by Holly Hook
At least it beat thinking about the voices in my head.
"And I don't want to," I said. "It's no wonder you don't have any friends."
A flash of pain came over Shorty's face. He turned away, breaking into a jog. "Office," he said. "Hurry. I have to get back to class. Sorry I'm being such a jerk, but...never mind."
He was shaking.
Shorty, the weird guy, was shaking.
He was the person who came into class late and sat slouched in his seat in the back of the room. Something wasn't adding up here.
We got into the office, and I sat down in one of the leather chairs that had collected plenty of sweat and nerves over the years. Shorty turned and bolted back down the hall a second later. The office lady, Lisa, was in the middle of a phone call. She'd ask me what I'd done as soon as she hung up.
I put my backpack down on the floor.
It was then that I heard a strange, throaty sound from deep within it.
Oh, no.
Thank you.
The voice echoed through my mind. I tensed, forgetting all about whatever would come from Mr. Godfrey as soon as he was done sentencing the rest of the frogs to a horrible death.
It was the leader frog. The one who had begged for my help. I recognized its--his--voice. Now that the other frogs weren't here to join in, it sounded like a classy young man.
And he had hitched a ride in my backpack.
I unzipped it, heart pounding, and found my laptop along with its charge cord. A pair of large, yellow and black eyes peered up at me from the tangled mess. I caught a glimpse of green skin with blackish spots. The frog's throat swelled and shrunk. The creature made a sound like a giant bow string snapping.
I stood up.
This frog had stalked me and then thanked me.
I searched for a place to dump it out and let it go, but there were no doors nearby. The office was in a central hub in the middle of the school, and I couldn't dodge out without Lisa noticing. She already gave me her silent glare. Making students nervous was her game, and she did it well.
Then she hung up.
"Sit down," she ordered. "I assume we'll be getting a call from your father before the week is out." She sighed and returned to her computer. Somewhere, another phone rang.
"My father's not going to get involved in this," I promised her. I was sick of everyone thinking my family was ready to pay bribes. My dad couldn't even stay home from a business trip long enough to offer one.
"Sit." Lisa's eyes grew intense.
I had no choice. I zipped up the backpack and sealed my stowaway inside. It made another bowstring sound but Lisa, thankfully, had turned to her computer. She must think it was some strange ringtone. I was sure she'd heard plenty of odd ones.
You need to take me away from here, the frog said. Away from him.
I swallowed. Stop talking to me, I thought. Oh, God. I was talking to a bullfrog in my head.
You must. Or our story will fall.
I snickered. I was losing it. If anyone knew about this, I'd get more than detention.
I shoved the backpack as far from me as I could. The frog could wait until I got out of here, and then I'd dump it at the first ditch or swamp I found. Shorty wouldn't find it there.
A guy named Jesse brought in the detention slip from Mr. Godfrey. Jesse gave me a nod of respect, and left right before I heard the frog one final time.
If the story falls, we all fall.
Chapter Two
I didn't dare open the backpack again until I left the school at the final bell. The frog rode with me to Algebra 2. Thankfully, it stayed quiet except for one croak that made the class look up. Someone giggled. After that, my passenger seemed to get that he needed to stay quiet, and there wasn't another incident.
I knew Shorty would be hanging around my locker when I got out, so I decided to skip going. I didn't want to see the guy. Franco usually waited right outside the school by the benches, and then we walked home together. Well, to my house. Franco lived in the old part of town, where the houses were historic, as his parents liked to say.
I wished I could live there, too.
I had Lit homework I needed to fetch from my locker, but I decided I'd get here early tomorrow and do it in the hall. That book was huge, and I didn't want it to topple over and crush the frog. I picked up my backpack, careful to keep the laptop even. I didn't want frog guts all over and besides, the creature had gone through more than I had today. It deserved to live.
Even if it was gross.
First ditch, then. I'd dump the little guy out, let it hop away, and go on with my life. And I would never, ever go near any frogs again.
