Jennifer Murdley's Toad (Magic Shop Books) Page 6

  To her shock, the voice that came through the speaker did not belong to Mr. Elives. It belonged to the woman they had met in the beauty parlor. In tones that made Jennifer think of steel wrapped in silk, the woman spoke four words: " I want the toad."

  The jolt of fear that shook Jennifer was so strong she reacted without thinking. Putting her front legs against the phone, she pushed with her powerful hind legs. The phone skittered across the polished wood and clattered to the floor.

  Everyone stared at the toy phone; no one moved.

  I want the toad! repeated the voice at the other end.

  Then there was a click, a buzzing, and silence.

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  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

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  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."

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  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."

  As Bufo spoke, Jennifer could hear him altering his voice, not in an imitation of anyone specific--at least, not anyone she could identify--but so that it had a storyteller's qualities. She could feel the words and the way he spoke them drawing her in. She decided to relax and enjoy the story and wait until later to decide if it was true.

  "Now," continued Bufo, "one of these daughters was as good and as kind as anyone could wish, though she was surpassingly ugly. The other girl was vain, cruel, and foul-tempered, but she had a

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  face like a nightingale's song. Guess which one the mother loved the most?" Jennifer didn't speak.

  "I said, guess which one the mother loved the most."

  "I heard you!" said Jennifer. "I just didn't dare say anything because you told me not to interrupt."

  "Don't be silly. Answering a question isn't the same as interrupting."

  "Well, I thought you might be trying to trick me."

  "What kind of a toad do you think I am?"

  "That's what I'm trying to find out."

  "Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you."

  "Then tell me!"

  "Then which one do you think the mother loved the most?"

  "She loved the ugly one," said Jennifer hopefully.

  "Don't be silly. She loved the pretty one."

  "But you said the pretty one was mean and nasty."

  "But she was pretty, which seems to count for a lot with human beings. Besides, the mother was mean and nasty, too. They were a real pair."

  "I don't think I like this story," said Jennifer.

  "I'm not telling it to make you happy, I'm telling it because you wanted to know where I came from. Now stop interrupting."

  Jennifer fell silent.

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  "So, once when they were trying to make life miserable for the ugly sister, the mother and the beautiful daughter sent the poor girl out in the snow to gather strawberries, or something stupid like that. So off she goes, in her bare feet, her toes starting to freeze the minute she goes out the door, and before you know it she meets this weird old woman, who asks her for some food. So the kid gives her the only crust of bread she has, and the old woman tells her where to find some strawberries in the snow and that she will have a great blessing when she gets home. Well, the poor ugly girl finds the strawberries, heads for home, and when the mother and the sister ask where she got them, she opens her mouth to speak. And with every word a diamond or a ruby or a chunk of gold, or something like that, comes tumbling out of her mouth. Stop me if you've heard this before."

  Though she had once heard a story something like it, Jennifer remained silent.

  "Well, they think this is a good deal, so they bundle up the good-looking sister and send her out in the snow, too. Only this one gets plenty of food. And shoes. Naturally, she meets the old woman, too--and don't ask me why the old woman was standing around in the winter begging for bread, especially when she already had the bread that belonged to the first girl. Anyway, when young-and-lovely meets the old woman, she asks her where to find the strawberries, and the old woman says she will tell her, but won't she please spare some food.

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  So the girl says, first you tell me, then I'll feed you. But when the old woman tells her where to go, then holds out her hand for the bread, the girl just laughs at her, which goes to show you what kind of a creep she was to begin with.

  "She finds the strawberries, picks until she gets bored, which was probably about three minutes, then heads for home. But when she gets there the strawberries are all rotten. And when she opens her mouth to tell her mother the whole story, with every word out pops a snake, a lizard, a rat, or some other animal that humans seem to find particularly despicable."

  "And that's where you came from?" cried Jennifer.

  "Don't interrupt! Anyway, as you can imagine, the young wretch finds this situation most unpleasant. Being too dumb to realize that the flood of vermin is her cue to shut up, she starts screaming for help. Of course, with every cry of 'Help!' out pops another critter--including, eventually, me. I was the first toad, and one of the very few to arrive that day." Bufo grinned. "I've always felt that our relatively sm
all numbers in that crowd indicated that we toads are more rare and precious than those other beasties."

  Jennifer tried to snort, but it came out as a croak.

