Read Online Once Upon a Toad by Heather Vogel Frederick - Free Book Online

just sitting down at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal when my little brother appeared, clutching his smelly blanket.
    â€œHey, G-Man, how about some breakfast?” I asked.
    Something plopped into my bowl, sloshing milk onto the counter. Geoffrey’s eyes widened. He pulled his index finger from his mouth, which was shaped in an O of surprise, and pointed at my breakfast. “Cat?” he whispered.
    I glanced down and nearly fell off my stool. An equally surprised-looking toad was crouched in my cereal, staring back at me.
    â€œWhoa!” I cried in astonishment.
    Plop . Another toad joined the first one. The two of them splashed frantically in the bowl, trying to escape. Geoffrey stared at them, then at me. His face got that worried look it always does when he’s about to cry. Or barf.
    No way, I thought. Absolutely no way had I just made that happen! It would be completely crazy to think that those toads had anything to do with me. And just to prove it, I said my brother’s name aloud.
    â€œWith a G ,” he added automatically as toad number three tumbled into the bowl.
    I shrieked, only the sound came out as a croak, along with another toad, which missed my cereal and skittered across the counter, then fell to the floor at Geoffrey’s feet. My little brother backed away and started to cry. With panic rising in me, I jumped down from my seat, grabbed him by the hand, and dragged him into the living room. I didn’t want him to wake anyone—especially not Olivia. I had to figure out what was going on first.
    â€œShhh, G-Man, it’s okay!” I said, setting him on the sofa.
    Geoffrey’s sobs escalated to wails as another toad plunked down beside him. I scooped it up and stuffed it into mybathrobe pocket, looking around for something to distract him with. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Fortunately, Robo Rooster was on. The wails subsided as he eyed the screen, toads temporarily forgotten. After waiting until his finger had crept back into its usual place, I ran upstairs, my heart racing and my hand clamped firmly over my mouth, just in case.
    I went directly to the attic. It was the only place I could think of to hide. I needed to be alone while I figured out what was going on. There had to be a logical explanation. This was a trick or a coincidence or something. Spring was probably toad season here in Oregon and everybody had just forgotten to tell me. Maybe they’d crawled into the house through the dryer vent.
    The attic was just as dim and dusty and cold as it had been the other day when I was up here. Wrapping my bathrobe tightly around me, I moved closer to the trunk by the front window and took a deep breath.
    â€œHello,” I said softly to the empty room. A toad sprang to the floor.
    I sank down on the trunk, fighting the urge to cry. This was no illusion, then, no trick. It was me . I nudged the creature with the toe of my slipper and watched it hop off into the shadows. It was definitely an amphibian of the order Anura, from the Greek an (“without”) plus oura (“tail”). I wasn’t a wildlife biologist’s daughter for nothing. I knew a real live toad when I saw one.
    I drew a shaky breath. It still made absolutely no sense. Middle schoolers didn’t just spontaneously start spewing toads. How could this be happening? How could thatcreature have come from me? My mouth still tasted of breakfast cereal, not toad. Not that I knew what toad tasted like.
    I must be dreaming, I thought. Yes, of course, that had to be it! This was just a nightmare. A weird, vivid nightmare involving my little brother, breakfast cereal, and toads. It was that chili I had yesterday for lunch, or maybe Great-Aunt Abyssinia’s root beer. All I needed to do was wake up.
    I hopped down off the trunk and jogged to the other window and back, then did some jumping jacks as I tried to jolt myself out of the nightmare.
    â€œHey! Keep it down