Jennifer Murdley's Toad Read online

  “How are we supposed to find the place?” asked Sharra.

  “She said we were to walk along Beech Street. When we get close enough, she’ll let us in.”

  “Let us in?” asked Ellen.

  Bufo shrugged. “I’m just telling you what she said.”

  They rode their bikes to Beech Street, then got off and walked.

  “It’s somewhere around here that things keep going wonky,” said Jennifer, as they passed a house that looked familiar.

  “I don’t like this,” said Sharra. “I don’t recognize any of it.”

  “That’s because the last time we came here you were a toad and you were hiding in Jennifer’s sweatshirt pouch,” said Ellen.

  “You three sure have been getting into some weird stuff,” said Skippy.

  Jennifer couldn’t tell if what she heard in his voice was fear or envy, or some strange combination of both.

  And then, so quickly that no one could identify the moment that it happened, they were no longer on Beech Street, but on some other street that looked perfectly normal but was not part of Smokey Hollow at all.

  “Who do you suppose lives in these houses?” whispered Jennifer.

  “I don’t want to know,” replied Ellen.

  “They may be only illusion,” croaked Bufo, his voice much quieter than usual.

  Jennifer understood why he was quiet. Ahead of them she could see the beauty parlor—the Beauty Parlor of Death, as she now thought of it. Inside was her little brother—and a strange woman who had powers that none of them understood. They were about to enter that place. Barring some miracle, when they left, they would be leaving Bufo there, alone with the woman.

  Jennifer had been so busy worrying about Brandon that until this moment what they were about to do hadn’t really sunk in. She started to ask Bufo if he was sure he wanted to go through with this. But she couldn’t, because there was no point in asking if she didn’t mean it. And she didn’t. She knew she would do whatever was necessary to get Brandon back, even if it meant sacrificing Bufo.

  Or herself.

  The bell tinkled as the door swung open.

  “Welcome to my parlor,” said the woman. She was lounging in a beautician’s chair in the center of the room, dressed in a simple black robe that looked as if it had been woven from night and spider webs. “Have you brought me my toad?”

  “We’ve got him,” said Jennifer, once she was able to get the dryness out of her throat. “Do you have my brother?”

  The woman waved her hand toward a nearby counter, where a piece of black cloth covered a round shape nestled among the combs and shampoo bottles. She snapped her fingers and the cloth vanished. Underneath, in a glass sphere, was a little toad. Jennifer was not sure it was Brandon until he cried, “Jennifer! Skippy! Get me out of here!”

  His voice, on the edge of tears, went through her heart like a dagger.

  “Let him go!” said Jennifer.

  “Give me the toad,” replied the woman, her voice cool, calm.

  “Put me down, Jennifer,” said Bufo.

  Reluctantly, Jennifer took Bufo out of her sweatshirt pouch and placed him on the floor. He began to hop toward the woman. But he stopped several feet away from her.

  “Give them the kid,” he said, sounding like John Wayne.

  Jennifer started to cross toward Brandon.

  “Stay there,” hissed the woman. She gestured toward the glass ball. With a flick of her finger she caused it to rise into the air. It began to float toward Jennifer.

  “Trade is made,” she said, bending down. “Now come here, my fine, fat toad.”

  “Jennifer,” said Skippy. “Crack that thing open and kiss Brandon!”

  Snatching the transparent sphere out of the air, Jennifer knelt and smacked it against the floor.

  Nothing happened.

  “You cheated!” she cried.

  “Insurance,” responded the woman with a merry laugh. “Once Bufo is in my hands, I’ll let you open the sphere.”

  “Witch,” said Bufo fiercely.

  “Precisely. And it took a lot of hard work to get here.”

  “Bufo,” said Jennifer desperately, “I’ve got to get Brandon out of this thing.”

  Bufo sighed and hopped across the floor. “Got you!” cried the woman, reaching down and snatching him up. “At last, at last, I’ve got you!”

  “Let the boy go,” croaked Bufo.

