“Can I play outside?” he asked Mom.
“It’s pouring rain,” said Judy. “You hate the rain.”
“Nah-uh. I’m just going to splash in mud puddles,” said Stink.
“Wear your boots!” Mom called.
At 9:43, Stink developed a new interest in mud. He also had a new fascination with worms. Shazam! He was getting froggier by the second!
Stink went on a worm hunt. He held worm races. He conducted the First Annual Great Backyard Earthworm Count. He even wondered what it would be like to eat a squirmy worm.
Stink was building a worm condo when Mom called him inside.
“What were you doing out in the rain all this time?” asked Judy.
“Worm stuff,” said Stink.
“You hate worms,” said Judy.
“Not.”
“Since when?” Judy asked. “And don’t say eight thirty-one this morning.”
“Actually, it was more like nine forty-three this morning,” said Stink.
Judy looked at him strangely. She tilted her head sideways.
“Is it time for swim lessons yet?” Stink asked.
“No swim lessons today, Stink.”
“But it’s Saturday!” said Stink.
“The pool’s closed for — Hey, wait just a sneaky-shark second. You hate swim lessons.”
“You’re cuckoo,” said Stink. “Never mind. I know something else I can do.”
Stink raced upstairs. He put on his swim fins. He put on his wet suit. He flop-flop-flopped down the stairs. He flop-flop-flopped into the kitchen. He flip-flopped over to the kitchen sink.
Stink filled the sink with water. He put on his swim goggles. He stuck his face in the sink. He blew bubbles!
Stink put on his snorkel next and lowered his head to the water again.
Judy came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“Blub, blub, blub,” Stink gurgled.
“Mom!” Judy called. “Stink’s swimming in the kitchen sink!”
Today, the sink. Tomorrow, the pool! There was no stopping him now.
Mom rushed into the kitchen. “Stink?” she asked. “What’s going on here?”
“Practice. Swimming,” Stink said around the mouthpiece. “I can’t be a Polliwog forever.”
Mom put her hands on her hips. Mom looked like she didn’t know what to say.
Dad came into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Can’t anybody tell I’m swimming?” asked Stink.
“Stink’s swimming in the sink!” said Judy.
“Any chance you can save swim practice for the pool?” Dad asked. “I have to do the dishes anyway.”
“Fine.” Stink stopped swimming. He took off his snorkel. He took off his goggles. He let the water drain out of the sink. He poli-wiggled out of his wetsuit. He poli-woggled out of his swim fins.
“Hey, Dad, can I sleep in the basement tonight?” Stink asked.
“It’s too damp down there,” said Dad.
“And cold,” said Mom.
“And don’t forget spiders,” said Judy. “You hate spiders. And basements.”
Stink did hate the basement. But that was before. “Stop saying I hate stuff.”
“The facts, Stink.” Judy ticked off on her fingers. “First raisins. Then rain. Then worms. Then swimming in the sink. Now you want to sleep in the creepy, cold basement? What’s with you?”
“None of your big-sister beeswax,” said Stink. “It’s a secret.”
Peter Parker picked a peck of pickled peepers! Stink was turning into an F-R-O-G frog! For real! No lie. Even Judy saw it, too.
“Never mind. I’ll sleep in my own bed,” said Stink. “But I can still go swimming in the upstairs sink.” He grabbed his wetsuit, snorkel, mask, and fins.
Judy walked up the stairs backwards, giving Stink the stink eye.
“Spiders don’t scare me, you know. I eat spiders for breakfast.”
“Since when?” asked Judy.
“Since —” Stink stopped. Should he say it? Out loud?
“What’s the matter? Got a frog in your throat?” Judy stopped on the top stair. “Wait a second.” She squinted at Stink like she was seeing him for the very first time.
“Mom! Dad!” called Judy. “Stink thinks he’s a frog!”
Stink had a Peter Parker of a secret. Not even the evil Dr. Octopus could drag it out of him. Aw, who was he kidding? He couldn’t hold it in one more second. He ran to the phone to call Sophie and Webster and told them to come over right away.
