Imagination According to Humphrey (9 page)

Reading the list, I realized that what I REALLY-REALLY-REALLY like to do is to help my human friends. There was no way one little hamster could accomplish such big goals in real life, but Mrs. Brisbane said it should be fiction. Maybe if I used my imagination, I could think of something.

“Watch out,” I squeaked to Og. “There might be another brainstorm!”

If I could fly, how could I help my friends
?
A flying squirrel wouldn't work for me. I'd need to fly like a hamster.

But one hamster couldn't accomplish everything I wanted to do.

I'd need my own great big airplane. Then I could fly to the pyramids and Phoebe's house and I could fly Mrs. Brisbane to Tokyo.

That was it! Flying Hamster Airlines! I could fly all my friends to places they wanted to go. And since it was an imaginary airline, I could fly to imaginary places, too!

“Og, if I could fly, I'd start my own airline,” I squeaked.

He splashed around in the water, which usually means he's happy.

But I don't know if frogs even know what an airline
is.

“That means you fly people all over the world in a big shiny airplane,” I explained. “Hey, if you could fly, you could start a Flying Frog Airlines!”

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og leaped into the water and began to splash.

I guess he knew what an airline was after all.

I grabbed my pencil and began to write.

I'm proud to be the first hamster ever to become an airplane pilot. Now that I've started my own company, Flying Hamster Airlines, I can fly my human friends anywhere they want to go.

I kept on writing, without even pausing.

First, I'll drop Holly off at Phoebe's house, and spend some time catching up with my old friend. Next, I'll take Joey to the town where his dad lives. Then I'll zip over to Europe so Simon can eat Italian food and I'll take Kelsey to see a ballet in Paris . . .

I wrote and wrote and wrote.

I didn't even notice how tired my paw was getting.

And when I was finished and I read what I'd written, I felt . . . well, proud!

MY WRITER'S RAMBLINGS
I tried and tried again
and then I kept on trying.
And now I am so happy:
my imagination's flying!

Rosie's Casa

M
y friends' imaginations were flying as well—all except for Joey's. He still spent more time staring at his notebook than writing in it.

Believe me, I knew how he felt.

Mrs. Brisbane was encouraging, but somehow, she wasn't getting through to him.

One day, the Most Important Person at Longfellow School—our principal, Mr. Morales—came in to see how we were doing. He was wearing a tie with little pencils all over it.

“I hear you have a room full of authors here,” he said. “Mrs. Brisbane said you're doing very well.”

He wandered up and down the aisles, looking at each notebook and making comments.

When he read Small-Paul's page about time-traveling through space, he said, “Fantastic idea!”

He high-fived Sophie when he read about the parrots.

He had something nice to say about everyone.

Then he came to Joey. “So, what are you writing about
?
” the principal asked.

He couldn't really tell, because Joey had covered his page with his arm.

“I'm off to a slow start,” Joey said.

Mr. Morales persuaded him to move his arm. He studied Joey's page. “Keep going. I love your idea of flying to Africa.”

Joey muttered, “Thanks.” I don't think he believed Mr. Morales, but our principal would never lie!

“What's this
?
” Mr. Morales asked, nudging Joey's arm. “On this page
?
”

Joey wrinkled his nose. “Oh, just doodles. I'm always doodling.”

“But they're very good,” Mr. Morales said. “They are very, very good.”

“I like to fool around with drawing,” Joey said, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“You should illustrate your story,” Mr. Morales said. “Don't you think so, Mrs. Brisbane
?
”

Mrs. Brisbane came over to Joey's desk and looked at his notebook. “I hadn't seen these. Mr. Morales is right.”

“Is it all right for us to draw pictures for our stories
?
” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “I think it would be great. But this
is
a writing assignment, so you need to have words to go with the pictures.”

Joey seemed more interested.

Mr. Morales looked at Rosie's notebook next. He smiled when he read what she'd written. “Great description.”

Rosie's smile lit up the whole room!

Then he talked to the whole class. “Mrs. Brisbane and I have been talking, and we've come up with a big surprise for you when you've finished your stories.”

That got my whiskers wiggling! And my friends seemed excited, too.

“So do the best work you can,” Mr. Morales continued. “You've got something big to look forward to.”

“How big
?
” I squeaked. “As big as an elephant
?
Or a dragon
?
”

Mr. Morales heard me and laughed. “Oh, do you have a story idea, Humphrey
?
”

“Yes! I do!” I squeaked.

Everybody laughed at that. “I think I'd like to read your story,” Mr. Morales said, acting as if he understood me.

Suddenly, I realized that as good as my story might be, no one would ever read it.

And stories are meant to be shared.

I hopped on my wheel and began to spin to shake off my disappointment.

As soon as school emptied out, I scurried out of Room 26. “I'll be quick,” I told Og.

“BOING-BOING!” Og chimed.

