Little Shop of Hamsters

  I followed him. “Not great,” I confessed. “There were a couple of bad things that happened. Not my fault.”

  He nodded.

  “I had this idea,” I said. “Maybe … well … maybe I could help out here in the store. You know. Do chores. Feed the hamsters, give them water or something.”

  Fitz’s mustache twitched. He locked his dark eyes on me. “You mean an after-school job?”

  I nodded. “You wouldn’t have to pay me or anything,” I said. “If I had a job here, I could prove I’m responsible with pets, right? My parents would be totally impressed.”

  Fitz’s mustache twitched again. But his expression didn’t change. “I don’t know, Sam,” he said. “This is a very small store.”

  “But I could help. I really could!” I insisted. “I’m very good with animals. Very careful. If you’d just give me a chance …”

  Mr. Fitz hesitated a long while. “Well, why don’t we give it a try?” he said finally. “I guess I could use the help. So many hamsters to take care of.”

  “Yes! Yes!” I cried, pumping my fists in the air.

  He scratched his head again. “I could even pay you a little each week, Sam,” he said.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” I said.

  A few hamsters peered out through the glass. They were probably wondering what was up out here.

  “You can feed and water them,” Fitz said. “And clean the cage. And do some other chores around the shop.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said.

  “Tell you what,” he added. “A couple of weeks from now, I’ll phone your parents and tell them how responsible you’ve been.” He smiled. “If it works out.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll work really hard. And … and I’ll study up on hamsters. I’ll learn all about them so I can help you better. And —”

  I didn’t get to finish my sentence. The door jangled and swung open — and Lexi came bursting in.

  “I knew I’d find you here, Sam,” she said.

  I couldn’t wait to tell her my news. “Lexi, Mr. Fitz just gave me an after-school job!”

  “Sweet,” she said. She slid open the door to the hamster cage and lifted out a fat white-and-gray hamster. She cradled him in her hand and began to pet him gently.

  “What’s your job going to be?” Lexi asked me.

  “I’m going to feed them,” I said. “And do other chores around the shop.”

  “That’s totally sweet,” Lexi repeated. She turned to Mr. Fitz. “Can I have a job, too? I can help Sam or something.”

  I held my breath. Why did Lexi always want to help me?

  Fitz shook his head. “I’m real sorry,” he said. “But I don’t think there’s enough work in the shop for three people.”

  Lexi let out a sigh. She gently stroked the hamster in her hand. I could see how disappointed she was. She put him back in the cage.

  Suddenly, her expression changed. She walked over to the counter and with her free hand picked up the head to the big hamster. “I could wear this,” she told Fitz.

  His eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?”

  “I could wear the hamster costume outside. You know. Walk up and down the block in it. Get attention for the store.”

  “Okay,” Fitz said. “Sounds like a plan. Sam will work inside the store, and you’ll work outside in the costume.”

  “Excellent!” Lexi cried happily. She slapped Fitz a high five. He looked a little surprised by it.

  “Tell you what,” he said to her. “I’ll pay you two dollars for every customer you bring into the shop.”

  Lexi slapped me a high five.

  “I have to go downstairs and bring up a bag of wood shavings,” Fitz said. “It comes in twenty-pound bags. Very heavy. You two watch the store while I’m down there.”

  He stepped around the giant glass cage and disappeared down the basement stairs at the back of the store.

  “I am so totally pumped!” Lexi exclaimed. “This was such an awesome idea, Sam. We’ll have so much fun here — and you’ll prove to your parents how responsible you are.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and —”

  I stopped with a gasp. A gasp of horror.

  I uttered a weak cry. And then I grabbed Lexi’s arm.

  “Look!” I gasped. “Lexi — you left the cage door open. The hamsters — they’re all ESCAPING!”

  I slid the cage door shut. Then I dove to the floor and grabbed a hamster in each hand.

  They squirmed like crazy. But I held on tight and pushed them back into the cage.

