The World According to Humphrey (6 page)

Mrs. Brisbane gave her a note to bring back from her family on Friday.

I napped the rest of the afternoon, but whenever I woke up and glanced over at Sayeh’s desk, I saw her doing something I’d never seen before.

Smiling.

O
n Friday afternoon, Sayeh’s father, Mr. Nasiri, picked us up after school. He had a friendly smile and gentle eyes, but he was as quiet as his daughter.

Sayeh lived in a tall building, so Mr. Nasiri carried my cage up one, two, three flights of stairs to their clean and quiet apartment.

Mrs. Nasiri opened the door for us. She spoke to her husband and daughter, but I couldn’t exactly understand what they were saying.

“Hummy! Hummy!” a little voice called out.

Sayeh’s little brother, Darek, toddled toward the door to greet me.

“Say
Humphrey,
” Sayeh gently corrected him.

“Hummy,” he said.

The Nasiris put my cage in the living room, right in the middle of a big table. Then they pulled up chairs so they could all sit and stare into my cage.

It seemed as if they were waiting for something to happen, so I decided to give them a show. First I spun on my wheel for a while. Then I climbed up the side of the cage and dived down into a pile of soft paper.

They were obviously impressed with my performance as they talked quietly. The funny thing is, I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. No wonder Sayeh got 100% on all her vocabulary tests. She and her family knew a lot more words than I did.

They finally went to the kitchen to eat dinner. Later, while the rest of the family watched television, Sayeh’s mother quietly sat by my cage, watching me. She seemed NICE-NICE-NICE.

Eventually, it was bedtime for the Nasiris. But after the lights were out, Sayeh slipped out of her room and came back to my cage and whispered to me. I could understand her again.

“Now you know my secret, Humphrey,” she whispered. “My family doesn’t speak English. Well, my dad does a little, but he’s shy about it. Mom hasn’t learned any English at all. And Darek’s too little.”

“I understand,” I squeaked.

“That’s why I don’t like to talk in class,” she explained. “I don’t talk like the other kids. I’m afraid they’ll laugh at my accent. That happened to me when I was little.”

“But you don’t sound different,” I frantically squeaked. “I understand you just fine.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t understand me. All she heard was “Squeak-squeak-squeak.” I guess maybe I have an accent, too.

“But I have an idea that maybe you could help me teach Mom English,” Sayeh continued.

“Glad to help out if I can,” I squeaked to her.

“You’re a real friend,” Sayeh replied.

See? She understood me after all.

The next day, I dozed until late afternoon, when Sayeh led her mother back to my cage.

“Humphrey only understands English, Mama,” Sayeh said. “Speak English. Say ‘Humphrey.’ ”

Sayeh’s mom looked a little frightened, but she tried.

“Hum-freee,” she said.

“Hummy,” Darek cried as he raced into the room and climbed onto his mother’s lap.

“Say, ‘Hello, Humphrey,’ ” Sayeh gently instructed her mother.

“Hel-lo, Hump-free,” Mrs. Nasiri said.

I squeaked, “Hello,” right back and she broke into a huge smile.

“Hello,” she said.

“Good job,” I said.

Well, things went swimmingly from then on. In a matter of hours, Sayeh’s mom was saying, “How do you do?” “Nice to meet you.” “Would you like some water?” (I did, thank you.)

Even when Sayeh and Darek left to go to the store with their father, Mrs. Nasiri kept on talking. I let her know I understood what she was saying by wiggling my whiskers and hanging by one paw from the top of my cage.

“Good boy, Humphrey,” she said.

Sayeh and her father were amazed at Mrs. Nasiri’s progress when they returned. The family spent the rest of the evening practicing English.

First, Sayeh pretended to be a guest at the door. She went into the hall and knocked.

Her mother opened the door. “Hello, Sayeh,” she said. “Won’t you come in?”

Then Darek went out and knocked. Mrs. Nasiri opened the door and said, “Hello, Darek. Won’t you come in?”

He rushed in and toddled right over to the table, shouting, “Humfy! Humfy!”

Next, Sayeh convinced her dad to practice English with her mom.

“What time it is?” asked Mrs. Nasiri.

“What time is it?” Sayeh corrected her.

Mrs. Nasiri got it right the second time. Then Dad looked at his watch. “Seven-fifteen,” he answered.

“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Nasiri asked.

“Yes, please. I would like some tea,” Mr. Nasiri answered.

Guess what? They had a tea party right on my table.

As a reward for all their hard work, I spun my wheel as fast as my legs would go, and they all cheered.

Later, after the lights were out, Sayeh slipped out of her room to talk to me again.

“Thank you, Humphrey,” she whispered. “My mom says she’s ready to go to English class now. But I wish you were the teacher.”

“So do I,” I squeaked, and I meant it.

There were more English lessons on Sunday and Sayeh showed Darek how to clean out my cage. Suddenly, the boy began to giggle.

“Humphrey poop!” he yelled. His English was improving, too.

On Sunday night, Sayeh gathered her family together again.

“I want to teach you the American song,” she said. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing, “Oh, say, can you see? By the dawn’s early light.”

I stood up, just like we do in the classroom when “The Star-Spangled Banner” is being sung. But I’d never heard it sung like that before. Sayeh had the most beautiful voice in the world! It was like a gentle breeze . . . no, like rippling waters . . . no, it was . . . well, it was beautiful.

If only our classmates in Room 26 could hear her!

Which gave me the start of another idea. But I didn’t have time to think much at all. Because soon, the whole family was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and I squeaked right along with them! Even on those high notes.