As soon as I slid under the door of Room 12, Gigi said, “Is that you, Humphrey
?
”

“Yes, here I am!” I squeaked as I rushed toward her table.

I swung up to her tabletop and noticed that she wasn't shaking the way she usually did.

“What's new
?
” I asked.

“Yesterday, a boy told me I was his best friend,” she squeaked in her soft voice. “And today, a girl said she loves me!”

“That is unsqueakably wonderful!” I said. “That's why being a classroom pet is the BEST-BEST-BEST job in the world.”

“Now I understand,” she said. “Thank you for encouraging me.”

“Anytime,” I said.

It was getting dark outside. “I've got to get back,” I told Gigi. “But I'll see you soon!”

When I returned, I told Og, “Now Gigi loves being a classroom pet.”

“BOING-BOING!” Og replied. I knew he loved being a classroom pet, too. Especially in Room 26.

I worked on my story, even though I knew no one else would ever read it.

Still, it was exciting to get my ideas down on paper.

On Thursday morning, I overheard Joey talking to Mrs. Brisbane.

“So, what did your mom say
?
” our teacher asked him.

Joey looked so disappointed. “She said this isn't a good week. That's what she says every week. I don't think I'll ever get a turn.”

“Your mother is very busy. But I have an idea,” our teacher said. “Rosie said she could bring Humphrey home this weekend. Don't you live on her street
?
”

Joey nodded.

“It's her first time taking Humphrey home,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Maybe you could go to her house and help her out.”

Joey shrugged. “I guess I could do that.”

That afternoon, I overheard Mrs. Brisbane talking to Rolling-Rosie.

“I was wondering if you'd like to invite Joey to come over this weekend,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “He hasn't been able to take Humphrey home and he knows a lot about hamsters.”

“Sure,” Rosie said. “I'd like that. He lives just down the street.”

Mrs. Brisbane hesitated. “And you know, maybe you could help Joey with his writing. He has wonderful ideas, but he has trouble getting them down on paper. You're doing a great job, so maybe . . .”

Rosie nodded. “Yes, I'll do it.”

“But don't let him think you don't like what he's written,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

Rosie shook her head. “No! I'll just cheer him on. Like you always do.”

“Thank you, Rosie,” Mrs. Brisbane told her with a smile.

On Friday, Rosie's dad—she called him “Papa”—came to pick us up.

“So, Humphrey, I hope you know what you're getting into, coming to our house,” Papa said. “It's a pretty busy place.”

“I know I'll like it,” I said.

When we got there, I met her younger brother and sister, Diego and Elena. And Rosie's mom—she called her “Mama”—was very friendly.

“Rosie is in charge of Humphrey,” she told Diego and Elena. “Don't touch the cage or do anything else without asking her first.”

She is a wise mama!

On Saturday, Mama went to the store. When the doorbell rang, Rosie rolled to the door as her father opened it.

Joey was standing there, holding a skateboard.

“Come on in,” Papa said in his booming voice.

“Here's Humphrey,” she said as she rolled her chair in my direction. “I waited for you to clean out his cage. I could use your help.”

Joey leaned down and put his face close to mine. “Hey, Humph,” he said. “How's it going
?
”

“GREAT-GREAT-GREAT,” I squeaked.

“Make yourself at home,” Papa said.
“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Thanks,” Joey said, putting his skateboard and backpack on the floor next to the table.

“I'm glad you remembered your skateboard,” Rosie said.

“Why'd you ask me to bring it
?
” Joey asked. “And my notebook
?
”

Rosie's eyes were sparkling. “The skateboard, because it's nice outside. And the notebook, because . . . well, you'll see.”

Just then, Diego chased Elena through the room.

“Whoa!” Rosie's father said. “Stop and say hello to Joey.”

“Hi, Joey,” Diego said.

Elena giggled.

“Hi,” Joey said.

“Now you're
it,
” Diego said to Elena and she chased him out of the room, squealing with laughter.

Papa shook his head. “Those two. Do you have brothers or sisters
?
”

Joey shook his head. “No. It's just me. And my dog, Skipper.”

Thinking about Skipper made me glad I didn't get to go to Joey's house after all.

Rosie and Joey got busy cleaning my cage, with Papa's help.

First, Rosie took me out of the cage. She held me in one hand and gently stroked my back with one finger. It felt like a soft breeze on my fur and I shivered with delight.

Rosie put me in my hamster ball and set me on the floor.

When I started to roll, Papa chuckled. “Look at him go!”

They put my bedding in a bag and cleaned almost everything in my cage with warm, soapy water.

I was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY they didn't move my mirror and find my notebook. I don't think warm, soapy water would do it much good. I was glad they didn't wash
me
in warm, soapy water, too. (Hamsters should never get wet.)

When everything was dry, Rosie filled the base of my cage with fresh bedding. She remembered to mix a little of my old bedding in with it before Joey slid it back into place.