  Lexi was racing around, pulling hamsters off the floor, tucking them under her arm. She had four or five of them safely captured. When she tried to push the hamsters into the cage, two escaped again.

  Lexi let out a cry as they darted across the floor. She dove after them.

  Hamsters were racing in all directions. I scooped up another one that was heading for the basement door.

  I glanced up and saw two girls looking in the front window. “Don’t let anyone open the front door!” I screamed at Lexi.

  A hamster jumped over my shoes and ran behind the counter. I swung around. Grabbed another little guy off the floor. Jammed two more back into the cage.

  Two more hamsters were heading toward the basement door. I took off after them — and then I stepped on something and heard a loud SQUISSSSH.

  “Ohh, sick!” I moaned.

  I tried to lift my foot. My shoe stuck to the floor.

  My stomach lurched. I started to gag.

  “Lexi — I — I just squashed one!” I stammered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Lexi ran over. She had a hamster in each hand. She gazed down at my shoe.

  And started to laugh.

  “Sam, it’s not a hamster,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a sponge!”

  “Huh?”

  I reached down and pulled it off the bottom of my shoe. A sticky, dirty sponge. Mr. Fitz must have dropped it.

  Lexi laughed so hard, she almost dropped the two hamsters.

  “It’s not funny!” I cried. “Hurry! I hear Fitz. He’s coming up the stairs.”

  We tossed the last hamster back into the cage and slid the door closed — just as Fitz stepped back into the shop.

  I was panting hard, gasping for breath. Lexi slumped against the wall of the hamster cage.

  “Everything okay?” Fitz asked. He dropped a big green bag on the floor.

  “Yeah. No problem,” I said, still struggling to breathe. I gazed all around.

  Were any escaped hamsters still running loose?

  I wanted to strangle Lexi, just a little. I mean, it’s nice to have a friend who always wants to hang with you. But why did she always have to turn everything into a total disaster?

  “Can we start our jobs now, Mr. Fitz?” Lexi asked.

  He scratched his mustache. “Well, why not? Good idea.”

  Lexi pulled the hamster costume off the counter. She lowered it to the floor and began to climb into it.

  Fitz handed me the big green bag. “These are wood shavings, Sam. Climb into the cage and freshen up the floor. There’s a shovel in the corner. Shovel out the old shavings and spread fresh ones.”

  “Shouldn’t we remove the hamsters first?” I asked.

  “No place to put them,” Fitz answered. “Just work around them.”

  “No problem,” I said. I tore open the bag. The shavings smelled like pine trees.

  Fitz disappeared down the basement stairs again.

  Lexi put on the hamster head. But after a few seconds, she pulled it off. She mopped her forehead with one furry paw.

  “Wow. It’s hot in this thing. Maybe you and I should trade jobs. You like to be outdoors, right?”

  “No way,” I said. “Don’t complain. And don’t mess up.”

  She placed a paw over her chest. “Me mess up? You’re joking, right? I never mess up!”

  “Listen, Lexi,” I said, “everything has to go perfectly. Fitz sa
ys in a week or two, he’ll call my parents and tell them how responsible I am. But if you mess up —”

  “No problem,” Lexi said. “I’m only here to help you, Sam.”

  I rolled my eyes and groaned.

  She pulled the hamster head back on and walked out the front door.

  I found the shovel and carried it into the hamster cage. The little guys scampered all around me as I stomped around inside the cage.

  “Yuck.” I almost gagged again. The stench inside was unbelievable!

  My shoes slid over clumps of sticky stuff. It smelled sour. How could little hamsters poop this much? And it had to be at least two hundred degrees in here!

  “Move out of the way, guys!” I said. “I’ve got to clean this place up. It stinks!”

  I started to shovel up some of the old shavings. I knew the fresh wood shavings would help make it smell better.

  I got down on my knees to spread the shavings over the floor. Shavings stuck to my jeans. Other stuff stuck to my jeans, too. Gross.