  "I'll ignore that," said Bufo. "Now, this arriving was a strange sensation, I want to tell you. I mean, one minute I wasn't, next minute I was --by which I mean I existed. I materialized in what felt like a

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  dark, wet cave. Actually, it was the girl's mouth. When she opened it to scream, I was nearly blinded by the light that flooded over her lips. Suddenly I found myself hurtling toward some white rocks-- her teeth--then shooting out into the air. I landed on the floor in the middle of a writhing mass of critters, all of which had come out of her mouth over the last few minutes.

  "After a moment, I looked around. In the corner was this ugly girl, sitting on a table and looking oddly amused. Beside me, standing on a chair, was a nice-looking middle-aged woman, screaming at her daughter to shut up. And behind me was this gorgeous girl, dumb as a brick, eyes wide, screaming for help, with snakes, lizards, rats, and an occasional toad popping out of her mouth because she was too bone-stupid to close it.

  "And the most embarrassing thing is, she's my mother, at least in some sense of the word.

  "That, by the way, explains why I can talk, and why I am so good with my voice. I am a tongue-toad, born of this babe's flapping, temporarily unstoppable tongue.

  "Actually, all of us milling around there on the floor were tongue-creatures. We were also bright enough to realize that things were about to get quite nasty, since the mother finally jumped off the chair and grabbed a broom and started whacking at us. After a moment she decided she would do better to take a whack at her daughter first, so she swung the broom around and cracked her daughter upside the head, which knocked her out, which shut her up, which stopped the flood of tongue-beasts.

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  "Then the mother started trying to drive us out of the house. We were perfectly willing to go, but things were a little crowded at the doorway, what with several hundred of us trying to get out there all at the same time. So she slammed some of us with the broom pretty hard. Which was when we began to realize that it was really tough to kill us. Not impossible; she managed to knock off a few of us by total squishification. But for the most part you could give us a whack that ought to knock us into next Wednesday, and it would just slow us down a bit. This was the first hint we had of the strange fact that we were--get this--immortal. Or at least the closest thing thereto. If I get careless in the woods and let some sneak of a snake eat me, it's good-bye Bufo, forget the next act. If I get run over by a car, it's roadtoad flat out and no more toadly wit and wisdom. But barring anything like that, I am a toad who will live forever. At least, that seems likely, since I have already lived for over five hundred years."

  Jennifer caught a kind of break in Bufo's voice, as if he were hovering on the edge of tears.

  "Alas," he said softly, "four hundred and ninety-five of those years have been sharp-edged with sorrow, a life lived with a knife in the heart."

  "What do you mean?" whispered Jennifer.

  "I fell in love," replied Bufo, "with one of the Immortal Vermin, a wondrous lady named Esmerelda.

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  She was a toad of great virtue, wise, funny, and loving. Life seemed perfect: we were young, we were in love, and we expected to live forever. But that short taste of heaven ended the day she disappeared.

  "Frantic, I searched everywhere for her. The other Immortal Vermin helped. For a long time there was no word of her. Then one of the Vermin picked up a rumor: a witch was after us--specifically after the immortal toads, because she believed that hidden in our foreheads is a gem that will grant perfect happiness to whoever possesses it."

  "Is that true?" asked Jennifer.

  "If it is, it certainly hasn't done me any good," said Bufo gruffly. "It's possible the gem simply doesn't work for the toad who was born with it. One theory is that it has to be extracted from the forehead and given to someone."

  "But is it really there?" persisted Jennifer, staring at Bufo in fascination.

  "Why? Do you want it?" he asked, sounding like Darth Vader.

  "No! I'm just interested is all."

  "Follow me," said Bufo. He hopped across the top of the dresser, moving slowly because the space was fairly cluttered, stopping when he reached the small nightlight that was plugged into the wall. When Jennifer had joined him he turned to face her, then scrunched down, raised his front feet to his forehead, and began to pull at the skin. After

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  a moment the skin parted. Beneath the opening, embedded in the flesh of Bufo's forehead, was a small green gem. It sparkled, even in the dim rays of the nightlight.

  "Behold," said Bufo. "The Jewel of Perfect Happiness."

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  NINE

  Oscillatory Experiment

  "May I touch it?" asked Jennifer.

  "I'd rather you didn't," said Bufo. He lowered his toes, which let the skin close back over the opening. "Besides, I don't think merely touching it will do you any good. Certainly hasn't done much for me," he said, his voice still heavy with sorrow.

