Limpy paused while Goliath digested this.
“I'm sure I'll be okay,” he went on, “but just in case I'm not, you'll have to go back on your own. Get a cockroach to direct you to the city market, find a truck with mangoes painted on the side, and stow away.”
Goliath swallowed, and Limpy saw that his cousin's warts were quivering with emotion.
“They're all depending on you, Goliath,” he said.
Goliath didn't say anything, and Limpy realized that Goliath was struggling with a voice wobble of his own.
Limpy squeezed Goliath's shoulders, then turned and hopped out of the bathtub.
He didn't say goodbye.
No point upsetting them both.
The girl was lying facedown on the bed, sobbing into her pillow.
Limpy hopped up onto the bedspread and nudged her arm with his shoulder.
She rolled over and opened her eyes.
Limpy hopped round in circles a few times so she'd know it was him and not just any cane toad who happened to be passing.
For a long time she just stared at him, blinking through her tears.
Then her face broke into an amazed grin.
“What are you doing here?”
Limpy could tell she'd recognized him.
Now, he thought, for the tricky bit.
He hopped over and touched her hand with his toenails, careful not to scratch her this time. Then he mimed his own hand hurting, sucking it and blowing on it and waving it around like a truck had just run over it.
He only had to do it for a while before he saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open and delighted understanding creep across her face.
The Games officials understood immediately. It took them a while to believe her, though. Limpy watched as the girl talked animatedly to them and pointed to him and to her hand and mimed a small amount of poison flowing through her blood.
At least, he imagined that's what she was doing. It was pretty hard to see from inside the plastic bag the officials had put him in. The plastic bag had previously had some sort of orange smoked fish in it, and the sides were all smeary and hard to see through.
Limpy rubbed till he had a clear patch.
He watched as the officials kept shaking their heads, right up until the girl grabbed a handful of newspapers and waved them threateningly under their noses.
Then, unhappily, they nodded.
The lab was very bright.
Limpy squinted, partly from the lights and partly from fear.
He knew what could happen to animals in labs.
Please, he begged silently as a man in a white coat put him on a white bench. Please let this human know how to get poison out of a cane toad without any cutting or lethal injections.
Trembling, Limpy wondered if he should help the man.
Squirt at him, just a bit.
He decided not to.
The man put on rubber gloves and plastic goggles and squeezed one of Limpy's glands. Pus plopped into a glass bowl.
Limpy felt so weak with relief that he didn't even struggle when the man put him into a glass tank and put a lid on it.
Instead, he watched through the side of the tank as the man did things on the bench with glass tubes and bits of equipment Limpy didn't recognize. Not much lab equipment got chucked out of cars in North Queensland.
The girl and the officials watched too.
Finally, the man in the white coat turned to the girl.
“You're clear,” he said.
Limpy didn't understand at first, not until the girl came grinning over to the tank, took the lid off, and gave him a big kiss.
Later, after Limpy had got over his disappointment about the girl putting the lid back on the tank and leaving without him, he decided it was time to escape. Later still, after he'd climbed up the wall of the tank about a million times and tried to push the lid off about a million times and fallen on his head about a million times, he realized he couldn't.
Then the lab filled up with humans in white coats, all staring up at a telly on the wall.
On the screen, Limpy saw the girl.
She was in the middle of the stadium, soaring over a crossbar that looked even higher than before.
All the humans in the lab started cheering and hugging each other.
Then they left.
Limpy smiled.
He was glad the girl had made them cheer. She must have done well.
Perhaps she'll come back and kiss me again, thought Limpy hopefully. And then take me back to Goliath.
He waited, not hoping too hard in case she didn't.
A long time passed. Even though he didn't want to, Limpy found himself thinking sadly about Charm.
Then he realized with a start that someone was standing behind the tank, watching him.
It wasn't the girl.
Limpy's insides sank as he saw a clipboard and a red face with hard, shiny eyes.
The bloke in the suit reached into the tank and lifted Limpy out and held him up and stared at him with a thin-lipped expression. Limpy felt pretty sure that whatever was going to happen next wouldn't involve a kiss.
Limpy had never been on a winner's podium at a Games before, and he felt a bit overwhelmed.
It was partly the noise.
A stadium full of humans applauding and cheering was the loudest thing Limpy had ever heard, including some pretty big thunderstorms back home.
Another reason was that he was still in shock.
When the bloke with the clipboard had hurried out of the lab with Limpy in a manila envelope, Limpy had been pretty sure they were heading for somewhere unpleasant. A loading dock perhaps. Or a highway so the bloke could run Limpy over with his car.
So when the bloke hurried into the stadium and handed Limpy to the girl just before she stepped onto the podium and received her gold medal, Limpy had been pretty surprised.
The main reason he was a bit overwhelmed, though, was what was happening to him now.
The girl was holding Limpy over her head and the humans in the stadium were cheering even louder.
At him.
Stack me, thought Limpy, I think they like me.