When they got to the house, Stink motioned for his friends to come upstairs.
“Psst!” Stink whispered. “Up here.”
“Why are we whispering?” Sophie asked.
“Because. It’s a secret.”
He pulled out the fishbowl from under his desk. “First, I gotta ask — would you guys still be my friends even if I were a frog?”
“I’d still be your friend,” Sophie told him. “I’d put you in a shoe box and feed you flies.”
“I’d still be your friend,” said Webster. “I’d carry you in my pocket and let you take a bath in the sink.”
“Thanks! Now, get ready for your eyes to pop out.” Webster gulped. Sophie pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“Ready?” Stink asked.
“Ready,” said Sophie and Webster.
“Are you sure?”
“Stink!” said Webster impatiently.
“I’m just saying. It’s not for the faint of heart, as Peter Parker would say.”
Sophie held her breath. Webster held his breath.
“Ta-da!” Stink pulled off the Spider-Man pajama top in one swoop.
Webster stuttered. “H-h-h-he . . . it’s . . . f-f-frog . . . n-n-not . . .”
“Bl-bl-blue!” shouted Sophie, pointing. “Frog!”
Webster’s eyes were as round as quarters. “Smurf city!”
“Meet King Otto the Third! Radioactive mutant ninja frog!” said Stink.
“So, you mean, he glows blue because he’s radioactive?” asked Sophie.
Stink nodded. He told them all about finding the freaky frog. He showed them the spot on his arm that he would never ever wash.
Stink told them about his newfound frog tendencies. He stuck out his tongue and touched the tip of his nose to prove it.
“Look!” Sophie pointed to Stink’s feet. “Your toes. They’re part webbed!”
“You’re turning into a frog from the feet up,” said Webster.
“Just my second and third toes,” said Stink. “I got it from my Grandma Lou. She has the same thing. Judy, too.”
“Phew,” said Webster.
“But . . .” Stink wiggled his toes. “Now that you mention it, it does look a little more webbed than normal.”
“And how else do you explain the raisins, and the worms, and swimming in the sink and —”
“And you have a best friend named Web-ster,” said Webster.
“And your favorite color is green,” said Sophie. “Yipes! We gotta do something. Before you start glowing.”
“We better go talk to Jasper,” said Stink. “Stat.”
“Huh?” said Webster.
“Huh?” said Sophie.
“That means pronto, super-quick, right away!”
“Do you think your mom or dad will take us?” asked Webster.
“Let’s ask,” said Sophie.
“Tally ho!” said Stink, just like Peter Parker.
* * *
Stink told Mom he had an A-1 super-important frog mission. Mom dropped Stink and his friends off at the nature center.
Jasper O’Farrell told Stink he’d seen his share of frogs. He’d seen two-toed and three-legged frogs. He’d seen frogs with extra legs and frogs with extra eyes and frogs with no legs and frogs with only one eye. He’d seen frogs with shrunken heads and frogs with kinked tails. He’d even seen albino frogs.
But never-ever-ever in his long-legged life had Jasper O’Farrell seen a true
blue frog up close and personal.
He squinted at the blue frog from every angle. He scratched his little beard. He peered at the frog with a magnifying glass.
“Well?” Stink rocked back and forth on his feet.
Jasper scratched his tiny beard some more.
“What do you think?” asked Stink. “Is he a mutant? Is he radioactive?”
“If the frog is radioactive, and the frog licked Stink, is Stink going to start glowing in the dark?” asked Sophie.
“Are we going to have to start calling Stink Smurf?” asked Webster.
“I have to say, I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Jasper.
“Freak of nature!” said Webster.
“Maybe he’s a rare blue poison dart frog,” said Stink. “Who hopped all the way here from South America.”
“Nope. I don’t think so. I don’t want to leap to conclusions, but —”
“Leap to conclusions. I get it!” said Stink.
“I’m almost sure this guy’s a mutant. My professor taught me about abnormal colors in frogs. I bet this froggy’s color got messed up. He’s probably missing his yellow.”
“Huh?” asked Stink.
