Jennifer Murdley's Toad (Magic Shop Books) (2 page)

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"Why? A toad is a toad, right?"

Now the old man did smile. "That's why I wouldn't sell you one of the others." Then he looked her straight in the eye and said, "Stay here. I'll be back in a moment."

Turning, he shuffled back through the strings of beads. Jennifer tried to move, but her legs felt as if they had been frozen to the floor. She was about to yell for help when the old man returned. He was carrying a small cage in his wrinkled hands. Inside the cage was a huge toad.

Mr. Elives put the cage on the counter. "This is Bufo."

Jennifer found she could shift her feet again. "Bufo?"

Mr. Elives scowled. "Yes, Bufo. Do you want him or not?"

Something about the old man's voice told Jennifer that if she knew what was good for her, she would want the toad. Digging her change purse out of her backpack, she extracted three quarters and handed them to the old man.

"Good," said Mr. Elives. He rang up the sale on the ancient cash register, then took a cardboard box from beneath the counter. Lifting Bufo from his cage, he deposited him in the box. He locked the box's top flaps together. Air holes had already been cut in the top and sides.

Jennifer expected him to hand her the box. Instead, he held out a carefully folded piece of paper. Hesitantly, Jennifer took hold of it.

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The old man didn't let go; he just stared directly into her eyes. Jennifer wanted to turn her gaze away, but her eyes seemed to be locked in place.

"Read this paper carefully," said Mr. Elives, his voice low but intense. "Pay close attention to what it says. And take good care of this toad. If you don't, you'll have me to answer to."

Jennifer shivered. She tried to take the paper, but Mr. Elives still wouldn't let go of it. "Did you hear me?"

Wide-eyed, Jennifer nodded.

"Good." Releasing his hold on the paper, he pushed the box toward her. "Take the side door. It will get you home more quickly."

Grabbing the box, Jennifer shot out the side door. To her astonishment, she found herself back on High Street.

For a moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. Then she realized that she was still carrying the box and the paper. So it was no dream. "What's going on here?" she asked aloud.

"You got me, kid," croaked a gravelly voice from inside the box.

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TWO

A Beast of Bufine Beauty

Jennifer blinked and stared at the box. Obviously the voice couldn't have come from there. But when she looked around, there was no other person in sight.

"Who said that?" she asked timidly.

"I did," came the voice from the box.

Jennifer closed her eyes and tried to count to ten. Before she could finish, the voice bellowed, "Hello out there! Did you hear me?"

"I heard you!" shouted Jennifer. "Where are you?"

"Right here! In the box!"

Jennifer took a deep breath, then lifted the box and peered through one of the side airholes. By the light that filtered in through the holes in the top, she could see the toad looking back at her. "Hi!" it croaked, lifting its right front leg and waving to her.

Jennifer moved the box away from her face and

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squeezed her eyes shut. Then she looked back through the hole.

"Are you going to speak to me or not?" demanded the toad.

Jennifer dropped the box and ran. But she stopped at the corner.
What are you afraid of, Murdley?
she asked herself.
A talking toad is weird, after all, but he is only a toad. It's not like he's going to hurt you. Besides, you wanted a pet that was special. What could be more special than this?

She turned around. The box lay on the sidewalk where she had dropped it. Trying to look casual, she sauntered back and bent to pick it up.

"Were you speaking to me?" she whispered.

"Yes, I was," said the toad. "And I must say, I don't think much of the way you ran off. It's a good way to kill a conversation. As for
dropping
me-- well, you'd better hope word of
that
bit of foolishness doesn't get back to you-know-who!"

"I'm sorry," said Jennifer. "I was frightened."

The toad looked unconvinced.

"Really," said Jennifer. "I just got scared."

"I suppose I can overlook it this time," grumped the toad. "But don't let it happen again!"

"It won't!" said Jennifer sincerely. Looking around nervously, she tucked the box under her arm and began to walk toward her house.

"Where are we going?" asked the toad.

"Home."

"Good. This box is uncomfortable. I trust you have a nice place ready for me."

"Not exactly," said Jennifer, feeling uncomfortable

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herself. "After all, I didn't know you were coming."

The toad sighed heavily.

"But I'm sure we can fix something up," added Jennifer quickly.

"I certainly hope so," said the toad.

Jennifer entered the house quietly. For one thing, she wanted to get the toad settled in her room. For another, she didn't want to face Skippy any sooner than she had to.

She could hear her father out in the garage, twanging away at the piano he was restoring.

The rest of the house was silent.

She took the toad up to her room and let him out of the box. He was a handsome specimen, almost as large as the palm of her hand. His bumpy skin was not the typical dusty brown, but instead seemed to have all the colors of well-grained wood. His eyes were bright and clear, and his legs were strong. All in all, a fine figure of a toad. Jennifer said so.

"Why, thank you," responded the toad. "I'm glad you have an eye for bufine beauty."

"Pardon me?"

"My toadlike qualities."

Jennifer paused. She had never particularly thought of "toadlike" and "beauty" as words that belonged together. "What kind of a cage would you like?" she asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Cage?" croaked Bufo. His eyes bulged out as

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if he were being squeezed.
"Cage?
What is this--a home or a prison?"

"I don't understand," said Jennifer, taken aback by his reaction. "You were in a cage at the magic shop."

Bufo hopped across the desk, pointed a finger
(Or is it a toe?
she wondered) at Jennifer, and shook it under her nose.

