Mysteries According to Humphrey Read Online Free

understand me.”
    Og piped up first. “BOING-BOING.”
    â€œYou are WRONG-WRONG-WRONG!” I squeaked, wishing with all my might that Mr. E. could understand me.
    He didn’t notice. He was too busy rummaging around in that big cloth sack.
    Suddenly, he stopped and smiled. “Okay. I’ve got it!”
    That’s all he said.
    I thought I’d pretty well figured out humans in my time as a classroom hamster so far. But Mr. E. was a real mystery to me.

    When my friends were back in their seats, Mr. E. announced that it was time for math.
    Some of the students groaned, until the teacher reached into his bag and pulled out a basketball.
    â€œWe’re going to play a game,” he said. “It’s called Mathketball!”
    My friends looked puzzled. I didn’t blame them.
    â€œOf course, we could just have a math quiz,” Mr. E. said. “If you’d like.”
    â€œNo!” the students all yelled. “Mathketball!”
    Mumphrey. Mog. Mathketball—all mystery words. I was learning a whole new language today.
    First, Mr. E. threw the ball to Slow-Down-Simon. “Quick! Four plus four.”
    Simon caught the ball and said, “Eight!”
    â€œGreat,” Mr. E. said. “But in Mathketball, instead of saying the answer, you bounce it.”
    Simon looked confused for a second and then he understood. He bounced the basketball one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight times.
    â€œThat’s it,” Mr. E. told him. “Now throw it back.”
    The teacher caught the ball and threw it to Be-Careful-Kelsey. “Ten minus five,” he said.
    Kelsey bounced the ball one-two-three-four-five times.
    â€œGreat,” Mr. E. said. “Now throw it back.”
    Kelsey dropped the ball and it bounced across the floor.
    â€œCareful,” Mr. E. said as he scooped it up.
    Just-Joey caught the ball next and when Mr. E. said, “Twelve plus three,” Joey bounced it one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen times. I know because I counted!
    Then the ball went to Paul G. “Six plus five,” Mr. E. said.
    Tall-Paul bounced it one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten times. Then he stopped.
    â€œOne more time!” I squeaked. I guess he didn’t hear me.
    Mr. E. gave him another chance, which was nice, and Tall-Paul got the problem right.
    As the game went on, the pace went faster and faster. As it got more exciting, it also got louder and louder.
    And then . . . the door to Room 26 swung open. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Wright.
    Mr. E. looked pretty surprised when he saw her. Maybe he noticed her whistle. I certainly did.
    â€œHello?” he said. It was more a question than a greeting.
    â€œYou’re the substitute for Mrs. Brisbane?” she asked.
    â€œYep. I’m Mr. E.,” the substitute said.
    Mrs. Wright looked puzzled. “Mr. E.?” she asked. “That’s your name?”
    Mr. E. laughed. “My name is Edonopolous, but Mr. E. is fine with me.”
    Mrs. Wright frowned. I guess Mr. E. wasn’t fine with her.
    â€œAnd you are . . . ?” Mr. E. asked.
    â€œMrs. Wright,” the PE teacher answered.
    To my GREAT-GREAT-GREAT surprise, Mr. E. laughed. “Mrs. Wright? I guess you’re never wrong!”
    Some of my classmates giggled, but Mrs. Wright wasn’t the giggling type. She stepped into the classroom and looked around.
    â€œIs that basketball the property of Longfellow School?” she asked.
    The substitute shook his head. “Nope. I brought it from home.”
    That didn’t seem to please Mrs. Wright at all. “You’re probably not aware that basketballs are only allowed outside on the playground. No ball-playing in the classroom,” she said. “And only official Longfellow School equipment is allowed.”
    â€œReally?” Mr. E. seemed surprised.
    â€œReally,”