“Okay. Think of art class,” said Jasper. “If you mix blue and yellow paint, it looks green, right?” All three kids nodded. “It’s the same for a frog. They have three kinds of pigment cells, and the top one is yellow. If they’re missing the yellow, they look blue to us.”
“Cosmic,” said Stink.
“Thanks for bringing him in, Stink. This is better than a barking tree frog! I’d like to show him to my professor. Then we’ll see if we can release this little guy safely back into the wild.”
“Sure,” said Stink. He looked at the Frog Logs all over Jasper’s desk. “Hey, did we count a lot of frogs last night?”
“We sure did,” said Jasper. “More than I thought. That’s the good news. The bad news is that there are three kinds of chorus frogs, and we only heard two kinds.”
“Bummer,” said Stink. “Should we count again?”
“We were going to wait till next year,” said Jasper. “But now we just might have another frog count this summer.”
“Sweet,” said Stink. “That’s only eighty-something days away.”
Jasper laughed.
“Plus,” said Stink, “It gives me time to knock on doors and get the neighbors to stop using fertilizers and stuff that’s messing up the frogs.”
“Good thinking,” said Jasper, tapping the side of his head.
“We’ll help you, Stink,” said Sophie.
“Yeah, we want to save the frogs, too,” said Webster.
Jasper walked Stink and his friends to the door. “Bye, King Otto the Third,” Stink and his friends called.
“Be careful he doesn’t lick you,” Sophie warned Jasper.
“Yeah,” said Stink. “You might suddenly start eating raisins or get the urge to make mud pies or sleep in the basement or go swimming in the sink.”
Jasper raised one eyebrow at Stink.
“I’m just saying.”
Stink turned to leave. “Bye, Jasper. If you start to glow in the dark, call me.”
The next day, when Sophie and Webster came over, Stink was sitting on his bed, wearing his swim goggles.
“What’s he doing?” asked Webster.
“I don’t know,” said Judy. “He hasn’t moved his head for like an hour. And he wants me to call him Frog Eyes.”
“Frogs don’t move their heads,” said Stink. “Just their eyes.”
“Why are you wearing goggles inside the house?” Sophie asked.
“No swimming today,” said Webster. “It’s Sunday.”
“It’s my third eyelid,” said Stink. “Frogs have an extra eyelid so they can see underwater.”
Judy snorted. “He still thinks he’s turning into a frog. No lie.”
Webster shined a flashlight in Stink’s eyes. “He is blinking a lot. Frogs blink a lot, too.”
Sophie touched his arm. “His skin does feel a little cool. And slippery.”
“But who ever heard of a frog that doesn’t swim?” said Judy. “You won’t even put your head underwater, Stink. Face it. Once a Polliwog, always a Polliwog.”
“For your information,” said Stink. “A polliwog is a tadpole. And a tadpole turns into a frog.”
Judy shrugged.
“And I’m blinking because that’s what frogs do,” said Stink. “Frogs use their eyeballs to swallow bugs. No lie. They don’t have teeth, so their eyes push back in their head to force the food down.”
Webster looked at Sophie. Sophie looked at Webster.
“But you don’t eat with your eyeballs,” said Webster.
“And you definitely don’t eat bugs,” said Sophie.
Stink got up. He air-swam over to his desk. He fished inside his desk drawer till he found something. Something better than an Almost Joy candy bar. Better than a box of Milk Dudes. Better than a jawbreaker!
A lollipop. Not just any old lollipop. A real-live dead-bug lollipop! A bright orange, sugar-free lollipop with a for-real cricket inside.
Blink. Blink-blink.
“You’re not really going to lick that, are you?” asked Webster.
Blink-blink-blink.
“Please tell me you’re not going to eat a cricket,” Sophie said.
“Where’d you get that thing?” Judy asked.
“Had it. Since last Halloween. I just never wanted to eat it before.” Stink took off the wrapper and stuck out his tongue.
L-i-i-i-i-ck!
Stink slurped his sucker. He licked that lollipop with his long tongue. He got sticky stuff on his nose, and he licked that, too.
