by Holly Hook
I rolled the ball between my palms again. I wanted to stay here. It felt more like home than the house I had just left.
And then the amethyst ball fell from my hands.
I watched it flee through the mud and closer to the water.
It slid under the surface, continued to roll, and vanished into darkness.
I sat there for a long moment, unbelieving. Then my chest tightened and the tears rushed to my eyes before I knew what was happening. My gift. My ball. It was beautiful and now it was gone. Mom would ask where it was and I would have to tell her that I went down to the pond. She'd be hurt. She would tell me what an ungrateful girl I was to let this happen after she had spent all this money on me.
Fear clutched my chest and I started to cry.
I cried louder and louder. A bird took off into flight. The dragonfly hovered near me like it was wondering what was going on. It took off again, annoyed by my tears. My throat hurt and a lump formed there. I had messed this up, and now my parents would be even less happy.
I stopped to take a breath. The water rippled by the shore.
A large frog stuck its head out of the pond.
It made a single croak. I studied it, waiting for it to go back into the water, but it continued to stare with those big yellow eyes.
And then a voice echoed in my mind.
What's wrong, little girl?
I stared in wonder at the frog. Its mouth didn't move, but it could talk, just like in that movie where the cat and the dog journeyed through the wilderness together.
"I've dropped my ball in the water. It was my birthday present, and Mom and Dad will be mad when they find out. I'm not supposed to be here."
The frog croaked again. What will you give me if I get the ball for you?
My heart leapt.
I thought and thought while the frog waited. "I can give you some of my toys."
I am not interested in toys. I am a frog.
"I can give you my watch." I went to undo the pink band from my wrist.
The frog shifted. No. Not a watch.
I felt as if I had plunged into a dream. "Then what?"
Your companionship.
"My what? I don't know what companionship is." It was a big word.
Be my friend, the frog said. Take me wherever you go. Forever.
I backed away from the pond a bit, but I wanted my ball. I needed to get it back and return to the house before Mom and Dad found out I was missing. I could come back here whenever Dad was gone. I’d talk to the frog and be its friend. "I will."
The frog dove back into the water, kicking its long legs. It vanished into the depths of the pond and I waited.
A minute.
Two.
And then, I waited five.
And at last, I caught movement under the surface.
My purple ball rolled towards me, heading uphill.
The frog came behind, pushing it and straining its huge legs.
I gasped and reached for the ball. I pulled it from the water and turned it around, making sure it was the right one. It was, all right. I wiped the water off it with my shirt. I could tell Dad I'd spilled water on it from the sink.
"Thank you," I told the frog. "Thank you, thank you!" I stood up, overjoyed that I'd gotten it back. "I'll come back here every time I can and be your friend."
"Candice!"
It was my mother.
She stood at the edge of the water.
She faced me, mouth falling open in terror. Her gaze went down to the frog. I had the feeling she'd been standing there for a bit.
"Your father was right," she said. "Oh, no. He was right." And then she ran for me, scooped me up, and carried me away from the pond as fast as she could.
We moved away a month after that. Mom or Dad wouldn't tell me why.
And a year later, they split up.
* * * * *
I sat up out of bed. It was later--much later. No more light poured through my curtains.
The amethyst ball still sat on top of my dresser between a couple of books which held it in place. I'd kept it secret from Dad all these years, and now that he was rarely home, I could leave it out. It sat among towers of clear quartz and pink shards and an open geode that Dad had bought me last Christmas.
Until now, I'd forgotten all about its rescue.
I got up and reached for the ball, taking it in my hands. It was cool and reminded me of the way the water felt when I reached in to grab it.
More of the memory came back. The frog shouted for me as Mom carried me away.
Where are you going? I can't catch up. Carry me.
I set the ball back down. Did Franco still have the frog, and was he still trying to find it a home?
I wondered if my backpack passenger would recognize this amethyst ball.
No. That was stupid. It couldn't even be the same frog I'd met ten years ago. They didn't live more than a year or two, right?
And frogs didn't talk.
I'd imagined the whole thing when I was little, and maybe Mom had, too. Maybe my parents had insisted we move into the city a long time ago so she could be closer to her family.
Maybe it didn't have anything to do with that pond.
Perhaps she hadn't left because she couldn't handle the strangeness.
I wished Dad was here now. That I could ask him about what he and Mom used to argue about all the time. I knew I should hope that one day he would tell me, but I wasn't counting on that.
My phone buzzed.
A text.
I picked it up and read the words.
FRANCO: At park. This is...interesting.
ME: What?
I checked the clock near my bed. It was eleven thirty.
Franco and I hadn’t seen each other for hours.
I'd slept the whole evening away, and now it was getting close to midnight. That wasn't right. Franco shouldn't be confronting Shorty at this hour. The park was closed. Something wasn't right here. He should have let the frog go, and been out of there a long time ago.