  The woman snapped her fingers. The sphere dissolved and Brandon hopped out into Jennifer’s hands. Bending over, she gave him a kiss.

  Thunder shook the air, and in an instant, Brandon was back and Jennifer was once more a toad.

  “You may go now,” said the woman.

  “Can’t you help us?” said Sharra. “We can’t keep passing that kiss of toadliness around forever.”

  “Help you?” asked the woman with a laugh. “Certainly, I’ll be glad to help you.”

  Setting Bufo on the counter she raised her hands and made a gesture in the air, whispering beneath her breath as she did. “There,” she said to Jennifer. “That takes care of things. No need to pass the kiss around anymore. The next person you kiss will be a toad forever.”

  Jennifer stared at the woman in astonishment. If the next person she kissed was going to become a toad forever, then she wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone.

  Ever.

  Which meant that she would be a toad for the rest of her life.

  TWELVE

  Jewel Thief

  “Ignore her,” said Skippy. “She’s faking.”

  “Would you like to kiss your sister and find out?” asked the woman sweetly.

  Skippy blinked but said nothing.

  “Why did you do that?” yelled Ellen. She sounded like she was about to cry.

  The woman shrugged. “A slight curse is always useful. You never know what someone will be willing to do to have it removed. Now, I think it’s time for all of you to leave.”

  “Leave?” croaked Jennifer.

  “Certainly. I have what I wanted. You have your little brother back. There’s no need for you to stay longer.”

  “But I’m still a toad!”

  “And likely to remain one,” replied the woman. “But that is not my problem.”

  “Well, it should be,” said a voice from behind them.

  Jennifer hopped around as fast as her squat body would let her. “Miss Applegate! What are you doing here?”

  The old woman frowned. “I was worried about Brandon when you and Sharra left the museum this morning,” she said. “I felt that you might be in trouble. I had no idea how much trouble!” She turned back to the black-haired woman. “What kind of a person are you, anyway, to do something like this to a child?”

  “A very old, very fierce, very desperate person,” replied the witch evenly.

  Jennifer blinked. Old? The witch looked as if she were in her twenties at the most.

  “So desperate,” continued the woman, her voice rising, “that I would suggest you gather these children and take them with you before I do something that makes you wish you were all toads!”

  “Not until you turn Jennifer back into herself!” shouted Sharra.

  “Frankly, I’m not sure that I can,” said the black-haired woman. “And even if I wanted to, it would take more work than I’m willing to put into it. Besides, she doesn’t need my help. All she has to do is find someone willing to trade places with her!”

  “Right,” whispered Jennifer. “Should be easy. I know dozens of people just dying to become toads. And I’ve got the secret—only a kiss away.”

  She blinked. Only a kiss away? An idea began to form in her head.

  “You guys should go,” she said. “Take Brandon home where he’ll be safe. I’m going to stay.”

  “What?” cried Ellen and Sharra together.

  “Jennifer, you can’t do that,” said Skippy.

  “Do you think I can go home as a toad?” asked Jennifer. “It’s not something Mom and Dad are ready to
cope with. But it’s okay. I don’t like the real world. I want to stay here.”

  The witch looked at Jennifer with new interest. “That’s an interesting thought. There are ways in which you might be useful, my dear.”

  “Jennifer,” said Miss Applegate, “I can’t let you . . .”

  “You don’t understand,” said the witch. “Inside these doors, I’m the one who lets or doesn’t let; I make the rules. You don’t get in unless I let you—or unless I make a mistake, as when I left the gate open for these children, and you slipped through, you old hag.”

  “Hey,” said Jennifer. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

  “Quiet!” snapped the witch, and Jennifer realized that if she was to have any chance at all, she had better do as the woman said.

  “And now,” she shrieked, waving her hands, “I want you out!”

  A strong wind began to blow inside the shop, the gusts so fierce they pushed Ellen, Sharra, Skippy, Brandon, and Miss Applegate right across the floor.

