“Boys and girls, it’s time for Chloe to share what she did with Harold when she took him home with her for the weekend,” said my teacher, Mrs. Wushy.
“This should be good,” Jessie whispered in my ear.
“Oh, yeah,” I giggled. “Real good. I feel sorry for Harold already.”
“Chloe, come on up, and bring the Hamster Journal with you,” said Mrs. Wushy.
Chloe bounced to the front of the room and sat down in the teacher’s chair. She smoothed her skirt and cleared her throat—”hmmm, hmmm.” Then she carefully opened the journal to her page. “Harold and I had a marvelous weekend,” she began.
“Oh, boy, here we go,” my best friend, Robbie, muttered under his breath.
“First, I took Harold to the beauty parlor.”
“The beauty parlor?” Max interrupted. “Hamsters don’t go to the beauty parlor. That’s only for people.”
“Max,” said Mrs. Wushy, “please do not interrupt. That is very rude. Right now it is Chloe’s turn. If you want to make a comment, please raise your hand.”
“As I was saying,” Chloe continued, glaring at Max, “I took Harold to the beauty parlor, my beauty parlor, at my house. His fur was looking a little messy, and he smelled stinky, so I thought I’d give him a little wash and a quick blow-dry.”
“A wash and a blow-dry?” I snickered. “Does she realize that Harold is a hamster?”
“I put him in the sink and washed him with my special pink Strawberry Sparkle shampoo, the one that makes my curls so shiny and bouncy,” she said, fluffing her hair. “I covered him in soapy bubbles, and he looked like a little, puffy, white cloud.”
“Is she kidding?” Jessie whispered to me. “I can’t believe the little thing didn’t jump out of the sink and run away. I know I would have!”
I looked at Robbie. He was just sitting there, shaking his head.
“I rinsed him off and wrapped him up in my super-soft princess towel. He looked so adorable!”
“Do you know that Harold is a boy?” Max interrupted again.
“Stop interrupting me, Max,” Chloe snapped. “It’s not your turn!”
“Well, boys don’t like sparkly shampoo and princess towels. You are such a weirdo.”
“I am not a weirdo. Mrs. Wushy, make him be quiet. He’s ruining my story.”
“Max,” said Mrs. Wushy, “you may not yell out like that and interrupt people. I’ve also talked to you many times about calling people names. If you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t open your mouth at all! I already gave you one warning. Now you need to go sit in a chair. If I have to talk to you again, then I’m sending you to the principal’s office. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Max muttered under his breath.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Wushy.” Max got up and went to go sit in a chair. He gets sent to that chair so many times, it ought to have his name on it!
“Now where was I?” Chloe continued.
“Almost done, I hope,” I whispered to Jessie.
“Don’t count on it,” she whispered back. “She’ll go on all day if you let her. She loves to hear herself talk.”
“After Harold’s bath, I got out the blow-dryer and fluffed him up. Then I tied a little ribbon in his hair.”
I heard Max groan from the back of the room, but he bit his lip and didn’t say anything. He had already been to the principal’s office once this morning. I don’t think Mr. Pendergast would be too happy to see him again.
“I took a picture of him, so you could all see how cute he looked.” Chloe held up the journal where she had taped a picture of Harold with a pink ribbon tied on the top of his head. “Doesn’t he look precious?”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Robbie said.
“Only one more minute, Chloe,” Mrs. Wushy said.
“One more minute! There’s no way I can finish telling you about everything Harold and I did together in one minute.”
“Well, choose one more thing you want to share about your weekend with Harold. The class can read the rest when it’s their turn to take the journal home.”
Chloe scrunched up her nose. “It’s so hard to choose. Ummmm. Oh, I know, I painted his toenails with pink polish and …”
“OK. Well, thank you, Chloe,” Mrs. Wushy said, cutting her off.
“But wait. I’m not finished.”
“Oh yes you are,” Jessie whispered in my ear.
“Oh yeah,” I nodded. “She’s finished, all right.”
“Chloe, we’ve run out of time,” Mrs. Wushy continued. “Thank you for taking such good care of Harold. It sounds as if he had a wonderful weekend.”
“It sounds to me like he couldn’t wait to get out of there,” Jessie said. “Poor little Harold. How did he survive?”
“Let’s see…. Who’s next on the list? Freddy, it looks like it’s your turn, but I know your mom doesn’t let you have animals in the house, so …”
“Oh, it’s OK…. It’s … uh … fine with her.”
“It is?” Robbie whispered in my ear. “When did you ask her?”
“Well, I haven’t actually asked her yet, but I know she’s going to say yes,” I whispered back.
“Dream on,” Robbie said.
I swatted his face away with my hand.
“Are you sure it’s OK?” Mrs. Wushy asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. She thinks Harold is really cute, and she said I could bring him home for the weekend.”
“Listen to you! Now you’re just talking crazy,” Robbie muttered.
I glared at him and then turned back to Mrs. Wushy. “My mom will be here on Friday after school to pick up Harold.”
“Well, all right,” said Mrs. Wushy. “How nice of your mom.”
“Yes, how nice,” Robbie said, smiling at me.
I let out a big sigh, and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Think, think, think,” I muttered. I really had my work cut out for me. How was I ever going to convince my mom to let me bring Harold home?