Phew, thought Limpy as the girl carried him into the boardroom, it's all go being a national hero.
The girl had barely had time for a shower and Limpy had barely had time for a drink of water, and now the bloke with the clipboard was rushing them into a meeting.
Limpy didn't know what the meeting was about, but he hoped it would go on long enough for him to catch his breath.
The girl sat at the head of a long table and put Limpy down in front of her.
Limpy looked round.
There were several humans seated at the table and they were all grinning at him.
Limpy swallowed nervously.
He knew he should like it, but it felt weird.
The bloke with the clipboard took a seat at the other end of the table and started talking.
Limpy couldn't understand what he was saying, but he was obviously very enthusiastic about something. It seemed to be Limpy.
Then one of the other humans held up some sheets of drawing paper and Limpy became very enthusiastic as well.
They were sketches of cane toads.
In display bins.
In shops.
Stack me, thought Limpy delightedly.
Fluffy cane toad toys.
It's happened.
We're saved.
Limpy had a wonderful vision of every vehicle in Australia with a fluffy brushed-polyester cane toad hanging from its rearview mirror. A cute, lovable, fluffy cane toad that would remind the driver to be very careful not to run over any cute, lovable, real cane toads.
Not Charm, not Goliath, not any of them.
Limpy felt like doing cartwheels. He felt like kissing everyone round the table.
Instead he looked up gratefully at the girl. She was grinning happily too.
Then her grin faded.
Limpy turned round and saw
why.
At the other end of the table, the bloke with the clipboard was holding up a fluffy cane toad toy for the other humans to examine.
Except, Limpy saw as he stared in horror, it wasn't fluffy.
It wasn't even a toy.
It was the dry stuffed skin of a real cane toad.
Limpy felt sick and dizzy.
He struggled with his breathing while the other humans passed the stuffed corpse among themselves, obviously delighted. The only voice raised in protest, Limpy was dimly aware, was the girl's.
He couldn't see her expression.
He couldn't take his eyes off the bloke with the clipboard, who was standing next to a map of Australia on the wall. He picked up the stuffed corpse and pointed to North Queensland with a smile.
The bloke spoke some words and Limpy, sick with horror and despair, knew exactly what they meant.
“Plenty more where this one came from.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Goliath.
He was speaking loudly so Limpy could hear him over the hubbub of journalists and TV crews on the other side of the curtain.
“We're gunna go onstage at this international press conference, a press conference being held specially to introduce Australia's new most loved species—i.e., us—to the world, and be disgusting.”
“More than disgusting,” said Limpy. “We're going to show the world just how vile, revolting, and repugnant cane toads really are.”
Goliath frowned. Then understanding crept slowly across his big warty face.
Limpy looked up at the girl and gave her a nod.
Holding Limpy in one hand and Goliath in the other, the girl stepped through the curtain onto the stage.
Limpy was almost blinded by flashing cameras and glaring TV lights.
The girl put him and Goliath down on a table in front of her.
Limpy noticed that most of the cameras were pointing at him and Goliath rather than her.
Good, he thought.
With an encouraging grin to both of them, the girl opened the tin of mud worms they'd spent all morning collecting. She tipped them out onto the table.
As he picked the first one up and dropped it wriggling and alive into his mouth, Limpy noticed some of the journalists and cameramen screwing up their faces.
By the time he and Goliath had half a dozen worms, each wriggling down their throats, Limpy was pleased to see some of the cameras being turned away and some of the journalists looking a bit ill.
He could tell they were going right off the idea that cane toads were lovable.
The international market for stuffed cane toads, thought Limpy with grim satisfaction, will be history in about two minutes.
He turned round so the journalists all had a good view of his bottom.
Limpy sat in the middle of the highway and let the warm North Queensland night air caress his skin and soothe the sore armpits he'd got from two days on the back of a mango truck.
It was good to be home.
Then he heard a distant rumble.
This is it, he thought, warts suddenly prickling with tension.
A vehicle was approaching at speed.
Limpy looked anxiously up at Goliath, who was sitting next to him on the bitumen. Goliath met his eyes for a moment.
“Here goes,” muttered Goliath.
Limpy looked even more anxiously down at Charm, who was sitting on the other side of him.
“I love you, Limpy,” said Charm. “I'm saying it now in case we don't get a chance afterward.”
Limpy stroked her cheek and felt his insides glow with love for her, and his crook leg ache with anxiety.
He held his breath.
The vehicle, a huge semi, was almost at the crossing.
Limpy gripped his stick and faced the oncoming headlights, grim and determined.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath raise his stick.
“Come and get us, you mongrels,” yelled Goliath.
Limpy, trembling, wanted to grab Charm and hop for the grass verge, but he didn't.
He saw Charm raise her stick.
The truck thundered over the crossing.
Limpy stayed glued to the spot as Goliath raised himself up to his full height and waved his stick at the truck bearing down on them and yelled a torrent of swearwords at it.
Limpy's heart was pounding so hard his warts were aching.