I'd have to tell Franco about the detention. The tank. He'd probably commend me for that.
I’d leave out the voices.
Once the bell rang, I bolted outside. I reached the old bench with the crooked seat and waited. Franco finally came out of the school, old backpack in hand. He slung it onto his back and joined me, but he wasn't smiling. Franco tended to get in some bad moods sometimes. His dark hair hung in his face. Bad sign.
"What's wrong?" I asked. We were all having a great day. We matched in more than just our clothes, then.
"Shorty. That's what," he said. "The guy kept asking where you were. I told him he could go look somewhere I'm not going to repeat. He’s upping his act today."
I thought of the argument, and my stomach tied in knots. “Let’s go, then.” We walked away from the school, wasting no time, and I forgot all about my frog for a moment. “So, how was that History test?”
The frog croaked again.
Franco stopped. "What was that?" he asked. "New ringtone?"
I gulped. The frog made another croak. Go. Go until we are far away from Shorty.
I kept walking, pretending that nothing crazy was happening. It wasn't easy. The faster I got rid of it the better. "Okay. There was an incident in Mr. Godfrey's class today."
Franco grinned. "I heard about it."
"I'm sure the whole school has."
"Candice--that was awesome. Mr. Godfrey couldn't even find all the frogs, and a few of them were hopping down the hall between classes. I picked up a couple and took them outside. It's horrible to cut up animals alive. It sounds really cruel. I should bring that up to the peeps."
"I agree." We headed across the field and towards the little path that led to the sidewalk.
"I didn't know you were into animal rights."
Sweat formed on the back of my neck. Franco belonged to the Friends of Animals Club that met twice a month here at the school. If I remembered right, Aimee did, too. The Club had something to new to chew on other than factory farming. There would be a meeting in the hall tomorrow morning for sure. Posters might appear in the cafeteria, complete was marker-drawn frogs trembling in terror before a bloody scalpel.
"You sure you don't want to join?" Franco asked.
I about shrunk at the thought of being the poster person for the Club. Oh, look. The rich girl's getting involved. They must need the money. I could hear it now. I understood their cause ,but the idea of having to speak in front of others made me wither. "Can I just make signs or something?."
"I can ask Aimee about it," Franco said. He never chastised me for wanting to be quiet and he never bothered me about getting out more.
We left the school grounds and walked through town now. The frog croaked again, and we stopped once we reached the street corner.
"Let me see this frog you brought with you."
I set the backpack down, glad to have someone else who could get it out. Franco unzipped it, shuffled around with care, and pulled out the creature.
The huge frog stayed in franco’s cupped hands as if too terrified to move. But then it seemed to relax when it realized Franco wasn't Shorty. The frog let out a single croak, throat puffing out and in. I begged for it not to talk to me here and for me not to be crazy. Maybe that was some isolated incident caused by a memory from my childhood going haywire.
It was a memory I had never told anyone about.
"Big bullfrog," Franco said, bringing it closer to his face. But the frog recoiled from my friend's breath. "We'll find him a pond or something before we head home. How’d you hide him all day?"
The frog turned on Franco's hands, facing me.
I held my breath. Behind the frog, Franco smiled.
"I think he likes you," he said. "Why don't you give him a big kiss?"
He shoved the frog right at me.
"Franco!" I yelled, backing away.
"Come on," he continued. "Frogger's glad you saved him from Mr. Godfrey's torture chamber. Even bugs don't like that classroom. The least he can do is give you a big smoocher."
"Um, no thanks." I was glad for Franco's sense of humor. I needed it after today.
Franco dropped his hands a bit. "I'm just kidding. Let's get Frogger here to a pond so we can forget this crap day ever happened."
The frog smashed itself down into Franco’s hands.
He's here.
I turned. Franco followed my gaze.
Shorty stood a block away at the corner of the flower shop, staring at us. The guy let his arms fall to his sides.
Shorty ran towards us.
