by Ali Sparkes
Books in the
S.W.I.T.C.H. series
#1 Spider Stampede
#2 Fly Frenzy
#3 Grasshopper Glitch
#4 Ant Attack
#5 Crane Fly Crash
#6 Beetle Blast
#7 Frog Freakout
#8 Newt Nemesis
#9 Lizard Loopy
#10 Chameleon Chaos
#11 Turtle Terror
#12 Gecko Gladiator
#13 Anaconda Adventure
#14 Alligator Action
Text © Ali Sparkes 2011
Illustrations © Ross Collins 2011
“SWITCH: Frog Freak Out!” was originally published in English in 2011. This edition is published by an arrangement with Oxford University Press.
Copyright © 2014 by Darby Creek
All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.
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Minneapolis, MN 55401 U.S.A.
For reading levels and more invormation, look up this title at
www.lernerbooks.com.
Main body text set in ITC Goudy Sans Std. 14/19.
Typeface provided by Monotype Typography.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sparkes, Ali.
Frog freakout / by Ali Sparkes ; illustrated by Ross Collins.
pages cm. — (S.W.I.T.C.H. ; #7)
Summary: Twins Danny and Josh are having a miserable time at camp when mad scientist Petty Potts arrives, armed with her new AMPHISWITCH formula, just in time to get another camper out of trouble.
ISBN 978–1–4677–2111–0 (lib bdg. : alk. paper)
ISBN 978–1–4677–2417–3 (eBook)
[1. Camps—Fiction. 2. Frogs—Fiction. 3. Brothers—Fiction. 4.
Twins—Fiction. 5. Science fiction.] I. Collins, Ross, illustrator. II. Title.
PZ7.S73712Fro 2014
[Fic]—dc23
2013019710
Manufactured in the United States of America
1 – SB – 12/31/13
eISBN: 978-1-4677-2417-3 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-4016-6 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-4015-9 (mobi)
With grateful thanks to John Buckley, fabulous
amphibian* and reptile guru, and ARC, without
whom this book might be full of embarrassing errors.
For Maisy, Lewis and Rosie
(*And no, I don’t mean John Buckley is a fabulous amphibian)
Soggy Horror
Petty, Charlie—Charlie, Petty
Moonlit Misadventure
Hop Till You Plop
Pond Life
Seeing Red
Snacks and Snores
Snoozy, Oozy, Woozy
Top Secret!
Recommended Reading
“It’s raining sideways,” said Danny. “In fact, I’m fairly sure it’s just started raining up.” He slammed the cabin door behind him and thumped down heavily on the bed next to Josh.
“It’ll probably stop soon,” sighed Josh, who was peering at a book in the dim light. The energy-saving bulbs in the cabin were orangey and not very bright.
“You said that yesterday,” grumbled Danny. “And the day before.”
“Well, I’m not a weather forecaster!” said Josh. “I don’t know! I’m just trying to be cheerful.”
“Just trying to be cheerful,” mimicked Danny in a silly high voice. He kicked a bucket, which was collecting some drips from the ceiling. “Why did I ever say yes to this stupid summer camp?”
“It was the rappelling,” said Josh, still reading. “And the canoeing. And the den building and the tree climbing.”
Danny folded his arms and huffed. There had been some fun—bits of it—in between the rain. The rappelling was great. Even Josh had had a go, although he’d looked as white as a sheet in his ropes and safety helmet as he stepped off the ten-meter-high platform. The canoeing had been good too. But both these things had been cut short when the rain and wind got so bad the instructors couldn’t actually see the kids anymore.
Since then there had been indoor stuff going on. To start with, loads of them had been playing handheld computer games for a few hours in the big canvas tepee, and that was a brilliant laugh . . . right up until Drill Sergeant had stomped in and confiscated them all.
“Didn’t you read the rules?” he bellowed as the rain drummed loudly above them. “Nobody should have brought any computer games or mobile phones or gadgets with them! This is Outdoor Action Camp—not Suction Your Eyeballs to a Beeping Screen Camp. Here—read some pamphlets on how to light a campfire instead.”