My phone buzzed again.
FRANCO: Shorty tried to take the frog. Wouldn't let him.
I thought of the little swamp right next to the park, the one that the big kids used to tell us was the home to swamp monsters that ate someone's little brother many years back. Franco and Shorty couldn't be hanging out there, could they?
ME: What does he want with it?
This wasn't adding up.
FRANCO: I threw it in the pond. Shorty's nuts. He keeps looking for it. Pond looks weird. Come check it out.
My heart raced.
Why on earth would Franco ask me to go out to the park at this hour?
ME: Maybe you should get home.
A pause. I waited, and the clock ticked another minute.
FRANCO: Something's happening.
ME: What?
No answer.
I waited another minute.
He still didn’t respond.
ME: Franco? Answer me.
I sent the text. Nothing.
I shook the phone, frustrated. What if he and Shorty were fighting? I didn't know what Shorty was capable of.
ME: Answer me.
I waited another minute, but nothing came through. The park wasn’t a dead zone, either. We’d both sent messages out of there plenty of times.
Maybe something really was happening.
I threw open my bedroom door. “Marge?”
Only silence greeted me. The only light came from the kitchen below, which Marge always left on so I wouldn’t trip and die on the way down. It was a long, heavy silence through the entire house that got heavier and heavier. I hated it.
“Dad?” I called.
Nothing. Of course. He was gone for two more days, and Franco was waiting at the park.
I had to go out there.
Alone.
Something might have happened.
I thought about calling the police, but what would I tell them--that Shorty might be fighting wit
h Franco over a frog? They'd laugh at me. And besides, the park was just five minutes away. It would be faster if I rode my bike there.
I didn't get out my bike very often, but when I did, it was usually to ride around the trails in the park with Dad on one of his rare days off. That, and it was an Assenmacher with every bell and whistle you could think of. There was no way I'd ever ride it to school, and it wasn't all because I was scared someone would steal it.
I ran down to the garage and found our bikes sitting way over at the side, behind where Dad's Hummer occasionally sat and next to the tennis rackets we had never used. I got out my bike, and since I didn't have the remote to open the garage door, I had to drag the bike up the steps, through the kitchen, and out the front door. I was certain Marge would be ticked when she came to clean again in the morning. She could spot a dust mite in Mr. Clean's house.
I'd clean it up when I got back home. Franco came first.
I hesitated on the outside of the front door and almost forgot to lock it. I got on the bike. The night was empty. Dark. Chilly. I should have put on a jacket. But it was too late now. I pulled out my phone, hoping for anything that could tell me I could go back inside and be safe.
No more texts.
Nothing.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and rode.
The park was three streets over and about half a mile away. My heart pounded the whole way there. I wasn't that scared of a cop rolling by. In fact, I wanted one to come past and ask what I was doing outside so late, even if I got in trouble. I could tell them there were more people in the park way past closing, and they'd at least go shine a spotlight on that.
But no such luck. Officer Newton was probably out trying to pull people over for breathing too loud or something.
I wished there was somebody.
Anybody.
The park waited up ahead. The streetlight in front of it was dark. It never had been before. That one was always the first to light in the evening and was the unofficial signal to get home. I tried to see inside the park as I pedaled my bike closer, but it was no use. I made a right into the park and stopped next to a swing set that shone in the moonlight. It was a clear night.
I wondered where Franco had taken the frog, and if it was going to freeze to death out here.
Why was I worrying about that? I had to find Franco.
And maybe, Shorty. I wasn't looking forward to that part.
I rolled my bike deeper into the park and nearly tripped over the border of a sandbox. I edged my bike around and passed a tree. It stood like a dark guardian, its branches blocking out the moon.
And then I heard voices.
“That was my phone, man!” Franco.
“I didn’t throw it in there. You saw what happened.” It was Shorty. "You shouldn't have let him go."
Judging from the sounds of it, Franco’s phone had ended up on the bottom of the pond. It explained his lack of responses, at least.
“Hey,” I shouted into the park.
“Over here!” Franco said.
I followed the direction of his voice. Shorty cursed. “Candice, get lost. Go back home. You don’t want to be here right now.”
The pond came into view.
Moonlight reflected off the glowing surface. It wasn't just some reflection, either. The water seemed to give off a radiant, magical energy, and it about took my breath away. The air didn’t feel right.
I stopped. Shorty and Franco faced me.
"Why are you out here so late?" I asked.
Franco shifted. "I let the frog go in a ditch earlier, but then do you know what happened? It followed me home! I was going out to take out the trash before bed, and there it was, on top of my mailbox, staring at me."
"That's because it's no ordinary frog," Shorty said. "Why won't you listen to me?"
"It what?" I asked.
"I'm not making this up," Franco said. "Then I decided to bring it here since it's a lot farther from my house. And Shorty was here, waiting. So I threw the frog in the pond before he could grab it."
