“Oh kiss me, moonbeams!” he cried. It was truly the queen. As Seer had promised, she wore the special shapes that marked her as the human he was to kiss. She was dark on top, like a crow, and she was looking right at him. “Queen!” he cried. “Over here! Over here!”
She waved.
He waved back. “Quick!”
She came close as if knowing what was supposed to happen. She was so near. She bent down, her face only inches from his, looking at him with dark eyes. She said something he didn’t understand. She was only a tongue flick away.
Moondoggies!
He tried not to think about what would happen. He thought only of home and the pond. Of Seer and his friends.
He took aim.
Then the nest jerked and he tumbled to the bottom. By the time he scrambled back to the opening, the queen was gone.
Nooooo! He had to get back to her. He dug and scrambled, hopped and lurched, trying to break free.
But he just swayed out into the night air, getting farther and farther from her every second.
He watched through the opening, trying to mark the path he was taking so he could find his way back when he got out of the nest. But soon all the shapes and lights became blurs, in spite of his efforts to keep them straight. He was in a humanville without end, coverings everywhere. He saw none of the markers that he usually used to find his way around. No iris spear chewed off at the top by a rabbit. No interesting stones half buried in the grass. No sandy path pointing the way up Cold Bottom Road.
He was terrified—though he had to admit that the gentle, rocking rhythm as the human carried him along in the nest didn’t feel scary. But she was taking him away from where he needed to be.
Soon he heard a sound like hard rain on the pond back home. The rocking stopped, and Tad was set down with a bump.
Human hands lifted him out into the warm night air.
He had never seen anything like it. Enormous lit-up shapes loomed over him. Lights pulsed and chased each other. Beams of color moved like blowing tree branches.
Tad was deposited, gently, on the edge of a gigantic spewing pond. Water shot up into the sky until it touched the stars. And when it splashed back down, the drops of moisture felt wonderful on his back.
He sat frozen, trying to imagine he was the color of the covering on which he sat. He hoped he was becoming invisible.
But the human was talking, and she seemed to be talking to him. Her face was close to his, as the queen’s had been, and Tad saw himself reflected in her pale eyes. What could she be saying?
He thought maybe she was encouraging him to do something. But what? Not get in the spewing pond, he hoped. He was a garden toad, not a water frog.
A cricket sang nearby. He was very hungry. But he’d have to get in the grass to catch the cricket, and he’d have to move to get in the grass, and he was too terrified to move.
He felt the girl’s fingers closing around him. He tried to escape, but it was too late.
She put him in the grass and kept on talking. Did she want him to eat a cricket?
Tad’s tongue flicked out. The cricket had a strange taste, but it made him feel stronger. He hopped through the grass. He found three Japanese beetles and four mosquitoes. And the next time he noticed, he was alone. The human had left.
She had been a kind human, taking him to food and water. But where in creation was he? He turned in a circle, looking at the bright shapes piercing the pale, tired-looking stars.
He had to get back to the place of flying toads, the place of the music. He had to get back to the queen. And so he began. One hop, and then another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Chapter 22
TAYLOR WALKED BACK TOWARD THE HOTEL. She hadn’t realized how far she’d come in her quest for just the right place to leave the little toad. The giant white H of their hotel against the skyline didn’t look very far off, but Taylor was shocked at how long it took to get back.
Car horns were honking and the sidewalks were crowded. A mob of people turned and rushed like a school of fish toward a limo pulling up at the curb, and a woman wearing enough sparkly jewelry to light up the night stepped out of the car and made her way into a hotel. On the next block, teenagers drove a noisy black car with a pink fender up on the sidewalk and began unloading musical instruments.
Two couples pushing strollers, one with twins, took up most of the sidewalk. As they waited for the light to change, one of the women looked at Taylor, seeming to wonder what a child was doing roaming around alone. Traffic roared past. When the light turned green, Taylor rushed ahead. When she spotted another family, she sort of tagged along, hanging a little behind, trying to look like she belonged.
What was that noise? She’d been hearing it off and on since she’d left the hotel. And then she realized it was coming from her. From her backpack. She dropped her backpack right in the middle of the sidewalk and dug around for her phone. People went around her like a river parting for a rock.
FOUR MISSED CALLS
“Hello?” she said, knowing she was in big trouble.
“Oh, baby, are you all right? Where are you?” Her mother was half sobbing and half screaming.
“I’m fine,” Taylor rushed to explain. “Really, I am.”
“Where are you?”
Taylor looked around. How could she describe exactly where she was?
“I’m in front of the banner that says World Ecology Conference.” Then she realized there were many of these banners lining the streets, all with the logo of a toad.
“Where is that?” her mother asked, her voice shrill.
“I don’t know, but I can see our hotel. It’s kind of just across the street.”
“Oh, thank God.” Taylor could hear her mother sniffling and saying something to her dad. “What are you doing there? Are you alone? Are you sure you’re okay? We thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth. We tried to call you just to make sure you were okay and you didn’t answer and so we came to the room and you weren’t here!”
