Once Upon a Toad (29 page)

“That's more like it.” His fat little hand whipped back and grabbed it.

Pipsqueak,
I thought, scowling out the window.

I heard the rapid click of the blinker, and the SUV slowed as we approached a four-way stop. I looked at the street sign. Skyline. My heart sank. Skyline led to Cornelius Pass Road, the cutoff from Portland's West Hills down to the river, where our “transport” was waiting—the boat that would spirit us away from our family forever.

Wasn't this also the road that led to Iz's favorite berry farm, though, the one she took us to every summer to help pick berries for pies and jam? It was—I was sure of it! The people there were so nice—maybe this was the break I'd been hoping for. What if we could get our captors to pull over near it somehow? Could we take a chance and make a run for it?

It's not like we had anything to lose. Not with a voyage to permanent exile on the horizon.

All we needed was a diversion.

No problem,
I thought.
Time to break out the toads
.

I glanced over at Olivia, trying to catch her eye.

“‘Robo Rooster, he's the one,'” she sang, heedless of my frantic hand motions. With all this singing, she was nearly up to her knees in flowers and gems. “‘He makes sure we all have fun!'”
She rested her fingers on the top of the open window as she sang.

In the front seat the pudgy man's head bobbed in time to the music.

I flicked a glance out the window. We were getting closer. The sun had come out; it was turning into a beautiful day. The suburbs melted away as the road pushed deeper into the countryside, and soon we were winding through a patchwork of fields and forest. Up ahead I saw a homemade sign nailed to a tree that proclaimed
FRESH BERRIES—ONE MILE AHEAD!

Ahead in the distance I could see the roof of the berry farm's red barn. I prodded Olivia with my foot. She looked over at me, and I motioned with my chin toward the sign, then mimed picking berries and eating them. She watched me, puzzled. I jerked my chin at the pudgy man behind the wheel, pantomiming him steering off the side of the road, then pointed at the berry farm again. My stepsister's face clouded with confusion as she looked from one to the other, trying to decipher what I was telling her. This wasn't working! I pointed frantically at the toad still crouched under the passenger seat ahead of me then back at myself, and light finally dawned in her eyes.

She gave me a thumbs-up with her bound hands and started singing again.

The mission was on!
Toad minus one mile and counting.

The SUV slowed as we approached a series of switchbacks that led down the hill to the farm. As we swerved first one way and then the other, I glanced at Geoffrey. He was pale as milk, and his face had that pinched, anxious expression it always gets right before he barfs.

Suddenly I had a better idea. Forget the toads. The real secret weapon was my little brother.

I stuck my leg out and prodded Olivia again, then pointed to Geoffrey. Our eyes met over the top of his head and we both smiled.

“How come you stopped singing?” demanded the pudgy man.

My stepsister swung into yet another chorus of “Robo Rooster,” and I whistled along, biding my time. Any minute now for sure. The barn ahead was calling me like a beacon, a lighthouse in a field of green. We slowed to a crawl, and with each hairpin turn, we grew closer to our destination, and Geoffrey grew slightly greener around the gills.

The farm was just ahead now, and the SUV swerved again sharply as it made the final turn. Geoffrey pulled his finger out of his mouth. “Are we there yet?” he asked weakly.

“Now!” I cried.

Olivia and I held Geoffrey by the shoulders and leaned him forward, pointing him at the pudgy man behind the wheel.

Right on cue, the Barf Bucket delivered.

CHAPTER 28

Both of our captors let out a howl as Geoffrey doused them thoroughly.

“That's disgusting!” cried the pudgy man behind the wheel.

Wait until you see this,
I thought as I took a deep breath and launched into the first thing that popped into my mind—a rousing chorus of the national anthem.

“‘Oh, say, can you SEE by the DAWN'S early LIGHT!'” I sang at the top of my lungs, leaning forward and unleashing a torrent of toads over the back of the seat. “‘What so PROUDLY we HAILED at the twilight's last GLEAMING!'”

I bellowed my way through the anthem's first stanza, toads gushing from me like water from Old Faithful on one of Great-Aunt Aby's Yellowstone postcards. By the time I reached the end, there were amphibians everywhere.

Our captors didn't stand a chance against toad power.

The SUV swerved wildly as the pudgy man lost control of
the wheel. We twisted this way and that, then lurched off the road and into a ditch, hissing to a stop. Our captors sat there for a moment, dazed. They were covered in barf—and toads. The man in the zoo janitor's uniform was whimpering.

“Run for it!” I told Olivia.