"Okay." I shook my head. "Frogs don't follow people home."
But they didn't hop into backpacks and hitch rides, either. Or talk. Or stay perfectly still in peoples' hands while they ran away from crazy people.
"Candice, go home," Shorty said. "We need to get away from this pond. As in, far away. Can't you see it?"
The glow had brightened, as if the pond were building to some climax. The air tingled, making my hair stand on end.
"I'm not leaving until you come with me," I told Franco.
"My phone's in the water," he said. "Shorty and I were wrestling, and then it fell."
“I told you to hand me that frog,” Shorty said. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.” The panic had returned to his voice. He was freaked out even more than before. He backed away from the water as if scared something would come out of it.
“I returned it to its natural habitat,” Franco shot back. “It’s a frog. Why are you so hell bent on killing it?”
"I told you, it's not really a frog. I'd explain, but...look, we just have to get away from this pond."
“I’m not convinced,” Franco said. “You’re the one who threw my phone in the water. No frog would have taken it.”
“Only it did,” Shorty said. "You saw it grab on and pull it in the water after you dropped it. It wasn't me." He faced me again. “Candice—get out of here!”
“What is this all about?” I asked. I was losing my patience.
And quite possibly, getting freaked out. What if Shorty knew that I could hear the frogs talking? This might have something to do with all of this.
He couldn’t, of course. I’d never even confessed it to Franco. I hadn’t even remembered the first time it happened until this afternoon. It didn’t make any sense.
Shorty stood in front of Franco. “You shouldn’t be here." I could feel the tension in the air. It felt electric, almost. “We need to get away from this pond right now. Run!”
“Not without my phone,” Franco said.
Shorty turned on him. “Your phone is bait. You are b
ait. The frog dragged it into the pond because it wants you here at midnight. It wants Candice. You’re not getting it back. Come on!” He grabbed onto Franco’s arm and pulled him away from the water.
Franco slugged him and they both went down, wrestling on the grass.
"Knock it off!" I yelled. The electric feeling intensified. It seemed to be coming from the pond. Shorty could be onto something.
Shorty struggled to get up, but Franco tackled him again. They rolled over the sidewalk and closer to the water, lost in their fight.
"You've got problems!" Franco yelled.
Shorty gasped for breath. Even in the pale light I could tell that his face was red. "Franco--let him go. He's had enough." I was sure the guy wasn't going to bother me after this.
But Franco was too far gone being the protective friend. He kept a hold on Shorty and his feet splashed into the water.
"Franco--it was just a phone. I'll help you buy another one! Maybe he’s right that we should go."
Franco loosened his grip a little and Shorty sucked in a breath. "Candice. Run."
I ran up to them and pulled at Franco's arm. The glow emanating from the pond got so bright I had to squint. The moonlight reflecting off it took on a silvery sheen and for a moment, I was standing on a shore of light.
I tugged at Franco again, and the silver morphed into gold, blinding me. The megical energy washed over my whole body. I was falling. Green and gold light stabbed into my eyes. I screamed and closed them.
My feet hit ground.
Mud.
I sucked in a breath.
Shorty and Franco stopped scuffling next to me. Something had happened.
Shorty cursed. "I told you to run. Now you're never going to see your home again."
Chapter Three
I opened my eyes, and light stabbed again, making me squint.
&nb
sp; Shorty and Franco were on the bank of the pond, getting up and brushing mud off themselves. At least they weren't fighting anymore.
But it was daylight now. Bright sunlight filtered down through lush green trees. The pond now had lots of huge green lilies floating on top, complete with white flowers that seemed to glow in the sun. The surface of the pond itself sparkled.
Shorty backed away from it as if something was going to come out and grab him.
"What?" Franco managed. "It's, um, day. Were we like, abducted by aliens, had our memories wiped, and woke up here later? There was this flash." He whirled around and stared at everything, mouth falling open. "Shorty--do you have an explanation for this?"
They were done fighting, at least. I stepped closer to the pond. It had been night seconds ago. Now it looked like noon, and the air was much warmer than before. This almost didn't even seem like the same pond I was used to at the park. This one was more lush. The lilies here were more alive and vibrant than the ones I remembered. The pond also seemed bigger than the one I knew.
I turned in a circle. The sidewalk was gone, right along with the bench. Only thick grass and flowers of all colors grew up around us.
Scratch that. The entire park was gone.
Trees surrounded us in every direction, ranging from ancient, huge oaks to the skinniest birch trees. I had never seen a forest this green in my life.
And I saw no end to it.
"An explanation?" Franco repeated.
Shorty backed into a tree and jumped. "Um...I told you to run."
I gulped. We weren't in the park anymore, period. I had no idea what had happened, but the season was wrong. It was summer here, not early fall. The air was different. Cleaner. Almost sweet.