His name was Steve, but every kid there called him Drill Sergeant because he was so shouty. There was a rumor that he’d been a prison guard in his last job. He had a jaw like a cement block and tiny dark eyes that glittered malevolently at kids who didn’t instantly do as they were told. Several had been refused dessert and treats by Steve for misbehaving (Danny on day one!). And the man shouted so loudly whenever he was angry that the crows in a nearby clump of trees would scatter into the sky, cawing with terror.
“Ooooooh! LOOK!” Josh suddenly threw down his book and shot across the floor of the cabin to scoop something up in his hands.
“Whaaa-aat?” asked Danny, anxiously, and Callum and Sayid sat up on their bunks to see what was going on.
“What a beauty!” murmured Josh, staring into his cupped palms.
Danny stepped back a bit. He knew where this was going. “What have you got now, you freaky little bug nerd?” he asked.
“A nursery web spider!” said Josh and opened his palms gleefully. A large yellowy-brown spider sat there, its front four legs clumped together in pairs so it looked as if it might have only six. Its abdomen was long and pointed. It started to scuttle up Josh’s arm.
“Eeeeeeeugh!” Danny shuddered. He hated creepy-crawlies. Even though he’d been one—quite a few times.
“Ah come on—she’s gorgeous,” said Josh, and Sayid came to have a look, squinting through his spectacles. So did Callum, although he kept his distance and held his Marvel comic annual across his chest.
“Gorgeous?” Danny stared at his brother. Sometimes he had difficulty believing that they really were related—but being identical twins proved they must be. “Josh . . . you need to get out more!”
Sayid and Callum soon lost interest and wandered out of the cabin, holding their raincoats over their heads, to see what was for lunch.
“I’m amazed you’re still such a baby about these things,” said Josh as the nursery web spider reached his shoulder. “You’ve been one!”
“Yes . . . and I’ve also nearly been eaten alive by one too, remember?”
Josh had to admit this was true. Over the last few weeks, he and his brother had been turned into spiders, flies, grasshoppers, ants, daddy longlegs, and even great diving beetles. And nearly every time something had tried to eat them. While Danny was a fly, he’d been captured by a female spider and wrapped up in silk—a tasty snack for later on. He was half a second away from being injected with gut-pulverizing venom when he was rescued.
“I wouldn’t mind being S.W.I.T.C.H. sprayed and turned into one of these, though, for just a few minutes,” said Josh. “They’re amazing hunters. They don’t use webs—they just hide under a leaf and POUNCE!” He shook his spidery shoulder at Danny, and Danny squeaked and jumped back. He might
be super brave while dangling over the edge of a high building on a rope or turning upside down through the water in a canoe . . . but he just couldn’t STAND creepy-crawlies.
“I thought you said you NEVER wanted to be S.W.I.T.C.H.ed again,” said Danny. “You said you never even wanted to SEE Petty Potts over the fence. Mom thought you were really rude when you ignored Petty in the post office last week.”
“Yeah, well,” said Josh, gently putting the spider back down into the corner where it vanished into a crack in the floorboards. “Mom doesn’t know that our sweet old neighbor is actually a mad genius scientist who’s turned us into creepy-crawlies with her S.W.I.T.C.H. spray quite a few times now.”
“True,” agreed Danny. “She’d probably have her arrested if she did.”
“Still,” said Josh, “at least we’re safe from Petty Potts and her sneaky experiments. We’re miles away in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yep.” Danny grinned. “No chance of that mad granny catching up with us here! Shall we go and find out what’s for lunch then?”
“OK,” said Josh. They grabbed their raincoats and opened the door.
And SCREAMED.
Standing in the dripping doorway of the log cabin was Petty Potts.
“AAAAAARGH!” screamed Josh. And Danny agreed.