  “Jennifer!” she heard as her friends went sliding toward the door. “Jennniiifffeeerrrrr!”

  And then they were gone.

  “Alone at last,” said the witch with a smile.

  “My heart’s desire fulfilled,” sneered Bufo.

  “Listen, sonny, don’t be flip or this may turn out to be more unpleasant for you than it needs to be.”

  Bufo turned to Jennifer. “Sorry I got you into this, kid,” he said, using his best Bogart imitation.

  “It’s not your fault,” said Jennifer, wishing everyone would just go away for a few minutes so that she could think. But she didn’t have a few minutes. Hopping forward, she looked up at the witch and asked, “What are you going to do to him?”

  “Just a little minor surgery. I want the jewel he carries in his forehead.”

  “Hey!” said Bufo. “I’ve had that for a long time! I don’t think I want to part with it.”

  “What you want is not an issue,” replied the witch.

  “What jewel?” asked Jennifer, trying to sound innocent.

  Bufo looked at her in surprise, started to say something, then closed his mouth.

  “The toad has a jewel in his forehead,” said the witch. “One of only two such jewels in all the world, and the only one available now. It is said to provide perfect happiness to the person who possesses it. I intend to possess it.”

  “What will happen to Bufo when you take it out?” asked Jennifer nervously.

  The witch smiled. “Wait and see,” she said slyly. “Based on what happened the last time, I think you’ll find the results quite—interesting.”

  What does she mean by that? wondered Jennifer nervously. Out loud she said, “Do you mean I can watch?”

  “No reason not to. Depending on what I decide to do with you, it could be good training.” Bending, she scooped Jennifer into her hands, then deposited her on the countertop, a few feet from Bufo.

  “How come Bufo has the only jewel?” asked Jennifer, genuinely puzzled this time. “Is he that special?”

  Despite himself, Bufo puffed a bit with pride.

  “Oh, he certainly is,” replied the woman. “There were only two such toads in all the world.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “My mouth,” said the woman, turning and smiling a broad, terrifying smile.

  “Mom?” Bufo cried in astonishment. “Is it really you?”

  Jennifer blinked. “But that would make you more than five hundred years old!” she said.

  “That’s right,” said the woman.

  “But you’re so beautiful . . .”

  “You can learn a lot in five hundred years,” said the woman. “The outside is fairly easy to change. It’s the inside that takes work. Would you like to see my real face?”

  Terrified yet fascinated, Jennifer whispered, “Yes.”

  The woman turned away for a moment. When she turned back, Jennifer could not help but cry out in dismay. She had never seen anyone so ugly in her life. The woman’s long nose had a big hairy wart on the end of it. Her pointed chin had another. Her lank gray hair hung over the black shawl that she had draped over her hunched shoulders. When she smiled, you could see five yellowed teeth—five, and no more—poking out from grayish pink gums. Beneath her bushy gray brows glittered a pair of black eyes that seemed to look right into your soul.

  Her reflection was repeated over and over in the mirrors that lined the room.

  “You can get awfully old in five hundred years,” said the old woman. “But there are ways to cover it up.”

  She turned, turned back, and the hag was gone. In her place was the beautiful young woman again.

  “What about the curse?” asked Bufo. “I thought you couldn’t speak without something crawling out of your mouth.”

  “Ah, now you get to the root of things,” said the woman sweetly. Jennifer stared, trying to find the hag’s face beneath the beauty. But it was as if the transformation had never occurred.

  “What do you mean?” asked Bufo.

  “I mean that you get to the root of why I became a witch at all,” she said opening a drawer and pulling out a handful of tweezers. “Once I recovered from the initial shock of the curse, I learned to hold my tongue, so to speak, for the most part. I only opened my mouth to eat or when I was surprised into speaking. But curses can be counterproductive. I suppose that crone in the woods who first cursed my tongue with the vermin spell intended to teach me a lesson. Well, I learned many lessons in the long run. But they all came from the witch who finally took me on as an apprentice.”

