the idea that no two snowflakes—and no two people or hamsters or frogs—are exactly alike. I knew that Small-Paul was smart and knew a lot about science, but was he right about this
?

HUMPHREY'S WINTER WONDERINGS:
Are any two hamsters ever alike? It's STRANGE-STRANGE-STRANGE to think that somewhere there might be a classroom hamster named Humphrey who's just like me!

4

Sour Notes

I
was on pins and needles until Friday, waiting for Ms. Lark to come back.

Would she be upset when she found out that the words to her song were wrong
?

Would the girls be upset if she said they couldn't be snowflakes after all
?

Would everyone be upset with Small-Paul for ruining the whole song
?
Would I
?

“Ms. Lark, Paul Fletcher did some research and found that there's a problem with one of the lines in your song,” Mrs. Brisbane explained when the music teacher arrived. “It
is
possible for two snowflakes to be identical.”

Ms. Lark looked surprised. “Really
?
That's not what I learned in school.”

Mrs. Brisbane called on Small-Paul to explain.

“What I read said that while there probably have never been two snowflakes that are alike, there is a
possibility,
” he said. “And of course, who would know for sure
?
Because you'd have to look at every snowflake that ever fell.”

“Wow, that's a whole lot of snowflakes,” Thomas said.

Ms. Lark blinked a few times as she thought. “Let's take a vote,” she said at last. “Raise your hand if you think we should change the song.”

Not one hand—or paw—went up. Even Small-Paul didn't raise his hand.

“Good,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “And I think I have an idea that will make everything clear. I'll tell you later. For now, I'll let you sing.”

And SING-SING-SING we did as Ms. Lark played on her keyboard.

First the boys sang all of “Jingle Bells.” I squeaked right along with them, but I think they drowned me out.

Then the girls sang “No Two Snowflakes Are Alike.” I didn't squeak along with them, since I'm not a girl. Instead, I hopped on my wheel and spun to the music.

I forgot one thing, though. My wheel makes a noise. It's not a little SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK like mine, but a loud SCREECH-SCREECH-SCREECH. The more I spin, the more it screeches.

Suddenly, Ms. Lark looked up and stopped playing the music.

Some of the girls kept on singing, until they noticed she had stopped.

Ms. Lark stared in the direction of my cage, so I stopped spinning my wheel as well.

“Is that the—
?
” she asked.

“Oh, that's Humphrey's wheel. He enjoys spinning to music,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

“So do I,” Rosie said as she spun her wheelchair in a circle.

“Can we cover the cage with a cloth or something
?
” Ms. Lark asked. “So we don't have to hear him
?
”

Cover my cage with a cloth
?
Could my tiny hamster ears actually have heard those words
?

“Oh, no!” Sophie gasped. “He'd feel terrible if you did that!”

I was so happy that someone knew I wouldn't like that!

“I don't think we need to cover his cage,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Let's just sing a little louder.”

I was so worried that Ms. Lark would cover my cage, I didn't squeak—or screech—at all as the boys practiced “Jingle Bells” again.

They sounded fine to my small ears.

But Ms. Lark stopped again and said, “Who's that
?
”

The singing ended again.

“It wasn't me,” I squeaked.

After all, I can't be blamed for everything!

“Sing again, boys,” she said. “This time I won't play.”

The boys cheerfully repeated “Jingle Bells.” But this time, Ms. Lark walked away from the keyboard and stood in front of the boys, looking hard at each one.

When she was standing in front of Just-Joey, she frowned.

“I'm afraid it's you, Joey,” she said.

The boys stopped singing.

“What did I do
?
” Joey asked.

“I'm afraid your singing is a little bit off-key. In fact, I'm afraid your singing was way off-key,” she said.

“Off-key
?
” he said.

“Yes,” Ms. Lark said. “You're not singing the right notes. Could you sing more softly
?
”

Joey nodded.

