Jennifer Murdley's Toad by Bruce Coville

Author:Bruce Coville
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

EIGHT

The Immortal Vermin

The glowing green numerals of Jennifer’s clock radio said 3:14. Except for a bit of stray silver from the nearly vanished moon, the time offered the only light in the room.

Jennifer and Bufo sat side by side on the top of Jennifer’s dresser.

Sharra and Ellen were in Jennifer’s bed. Somewhat to Jennifer’s satisfaction, Sharra was snoring. Loudly.

Brandon lay on the floor next to them. He had wandered in about midnight, as he often did, clutching his blanket and his favorite pillow. Plunking himself down on the floor beside her bed, he had inserted one thumb in his mouth and immediately fallen into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Skippy was in his own room—maybe sleeping, maybe not. Jennifer hoped not. If there was any justice, his conscience would be keeping him awake.

Her parents were most likely asleep as well. They had come in shortly after Brandon, counted heads, assumed the two kids in Jennifer’s bed were Jennifer and Ellen, and gone to their own room.

“Bufo,” whispered Jennifer, “are you asleep?”

“Merely resting my eyeballs,” he replied, using the voice of W. C. Fields.

“Bufo, I’m so frightened.”

Bufo opened his eyes. “I don’t blame you, kid,” he said. “I probably would be, too. But look at it this way: It’s not a bad life, being a toad. You live off the land, go where you want. Work for a wizard now and then if you feel like it. As long as you watch out for snakes and other things that want to eat you, it has some real benefits.”

“Were you always a toad?”

“From the moment I happened.”

“Happened?” asked Jennifer. “Don’t you mean hatched? Or meta . . . meta . . . you know, changed from a polliwog into a grown-up.”

“Never was hatched,” said Bufo. “Never metamorphosed from a tadpole. I’m one of the Immortal Vermin, and I just—happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You planning on going anywhere soon?” Jennifer asked, her voice stubborn.

Bufo sighed. “I suppose you have a right to hear it.”

“Under the circumstances, I think that’s true.”

“All right. But if you want to hear it, settle down and listen. No interruptions.”

Jennifer thought about pointing out that, of the two of them, Bufo was far more given to interrupting than she was. She decided she was more interested in getting the story than in having a manners contest, so she simply nodded her head and said, “No interruptions.”

“All right,” said Bufo, “Then here we go. Once upon a time—”

“Wait a minute, I want the real story,” said Jennifer, “not some fairy tale.”

“Most real stories start that way,” said Bufo sharply. “And I guarantee you that this story is more real than your promise not to interrupt has turned out to be.”

“Sorry,” said Jennifer, angry at herself for letting Bufo lure her into an interruption so quickly. She had a sense that he was testing her.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, once upon a time there was a woman who lived in a forest. She had two daughters.

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