"Really?" I asked. "Let's go."
"I agree," Franco said. "I'll talk to the creep later and see what his problem is."
The frog croaked on Franco's hand again. Away, away.
"We're going," I muttered, both to Franco and the frog.
Wow. I was talking to an amphibian again.
We made it across a crosswalk, and I was sure we got some stares from the stopped traffic. Franco kept the frog in his cupped hands and ran with it in front of him. Shorty's footfalls met my ears. He was running after us. Franco searched around for somewhere to hide, but there was nothing.
The traffic light changed.
Shorty had to stop on the other side of the street while cars zoomed through the intersection, allowing him no way through. Franco and I kept jogging. "I'm glad that's a long light," I said. "Now what?" We kept our quick pace. This was the opportunity to get away from him.
"Guys!" Shorty yelled, but the sound of a school bus rumbling past blocked him out.
Franco searched around. "Down this street." We turned a corner and passed the florist. Shorty was watching this. He could catch up, but at least we were putting distance between us and him. We turned another corner, went down an alley, and then another street. I didn't waste time looking back to see if he was following. Franco led us through the grounds of the elementary school and along some shrubs that grew on the edge of the playground. We were losing him.
And at last, we cut through a hole in the fence and emerged on my street.
We'd stepped over a threshold. The houses were giants, made of stone as if Medusa had glared at them all. The yards were all a perfect green and free of all weeds. Mailboxes stuck out of beds of pink rocks. Did Shorty know where I lived? He could find out. That was what the Internet was for, even though I'd never seen him with a phone in hand. "What if he comes this way?"
"The guy's never been that creepy." Franco still held onto the frog. Its eyes were huge and its pupils dilated.
"He's starting now. And you still have that frog."
The frog croaked again, but didn't speak. I was relieved. It seemed to only happen when Shorty was around. That doubled my reasons for avoiding him.
Franco and I slowed our pace. We found the driveway to my house and scrambled up it just in case Shorty decided to show up. Dad's Hummer was gone, and Marge would only be cleaning for another couple of hours, leaving me alone for most of the night. I thought of Shorty trying to break in. Today was a weird day, but things could always manage to get worse.
I wondered if he was after this particular frog. It was stupid, but the frog sure seemed to think that was the case.
We stopped by my garage door. I wanted to get inside. "Stay with Marge," Franco told me. "After I take this frog to the park I'll go find Shorty and talk to him and see what's up. He shouldn't be following you around like this and acting weird without an explanation. He shouldn't be doing this to you, period."
"Franco, thanks." I didn't know what I'd do without him. He was the most loyal friend I’d ever had.
"Hey, you're my friend. That's what we do. Fist bump."
He freed one hand and we hit our knuckles together. "See you tomorrow."
I headed inside and Franco gave me a second fist bump right before I shut the door. I headed upstairs and past Marge, who swept around the potted plants. “Where’s my dad?” I asked her on the way up. "He was supposed to be home today."
“He just called,” Marge told me, not taking her gaze off the dirt around the pots. She swept a bunch of it into the dustpan and picked it up. “He’s going to be out of town until Friday now. Some urgent meeting came up.”
I sighed. There was always some urgent meeting. My dad headed a company that made computer cases and they were always busy. Always going. The last time I’d seen him was Monday night before he left to answer some call. It was Wednesday now.
"You're on your own for dinner tonight," Marge said. "I need to go pick up my children from daycare a bit early. They have a game tonight."
I still had the detention slip in my backpack that he'd never sign in time. I thought about calling Dad, but remembered Shorty's words. No. I'd leave him out of this. There was no need to make my reputation any worse. And I couldn't call Mom. She lived over in the next state with her boyfriend. My parents had split up when I was seven.
I stalked up to my room, leaving Marge to her cleaning. The stairs were polished as always. I made it to my room and ran to the window.
