There are too many,and anyway, it would take me all day. And you can’t see them. The grass is too deep.”
“Calvin. You can’t just chop them up! That’s cruel.” She shook her head and went back inside.
“Yeah, I know,” I mumbled. “I’ll chase them out.”
The ones I could find, anyway.
I killed the engine and left the lawn mower sitting halfway down the slope.
“Dang toads,” I muttered.
But Mom was right. I couldn’t just kill them. And anyway I didn’t want to.
I started searching the grass.
The way I found them was with my feet. They were squishy when you stepped on them. Creepy, but it worked.
“Yuck!” I said, stepping on my first snoring victim.
I reached down and dug him out. He was fat, soft, and ugly.I held him up and looked him in the eye. “This is your lucky day, toady. You live to catch another fly.”
That day when Tito and Bozo watched me, Tito said that if I didn’t like all the guts I should dig out the toads and throw them into the river. “They like the water,” he said. “Throw um high. Like a baseball. They like that, too.”
“No they don’t.” I didn’t believe him.
“Sure they do. Try it and see. They just kick back to shore.”
He was right. They just swam back into the swamp grass.
“Okay, toad,” I said now. “Here you go!”
I tossed the toad in a high arc into the water. It landed with a splat and floated for a few seconds, un-moving. Then it wokeup and kicked to shore. How can they like that? I wondered.
I shrugged and started looking for another one.
By the time Ledward drove up in his old army jeep, I’d tossed eight toads into the river. Ledward was my mom’s boyfriend. He was a giant Hawaiian guy who had a banana farm up in the mountains.
Ledward shut the jeep down and got out. He grinned. “You looking for bufos in the grass?”
I nodded. “I gotta get them out so I can cut it.”
I felt around with my foot and found another one. I pulled it out and catapulted it into the river.
Splat!
It took a while to recover. “Maybe you should carry them down to the water?” Ledward said.
I looked back at him. “Why?”
“Well, that one hit kind of hard. Whatyou’re doing could hurt them. Maybe even kill them. Did you think about that?”
“No.”
“Well …”
Ledward studied me a moment, then went into the house.
J ust before lunch on Monday, I was sitting at my desk in Mr. Purdy’s room as school dragged on. At home, I hadn’t mowed any more grass, but I’d dug up fourteen toads and sent them swimming.
I shook my head, thinking of all the grassI still had to cut. And now it had grown two days longer. Prob’ly all the bufos I’d dug up had already come back, too.
I frowned. What if what Ledward said about me hurting them was true? Would those ones come back?
I looked up at the clock. Ten minutes till lunch.
Mr. Purdy was standing over by Willy on the other side of the room, talking about something.
Outside, the sky was blue. I could feel the sun’s heat coming into the classroom. My desk was in the front row, on the end by the window. I had the best seat you could get.
Almost.
To my left I could gaze out and see the schoolyard. In front of me was Manly Stanley, a centipede who was our class pet and lived in a terrarium on Mr. Purdy’s desk. And behind me, I could look back and see my goofy friend, Rubin.
Everything was perfect.
Except for what was on my right.
“Hi, Calvin,” Shayla said.
She reached over to drop a folded-up piece of paper on my desk.
I stared at it, then slowly picked it up and opened it.
A cartoon frog decorated the top. A
frog
! I couldn’t get away from them!
Shayla’s had a bow on its head.
Jeese.
Below the frog, she’d written:
Dear Calvin
,
My mom finally said I could get a dog. Can you tell me where you got the one you brought to class that one time? I want to get one just like yours
.
Your friend, Shayla … in the next seat
My
friend
?
I crumpled the note in my
“Calvin. You can’t just chop them up! That’s cruel.” She shook her head and went back inside.
“Yeah, I know,” I mumbled. “I’ll chase them out.”
The ones I could find, anyway.
I killed the engine and left the lawn mower sitting halfway down the slope.
“Dang toads,” I muttered.
But Mom was right. I couldn’t just kill them. And anyway I didn’t want to.
I started searching the grass.
The way I found them was with my feet. They were squishy when you stepped on them. Creepy, but it worked.
“Yuck!” I said, stepping on my first snoring victim.
I reached down and dug him out. He was fat, soft, and ugly.I held him up and looked him in the eye. “This is your lucky day, toady. You live to catch another fly.”
That day when Tito and Bozo watched me, Tito said that if I didn’t like all the guts I should dig out the toads and throw them into the river. “They like the water,” he said. “Throw um high. Like a baseball. They like that, too.”
“No they don’t.” I didn’t believe him.
“Sure they do. Try it and see. They just kick back to shore.”
He was right. They just swam back into the swamp grass.
“Okay, toad,” I said now. “Here you go!”
I tossed the toad in a high arc into the water. It landed with a splat and floated for a few seconds, un-moving. Then it wokeup and kicked to shore. How can they like that? I wondered.
I shrugged and started looking for another one.
By the time Ledward drove up in his old army jeep, I’d tossed eight toads into the river. Ledward was my mom’s boyfriend. He was a giant Hawaiian guy who had a banana farm up in the mountains.
Ledward shut the jeep down and got out. He grinned. “You looking for bufos in the grass?”
I nodded. “I gotta get them out so I can cut it.”
I felt around with my foot and found another one. I pulled it out and catapulted it into the river.
Splat!
It took a while to recover. “Maybe you should carry them down to the water?” Ledward said.
I looked back at him. “Why?”
“Well, that one hit kind of hard. Whatyou’re doing could hurt them. Maybe even kill them. Did you think about that?”
“No.”
“Well …”
Ledward studied me a moment, then went into the house.
J ust before lunch on Monday, I was sitting at my desk in Mr. Purdy’s room as school dragged on. At home, I hadn’t mowed any more grass, but I’d dug up fourteen toads and sent them swimming.
I shook my head, thinking of all the grassI still had to cut. And now it had grown two days longer. Prob’ly all the bufos I’d dug up had already come back, too.
I frowned. What if what Ledward said about me hurting them was true? Would those ones come back?
I looked up at the clock. Ten minutes till lunch.
Mr. Purdy was standing over by Willy on the other side of the room, talking about something.
Outside, the sky was blue. I could feel the sun’s heat coming into the classroom. My desk was in the front row, on the end by the window. I had the best seat you could get.
Almost.
To my left I could gaze out and see the schoolyard. In front of me was Manly Stanley, a centipede who was our class pet and lived in a terrarium on Mr. Purdy’s desk. And behind me, I could look back and see my goofy friend, Rubin.
Everything was perfect.
Except for what was on my right.
“Hi, Calvin,” Shayla said.
She reached over to drop a folded-up piece of paper on my desk.
I stared at it, then slowly picked it up and opened it.
A cartoon frog decorated the top. A
frog
! I couldn’t get away from them!
Shayla’s had a bow on its head.
Jeese.
Below the frog, she’d written:
Dear Calvin
,
My mom finally said I could get a dog. Can you tell me where you got the one you brought to class that one time? I want to get one just like yours
.
Your friend, Shayla … in the next seat
My
friend
?
I crumpled the note in my
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