When he got to the cricket inside, he took a bite. Munch-munch! He took another bite. CRUNCH!
He swallowed. Blinkblinkblinkblink-blink. GULP!
Stink smiled, showing off a tiny cricket leg stuck in his teeth!
“Ick!” squealed Judy, making a face.
“Bluck!” said Sophie, sticking out her tongue.
“Grosssss!” squealed Webster, holding his tummy.
From behind his goggles, Stink’s eyes bugged out of his head. He looked a little green. He clutched his stomach.
“Are you going to be sick?” Judy asked.
“I’m going to be sick!” said Webster.
“He looks like he’s going to croak,” said Sophie.
Stink burped. He pushed back his goggles. “Crickets taste like . . . popcorn!” He grinned ear to ear, smiling wider than a Pacman frog.
* * *
On Monday, Stink had frogs on the brain all through Social Studies and Math and Art. He had frogs on the brain through lunch and recess. He had frogs on the brain till the bell rang.
At last it was time for after-school swim lessons!
In the car on the way to swim practice, Stink tested his frog ability. He stuck out his long tongue and — slurp! — touched the tip of his nose.
“Still got it,” said Stink.
On his way to the pool, Stink leapfrogged over Sophie in the grass. He leapfrogged over Webster. He even leapfrogged over Sophie and Webster.
At the pool, Stink put on his swim trunks. Stink put on his flippers. Stink put on his goggles. He hopped into the pool without sticking a single toe in first.
“Good for you, Stink!” Cammy called out. She was helping another Polliwog to float.
Stink practiced holding his breath. Stink splashed a little water on his face. He blew bubbles with his mouth. He blew bubbles with his nose. He blew bubbles with his nose and mouth at the same time!
With his head above water, Stink floated on a pool noodle, like a frog on a lily pad.
Cammy swam over to him. “Okay, let’s see what you got, Stink Moody.”
Stink looked at the spot on his arm where he’d been licked by a mutant ninja frog. He pictured King Otto the Third in his mind’s eye. He called on his newfound frog power.
And then, it happened.
&nb
sp; Stink took in a big breath. Stink puffed out his cheeks. Stink squeezed his eyes shut and thought froggy thoughts.
I am the frog. I own the night. I am one with the water.
In the blink of a frog’s eye, Stink put his face in the water. He held one-two-three fingers in the air. Stink held his breath, underwater, for three whole seconds! He even opened his eyes.
“Stink! You did it! Good for you,” said Cammy. “Eiffel Tower!” Cammy held her hands in the air, and they double high-fived.
“Stink Frog lives!” shouted Stink, pumping his fist in the air and smiling like a superhero.
“Let’s see you cross the shallow end, Stink. Without your pool noodle this time.”
Stink froggy-kicked his way across the shallow end, dunking his face in the water, and coming up for air. The lane marker stretched across the pool, wiggling like a giant worm. Reflections shimmered in the water like silvery coins. Shadows of pool flags waved at Stink when he reached the other end.
“Wow. I’ve never seen you swim like that,” said Cammy. “You must be part frog or something.”
“Just call me Stink Frog,” said Stink. “It’s my gift and my curse.”
“Your what?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Just something Peter Parker said.”
“So, do you want to play a game of London Bridge today?”
“Nope.”
“O-kay. How about Poison? Pop Goes the Weasel? Beware the Dogfish?”
“But you don’t even have to put your head underwater for those games. Those games are for Polliwogs.”
Cammy looked out over all her Polliwogs splashing in the shallow end. “You know what, Stink? I like to think there just might be a little frog in each of us.”
Stink nodded.
“What do you say we show these Polliwogs how it’s done? How about if I toss a quarter in the shallow end, and you dive for it?”
“Can I hold my nose?” Stink asked.
“Sure.”
“And wear my goggles?”
“Of course.”
“Do I get to keep the quarter?” Stink asked.
“Well, this is a big day for you. Maybe just this once.” Cammy tossed the quarter and Stink dove for it. Once. Twice.
Stink and the Freaky Frog Freakout (Book #8) Page 3