  Next time, I’ll wear a pair of old jeans, I decided.

  Hamsters scampered over my legs. One tried to climb my arm. I gently placed him on the floor.

  Through the glass, I could see Lexi outside. She was marching back and forth outside the store.

  I dug into the bag and tossed a handful of shavings onto the floor. “Hey!” I cried out when I saw a hamster standing on its hind legs, perfectly still. The hamster stared hard at me.

  I lowered my head to stare back at it. And I saw the tiny freckles above his nose.

  Yes, it was definitely Freckle Face. The same hamster. The one Lexi stole!

  Without warning, he leaped at me. He grabbed on to my shirt pocket with both front paws.

  “Whoa! How did you do that?” I cried. “Are you SUPER-Hamster?”

  I tried to shake him off me. But he clung tightly and pulled himself up to my pocket.

  “Let go! Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted. “Come on, hamster — let go of me!”

  The cell phone candy dispenser fell from my pocket and landed on the floor. The hamster let go of my shirt and dove after it.

  I laughed. I finally realized what the little dude wanted.

  “More candy?” I asked it. “You want another candy?”

  I grabbed the dispenser. “It must be tastier than seeds,” I said. “Okay, fella. I’ll give you one. But just one!”

  I popped a candy into the air — and another hamster grabbed it!

  The second hamster shoved the candy into his mouth and gulped it down.

  Freckle Face didn’t move. He stared up at the candy dispenser.

  I laughed again. “Your pal stole your candy!”

  Both hamsters had their eyes on the phone in my hand. I lowered it toward the first little guy and squeezed out two more candies.

  The candy balls dropped to the floor and disappeared under the wood shavings.

  They both began to dig frantically, tossing shavings aside, burrowing with their noses.

  “Oh, wow!”

  They each grabbed a candy and shoved it into their mouths.

  And then, as I watched in shock, they turned and attacked each other!

  “Hey — stop!” I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  The two hamsters began to claw at each other, nipping furiously at each other’s throats!

  They clamped their paws around each other — and began wrestling around in the shavings and the muck on the floor.

  Biting, kicking. Growling! A wild, desperate battle.

  This is IMPOSSIBLE!

  I knew instantly what had happened. The candy. One little piece of the orange candy had turned them wild. Made them crazy and wired.

  Cute little hamsters turned into fierce fighters!

  What a horrible mistake. But how could I know the candy would do this to them?

  Freckle Face let out a whimper as the other hamster clawed furiously at his belly.

  “Hey, Sam — how’s it going in there?” I heard Fitz call to me through the glass.

  “Uh … fine!” I shouted back. “No problem!”

  I couldn’t let him know. I couldn’t let him see what I had done to his hamsters.

  I crawled forward to block Fitz’s view of the hamster fight. Then I grabbed a hamster in each hand and pulled them apart.

  “Hey!” I let out a startled cry as they wriggled free.

  Freckle Face leaped to my shoulder and began to claw furiously at my neck.

  The other hamster sank his teeth into my wrist.

  “Owww!” I couldn’t hold back my scream.

  Did Mr. Fitz hear me?

  Freckle Face dove to my arm and clawed a hole in my shirt. The other hamster bit the back of my hand.

  I twisted in pain. I felt a trickle of warm blood on my wrist.

  I swung my hand hard — and sent the vicious little creature flying across the cage.

  Then I grabbed Freckle Face around the middle and tugged him off my arm.

  My heart pounding, I grabbed the shovel and started crawling to the cage door. But before I reached it, the two snarling hamsters came running at me on all fours.

  They jumped onto the backs of my legs, scratching and biting.

  I twisted around and smacked them off with my hand.

  I gasped when I saw the froth pouring over their chins. Their eyes bulged crazily. They were snarling like angry dogs!

  Before they could attack again, I slid open the cage door and staggered out.

  I shoved the door shut behind me.

  I grabbed my knees and struggled to catch my breath.