  Spreading the tweezers on the counter before her, she began to point at them with one neatly manicured fingertip.

  “I need to choose my tools carefully,” she said, half to Jennifer, half to herself. “As a comrade of mine once said, ‘These things must be done delicately.’ Ah—this should do just fine.”

  Lifting the largest pair, she held them to the light.

  “I still don’t understand,” said Bufo.

  It was clear to Jennifer that he was stalling for time. Probably clear to the witch, too, she thought. But I guess when you’re five hundred years old, a few minutes one way or the other doesn’t make that much difference.

  “In order to get the spell removed, I had to find someone who had the knowledge to remove it,” said the woman. “Which in this case meant I had to find a witch. She took me on as an apprentice. But the fee was high: I had to bring her a Jewel of Perfect Happiness. When I asked her where to find it—spitting out a few spiders and snakes in the process—she told me that the first two toads to come forth from my mouth, one male, one female, each carried such a jewel in their foreheads. All I had to do was find one of the toads, remove the jewel, and she would teach me everything she knew—including how to control the curse.”

  “Esmerelda!” cried Bufo, and this time there was no trace of an imitation, only his own voice, thick with grief and loss. “You stole my Esmerelda. What did you do to her?”

  “The same thing I’m about to do to you,” replied the witch calmly.

  “Where is she?” demanded Bufo, his grief giving way to anger. “Is she alive?”

  “I don’t have the slightest idea,” said the witch, her voice calm, unruffled.

  “But how can you do this to him?” said Jennifer. “I mean, he’s like your kid or something!”

  The witch turned to Jennifer. “There’s always more where he came from,” she said softly, her eyes glittering, cold, deadly.

  “What do you mean?” whispered Jennifer.

  “I told you, the spell is under control. Not gone. Just under”—here she paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and then finished the sentence—“control.”

  As she spoke the last word, a rat tumbled out of her mouth, dropping to the floor at her feet.

  “Run for your life!” cried Bufo.

  Eyes wide with astonishment, the rat scurried across the floor and disappeared behind the cabinet.

  J
ennifer shivered. The witch opened her eyes.

  “Disgusting, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice bitter. “I have to constantly be on the alert to keep it from happening. Means I tend to keep to myself a lot. One slip in polite company, one careless word at a tea party, one toad in a teacup, and I’m not invited back. It’s been a lonely few centuries. I think I’m about due a little happiness. I’ve always regretted giving away that first jewel. After all, it came out of my mouth, even if it was wrapped in a toad when it arrived. So it should have been mine. Fortunately, I knew there was one more available—one more chance at perfect happiness.

  “And now I’ve found it,” she said, stepping toward Bufo, the tweezers outstretched before her.

  THIRTEEN

  The Temptation of Jennifer Murdley

  “Bufo!” cried Jennifer, hopping across the counter. “Kiss me!”

  Bufo looked at her in astonishment.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” shrieked the witch.

  “Kiss me, you fool!” said Jennifer.

  Suddenly Bufo understood. Lunging forward, he planted a kiss on Jennifer’s lips.

  “Again!” she cried. “Again! Again! Again!”

  “Stop!” screamed the witch. “Stop!”

  But it was too late. The transformation was nearly instantaneous. With every kiss Jennifer doubled in size—from four inches to eight, from eight to sixteen, from sixteen to thirty-two.

  With the fourth kiss she was more than five feet long.

  The fifth kiss turned her into a toad the size of a Volkswagen.

  “Stop!” screamed the witch again, and she raised her hands to cast a spell. But before she could speak a word, make a gesture, Jennifer’s tongue shot forward, pinned the witch’s arms to her sides, and drew her back into Jennifer’s mouth, where she was held fast, her feet sticking out of one side, her head out of the other.

  “Well, that was very good,” said Bufo. “My congratulations.”

  Jennifer looked at him but said nothing, as it was difficult to speak with a mouthful of witch.