“Lily, look!” she says. “Out there in the fog!”
I think Abby’s starting to make up an episode. But then I look up and see that there is something in the fog. Three boats are coming toward us: a pedal boat, a canoe, and a rowboat. The people on them are waving to us — and they’re all wearing big round glasses.
“It’s Darby!” Abby says.
“And Kyle and Katy and Deke!” I say.
When they get closer, I can hear them shouting our names. “Weewee! Weewee!” Deke yells. “Hi, Weewee!”
“That’s the best nickname for you ever,” Abby says.
“Don’t even, Abby,” I tell her with a sister glare.
When they get closer, I can see the boats have several buckets in them, and the floors of the boats are covered with something. Something moving — and hopping!
“We caught five hundred frogs!” Darby says, pulling up to the dock.
“Some will stay here for sure this time,” Kyle tells us.
“I love froggies! I love froggies!” Katy shouts.
“Fwoggies fo’ Weewee!” Deke says. “Fwoggies fo’ Weewee!”
Darby grabs her bucket and steps out of her boat. She brings the bucket to the lawn and pours out all the frogs, then goes back for more. Soon everyone is helping get the frogs out of the boats. Snort is barking at them, but they aren’t jumping away. Snort gets bored and starts playing with Deke, who is running around snorting like a pig.
After what seems like forever, all the frogs are on the shore.
“Look at them all!” I say. “There’s no way they’re leaving now!” Then we hear it.
MWAARP!
Everyone looks toward the sound, but the lake is still. We hear it again.
MWAARP!
Suddenly, there’s a humongous splash. We see what looks like two enormous frog feet disappear into the water.
At that moment, all five hundred frogs begin leaping from the bulkhead into the lake.
“The bullfrog ghost scared them away!” Darby says.
“Stop, froggies!” Abby shouts.
“Stay here, froggies!” I say. “Please? It’s not so bad here! I promise! In fact, I’m kind of liking it here!”
But the frogs don’t listen to me. Every last one jumps into the water and swims away.
“That’s the ghost I was telling you about!” Darby says to Deke.
“Dumb Dawby,” Deke says. “Not ghost! It WEAL!”
“That had to have been the biggest bullfrog in the whole wide world!” Abby says.
“In the universe,” says Kyle.
As the fog clears away, we watch the frogs swim toward Darby’s end of the lake, like a giant black swamp monster creeping over the surface of the water.
After dinner, Abby and I turn on the TV to watch our favorite show. When it’s over, Mom and Dad come and sit on the couch to watch the news. I take out my homework and start working on my math packet. Then I hear the announcer.
“And now, an incredible video clip sent to us by a boy named Mikey Frank, from Pine Lake, out in Issaquah,” the man says.
I look up at the TV. Did he say Mikey Frank?
“This afternoon,” the woman says, “a fourth-grade boy was flying his drone from the Pine Lake Park dock and recorded this incredible video of an inexplicable mass migration of frogs swimming in the middle of the lake toward their usual habitat at the north end.”
“Wow! Ample amphibians, aren’t there, Susan?” the man says. “It looks like hundreds of frogs!”
“Those are our frogs!” Abby says.
“Yes, it looks like a boatload, Marty,” says the woman.
“It was three boatloads!” I say.
“I don’t think I’ll be swimming in Pine Lake again anytime soon,” says the man.
“Agreed. That is frog overload, Marty,” the woman says. “But I am happy to see that the frog population is thriving in this favorite local lake.”
“Now, hopping along with the news, Susan . . .”
I run to the phone and call Darby.
“Did you see the news?” I ask her.
“Yeah!” Darby says. “My mom was watching it, and she called us all downstairs to see Pine Lake. She didn’t believe me when I told her they were our frogs.”
“It’s amazing!” I say.
“It’s totally FROGTASTIC!” says Darby.
When I come into class then next day, I look at Jill and, weirdness of all weird, she’s not wearing her uniform. She’s wearing regular clothes, like a regular girl. She looks up at me, and her eyes are all red, like she’s been crying. Her face is wet, too. I think that she has been crying. I know I should ask her what’s wrong, but I don’t want to.
“Please take your seats, class,” Mrs. Larson tells us. “It’s time for SHTV.”
“Shhhhh! TV!” everyone shouts.
Mrs. Larson gives us all her dramatic eye roll, then smiles and sits at her desk. I notice that Mikey’s desk is empty, even though I saw his backpack in the coatroom.
There are two announcers on SHTV. I remember the fifth-grade boy from the first day of school. He looked so terrified on the first day, and now he looks relaxed. It must be costume day at SHTV.