“Well, I’m okay.” If she tried to explain about the toad in her salad, it would sound so strange. Her parents weren’t into things like toads. They wouldn’t understand why she had to find a really good spot for him. “I just wanted to walk around a little bit.”
More murmuring between her parents.
“Can you see the front entrance of the hotel?” her dad asked, taking the phone. Taylor didn’t like the strangled sound in his voice.
She nodded. Maybe her parents did notice her after all.
“Peggy Sue?”
Tears stung her eyes. She’d really scared them.
“I can see the front entrance,” she said. “Really, Dad, I’m okay. I’m sorry I made you worry.”
He made a strange sound. “Okay. We’re going to stay on the phone. You walk toward the front entrance, and you should see me coming out soon. When you do, wave great big.”
When they caught sight of each other, Taylor began to run toward her dad. He put his arms around her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Why did you do such a thing?” he said, holding her back. “You terrified us. Oh, baby. What would we do if we lost you?”
Taylor’s throat ached. Honestly, she’d always thought her parents didn’t pay the least attention to her. She took a deep breath. “Well…”
“And you’ve got your backpack!” her dad exclaimed. He turned her to face him and squatted down to eye level. “Were you running away?” His face was white in the weird city-night lights.
She shook her head. “Of course I wasn’t running away.” She pulled her backpack open. “Look, it’s empty. If I were running away, it would be full.”
“Then why are you carrying it?”
“Well…” She took another deep breath. “See, I ordered room service like you said I could. And a toad jumped out of the salad bowl.” She cut a look at her dad. Was he following it so far? “And I had to find a good pl
ace to put him, so I carried him in my backpack to a fountain way over that way.” Taylor pointed generally in the direction of the satisfactory spot she’d found for the little toad.
Her dad gazed at her, his mouth open a little, then he shut it. “Taylor, you don’t need to lie to me,” he said quietly.
She swallowed. It wasn’t a lie. But she didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She saw the hurt look on her dad’s face.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s just go home.”
When they got back to the suite, Taylor felt her mother’s face still damp with tears as they hugged, and her mother asked her why she’d left the room. Her dad cleared his throat and coughed. “Well, look,” her mother said, dropping the subject, “you didn’t even eat your pizza. We could heat it in the microwave.”
She hadn’t eaten since lunch, but she really couldn’t eat a pizza a toad had hopped in. She didn’t want to bring up the toad again, though, so she just said she wasn’t hungry.
Later, after she was showered and in her pajamas and in bed, her mother came in. Taylor had been hearing her mother’s voice talking to somebody. Maybe to her dad. Maybe on the phone to her grandmother. She wished she were with her grandmother. She tried to hold back tears.
Her mother came into her room fluffing a pillow. “What would you think if I slept in here with you tonight?” she asked gaily, as if it were the highlight of their trip.
“Okay.” Taylor put her head under the sheets and wiped her face.
“Good,” her mother said. “And tomorrow we’re going to get you involved in some kids’ activities.”
Her mother shifted and squirmed, getting settled. Her rustling made Taylor think of the sounds of birds bedding down in the trees at home.
She wished she were sitting on her grandmother’s deck right now in the darkness. The tree frogs would be singing, and she could tell her grandmother about the funny little toad. Eve would understand.
It was weird having her mother in bed with her. Taylor tried to lie still and not sniffle.
Chapter 23
AFTER THE GIRL LEFT HIM ALONE IN THE GRASS, Tad hopped madly in all directions, looking for a praying mantis to point the way back to the queen. He hopped until his legs nearly fell off. But no matter which way he went, he just hit a stream of roaring stinky things. Remembering what had happened to Buuurk, Tad felt his diggers go weak.
Worn out, he finally crouched in the night shadows and gazed at the Toad-in-the-Moon. He asked the Toad-in-the-Moon if Tumbledown was still there. He didn’t expect an answer, but the silence made him sad.
Morning brought a huge thirsty sun that dried Tad out so much he almost blew away. He barely made it back to the spewing pond in time. He snuggled his rear end into dirt that didn’t feel clean, and tried to stay as cool as he could until the sun went away. With coolness he could find his way back to the queen.
He waited in his hole with his eyes and mouth showing so he could zap anything edible that happened by, but he was so twitchy with impatience that he didn’t catch much.
Tad kept an eye out for the nice girl. Why had she brought him here? Maybe she was going to come back and get him and return him to the queen.
He waited and watched for the girl for a long time.
When the air was cooler and the Toad-in-the-Moon once again climbed the sky, Tad left his hole. And just on the other side of a stone he spied a small mantis. Thank the green grass! At last!
The mantis swung his arm.
Tad lined himself up in the direction the mantis pointed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was the direction he’d come from before with the nice girl.
He set off, snapping out his tongue for several fluffy white moths.
As he knew he would, he came to the river of roaring stinky things. The minute he hopped onto the rough covering—which he simply hated doing—human feet thudded and scraped around him. He had to hop like crazy to keep from getting squashed. A foot loomed over his head, and Tad sprang away. He landed on something hard and smooth…
…and whoa! A breeze brushed his back as he whizzed along.
