4. Hamilton

Chapter 4 Hamilton I wouldn't be stuck here in time-out if I'd just listened to my big brother. And believe me, I hardly ever say that. It started the other day. I was packing Hamilton into my backpack. So he could go to school with me. Just like always. Max saw me. "No pigs allowed at school, Roscoe," he said. I ignored him.

Because number one, that isn't a rule. Unless the pig is the real kind. And number two, when a little brother ignores a big brother, it drives the big brother crazy. Max was eating Cheerios. He threw one at my head. "You're in first grade now," he said. "And first graders do NOT take stuffed animals to school." I picked the Cheerio out of my hair. Then I ate it. That also drives big brothers crazy. "Hamilton always comes with me," I said. Mom ran into the kitchen. "Has anyone seen Hazel's Cinderella toothbrush?" Hazel is my little sister. She has a thing about princesses. Also mud.

"The point is, stuffed animals are for babies," Max said. "Max!" Mom said. "What are you talking about?" "Roscoe's taking that stinkpot Bacon to school," Max said. "That isn't his name," I said. "Ham," Max said. "Ham-ILTON," I said. "It would be totally embarrassing if anyone sees you with that thing," Max said. "I'd be humiliated!" "You are in fourth grade," Mom said. "Roscoe's in first. How is he going to humiliate you?"

Max shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said, "but you know nothing about the real world. People will talk." "That pig is Roscoe's best friend," Mom said. "And as long as it's okay with his teacher, he may take Bacon—I mean Hamilton—to school." "Besides, nobody knows he's there," I pointed out. "'Cause he stays in my backpack. Only Emma and Gus know about him. And Ms. Diz." Ms. Diz is my teacher. And Emma and Gus are my best buddies. Max made a pig-snort sound. I snorted back. Twice. Let me tell you, dealing with big brothers is an art. "I'm bringing Hamilton," I said. "And that's that." The thing is, I've had Hamilton forever.

My Great-aunt Hilda sent him to me on my first birthday. She has a pig farm in North Carolina. Great-aunt Hilda says pigs are very intelligent and lovable. Sort of like snorting dogs. I can't sleep without Hamilton. When I was little, he kept away monsters and fire-breathing dragons. When I got bigger, he kept away black widow spiders and grizzly bears. He is my guard pig. "Guys!" Dad called. "Hustle! It's almost time for the bus!" Max ran to get his backpack. Mom ran to find Hazel's toothbrush.

I sat in the kitchen and stared at Hamilton. I put him on the counter. What if Max was right? I was getting awfully old. I mean, I had a loose tooth. That's WAY old. Hamilton looked worried, like he might start to cry. I could see this was very hard for him. "Okay, buddy, you can come," I said. I smushed Hamilton into the very bottom of my backpack. I left the zipper open a little. So he could breathe. Max was crazy. Nobody would bug me about Hamilton.