After they announce the news and lunch (cheeze zombies — yay!), they bring on a special guest. It’s Mikey!
“Exciting news, everybody!” says the announcer. “One of our own Sunny Hills students, fourth-grader Mikey Frank, made the local news last night when he caught some incredible footage of an unexplained migration of a whole lot of frogs on Pine Lake.”
They cut to a clip of the video. “Mikey, can you tell us about how you caught the footage?”
“My dad and I were on the dock at Pine Lake Park with my drone,” Mikey says. “We were flying it out over the lake . . . and I saw something that looked like a big black shadow-monster, sliding over the water! I flew my drone closer, and I could see it was a whole bunch of frogs! It was so weird, because all the frogs that I’ve ever seen on Pine Lake live in the swamp, so I don’t know where they came from — maybe a giant frog swim meet or something, but I zoomed in closer and I didn’t see any Speedos. My dad said he hadn’t seen anything like it either, so we sent our video to the news — and they put it on TV!”
Darby raises her hand as soon as SHTV ends.
“Yes, Darby?” Mrs. Larson says.
“My brothers and my sister and I caught all those frogs to bring to Lily’s house, so she could have frogs at her end of the lake, too. But a ginormous ghost bullfrog scared them all away!”
“What a creative story, Darby!” Mrs. Larson says. “It’s perfect for your journal.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I raise my hand. Maybe I’m not so supershy after all!
“Yes, Lily,” Mrs. Larson says.
“Um . . .” I say, off to a terrific start speaking in front of the class. “It’s true, Mrs. Larson. About the frogs. And the bullfrog. I mean, I don’t know if it’s a ghost, but it was huge, and it scared all those frogs away. I saw it happen!”
“Well, Lily, it sounds like you and Darby have a wonderful story to tell,” she says. “How about you work together this morning as we write in our journals. Sound good?”
Darby and I have so much fun writing our story. I know Mrs. Larson won’t believe it, but we know it’s true!
We have social studies next. We’re studying the Revolutionary War, and today we’re learning about the Stamp Act, which bossy King George III of England started. He wanted money from the colonists, so he told them that if they wanted to print something, they could only print it on his stamped paper. He taxed them for stuff like newspapers and playing cards — probably even comic books.
Mrs. Larson explains more.
“The colonists,” she tells us, “got so angry that a bunch of them began to protest against the British. They called themselves the Sons of Liberty.”
Then she tells us how the British wanted more money — so they started making the Americans drink only Britis
h tea! They called it the Tea Act. The Sons of Liberty were so mad that they jumped on one of the boats in Boston Harbor and dumped an entire shipful of tea into the water.
“Is Boston Harbor still made of tea?” asks Billy.
“No, Billy,” says Mrs. Larson. “Boston Harbor is filled with salt water, and you most likely would not want to drink it.”
When the bell rings for first recess and we go outside, I notice Jill walking by herself in front of us.
“What’s wrong with Jill?” I ask Darby.
“I don’t know,” Darby says. “Either she’s mad because we were saying bad stuff about the brilliant British, or she’s mad at me. Yesterday I told her that she can’t be the queen of the Rizzlerunk Club anymore. I told her that it was our club, and I’m president and she should have never taken it over. Then she quit. So I told her that I quit being her friend. I guess I’m having my own Revolutionary War! I’m the good guy, by the way.”
Jill goes to the swing sets and sits on a swing, kind of slumped over. I actually feel sorry for her.
“Maybe we should go talk to her, Darby,” I say. “She looks really sad.”
“No way,” Darby says. “She’s just trying to get us to come over there so she can boss us around some more.”
“Well, it’s working,” I say. “Come on, Darby, let’s just make sure she’s okay. She has been your friend since kindergarten, you know.”
“Fine,” Darby says, “but you do the talking.”
We walk over to Jill and sit on the swings on either side of her. Darby starts swinging.
“Hi, Jill,” I say.
“Hey, Lily,” she says.
Where’s her British accent? “Are you okay?” I ask her.
“No,” she says. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“I’m moving back to London.”
“What?” Darby says, skidding her feet on the ground to stop swinging.
“I’m moving back to London,” Jill says. “My mom has to move back for her stupid work. I told her that I don’t want to go, and she doesn’t even care. She doesn’t do what I say — she only does what her work says. I hate her work.”
“But why don’t you want to go?” Darby asks her. “I thought that it was so lovely and brilliant there. I thought it was so much better than here.”
“I hate London,” Jill says.
“What?” Darby and I both say at the same time.
“I didn’t have one friend at my old school — and now I have to go back there.”