He sped in front of the roaring stinky things, who stared at him with bright eyes. Right over Tad’s head was a small human foot, pink and bare, so close Tad could have flicked out his tongue and touched it.
Whatever was carrying him and the little human seemed to be moving in the direction the mantis had pointed. Thank the green grass! There were the huge white tree trunks straight ahead.
Chapter 24
TAYLOR AND HER MOTHER stood in front of the table with a KIDS’ ACTIVITIES sign over it.
Taylor looked at some flyers, trying to keep her mind off what today was. It was the city council meeting, and instead of being on TV she was signing up for dumb stuff.
“Look, Taylor,” her mother said. “You could go on a day trip to the planetarium and science center.”
“Ummm,” Taylor said. She kind of liked having her mother pay so much attention to her, but she didn’t want to go to a planetarium and science center. It sounded very boring.
Diana, the girl Taylor had showed the toad to in the lobby last night, stood by a dance contest sign. “You should sign up for this,” she said. “It’s lots of fun. I won last year, as you can see.” She grinned, touching her crown. “Did you take your toad to the park?”
Taylor felt her mother snap to attention beside her.
“He was sooo cute,” Diana said.
“Where did you see him?” Taylor’s mother asked like she was cross-examining a witness.
“In Peggy Sue’s backpack when she came through the lobby.”
“See?” Taylor said, looking at her mother.
Diana was saying, “—all year I’ve been Queen of the Hop. And this year I’ll turn over my crown to the next queen. Plus, this week I’ll help teach new people the steps. Do you know how to do the stroll? Or the Watusi?”
Taylor shook her head.
“Well, I can teach you. Just sign up here.”
Taylor’s mother said, “That’s an idea, honey.”
Well, it sounded better than hula hoop lessons or a trip to a museum. So she wrote her name down on the list. She was Number 11. There was a boy’s name across from hers.
“Oh, I know him,” Diana said. “He danced last year. He’s really good.”
“So is there a King of the Hop?” Taylor asked.
Diana and Taylor’s mother looked at her.
“Did you ever hear of a rock-and-roll song called ‘King of the Hop’?” Diana giggled.
Taylor felt stupid. She didn’t know anything about this stuff.
“I gotta go,” Diana said. “I have to buy some souvenirs in the gift shop. See you this afternoon, if not before.”
When they were partway across the lobby, Taylor’s mom put her hand on her shoulder. “About that frog—”
It was a toad. But, whatever.
“I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.”
Taylor sighed. “Well, the salad part sounded kind of not true, I guess.”
“Still, honey. You shouldn’t have gone out of the hotel by yourself.”
“I know.”
“Look. The band has got a short rehearsal before lunch. Do you want to come along?”
“Could I spend some time in the ecology exhibit instead?” she asked. Somehow it felt like a suitable place to be when she knew the protest was going on at home without her. She could have been in front of a TV camera this very minute, telling the world about the terrible thing that was happening to her pond.
Her mother tucked a strand of Taylor’s hair behind her ear. “That’s okay, I guess. Your dad and I will meet up at the door to the exhibit afterward. That’s where you will be the whole time, okay?”
“Okay.”
“No trips for any reason, anywhere?”
Taylor nodded.
The exhibit was huge, with lots of displays and lots of people. Taylor wandered from one fascinating p
art to another. She could never see all of it in an hour. How weird that the foundation’s logo was a warty little toad, and a warty little toad had been on her room service tray. It made the hair on Taylor’s arms kind of prickle.
“Are you interested in anything in particular?” a lady asked her.
“Toads, I guess.”
“Over here.” The woman led her through the crowd. “We have a whole room on toads, actually.”
Inside the room, a map of the world ran around all four walls. “Toads tell us how healthy the environment is,” the lady explained. “Their skins are so thin, you know. So if our air or water or soil is dirty, toads don’t thrive.”
Printed on the map were pictures of about a zillion kinds of toads.
“What kind of toad is that?” Taylor asked, pointing to a banner.
“Ah! That’s Bufo americanus.”
Bufo americanus. It sounded like an important toad.
“They’re very people-friendly, as toads go,” the woman said. “They don’t mind too much if you touch them—if you touch them gently. But they’re particular about their habitat.”
“What do you mean?” Taylor asked.
“Well, for one thing, they need plenty of moisture. So if you plopped one of those guys down around here, for example, he’d just die. The habitat is totally different. Here where it’s dry you’d see critters like Bufo punctatus—or the red-spotted toad.” She pointed to the map of Nevada. “Here he is. Nothing like Bufo americanus.”
Taylor felt a pinch in her throat until she could barely speak. “Die?”
The lady looked at her oddly.
“A toad would die in the wrong habitat?” Taylor asked.
“Probably,” the lady said. “They’re very delicate.”
“I killed him,” Taylor whispered. Probably with a long, slow death of drying out in the desert.
“Killed who?” The lady’s eyes flickered around the room.
“A Bufo americanus. I didn’t mean to.”
The lady looked relieved. “Well, unfortunately, honey, it happens all the time. They’re so small and defenseless. They’re constantly getting wiped out by lawn mowers, garden tillers, fertilizers, earthmoving equipment, traffic. I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”
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