Surprises According to Humphrey (16 page)

T
hat’s what she said, Og,” I told my froggy friend later that evening. “She wondered if she really made a difference.”

“BOING-BOING!” He sounded truly alarmed.

“I know!” I answered. “No matter how much I try to tell her that everyone appreciates her, she doesn’t understand.”

“BOING-BOING-BOING!” At least Og seemed to get it.

“If there was just a way to get all her students together to thank her for all she’s done! Boy, would she be surprised.”

Og took a huge dive into his tank and splashed noisily.

I remembered what Mr. Brisbane told me on the way to Maycrest Manor. He said they were having a surprise party and I was the surprise.

“Og, we should give her a surprise party,” I squeaked excitedly. I could just see it!

Og splashed like crazy. He wouldn’t have any water left if he kept that up.

But how could a tiny hamster and a small frog manage to throw a party?

“
We
wouldn’t have to give the party,” I continued. “If we could just suggest it to somebody like Aldo, or a parent, or Principal Morales.”

Og was silent. Maybe he was thinking. I was thinking, too. I was thinking that Mrs. Wright said that the principal had a suggestion box outside his office. If I could just put a suggestion in that box, maybe he would give a surprise party for Mrs. Brisbane.

I quickly told Og my idea. His response was quick. “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!”

“Great!” I answered. “All I have to do is write the suggestion and take it down to the office.”

The fact that my tiny writing was hard for humans to read and the fact that I had no idea where the principal’s office was did not discourage me one little bit.

Now I had a Plan.

I waited until Aldo had cleaned Room 26 before starting on the note. I neatly chewed a piece of paper from my notebook and took my small pencil. Then, in letters as big I could make them, I carefully wrote

Suggest: MRS. B.
30 YEARS
SURPRISE PARTY

Then I put the note in my mouth and opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock.

“Wish me luck, Oggy. I’m on my way!” I announced.

“BOING-BOING!” I knew that meant “good luck.”

I then began the longest and most dangerous journey of my lifetime.

Of course, the door to Room 26 was shut. Aldo always closes and locks it when he leaves. How stupid of me not to think about it. I’m not one to give up easily, so I examined the bottom of the door and saw that there was a narrow opening. It wasn’t much, but hamsters are able to flatten themselves and slip through some very small spaces, so it was worth a try.

Grasping the paper in my teeth, I hunkered down close to the floor and slid into the gap. I could feel the bottom of the door scraping my back, but I didn’t mind because I’d made it!

It was dark out in the hallway and eerily quiet.

Now I faced another obstacle: which way was the principal’s office? I figured it was near the front door, where I’d been carried in so many times. But the cage was always so thumpy and bumpy, it was hard to see where I was going.

I rushed past the side door to the playground—I certainly didn’t want to go
there
at night—to the end of the corridor. There was some low light in the hall, which made it seem even creepier than if it had been completely dark. The doors here looked like other classrooms, except
for a small door that had a sign reading Custodian over it. Aldo has his own room at Longfellow School? You learn something new every day!

I noticed something else: a sound was following me.
Crinkle-crinkle. Crinkle
-
crinkle
.

I stopped for a second and the sound stopped, too. I crept forward.
Crinkle-crinkle
.
Crinkle-crinkle
. The sound was back.

I stopped again and looked back over my shoulder. I didn’t see anything: no Aldo, no aliens, nobody at all. When I turned back, the piece of paper I was holding in my teeth brushed against the floor.
Crinkle-crinkle-crinkle-crinkle
. Whew—that was the sound. I was following myself! I reminded myself to tell Og that part of the story when I got back. But first, I had to find the suggestion box.

I hurried down the hallway, glancing at each door. Then I looked straight ahead. There was the front door! And across from it was a big glass window and an even bigger door than the other rooms had. I moved closer and read the sign over the door: Principal.

JOY-JOY-JOY! I scurried as fast as I could toward that wonderful door. All I had to do was drop my note in the suggestion box and race back to Room 26 and my scheme would be a complete success.