"That was a temporary condition," he said fiercely. "If we are to get along, you had better understand that I am not a pet. I am, for the moment, a guest. Possibly a friend. Certainly a responsibility, since you removed me from the shop. But I am most certainly not, never have been, and have no intention of ever becoming"--at this point he shivered, as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth--"a
pet!"

"But--," began Jennifer.

"Moreover," interrupted the toad, "I did not think of my place in the shop as a cage. It was my apartment. Tiny, true, but my own. It's all a matter of how you look at things. And we are
not
going to look at my home here as a cage. Nor are we going to look at
me
as a pet! Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," said Jennifer, who was beginning to wonder if having a talking toad was going to be much fun.

"Good. Then let's try this again. A comfortable terrarium would be just fine. A big one, please-- I've been feeling cramped long enough. A cozy armchair would be nice, too. Do you have one that would suit me?"

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Jennifer thought of the pile of doll furniture buried in one corner of her closet. It had been there ever since the event that her family still spoke of as "Dad's Great TV Tantrum."

Actually, the tantrum hadn't been entirely Mr. Murdley's fault. He had been driven to his act of destruction when he entered the living room one Saturday morning and saw Jennifer staring at the TV set with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Wondering what his daughter found so moving, he turned to the screen, where he saw a commercial for an impossibly beautiful fashion doll.

"That was when I lost it," he explained later that afternoon. "I was just sick of that television telling Jennifer that only beautiful people matter. I love her too much for that."

Which was why he had bellowed with rage and thrown his coffee cup through the TV screen.

The next morning Mr. Murdley had appeared at Jennifer's door, holding a bumpy, brown rock that appeared to be almost perfectly round.

"What's that?" asked Jennifer.

"A geode," he said, turning the rock over so that she could see the beautiful crystals inside. They sat and talked for a long time about appearances. Later that afternoon they buried a Barbie doll in the backyard, under a tombstone that said Beauty Victim.

It was around then that Jennifer had put away most of her doll furniture.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple to put away her impossible desire to be beautiful.

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"Did you hear me?" asked Bufo, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes, I have a chair you can use," said Jennifer. "And I think there's a ten-gallon tank in the basement that I can turn into a terrarium. How does that sound?"

"Crummy. But if it's the best you have, I'll live with it."

"Wait here. I have to see if I can use it."

Jennifer knew her mother wouldn't be home from her law office for another hour or so. That was just as well, since her dad was more likely to give the go-ahead on the terrarium anyway; he was considerably less concerned about dirt and messes than her mother was.

Her father was still in the garage, his head buried in the back of the piano. The youngest Murdley, Brandon, was squatting next to the piano, playing with a bug. When he saw Jennifer he stood and hugged her leg.

"I'll be four soon," he said, as he had every time he saw her during the last week.

"I know, Bran," she replied, tousling his blond hair--which she would have given her right arm to have instead of her own limp, mouse-brown mess.

She waited a moment, then rapped on the side of the piano.

"Hello?" came a muffled voice from within.

"It's me, Dad. I want to know if I can have that old fish tank in the basement."

"What for?" Mr. Murdley asked, without removing his head from the instrument.

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"I want to make a terrarium."

"No problem," said Mr. Murdley. "Brandon, hand me a small Phillips head screwdriver, would you?"

Brandon let go of Jennifer's leg and began pawing through the toolbox. After a moment he pulled out what his father wanted and stuck it into his outthrust hand.

"Thanks, pal," said Mr. Murdley.

"That's okay," Brandon replied, returning his attention to the bug he had been playing with when Jennifer walked up.

"Don't eat him, Brandon," said Jennifer.

"I don't do that anymore," he said firmly, picking up the bug and balancing it on his fingertip.

Hoping Brandon had really reformed, Jennifer headed for the cellar. She found the tank behind a stack of empty boxes. After lugging it upstairs, she washed it out in the bathtub, working carefully so as not to crack the glass or scratch the tub. Her shirt was soaked by the time she was done.

"Well, where have you been?" asked Bufo, when she reentered the room. "I was beginning to think you had run off and left me."

"I might consider it if you can't be a little more polite," snapped Jennifer. "I've just about drowned myself trying to clean this stupid tank for you. Honestly, sometimes you remind me of Sharra."

Bufo looked taken aback. "Who's Sharra?"

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"This snobbette I go to school with. She's so stuck up she thinks she sweats perfume."

"I don't sweat at all," said Bufo smugly.

Deciding to ignore this comment, Jennifer asked, "What do you want me to do with this tank?"

Bufo's wide mouth curved in a toady smile. "Make it homey."

Ninety minutes later, Jennifer stood in front of the tank, trying to figure out where to put the last of the plants she had dug up out back. Her wet shirt was now covered with splotches of mud. A smudge of dirt ran across her right cheek to the tip of her nose. But the terrarium was looking good. A ceramic bowl formed a pool in the back corner. Next to it sat a blue chair that had once belonged to Barbie and Ken.

As Jennifer was reaching into the tank with a six-inch-wide beach umbrella, the door opened and Skippy walked in.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"Making a terrarium," replied Jennifer, annoyed that he had come in without knocking. She was also nervous; she wondered how mad Skippy was about the underwear incident. He had been hard to figure out ever since he started sixth grade.

"Where'd you get the toad?'" he asked, walking over to her desk and grabbing Bufo around the middle.

"Put him down!" cried Jennifer.

"Hey, don't get hyper," replied Skippy, lifting