Cream Cape and the Case of the Missing Hamster: #1 by Mandy Broughton - Read Online
Cream Cape and the Case of the Missing Hamster
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Summary

Harriet the class hamster has been hamster-napped! Cece's supposed to be taking care of the precious pet but everything goes wrong. She loses Harriet. And then she receives a ransom note with a picture of Harriet in front of a snake's cage! Will the class hate her when they find out? Can she save Harriet in time? Will she stay out of trouble?

Kids and parents alike will enjoy this clean-read mystery. Ages 7+

What are the reviewers saying?
"This is a cute, clean, fun, mystery for children. As a former teacher, I would highly recommend it."

"This is a delightful story. Full of suspense and a lot of laughs."

"This was an excellent book and I really enjoyed following along as my daughter read it to me! She absolutely loved it and made me immediately purchase the next book in the series!"

Published: Cypress Professional Group on
ISBN: 9780989497510
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    Cream Cape and the Case of the Missing Hamster - Mandy Broughton

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    Page 1 of 1

    Chapter 1: Writing Contests and Growling Boys

    The wolf growled at Red Riding Hood, who stared into his beady yellow eyes. If you leave now and promise to never bother us again, we’ll let you go, she said.

    The wolf laughed. I’ll leave after dinner. He opened his mouth wide, leaning toward Red Riding Hood. Harriet the hamster scurried away from the wolf. The wolf opened his mouth wider. But first, I’m going to have an appetizer.

    The wolf snatched Harriet. No! yelled Red Riding Hood. Harriet wiggled, trying to bite the wolf.

    Cream Cape, Red’s little sister, grabbed the broom. She whacked the wolf. Ouch! the wolf yelped, dropping Harriet.

    Red Riding Hood grabbed the lid off the pot of boiling water. Hit him again, Cream! she yelled.

    Cream Cape whacked him again. He teetered toward the waiting pot over the fire. No, he pleaded, losing his balance. Harriet leapt into Cream’s hands as the wolf fell into the pot.

    Red Riding Hood covered the pot with the lid. The wolf struggled to get out. He managed to stick his foot out. Cream Cape shoved his foot back in as Red held the lid down, firmly this time.

    Oh, my, I must have fainted, Granny said, sitting up in her bed. I dreamed a wolf got in and tried to eat me.

    Red Riding Hood looked at Cream Cape. You’re okay, Granny. No wolf’s trying to eat you, she said.

    What smells so good? Granny asked. Are you girls cooking something for your sick and ailing grandmother?

    Yes, Granny. We’re cooking lunch, Red Riding Hood said. The pot quit bouncing around. Red removed her hands from the lid.

    Harriet nuzzled into Cream Cape’s hands. She stroked him. Chili, Cream Cape said, grinning at her sister. We thought we’d make some wolf chili.

    "The End." My voice echoed throughout the auditorium. I looked around at the fourth and fifth graders and took my papers off the podium, then I walked over to my seat next to the other kids on stage.

    Thank you, Cece, Mrs. Gonzales said, "for that unusual version of Little Red Riding Hood." Mrs. Gonzales cleared her throat. She appeared quite choked up.

    Although I’m a little concerned about the killing and eating of an endangered animal.

    Self-defense, I said from my seat, loudly enough to carry to the microphone. Laughter rippled through the auditorium. I’d rather eat the wolf than be eaten myself.

    Yes, well, thank you. Mrs. Gonzales turned back to the assembly with that same funny look on her face. Maybe she wasn’t choked up over my story like I thought. She cleared her throat again. Students, please mark your ballots for your favorite story and hand them to the door monitors as you leave the assembly. We’ll announce the winner of the creative writing contest at the end of the day. Dismissed. The auditorium erupted in noise. Mrs. Gonzales turned to us on stage. Children, please wait until everyone has exited and then return to class.

    Two boys groaned when Mrs. Gonzales addressed us as children. I don’t know why they groaned; it’s not like she just started calling us children. I kept shuffling my papers, trying to get them to line up straight.

    Great story, Cece, a girl behind me whispered.

    Yours too, I said, though I couldn’t remember her story. My mind still a blank from reading in front of such a large audience. Her story had either been about Cinderella or Hansel and Gretel.

    Each month our school held a creative writing contest. Teachers and class members always selected the best stories. At our monthly assemblies, five finalists read their stories. I think they did this to keep the students from falling asleep. I'm not sure how successful it was, because those assembly announcements were pretty boring. October was take a well-known fairy tale and make it my own contest.

    A few students straggled out of the auditorium. That seemed to be our cue to leave. No one seemed ready to go to class, so we dawdled along.

    Great story, Baret, one boy said, waiting outside the doors. He grinned. Although I voted for the fourth grader.

    My face turned red. I was the only fourth grader to read a story this month.

    Shut your trap, Baret said.

    Yeah, Baret, another boy said, grabbing his arm. I guess this will be the first contest you won’t win. Both boys laughed. The second one punched Baret on the arm.

    Baret shoved the first boy and yanked his arm free. Drop it.

    The first boy’s laugh came out as more of a snort. Bad enough to be beaten by a girl. But a fourth grader? He rolled his shoulder into Baret’s shoulder. Catch you later, loser. The two boys strutted off to class.

    Baret growled deep in his throat. He faced me. They haven’t announced the winner yet. He stomped off to class.

    Maybe you should make some Baret chili, said Jay, another boy from the finalists’ group.

    The two remaining girls giggled. I smiled a little. Why was Baret so angry? He hadn’t even lost yet.

    Later in the day, with Baret’s bizarre anger forgotten, I wondered if school would ever end. I love school. I’m usually disappointed when it ends. Today, though, waiting for the winner to be announced, I looked forward to it.

    I stared at the clock again. Had it stopped running? No, five minutes later than when I first looked at it. Or maybe I had stared at the clock for five minutes and the big hand really did move. The movement had to be slower than Alice’s fall down the well into Wonderland.

    After an eternity, Mrs. Jones told us to pull out our math workbooks. I sat up straighter. Math was the last subject before lining up for buses.

    Class, Mrs. Jones said. "Before I forget and we start on our