“Pleased to see me?” Petty Potts beamed. Her gray hair was covered with a waxed cotton beanie hat, and her glasses were steamed up. Her shiny red raincoat glistened eerily in the orangey light, and she smelled worryingly of chemicals, like a school science lab.
“What are YOU doing here?” squawked Josh.
“I was going to ask you the same thing!” said Petty.
“We’re at summer camp!” said Danny. “But shouldn’t you be doing something sinister in your secret dungeon—like S.W.I.T.C.H.ing some defenseless pigeons into wood lice or something?”
“It’s not a dungeon!” Petty bristled (literally—the whiskers on her chin stood up). “It’s a state-of-the-art laboratory, cunningly hidden under my garden, where I perform my acts of genius. I DO wish you wouldn’t be so melodramatic, Danny.”
“So—why are you here?” Josh eyed her suspiciously. Even though Petty had saved their lives once or twice, neither of them trusted her as far as they could throw her (and that would not be far). Petty was just too swept up with BUGSWITCH and REPTOSWITCH experiments to give two hoots about their safety.
“I am a camp counselor!” She grinned. “I am here to look after all you small children . . . as if I were your loving auntie. Isn’t that nice?”
Josh pulled Petty into the cabin and shut the door behind her. “Petty—you are NOT planning to S.W.I.T.C.H. any of the kids here, are you?” he demanded, really alarmed now.
“Of course not,” said Petty. “As IF! No . . . I really wanted to get away for a while and just relax and share the company of happy young minds . . . that’s all.”
“So,” Danny eyed her suspiciously, “nothing at all to do with your Serum Which Instigates Total Cellular Hijack?”
“Not at all,” said Petty, grinning again. “I’m on holiday too. I don’t plan to hijack the cells of anyone or instigate anything this week. Although you might like to know that the REPTOSWITCH formula is very nearly complete.”
“How can you complete it?” asked Josh. “You never found the final crystal cube with the last bit of the secret formula!”
He and Danny exchanged uneasy glances. They had been helping Petty find the REPTOSWITCH formula all summer. It was hidden in six parts, each part in code in a crystal cube. They’d found them all—but the very last one was not in Petty’s lab. Right at this moment, it was in a thick old sock at the bottom of Danny’s camp gym bag. They’d decided Petty was too dangerous to have it when she nearly killed an old enemy a couple of weeks ago after S.W.I.T.C.H.ing him into a cockroach.
“Well, I’m hoping I can somehow work out the missing bit,” went on Petty. “And in the meantime, as a side experiment, I’ve also concocted AMPHISWITCH!”
“AMPHISWITCH?” Josh couldn’t help the tiniest flutter of excitement. He had always adored amphibians.
“Yes! Reptiles and amphibians are quite similar, you see . . . and although the missing part of the REPTOSWITCH formula is flummoxing me when it comes to perfecting reptile S.W.I.T.C.H.ing, the parts I have got were nine-tenths of what I needed for amphibians. I put my brilliant mind to work on some calculations, which are far too complicated for you to understand . . . and discovered the final bit for AMPHISWITCH last week! Now I can S.W.I.T.C.H. you into a frog or a toad or a newt!” Petty’s eyes gleamed through the condensation on her glasses.
Danny and Josh gave her a stony look. “But not NOW, obviously,” simpered Petty. “We’re all on holiday. No S.W.I.T.C.H.ing, no experiments . . . just lots of jolly FUN! So—what do you say? Shall we go and get lunch? It’s pot pie and peas . . . my favorite!”
“OK,” said Josh, and Danny nodded. They followed Petty out into the rain, which really did seem to be going up as well as sideways, and made for the canteen cabin.
Petty smiled happily at them as they stepped outside into a big wet gust of wind, but Josh and Danny didn’t smile back. They didn’t look at her at all. So they didn’t see the four plastic spray bottles hidden in her coat as the gust blew it open.
Charlie was doing a handstand on a dining table when they walked into the canteen cabin. A dozen or so kids were counting and clapping. It seemed she’d been handstanding for quite some time, because they were up to sixty-six.