Franco was walking back down the street in the direction we’d come. He still held the frog out in front of him. Shorty was out there somewhere and I hoped, really hoped, that he had no clue how to use the Internet.
Yeah, right.
I closed my curtains, making sure there was no light coming in. My room dimmed and I set my backpack down next to my bed. Shorty wasn’t here. The frog was gone and no voices rang in my head. It was the strangest day I’d ever had.
I flopped down on my bed.
It had been my strangest day...except for that other one.
* * * * *
I always loved crystals and collecting them. I got my first huge amethyst chunk at the planetarium gift shop when I was five. Dad had even ordered me a big bag of polished gemstones the summer after that, and a book so I could look up what they were. I'd spent that whole summer before first grade flipping the pages and trying to read the names of my treasures.
So, a little before I turned six, I begged for that purple crystal ball in the window of that new age store at the mall.
"No," Dad said after about a second of contemplation.
"Oh, come on," Mom told him. "She's a girl. She could have asked for a diamond."
"I'd rather she have that," Dad said, and steered me away from the store.
I was sad. I kept thinking about that big amethyst ball for the rest of the day. Something drew me to it. I even dreamed about going to that store and stealing it. I had never obsessed over anything like that before.
Two weeks later, on my birthday, Mom surprised me with a heavy box in pink, glittery paper.
"Where did you get that?" Dad asked as soon as she produced it from under the sink.
Mom didn't answer him and set the box in front of me, pushing my cake out of the way. My friends--all girls I had forgotten the names of--leaned closer to see my prize as I tore open the paper.
That beautiful purple amethyst ball sat inside, nestled in pink tissue paper. My heart swelled as soon as I saw it. I got out of my chair, jumping up and down.
"Thank you!" I told Mom. "Thank you, thank you!" I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“It was no problem, sweetie,” she said.
Dad stood there, gave a tense smile, and stalked out of the room. Mom looked after him, then went to work cutting the c
ake.
Later in the day, I sat in my room, admiring the new addition to my collection. The guests had all gone home and the farmhouse was quiet. These were the days before Dad started his company.
It was all quiet except for my parents arguing.
They'd been doing that a lot lately.
“I told you, Peggy. We can’t be getting her things like that.”
“Do you honestly believe that's going to find you?”
“I’ve told you a million times. There are stories. And they follow us. It doesn’t matter where we are. You know where I came from.”
“But Candice is my child, too. She’s of this world.”
"I fled that place for a reason. That woman told me what would happen to my daughter if I stayed there. I can't risk a certain someone getting to her. Candice is my daughter. That does make her--"
"Would you stop it?" Mom asked. "She could hear us."
I grabbed the amethyst ball. I wondered if it had something to do with why Mom and Dad were mad at each other. I slid out of my room and towards the back door, avoiding every creaky board that I knew was there. The light was long and tired outside. The grill still smoked on the deck from where Dad had cooked. Mosquitoes buzzed around me, and I waved them away. Mom and Dad's voices got lower.
I headed out to the back of our property, leaving their anger behind. My stomach turned. I hated their arguments. They seemed to have more and more of them lately and deep down, I felt like they were my fault. I didn't understand why I was making them so angry.
I headed down the trail to the pond, letting the tall grass hide me. Dad had told me many, many times never to go there, but I just wanted to be alone for a while. Our pond was underneath a green canopy, and the late afternoon light poured through the openings, making the water shine. This was a private, magical place that I had only dared come to a handful of other times when Mom and Dad argued. But they were distracted, talking about things I didn't understand. They wouldn't catch me here any time soon.
And besides, I was too unhappy to care.
I sat down at the shore of the little pond and rolled the amethyst ball between my hands, studying the purple lines and swirls within it. I imagined that this ball was magical and that a fairy would pop out. I could ask it to make my parents not hate each other. To make us a happy family like the others. The light rippled on the pond between the lilies that grew on its surface. A blue dragonfly hovered over the water, shining in the light. I felt like I was in a giant dome tent of nature.