Crinkle-crinkle-crinkle-crinkle.
I looked up at that big door, but there was no box in front of the principal’s office! Nothing next to it, either. It simply wasn’t there. I stood there, feeling completely crushed.

And then, I looked straight up. There was a large box
attached to the door, way above my head. I backed up so I could read the writing on it: SUGGESTION BOX. That was great, but how was I supposed to get up there? I couldn’t climb up the side of the doorway because it was completely smooth and there was nothing to hang on to. Even though I’m quite an acrobat, I certainly couldn’t jump
that
high.

I remembered once when Richie and Seth made little airplanes by folding pieces of paper and throwing them. I wished I’d paid more attention. I considered making an airplane out of my suggestion, but I couldn’t figure out how to sail it up to the box.

Just then, I heard the familiar squeaking of Aldo’s cleaning cart. Normally, I was delighted to see my friend, but this time, I didn’t want him to find me out of my cage. I dropped my suggestion on the floor and darted across the hall, into the shadows under a drinking fountain.

Aldo whistled a happy song as he pushed his cart past the drinking fountain. He didn’t notice me, thank goodness. But he stopped in front of the principal’s office and bent down to pick up the piece of paper. My heart sank when I saw him start to toss it into his trash bag. But then he stopped and examined it, lifting the note up so he could get more light.

“Mamma mia,”
he said. “Thirty years?” He looked puzzled. But instead of throwing the note in the trash, he dropped it in the suggestion box. Then he continued down the hall, turning right at the corner.

I heard another loud noise: THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. But I wasn’t scared this time because I knew it was just the pounding of my heart.

I peeked around the corner just in time to see Aldo lock the door marked Custodian. He didn’t have his cart anymore, so I guess he was finished for the night. He wore a hat now, and he turned and disappeared from view.

I counted to one hundred. When I was sure the coast was clear, I raced back down the hall and slid under the door of Room 26.

I had to swing back up to my table using the cord from the blinds like a trapeze, but I’d done that many times before. As scary as it was, it couldn’t compare to what I’d experienced in the hallways of Longfellow School that night.

“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og greeted me.

Once I was back in my cage, I took a long drink of water and caught my breath.

It took most of the rest of the night for me to tell Og all that had happened and for us both to ponder what Aldo thought about that note and whether Principal Morales would even read it.

I spent most of the next day dozing, but once or twice I woke up. I was pleased to see that Heidi was raising her hand, at least most of the time. When the last bell rang, Mrs. Brisbane quietly congratulated her and gave her a riddle sticker.

The rest of the week was QUIET-QUIET-QUIET. After all the testing, and the silliness, it was nice to be back to a normal classroom, but I was worried. Had Mr. Morales gotten the suggestion? Did he like the idea? And what would he do about it? In my time at Longfellow School, I’ve noticed that humans can be smart, nice and even important like the principal and still not understand the simplest thing a hamster tries to tell them.

You can have a great idea, you can have a Plan, but sometimes it doesn’t work out. Maybe I could think of another way to tell Mrs. Brisbane what a great teacher she is, but for now, I was fresh out of ideas.

Two weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, Mrs. Brisbane read aloud to us, which is something she does so well. This was a thumping good story about a pig. I’ve never seen a pig, but this story made me care about him a great deal. In fact, I was so nervous about what would happen to that pig, I hopped on my wheel for a good, fast spin.

Then it happened. That unbelievably loud BEEP-BEEP-BEEP was back and I was so surprised, I tumbled off my wheel into my soft bedding.

“Class, it’s the fire alarm,” said Mrs. Brisbane. She seemed a little nervous. “Please form two lines.”

Even though Jeff Herman had said to leave the pets and let the firefighters rescue them, Garth and A.J. took Og’s tank while Miranda gently picked up my cage. Sayeh came forward to help her.

“Children, no!” Mrs. Brisbane said.

“Please?” asked Miranda. We were already at the door.

Mrs. Brisbane shook her head. “Oh, go ahead.”

Before I knew it, we were out in the hall, where all the other classes were lining up. In the distance, I heard the screech of Mrs. Wright’s whistle.