“Keep counting,” squeaked Charlie, her face beet red and her many beaded black braids dangling between her elbows. She was wearing the Outdoor Action Camp uniform of blue shorts and a lurid orange T-shirt (the instructors and camp counselors liked to see them easily at a distance), but even upside down Danny could see that she’d “improved” her T-shirt with a Sharpie marker. The big smiley on it now had fangs, dripping blood.
“Good lord,” said Petty. “Does she do this sort of thing often?”
“All the time,” Danny grinned. “That’s Charlie Wexford.” He thought Charlie was brilliant. In the three days since they’d arrived, Charlie had been the most punished kid onsite. She’d climbed up on the girls’ dormitory cabin roof and yodeled (no dessert), canoed off on her own down the river and got herself happily lost for an hour (no dessert twice and a big Drill Sergeant shouting session), cut a girl’s hair with “borrowed” kitchen scissors (all her sweets confiscated and Drill Sergeant shouting for nearly half an hour)—and made up alternative words for the Outdoor Action Camp campfire song.
The proper campfire song went like this:
We love to swim; we love to climb.
We love to cook outdoors and sing.
We love to build a campfire
And be jolly about everything!
Charlie’s version went this way:
We love to play computer games.
We love to watch TV and snack.
We hate this rotten weather,
And we all want to go back.
After the handheld computer games were confiscated, everyone learned Charlie’s version with gusto. Drill Sergeant had ROARED at them for nearly an hour around that campfire . . . And Charlie was sent to bed without supper.
But nothing seemed to put her off.
Seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven . . .
“Dear child, your head is going to pop,” observed Petty Potts, peering at Charlie curiously. Charlie’s face was purple now.
“I feel fine,” gurgled Charlie.
“Well that’s perfectly all right then,” said Petty, taking a seat at the table and beaming closely at Charlie’s upended face. “As long as you don’t mind your blood pooling in your skull, leading to congestion, vessel rupture, seizures, and possibly death. So, everyone . . . when do we get lunch?”
Charlie looked a little worried, and her legs wobbled. Then she crashed down right into the cutlery and salt and pepper tray EXACTLY as the door flew open and Drill Serg
eant strode in.
“WEXFOOOOOOORD!” bellowed Drill Sergeant, and everyone scattered away from the table in horror. Now they would ALL miss dessert.
“Hello, Steve,” said Petty, getting to her feet and offering the camp leader a sickly smile. “Don’t mind little Charlie here. I asked her to assist me with an experiment on the pressure of blood on the inverted brain.”
“Wuff-uff-uff!” spluttered Drill Sergeant. His mouth had been open, and he’d been taking in a big lungful of air, ready to shout so loudly that everyone would be pasted against the far wall. The new camp counselor lady had taken the wind out of him . . . literally.
“You remember I told you I’m a scientist,” explained Petty, taking off her hat. “So when children ask questions, I do like to explain things thoroughly to them. That’s why this sweet young lady was performing a handstand. But I can see that we’ve been a little overenthusiastic. Don’t worry about it at all, Steve. We’ll soon have the knives and forks shipshape. Shut your mouth now, there’s a dear.” And she actually leaned over and pushed Drill Sergeant’s chin up until his mouth snapped shut with a clunk of teeth. He looked absolutely astonished.
“What’s your name?” asked Charlie when they were all sitting down to cottage pie and peas a few minutes later.
“Miss Potts,” said Petty. “I’ve taken over from Miss Chatham, who, as you probably know, came out in a nasty rash of boils yesterday.”
“Well, Miss Potts,” grinned Charlie,waving a fork of mashed potato toward her and narrowing her dark brown eyes. “You are COOL!”
Josh and Danny, sitting on either side of the cool Miss Potts, shook their heads and groaned.
“Thank you, dear,” Petty replied. “Call me Petty.”
“We’re watching you!” warned Danny in a low voice, leaning toward her. “Don’t you try S.W.I.T.C.H.ing Charlie!”
