Frog Freakout (5 page)

“Don't care!” said Charlie. “S.W.I.T.C.H. me, Petty, or I'll tell everyone your secret. Turn me into a frog, and I will NEVER breathe a word.”

Petty was taking no chances. She pulled out a bottle with “A1” written on it in marker and sprayed it at Charlie's head. There was just time for a thrilled squeak before Charlie vanished and a frog sat at their feet, grinning in a very delighted way.

“Petty! S.W.I.T.C.H. me NOW!” commanded Josh. “You shouldn't have let her go first! If she gets eaten, I will NEVER forgive you!”

Three seconds later, there were two frogs on the bank. Petty waved the bottle at Danny and wiggled her eyebrows. He sighed. “Ah, go on then . . .”

And then there were three.

“Ribbet! Ribbet! Ribbet!” yelled Charlie, leaping up and down like a bug-eyed ballerina. “WOW! Ribbet! Ribbet!”

“Why do you keep going ‘ribbet'?” said Josh, extending his impressive back legs and peering down the length of them.

“I'm speaking frog!” Charlie giggled.

“Right—if you say so,” said Josh. “But actually, common frogs don't say ‘ribbet.' We're speaking froggish right now, but the only frog which actually goes ‘ribbet' is the kind in Disney movies.”

PLOP! Charlie landed with a squelch, right in front of Josh. “Well I like ribbetting! Will other frogs understand us?” she asked, her bulbous eyes shining with delight. They were yellowy gold
around the outer edges with large oval black pupils in the center.

“Yes, probably,” chuckled Josh. He was pretty thrilled to be a frog too. “They might freak out when they see us, though. We might still smell a bit human. They might scream. They don't ribbet, but they can scream.”

Danny was ready to scream at any moment. “What's going to eat me this time, Josh?” he asked, looking around edgily. Behind him the titanic shape of Petty Potts was standing very still. Her foot, in its rubber boot, looked like the size of a car.

“Ummm . . . big birds might try,” said Josh. “Mammals too. Snakes. A fox would make a quick snack of you, no problem. A cat too, maybe, although mostly they just like to play.”

Danny shuddered, the ripples of horror visible across his mottled throat. So did Josh. He'd been “played with” by a cat before, on the day they were S.W.I.T.C.H.ed into grasshoppers. “Let's go!” he said and leapt into the water.

Two more sploshes and plumes of bubbles followed him in, and at once, the world was utterly different. They were floating through a dim watery universe, filled with elegantly wafting weed, spinning particles of silt, tumbling black water snails, and darting brown fish.

“Woooooooooow!” marveled Charlie. “Look at meeeeee!” Keeping her arms close to her body, she kicked her long legs and webbed feet and shot through the water at high speed. Josh copied her and caught up in two seconds. “How come I can talk underwater?” asked Charlie. “I'm not opening my mouth!”

“You're sending vibrations,” explained Josh, using his own vibrations. “Through your throat muscles and skin. Clever, isn't it?”

“Wait for me!” called Danny and followed close behind. “Josh! Wait! Is there anything down here which will eat me?”

Josh turned in the water and watched his brother approaching. Danny looked truly elegant. Josh had always loved frogs. Lots of people thought they were slimy and revolting, but Josh saw only their sleek, shiny beauty as they swam and their amazing leaping ability on dry land. He admired their clever pulsating throats pushing air deep down into their bodies and their amazing skin, able to adapt to water or dry land.

“We're OK down here!” he called. “There's nothing big enough to go for us in the pond. Another frog might jump on your back in springtime but not in summer. I can't see any around now, anyway. Ooooh this is SOOOO amazing!”

Danny started to relax and enjoy the cool silky feel of the water. He stopped shuddering every time waterweed stroked his skin. He noticed beautiful pale greeny-gold shafts of light filtering down from the dawn sun above, and he swam up to break the skin of the water with his nose. His nostrils sprang open in the morning air, and the scent of the pond rushed into them. It was rich and almost spicy, like earth and grass and mint. He bobbed back down under the water to find Josh drifting happily nearby. “How come I don't have to go up more often to breathe, Josh?” he asked.

“Frogs are amazing,” said Josh. “We can breathe through our nostrils like this . . .” He kicked his powerful legs twice, and his nose popped through the skin of the water and up into the morning air. Danny copied him, pulling in another fresh breath
through his small nostrils. Josh dropped down again and he followed.

“Or . . .” went on Josh, “. . . we can breathe through our skin. That's what we're doing now, while our nostrils are shut. Our skin absorbs oxygen from the water. It's brilliant, isn't it?'

“Two ways to breathe!” said Danny.

“Three if you include the gills at the tadpole stage,” said Josh.

“Look at meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Charlie shot past them again in a stream of bubbles and some small whirling snails. “This is better than World of Adventures!!!”

“OK, OK! Slow down, Charlie!” Josh grabbed one of her legs, and she spun around in the water.

“What?” she demanded.

“Have you forgotten why we're down here?” said Danny. “We've got to get the key!”

“The key? Oh pooh!” grumbled Charlie. “But this is so much FUN! Why don't we get Petty to spray us with loads more of that S.W.I.T.C.H. stuff? We can just spend the rest of the camp time down here! Then we don't have to worry about Drill Sergeant at all. This would be the BEST!”

“No,” said Josh. “We can't! For one thing, everyone would go mad with worry. For another thing, sooner or later we'd have to get back on land and get some food. And then we might end up
being
food.”

“Come on,” said Danny. “Start looking for the key! We've only got minutes left before Drill Sergeant gets up and sees it's gone.”

“Look for the key fob,” said Josh. “The bit hanging off the key. The red ink in it should be easy to see.”

“Shame we haven't got insect vision,” said Danny as they swam down to the murkier depths of the pond. “When you're a bluebottle, you can look all round at once. You can check out your proboscis and your bum at the same time.”

“Have you really been a fly?” marveled Charlie.

“Yep. And done fly stuff,” said Danny. “And trust me—you don't want the details! You'd never eat a doughnut again.”

“No insects to worry about down here, though!” said Charlie, digging cheerfully through the silt, pondweed roots, and clumps of algae. “Eeeeeugh! Wrong...”

Several creatures shot out of the muck cloud she'd stirred up. Danny yelped. There were eight-legged, six-legged, even clawed things, rushing towards his face.

Josh chortled. “They're just water mites and water fleas and freshwater shrimps. You can eat them if you like.”

It was a menu of horror for Danny. He shut his eyes (as far as he could—they didn't seem to have proper eyelids; just filmy things) until the minibeasts had swum past him.