“Now,” he yelled.
He watched as Charm planted one end of her stick on the bitumen, just like they'd practiced, gripped the other end, flung herself upward, and pole-vaulted through the air.
Limpy did the same. Just before he landed on the grass at the edge of the highway, he looked back desperately to make sure Goliath had too. But all he could see was a cloud of dust as the truck roared past.
“Charm!” yelled Limpy. “Goliath!”
He was still yelling as the truck disappeared into the distance and the dust settled.
Charm stuck her head out of a clump of grass, grinning.
Goliath dropped down from the paperbark tree he'd landed in.
“It works,” he yelled. “Good on you, Limpy.”
Limpy grinned too, dizzy with relief.
The other cane toads broke into excited applause and crowded round the three of them.
Limpy glowed happily as Dad gave him a proud slap on the back.
Mum hugged him, face shining with love.
Even Ancient Eric shook his hand.
“It's just as I predicted, young Limpy,” he said. “You've brought peace and security to cane toads for countless generations to come.”
He glanced nervously down at his stomach.
Limpy smiled.
Then Charm came over and put her arms round him. “I've worked out why humans don't like us,” she said.
“Why?” said Limpy, gazing down at her dear warty face, and feeling his insides tingle with so much love he thought his eyes were going to do that wet thing humans' eyes did.
“Because,” she said, “they're jealous they haven't got a big brother like you.”
While Limpy handed sticks out to everyone who wanted to have a go for themselves, he heard Goliath talking to some little cane toads.
“Have I ever met a human?” he was saying. “Hey, I've had a bath with one.”
Limpy smiled as the little cane toads gasped.
Then he felt a tug at his leg.
A little cane toad was looking up at him.
“Uncle Limpy,” said the little cane toad. “Why do humans hate us?”
Limpy stared, taken aback. Then he took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height, like an uncle should. He hoped it didn't matter that he was leaning slightly to one side.
“Well,” Limpy was about to say, “it's like this. Humans have hated cane toads since the dawn of time and they probably always will. We just have to accept it, like we have to accept that flying insects are attracted to highway lights and crawling insects are attracted to wombat poo. It's just the way things are. Don't worry your little head about it.”
But he didn't say that.
Instead he put his arm round the little cane toad's shoulders. “That's a good question,” he said. “Humans claim they hate us cause we're ugly, but I don't reckon that's the whole story. They're a pretty complicated species, humans, and a lot more research needs to be done on them.”
The little cane toad's eyes widened. “And you think I could be the one to do it? You think one day I could be a brave adventurer like you, risking my life to bring peace and whadyacallit to cane toads for countless thingummies to come and stuff?”
Limpy hopped back in alarm.
The little cane toad wasn't just little, it was very little.
“I wasn't necessarily saying that,” said Limpy anxiously.
But the little cane toad wasn't listening. It was frowning and looking doubtful. “Hot water makes my warts itch,” it said. “I could never have a bath with a human.”
Limpy wo
ndered whether he should mention cold taps. Then the little cane toad's eyes widened again. “I know,” it shouted happily. “I'll do a wee in the water to cool it down.”
Limpy watched the little cane toad hop away, its face shining with excitement.
He realized he didn't feel anxious anymore.
Stack me, thought Limpy with a chuckle to himself. It's not just half-squashed cane toads that go round in circles.
Life does too.
BITUMEN: What roads in Australia are coated with (along with squashed cane toads).
BUNG: Broken, faulty, not doing what it's meant to. In Australia, sometimes used as a medical expression by doctors who played pool at university instead of studying Latin.
BUNG ON: To put something on, e.g., “I'll bung the kettle on the stove and lend you a sweater to bung on if you stop bunging on that posh accent and bung a CD on the stereo” (Australians repeat themselves a bit sometimes).
CARAVAN: A mobile home towed by a car. Can be unhitched and left at what Australians call a caravan park, thus allowing one member of the holiday group to drive back home more quickly to turn off the stove.
CHOOK: Chicken. Rhymes with “book” because it's the perfect food for eating one-handed while reading.
DUCO: The special high-gloss paintlike finish on a car. Unless the car belongs to a painter, in which case it's probably just paint.
ECHIDNA: A spiny anteater. A protected form of wildlife in Australia (unlike the ant).
GALAH: A gray-and-pink bird in the cockatoo family, very common in outback Australia. Some people think they're not very bright and so call foolish or ignorant people “galahs.” In fact, galahs are better at math than most authors.
GOANNA: An Aussie lizard. Can run very fast, unless trying to pull something heavy along the ground (see caravan).
KOOKABURRA: An Aussie kingfisher with a call that sounds like a maniacal human laugh, a unique characteristic that has evolved over millions of years of watching The Simpsons.
PUFFED: Out of breath, exhausted (see goanna).
RACK OFF: A not very polite Australian expression meaning “get lost,” “beat it,” “scram.” Best not used with teachers (unless you're another teacher).
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