“There you are, Joe,” said Mom. “It’s not like you to be the last one to the table. Certainly not when your dad’s frying up a breakfast feast!”

“Yeah, I was just . . . in the bathroom.”

“What do you want for breakfast, Joe?” called Dad, as he put some bacon in the frying pan. “Toast? Or the works: bacon, eggs, and hash browns?”

Joe’s mouth watered as he breathed in the smell of the frying bacon. “Toast and the works, please!”

He was just about to sit down when a little voice squeaked, “WATCH OUT!”

It was Dumpling.

Joe’s heart sank. “I told you to stay put!” he whispered as Dumpling climbed up onto the table.

Sarah peered over the top of her magazine and raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Who are you talking to, twerp?”

“Oh, um . . . no one.”

“What’s for breakfast?” asked Dumpling.

Joe sat down, glaring at the hamster. “Get off the table!”

Sarah put down her magazine. “Seriously, who are you talking to? Your imaginary friend?” She giggled.

“I don’t have an imaginary friend!” Joe snapped.

“I told you, they can’t see or hear me,” said Dumpling. “Look.”

To Joe’s horror, Dumpling waddled across the table toward Sarah and jumped up and down, raising a dust cloud around him. Sarah carried on reading, totally oblivious to the zombie hamster leaping around the table.

“Here you go, Joe,” said Mom, handing him a plate of toast spread with her homemade jam. Joe’s stomach growled—his favorite! But as he reached for the toast, Dumpling made a dive for it, too, and it quickly began to disappear.

“Slow down, Joe!” Dad laughed as he returned to the table with a plate of bacon and eggs for Sarah. “You’ve eaten half your toast in ten seconds flat!”

“Maybe his imaginary friend is helping him,” Sarah said with a smirk.

“Come on, Sarah,” said Dad. “Leave your brother alone.”

Joe scowled at his sister. She was almost as much of a pain as Dumpling, who was now licking jam off his sticky paws.

The hamster turned to Joe. “So, shall we get started on finding Oliver?”

“I’m not going to help you!” Joe hissed.

“He’s doing it again,” said Sarah. “Did you hear him, Dad? He’s talking to himself like a five-year-old!”

Toby, who was six and had been happily talking to himself for the last ten minutes, made a face at her. So did Joe. But before a fight could break out, Mom came over to the table. Then her nose twitched, her eyes watered—and she sneezed loudly! “Has the neighbor’s cat been in here?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Dad shook his head.

“Perhaps Joe’s imaginary friend is making you sneeze, Mom,” said Sarah. “Maybe he’s a big hairy collie dog.”

If only! thought Joe. But then it occurred to him—maybe Sarah wasn’t too far from the truth. Could it be Dumpling setting off Mom’s allergies? She couldn’t see him, but could she somehow sense him?

Mom’s eyes were streaming now, and her nose had turned red. Joe had to get Dumpling as far away from her as possible. He picked up the hamster and stuffed him into his pocket (much to Dumpling’s annoyance).

“Here we are!” said Dad, handing Joe a full plate. “The works!”

“Sorry, Dad, I can’t eat any more. I feel a bit sick after eating the toast so quickly. You have it,” he said. Joe leaped to his feet and dashed to his bedroom before Dad could stop him.

“I had to miss breakfast because of you!” he hissed, dropping Dumpling onto his desk.

Dumpling huffed. “If you’d just listen, I would explain why I need your help.”

“Right!” snapped Joe. “I’m listening now.”

Dumpling was quiet for a moment, and then he began . . .

“It’s all very sad,” said Joe. “But I still don’t see how I can help you.”

Dumpling plucked a pencil out of Joe’s desk drawer and nibbled it. “It’s Oliver I want you to help. I don’t think he knows it was his mom who left my cage open.” Dumpling gnawed harder. “He must be wondering how it happened. And he’ll be so, so lonely without me—it’s already been a week since the accident.”

Joe frowned. “So you want me to make sure Oliver is okay? That’s it?”

The hamster nodded.

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No, but the badge on his book bag looks just like the one on yours.”

“You think he goes to my school?” Joe racked his brain for any Olivers he could think of. “I think Toby has a friend called Oliver . . .”

Dumpling suddenly brightened. “That might be him! I know, tomorrow I’ll come to school with you and point him out.”

“Maybe . . . ,” said Joe, who wasn’t sure he wanted to take Dumpling to school.

But Dumpling was happy (for the moment, anyway). He yawned, emptied out the rest of the pencils from the drawer, and climbed inside it. “Tomorrow we’ll go to school,” he said sleepily. “And we’ll see Oliver and make sure he’s all right . . .” His eyes began to close. And then, as though someone had pressed a SLEEP button, Dumpling was suddenly snoring.

Joe sighed. Hamsters! Up all night, asleep all day! Dogs were definitely much better pets. He tiptoed out of his room and back downstairs to see if there was any bacon left.