Teacher's Pet by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

me chuckle.
    â€œAre they in good shape?” Mr. Carlson asks.
    â€œPretty good,” Brenna says. “A couple of them need to have their teeth or nails trimmed. Maggie said Dr. Mac was going to take care of that.”
    â€œHere,” David says, holding out a hamster. “Want to hold one?
    â€œSure,” Mr. Carlson says. “What color is it?”
    â€œSort of a yellow-goldish color,” David says. “It likes to hide.”
    â€œOh, it’s Einstein,” Mr. Carlson says. “The classroom animals are all named after scientists.”
    â€œThat figures,” David says. He sets the hamster into Mr. Carlson’s hands.
    My teacher slips the tiny creature into the pocket of his shirt, then reaches in and scratches the hamster between the ears. “The janitors and the substitute who had my class last year have been taking care of them.”
    Einstein delicately sniffs Mr. Carlson’s fingertips, then crawls to the top of the pocket and sniffs the curls of his beard. Scout wags his tail and pants a bit, then lets out a soft whine.
    â€œShh, Scout, it’s OK,” Mr. Carlson says. “It’s just a hamster. We like hamsters.”
    He puts a hand down to pet Scout, who jumps up a little on his back paws. He whines again and licks Mr. Carlson’s hand.
    â€œWhat’s gotten into you?” Mr. Carlson asks.
    â€œHe’s drooling and his tail is down,” I explain. “I think he’s confused. He knows he shouldn’t act up, but I think he’s jealous. Maybe he shouldn’t be so close to the box.”
    â€œOK, boy, you’re a good boy,” Mr. Carlson says gently to his dog. “Scout, back.”
    They step backward, away from the box of animals. That seems to calm Scout a bit.
    â€œOne more minute,” Mr. Carlson continues. “Just sit nicely for one more minute. The hamsters won’t hurt you.”
    I set some fresh cardboard tubes in the mice cage. “Are you going to correct our quizzes this afternoon?”
    â€œNo, not now,” he answers. “I’ll do that when my reader comes over tonight.”
    â€œWhat’s a reader?” Brenna asks.
    Mr. Carlson lifts the hamster to his shoulder. “A reader is someone I pay to read students’ work to me. That’s the one thing technology hasn’t mastered yet—handwriting.”
    The hamster on Mr. Carlson’s shoulder sniffs at his ear. “That tickles,” Mr. Carlson laughs as he reaches up for Einstein.
    â€œHnnn, hnn,” Scout whines.
    â€œOK, Scout, we’ll leave the rodents alone and get back to work.” He hands Einstein to David. “You’d better take this little guy.”
    â€œRowff!” Scout barks suddenly.
    The startled hamster leaps out of David’s hands and lands on a desk, then hops to the chair and onto the floor. It scrambles between Zoe’s legs.
    â€œLook out! she shrieks. This frightens the rabbit, which jumps out of Brenna’s arms and streaks past Scout. Brenna lunges after the rabbit, stumbles, and knocks over the cardboard box that holds the rest of the animals.
    â€œRowff, rowff!” Scout barks and lunges forward. He pulls Mr. Carlson off balance. Mr. Carlson stumbles, tripping over Scout and stepping on his sore paw. Scout yelps in pain.
    â€œThey’re getting away!” Zoe yells.
    â€œThe door,” Mr. Carlson shouts. “Close the door! ”
    Hamsters head for the door, gerbils run under the desks, and the mice run in twenty different directions. Everyone shouts at once.
    â€œGet them!” hollers Brenna.
    â€œLook out! warns Sunita.
    â€œUnder the desk! says Zoe.
    â€œDon’t step on them!” I caution.
    â€œRowff, rowff!” “ Scout barks.
    â€œScout, no! Scout, sit!” scolds Mr. Carlson.
    â€œThe door, get the door!” yells Brenna.
    â€œShoot! The hamsters are running down the hall,” David reports