  “What have I done?” I muttered. “What have I done to those hamsters?”

  I frantically tried to brush myself off. But my jeans were totally covered in wood shavings and sticky hamster poop. My T-shirt sleeve was ripped. My shoes were covered in gunk.

  “Mr. Fitz?” I called, my voice hoarse and trembling.

  “He went back downstairs.” I turned and saw Lexi leaning on the front counter.

  The hamster head lay on the counter next to her. She had a bottle of Vito-Vigor tilted to her mouth, and she was gulping down the whole bottle without taking a breath.

  She finished the drink, then wiped her mouth with a furry costume paw. “It’s boiling in this costume!” she cried. “I need air-conditioning or something inside here!”

  She set the empty bottle down behind the counter. Then she squinted at me. “Yuck. What happened to you?”

  I shook my head. “I got dirty cleaning the cage,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I wasn’t sure she’d believe me about the hamsters turning vicious!

  “Sam, you’re a total mess,” Lexi said.

  “Tell me about it,” I groaned. I decided to change the subject. “Did you bring in any customers?”

  She sighed. “No. Some drivers honked at me. But nobody stopped. Some kids came walking by. But they said they didn’t want hamsters because they’re just rats without tails.”

  Fitz stepped out from the basement doorway. He gazed into the cage and smiled. “Good job with the shavings, Sam,” he said.

  “Uh … thanks.” Didn’t he see I was covered in scratches?

  He checked his watch. “It’s getting late,” he said. “See you two after school tomorrow?”

  “Excellent!” Lexi said.

  I just wanted to get out of there and clear my head. I knew I had messed up.

  It will all go back to normal tomorrow, I told myself.

  I started out the front door — but turned back for a final glance at the cage.

  The two hamsters were standing on their hind legs, noses pressed to the glass. Watching me.

  Watching …

  After dinner, I played with Noah for a while. He pretended to be a hamster, and I had to chase after him all over the upstairs. Then he pulled me down to the floor. He jumped on me and tried to lick my neck.

  When I pushed him away, it made him angry. I grabbed him under his arm
s and raised him into the air.

  That made him even angrier. He started kicking his feet, struggling to push himself down onto me.

  He’s pretty strong. But I held him up there till he turned red in the face.

  Finally, he said, “No more hamster game. Me quit!”

  I lowered him to the floor. His hands were squeezed into little fists. His face was still red. “No more hamster!” he shouted.

  Dad appeared in the hall. “Sam, what were you doing to Noah?” he asked.

  “We were just playing,” I said.

  “No more hamster! No more hamster!” Noah pounded his fists on the wall.

  “Why did you get him all crazy and wired before bedtime?” Dad demanded.

  I shrugged. “He’s always crazy and wired.”

  Mom came to put Noah to bed.

  “Me wired,” he told her. “Me very wired.”

  That made them both laugh their heads off. I told you — they think Noah is a riot.

  Dad followed me into my room. I sighed. “I have so much homework, I’ll be up all night.”

  I dropped down in front of my computer. Dad squeezed my shoulders. “How’s the job going?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said. I had to lie — right?

  “What are you doing in the shop, Sam?”

  “Just helping out. You know. Feeding the hamsters and stuff.”

  “And Mr. Fitz is a nice guy?” Dad asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. He’s nice to Lexi and me. It’s pretty quiet there. He doesn’t have many customers.”

  “Maybe he should sell dogs and cats and birds and other animals,” Dad said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe hamsters will become a total craze. You know. And everyone will want one. And Mr. Fitz will become the richest pet store owner in America!”

  Dad laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “Well … Mom and I are proud of you, Sam. If you keep this job and Mr. Fitz gives you a good report, we’ll get you any pet you want.”

  “Really?” I turned to my dad with a big grin on my face. “Can I have an elephant?”

  Dad laughed. “Do you really want to clean up after an elephant?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “But don’t worry, Dad. You’ll get a good report from Mr. Fitz. I promise.”