When we got back to school on Monday morning, though, I was a little disappointed. Mrs. Brisbane asked Sayeh how things went over the weekend.

“Fine,” said Sayeh. And nothing more.

Like Ms. Mac said, “You can learn a lot about yourself by getting to know another species.” But boy, sometimes it’s a lot of work.

That Monday, I sat in my cage worrying about Sayeh for quite a while before I dozed off. When I woke up, I noticed that Room 26 had changed. The bulletin board was covered with brightly colored leaves. The tops of the chalkboards were lined with big paper witches, ghosts and skeletons. Hanging from the light fixtures were black crepe-paper bats. Then I looked to my right and gasped. A horrible, huge orange face with an evil grin was staring directly at me. I jumped back, my heart pounding.

“Hey, Humphrey, don’t you like old pumpkin head?” A.J. whispered to me from his seat nearby.

“Look! Humphrey’s scared of a little old jack-o’-lantern,” Garth said. “Scaredy-cat. Scaredy-hamster.”

I stood up straight and looked as un-scared as I possibly could.

“Quiet, Garth and A.J.,” said Mrs. Brisbane. Then she quickly returned to a math problem she was writing on the board.

Suddenly, I noticed a little movement in the center of the room. A murmur. A change. I looked over and YES-YES-YES! Sayeh had her hand up. Everyone noticed it, except Mrs. Brisbane, who had her back to the rest of us.

“Mrs. Brisbane?” Heidi called out.

Without turning, the teacher said, “Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi.”

Now Heidi had her hand raised as well as Sayeh.

“Well, what is it?” Mrs. Brisbane turned to face the class and was obviously surprised at what she saw.

“Yes, Sayeh,” she said.

In a loud, clear voice, Sayeh said, “May I move the pumpkin away from Humphrey’s cage?”

Mrs. Brisbane looked from Sayeh to the cage and back.

“Yes. I guess it is a little close. Thank you, Sayeh.”

Sayeh rose and hurried to my table to push the ugly old jack-o’-lantern away. She didn’t say a word, but she winked at me and I knew what she meant.

“Heidi, did you want to say something?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

“Not anymore,” she said.

Everything went back to normal until the bell rang for recess. As my classmates all scattered and ran toward the door, Garth paused by my cage.

“Scaredy-cat,” he muttered. Then he moved the pumpkin right up against my cage again.

I puffed up my cheeks as big as I could get them. It was going to be a very long day.

H
allow-Een. Or Hollowin’. Or Howloween. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I was pretty sure I didn’t like it.

Especially on Monday night, after Mrs. Brisbane turned out the lights. That’s when those skeletons on the wall took on an eerie glow.

The bats hanging from the ceiling began to whirl and twirl.

And the smile on that ghastly orange pumpkin face looked more like a wicked smirk.

WEIRD-WEIRD-WEIRD.

So I was thrilled when Aldo flicked on the lights.

“Whoa. It looks like Halloween in here,” he exclaimed as he wheeled in his cleaning cart. He strolled over to my cage as usual and bent down so we were face-to-face.

“So, are you going to wear a costume for Halloween? It’s Wednesday, you know. Halloween is when the ghosts and goblins come out to play,” he explained.

“Eeeek!” I squeaked.

“No, no, it’s not scary. It’s just fun. All the kids will wear costumes. Richie’s going to be a werewolf. So what are you going to wear? A fur coat?” He laughed at his own joke, then began his cleaning routine, talking to me as he swept and dusted.

I started thinking about this costume thing. Ms. Mac had a costume party once while I was staying with her. People dressed up like kings and pirates and ghosts, and Ms. Mac dressed up like a clown with a sparkly pink wig and a funny face.

Nobody wore a fur coat.

I thought about this costume thing all night and the next day.

When Garth threw a piece of wadded-up paper in my cage, I wondered about the costumes.

When A.J. tripped on his way up to the chalkboard and Gail didn’t giggle, I wondered about the costumes.

Even when Mrs. Brisbane called on Sayeh and she answered her, I wondered about the costumes.

And I came up with a Plan of my own.

On Wednesday, Halloween arrived. But there were no costumes. I was extremely disappointed until Heidi blurted out, “Mrs. Brisbane, when are we going to have the party?”

“Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi,” the teacher told her.

Heidi obediently raised her hand and Mrs. Brisbane called on her. This time, when Heidi asked her question, Mrs. Brisbane said, “We will have our lessons this morning. After lunch, you may put on your costumes and we’ll start the party.”

I felt HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY and got in a nice nap for the rest of the morning.

But I was wide-awake after lunch. My classmates returned from the cafeteria, then scurried off to the cloakroom and the bathrooms and returned. But I hardly recognized them in their costumes.

Oh, they were wonderful! A dragon, two pirates, a princess, a ninja. Two clowns, a ballerina, a bunny, a cat (thank goodness not a real one), a baseball player, a mad scientist, a skeleton, the Statue of Liberty, an angel and a devil!

The room mothers came to help with the party. They were both dressed as witches. Still, Mrs. Brisbane was the scariest of them all.

She didn’t wear a costume—just a button that had the words “This IS my costume” printed on it.

She gathered everyone in a circle, pushing all the tables back. Then she announced that the class would be having some treats. But in order to get them, they each had to do a trick: tell a joke, sing a song or perform a trick for the rest of the class.

Oh, I wish someone had told me. I had figured out the costume part, but what about this tricking for treats?

Art (the ninja) stood on his head. He stood on his head so long, Mrs. Brisbane finally had to thank him and tell him it was someone else’s turn.