CHAPTER 1
Hammy the Third
I t all started when the hamster escaped. Everyone thought it was Celia’s fault.
“It was
not
my fault,” she said. She looked at her big brothers and sister. She opened her blue eyes wide.
“Don’t bother to make puppy eyes,” said Derek, who was eight and impatient to be nine. “They don’t work on us.”
“Puppy eyes only work on grown-ups.” Tate was almost ten, and pretty, but she didn’t likeother people to talk about it. She flipped her dark brown ponytail over her shoulder and peered into the empty hamster cage. “How come you left the cage open?”
“I didn’t!” said Celia, stamping her foot. “I turned the latch like always, right after I fed him!”
Abner, who was the oldest and felt the burden of this, wiped Celia’s eyes. Then he gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Dry up, will you?”
“And help us look for Hammy,” said Derek. “We don’t know all the hiding places in this house yet.”
But the hamster was nowhere to be found.
“That was our third hamster, too,” said Tate, curling up against the dryer like a cat. The four of them were in the laundry room, the last place they had tried. “The parents will never let us get another one.”
“They’ll blame me,” Abner said gloomily.He drew his knees up to his chin. “They’ll say I’m responsible. Or if they don’t say it, they’ll
think
it.”
This was true, he felt, and not only because he was the oldest. He had been named after an elderly relative who had been some kind of hero a very long time ago. A painting of this relative, with a sword, hung in the museum in the city. Ever since Abner had been taken to see it, he had felt that he carried a heavy load.
“You’re not responsible. Celia is.” Derek kicked at a laundry basket, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He scrubbed at his straight, bristly hair and wished he could kick something more satisfying. A football, for instance. But football was best with a bunch of kids—and his friends were far away.
The move had been the hardest on Derek. Just one week ago, the Willow family had lefttheir comfortable old neighborhood, with its houses jammed right up next to each other. Derek had played a last game of street hockey, trying to ignore the men who were loading a moving van in his driveway. And then Mr. Willow honked the horn of the family car, and Derek climbed in and watched through the rear window until they turned a corner and his friends were gone.
“It’s only for a year,” his parents had said. “And you’ll love the house. It’s right in the country with lots of room to run around. Woods! A river!” But what Derek wanted most was a block full of kids who might want to toss a football, or shoot baskets, or play a little baseball down at the park.
After a long drive, the moving van had rumbled across a stone bridge. The Willows’ car followed it over a narrow river and up along, winding driveway to the top of a hill. And there was the house, three stories high, with a sprawling front porch and a toolshed and a big old barn, where they parked the car.
A thin belt of woods circled the house. When Derek ran to the edge of the trees and peered down, the few houses he saw were far away. True, the river was nearby. It curved around the base of the hill, and in one place it even widened into a swamp, which looked like fun. But there were no close neighbors at all.
And now there was no hamster.
“I’m telling you, I shut the latch!” Celia blinked three times, hard. She didn’t want everyone to think she was turning on the tears.
“We don’t really
need
a hamster,” said Tate, without conviction. She picked at the ragged edge of her sweatshirt. “Lots of kids go through life without one.”
“We need
something
alive,” said Abner. “We can’t get a good pet—like a dog—until we show we can take care of a little stupid one.”
“Hamsters aren’t stupid,” said Celia. She blinked twice more. “And
Hammy the Third
I t all started when the hamster escaped. Everyone thought it was Celia’s fault.
“It was
not
my fault,” she said. She looked at her big brothers and sister. She opened her blue eyes wide.
“Don’t bother to make puppy eyes,” said Derek, who was eight and impatient to be nine. “They don’t work on us.”
“Puppy eyes only work on grown-ups.” Tate was almost ten, and pretty, but she didn’t likeother people to talk about it. She flipped her dark brown ponytail over her shoulder and peered into the empty hamster cage. “How come you left the cage open?”
“I didn’t!” said Celia, stamping her foot. “I turned the latch like always, right after I fed him!”
Abner, who was the oldest and felt the burden of this, wiped Celia’s eyes. Then he gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Dry up, will you?”
“And help us look for Hammy,” said Derek. “We don’t know all the hiding places in this house yet.”
But the hamster was nowhere to be found.
“That was our third hamster, too,” said Tate, curling up against the dryer like a cat. The four of them were in the laundry room, the last place they had tried. “The parents will never let us get another one.”
“They’ll blame me,” Abner said gloomily.He drew his knees up to his chin. “They’ll say I’m responsible. Or if they don’t say it, they’ll
think
it.”
This was true, he felt, and not only because he was the oldest. He had been named after an elderly relative who had been some kind of hero a very long time ago. A painting of this relative, with a sword, hung in the museum in the city. Ever since Abner had been taken to see it, he had felt that he carried a heavy load.
“You’re not responsible. Celia is.” Derek kicked at a laundry basket, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He scrubbed at his straight, bristly hair and wished he could kick something more satisfying. A football, for instance. But football was best with a bunch of kids—and his friends were far away.
The move had been the hardest on Derek. Just one week ago, the Willow family had lefttheir comfortable old neighborhood, with its houses jammed right up next to each other. Derek had played a last game of street hockey, trying to ignore the men who were loading a moving van in his driveway. And then Mr. Willow honked the horn of the family car, and Derek climbed in and watched through the rear window until they turned a corner and his friends were gone.
“It’s only for a year,” his parents had said. “And you’ll love the house. It’s right in the country with lots of room to run around. Woods! A river!” But what Derek wanted most was a block full of kids who might want to toss a football, or shoot baskets, or play a little baseball down at the park.
After a long drive, the moving van had rumbled across a stone bridge. The Willows’ car followed it over a narrow river and up along, winding driveway to the top of a hill. And there was the house, three stories high, with a sprawling front porch and a toolshed and a big old barn, where they parked the car.
A thin belt of woods circled the house. When Derek ran to the edge of the trees and peered down, the few houses he saw were far away. True, the river was nearby. It curved around the base of the hill, and in one place it even widened into a swamp, which looked like fun. But there were no close neighbors at all.
And now there was no hamster.
“I’m telling you, I shut the latch!” Celia blinked three times, hard. She didn’t want everyone to think she was turning on the tears.
“We don’t really
need
a hamster,” said Tate, without conviction. She picked at the ragged edge of her sweatshirt. “Lots of kids go through life without one.”
“We need
something
alive,” said Abner. “We can’t get a good pet—like a dog—until we show we can take care of a little stupid one.”
“Hamsters aren’t stupid,” said Celia. She blinked twice more. “And
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