When the boys started singing again, Joey didn't just sing more softly. He didn't sing at all. His mouth was closed and he stared down at his feet.

It was the saddest “Jingle Bells” I ever heard.

“Poor Joey. I think he felt terrible about singing off-key,” Mrs. Brisbane told Ms. Lark when my friends left for recess.

“I hated to say anything,” Ms. Lark answered. “But Joey's singing was awful. He almost sounds like that frog over there. He's so off-key, he'll throw everyone else off, too.”

“I'm sure he'll try to do better,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

“He certainly will!” I squeaked.

Ms. Lark sighed. “I know, but will he be better by the time of the show
?
It's very important to me.”

“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.

I don't blame him for sticking up for frogs (although I have to admit, the sounds Og makes don't sound much like singing).

Ms. Lark shuddered as she glanced over at Og and me. “Don't those animals bother you while you're teaching
?
” she asked.

“Not a bit,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “The children learn a lot from them.”

“And
you
could learn a lot from Mrs. Brisbane,” I squeaked. If only humans could understand me—at least once in a while!

I'm not quite sure Ms. Lark believed Mrs. Brisbane . . . or me.

“They won't . . . bite
?
” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Og certainly doesn't. And Humphrey doesn't, either, though some hamsters may give you a nibble if they're scared. It's not
their
fault,” she said.

I'm not sure, but I think Ms. Lark squeaked. She might not like hamsters, but she sounded like one!

“They won't hurt you,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Now, why are you so worried about the show
?
”

“It took a lot of hard work to convince Mr. Morales to let us have a winter program,” Ms. Lark said. “Finally, he said we could try it this once and see how successful it is. So I want everything to be perfect.”

Mr. Morales is the principal and the Most Important Person at Longfellow School. So naturally, Ms. Lark would want him to be pleased.

Mrs. Brisbane put her arm around Ms. Lark's shoulders. “I do understand, Mary. But try to relax. I know the children won't let you down. And the parents will love the show.”

“They will!” I squeaked.

“BOING-BOING!” Og agreed.

Ms. Lark left, thank goodness. But for the rest of the day, I thought about Joey. I didn't think he, or his family, would enjoy the show if he didn't get to sing.

And once we were alone at the end of the day, I opened the lock-that-doesn't-lock on my cage and hurried over to Og's tank.

“I'm sorry about what Ms. Lark said about your croaking,” I said. “I thought you and Joey sounded GREAT-GREAT-GREAT.”

It wasn't actually true, but for once, I thought it was all right to bend the truth a little.

After all, I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

I wouldn't want to be like Ms. Lark.

Right before school let out for the day, Mrs. Brisbane gave the class an assignment.

When she said the word “homework,” everybody groaned as usual. But my classmates cheered up quite a bit when she told us what it was.

“On Monday, I want you to talk about what you like best about the winter holidays,” she said. “We're all going to share our traditions and memories. And if you'd like to bring something in that has a special meaning for you, please do.”

There were nods and smiles. Sophie leaned over and whispered something to Phoebe, until Mrs. Brisbane told her to stop talking.

Being a young hamster, I didn't have any traditions. I'd spent last Chanukah at Stop-Giggling-Gail's house—she's Simon's sister. They lit candles and sang and they opened presents. Oooh, it was wonderful. Then I spent Christmas at Mrs. Brisbane's house and had a hamster-iffic time! They opened presents under a sparkling tree.

But Og didn't come into Room 26 until after the holidays.

“Og, do you know about all the celebrations that happen during the winter break
?
” I asked him.

He splashed around in the water but he didn't have anything to say.

Poor Og didn't even know about holiday fun.

Suddenly, all I wanted was for my goofy, googly-eyed neighbor to receive a present for the holidays.

And I wanted it to be from me!

HUMPHREY'S WINTER WONDERINGS:
I wonder what kind of a gift a frog would like? I do know what a frog's favorite drink is. Croaka-cola!