  Jennifer drew back. "What happened next?"

  "I continued to search for Esmerelda. The Brotherhood of the Vermin grew slowly smaller. Despite the fact that we didn't die by normal means, every now and then one of us would meet with an accident. Others simply chose to leave the forest to explore the world at large. Of course, once in a while we would discover someone new."

  "Someone new?" asked Jennifer.

  "A new immortal. It didn't happen very often. Once that girl knew toads and snakes would pour out of her mouth every time she spoke, she didn't say much. But I guess she still felt compelled to

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  speak on occasion, because every now and then a handful of new immortals would enter the forest.

  "After a while I decided to leave the woods. With Esmerelda gone I had no real reason to stay, and part of me had always wondered if she had grown angry for some reason and run away.

  "And thus have I wandered the world for centuries, seeking my lost love. But alas, alas, not a sign of her have I seen."

  Bufo sang these last words in a voice that reminded Jennifer of the wandering minstrel who performed at the Renaissance Faire the Murdleys visited every summer.

  "Is that why you were crying last night?" she asked after a moment.

  "You weren't supposed to hear that."

  Jennifer didn't say anything.

  Bufo sighed. "It's true. I was weeping for Esmerelda."

  "Then you've been true to her all this time?" asked Jennifer. She was slightly amazed at the idea, since at least three families on their street had had divorces in the last year or so.

  "Yes, I have," said Bufo sharply. "Not that I've had that many opportunities for hanky-panky. After all, I'm not interested in your average, garden-variety toad; I need a woman I can talk to. And there ain't that many witty, literate, immortal lady toads to be found."

  Jennifer made a mental note not to say anything too witty or literate while she was still a toad.

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  "What were you doing in the magic shop?" she asked after a brief silence.

  "A temporary haven. I had been working for wizards off and on over the years. About ten years ago I was having some trouble with my current boss and the old man took me in. I helped around the place a bit, kept track of records for him, did a few of the kinds of chores that a brilliant immortal toad is best at. Funny old coot, that Elives. I think I was at least as surprised as you were when he sold me to you."

  "Why did he do that?" asked Jennifer.

  Bufo lifted his warty brown shoulders in a shrug. "Who knows? But I've never known him to do something without a reason."

  Jennifer hoped that Mr. Elives' reason didn't have anything to do with her becoming a toad and filling the hole in Bufo's life. Before she could find a way to say that without being to
o insulting, Brandon's phone began to ring again.

  "Should we answer it?" she asked in a whisper. Glancing at Bufo, she noticed that his eyes were larger and rounder than usual. But before the toad could give his opinion, Brandon reached out and lifted the phone off the hook.

  "Murdley Residence," he said, his voice muzzy with sleep.

  He held the receiver for a moment, then lifted it away from his ear. "Jennifer," he said, "It's for you."

  Jennifer felt her heart begin to speed up. "Who is it?"

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  Brandon put the phone back to his ear and repeated her question. "His name is Elives," he said after a moment.

  Jennifer felt a surge of relief. At least it wasn't the woman from the beauty parlor. "Bring the phone up here, Bran, would you?" she croaked.

  Brandon stood and lifted the red plastic phone onto the dresser. Jennifer noticed with amusement that his eyes were hardly open. "Thanks, sweetie," she said. "You can lie back down now."

  He settled back to the floor without realizing that his sister was now a toad. His thumb finding its way back to his mouth as if guided by radar, he sighed once and was sound asleep again.

  Envying his peaceful oblivion, Jennifer squatted beside the receiver. "Hello, Mr. Elives," she said, trying to keep her voice from quaking.

  "Jennifer, I just learned that you've been turned into a toad. I need to warn you that the spell is dangerous."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you stay in that form for more than ten hours, the change will be permanent."

  An icy fear crept into Jennifer's heart. How much time did she have? She had put Brandon to bed at eight. So it couldn't have been later than 8:10 when Skippy kissed her.

  Which meant that at a little after six in the morning she would become a toad forever.

  "What can I do?" she asked urgently.

  Mr. Elives' response sounded impatient. "You

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  have realized that the kiss can be passed on, haven't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, keep passing it around until a more permanent solution comes along. Find a friend to share it with. Just make sure that no one stays a toad for more than nine hours and fifty-nine minutes."

  "We can't go on doing that forever!" said Jennifer desperately.