Unbuckling Geoffrey, I popped my bound hands over his head and scooped him off the seat. Somehow I managed to get the door open and the two of us outside. Several cars had pulled over behind us, and concerned passersby were starting to get out and make their way in our direction. I saw one woman on a cell phone and hoped she was calling 911. I didn't wait to find out, though. Intent only on reaching the barn—and safety—I started across the field.

Behind me, Olivia gave a cry of frustration.

“Oh, no you don't,” said the pudgy man, and I turned to see that he was leaning over the back of his seat, holding on to the sleeve of her hoodie.

I hesitated. “Olivia?”

“Forget it, Cat!” she called back, waving me on. “Get Geoffrey out of here!”

I thought fleetingly of her diorama back home, the one of Geoffrey's room with the gem-covered arrow that led to her door. She was going to sacrifice herself to try to put things right.

My little brother stirred in my arms. He was covered in barf and smelled almost as bad as I did, thanks to my ride in the Penguinarium lunch cart. Should I just cut my losses and try and get him to safety?

Geoffrey looked up at me, his greenish blue eyes huge in his pale face. “Livy,” he said.

I sighed. “You're right, G-Man,” I told him. “We can't leave
Livy. You wait here.” I set him down at the edge of the field, then I ran back to the SUV. “Let her go, pipsqueak!” I hollered at the pudgy man. And taking hold of both of my stepsister's hands, I pulled with all my might.

The silver ring on my right hand gleamed in the sunlight, its aquamarines sparkling between the words “Sisters are forever friends.”
Maybe,
I thought.
Or maybe not.
But one thing was for sure: There were some things worth holding fast to, and family was one of them. I knew that now. Olivia and I might be as different as night and day, and we might never like the same things or even the same people. But deep down we were family. And it was time for me to accept her, warts and all. I braced my feet against the doorjamb of the SUV and hung on stubbornly.

“Hold fast, Olivia!” I shouted, popping out a particularly large toad.

Croak
.

I looked at it, startled. Had it just winked at me?

As it hopped away, Olivia's hoodie sleeve tore loose and the two of us popped out of the car like a cork out of a bottle. We scrambled to our feet, ignoring the pudgy man's angry shouts. I scooped Geoffrey up again and the three of us started to run. Across the field we flew, never once looking back until we reached the safety of the barn. We rounded its corner, breathless.

The Red Rocket was parked on the other side. The top was down and Pearl was in the driver's seat, her bright pink fingernails drumming on the steering wheel. Bald Elvis was
beside her, fiddling with the radio. I could hear the strains of “Jailhouse Rock.”

“There you are,” said Great-Aunt Abyssinia, who was lounging against the hood. Her orange hair flashed in the sun as she stood up and opened the door for us. “Right on time.”

CHAPTER 29

“P-U!” said Pearl as the three of us piled into the backseat. Bald Elvis reached over to untie our hands. “What the heck kind of perfume are you kids wearing?”

“Eau de barf,” I told her, shoving over to make room for my great-aunt. “With a side of Chicken of the Sea.”

G-Man climbed straight into Great-Aunt Aby's lap. She buckled the seat belt firmly around them both, then tapped Pearl on the shoulder. “Hit it, Pearl. Let's see what this baby can do.”

In a flash we were on the road, sailing back up Cornelius Pass Road toward Portland, and home. We passed the disabled SUV as we sped up the switchback. A police cruiser was parked behind it with its lights flashing. I caught a glimpse of the pudgy man and the zoo janitor, trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys. They were still covered in barf.

“Hey! How did they … Where did that rope come from?”

Great-Aunt Aby's big front teeth peeked out as she gave
me a sly smile. “Sometimes I get things right.”

“I finally remembered where I saw that janitor guy before,” Olivia told us. “He was at the hospital the day I went in for tests. He was the lab assistant who tried to steal one of my diamonds.”

So Iz had been right about him!

“There's one thing I still don't understand, though,” I said a few minutes later as we merged onto the freeway. I had to holler to be heard, as the wind was whipping my words away now. Pearl had taken Great-Aunt Aby's challenge and floored it. “How did you find us?”

Bald Elvis glanced back at me. “We just followed the diamond trail.”

I looked at him blankly. “What diamond trail?”

“The one I left,” said Olivia. “After I got them to roll the windows down, remember? I just kept tossing them out.” She smiled at me. “You were the one who said to improvise.”

Maybe my stepsister was smarter than I'd given her credit for. It turns out Olivia's diamonds gave off a lot of light. More, even, than regular ones. A.J. and Mom had picked them up on the FGPS and relayed our location to Great-Aunt Aby.