“I thought you had ever so many friends,” Darby says.
“Well, I exaggerated,” says Jill. “Everyone there called me a bossy American, so I started speaking with a British accent — then they all teased me about that. At least I still knew that I had friends here. But now I don’t have that, either. Everyone hates me — including you.”
“I don’t hate you,” Darby says. “I’m just sick of you being the queen of me — bossing me around and getting me in trouble and everything. You’re as bad as King George the Third!”
“Yeah, sure,” Jill says. “I’m not the queen of you, Darby — it’s obvious that Lily’s the queen of you.”
“Lily is not the queen of me, Jill,” Darby says, her cheeks and nose getting red. “I’m the queen of me. Lily’s the queen of Lily. And you know what? You should try being the queen of you sometime instead of everyone else! People would probably like you a lot more.”
Darby gets off her swing. I get off my swing, too. “You can’t leave!” Jill says, starting to cry again.
“We can do whatever we want to do, Jill,” Darby says. “Why don’t you try taking off your dumb queen crown and be a regular person like the rest of us?”
Jill looks at us with her watery blue eyes. A tear drips down her cheek. We turn around again.
“Wait!” she says.
We turn back toward Jill. She gets up from the swing.
“Darby and Lily, my lovely friends,” she says, back to her British accent. “I shall removeth my crown. I am no longer the queen.”
She pretends to take something off her head and put it on the ground.
We look at her.
“I submit!” she says.
Darby grabs my hand and raises it into the air.
“We are the Daughters of Liberty!” Darby shouts.
“Quite funny, Darby,” Jill says. “Hey — is it okay if I bum around with you for the rest of recess?”
“Sure,” says Darby. “Is that okay with you, Lily?”
“Sure,” I say.
“So . . . what shall we do?” she asks us.
“We could play four square,” I say.
“We could go to the invisible clubhouse,” says Darby.
“I say, let’s vote on it,” Jill says.
Darby grabs Jill’s hand and raises it into the air. “Democracy RULES!” Darby shouts.
“Lily, hold these sandwiches so they don’t make a mess in the car,” Mom tells me as I sit down next to Abby in Vanna.
We get to ride to school with Mom because it’s Jill’s last day, and we’re having a good-bye party for her. Mom took over the job of class party planner (probably so she could make sure that we didn’t get real treats during parties), so we’re bringing the food and drinks. I helped her come up with the idea of a British tea party. We made little egg-salad and tuna sandwiches with cucumbers and colorful toothpicks. She also baked biscuits, but not the good kind that Jill had because Mom’s don’t have any sugar, of course. We can’t make hot tea, so we’re having cold tea instead. Mom even bought Jill a crown. I’m not so sure we should put a crown back onto Jill’s head, but I guess it’s okay for one day.
Darby and I are wearing the fake neckties and T-shirt vests that we made when Jill first came back. Lots of people in the class are planning to wear neckties to school, even Mrs. Larson.
When Mom and I get to the coatroom, Mikey opens the door for us since our hands are full. Mikey is wearing a red-and-green-striped necktie with a Santa Claus pattern.
“Oh, Mikey!” Mom says. “You look so handsome! Doesn’t he look handsome, Lily?” I feel myself turning red. Mikey’s face turns red, too. Gabriella, Sonja, and Tillie are standing in a circle adjusting their neckties, and Gabriella glares at me. I don’t know why she thinks I like Mikey. Darby’s the one with the crush on him!
When we get into the classroom, we all sit down and watch SHTV while Mom sets up the party in the back of the room. Mrs. Larson calls roll, then tells us that she has a special announcement.
“Not only are we having a lovely tea party hosted by Mrs. Lattuga,” she begins, “but I have a big surprise for all of you, too!”
She walks to her desk, reaches underneath it, and pulls out two big boxy things covered in towels. She carries them to the front of the room.
“What are they?” asks David, getting out of his chair.
“David,” says Mrs. Larson. “Seat.”
David can’t stay seated on a normal day! He runs to the front of the room and everyone else follows. David pulls the towel off one of the surprises.
“RATS!” shouts Darby.
Sure enough, there are two white rats in a cage. Ethan pulls the towel off the other cage. Two more rats!
“Seats!” says Mrs. Larson. “SEATS!” We all run to our desks and sit down.
“Class,” says Mrs. Larson, “with the help of these four rats, we will be doing a science project to learn about healthy eating.”
“Healthy eating?” Mom says from the back of the room. “How wonderful!”
Science project? I thought we’d get to play with them. They’re so cute! Their little pink noses twitch like someone who’s about to sneeze, but they don’t sneeze — their noses just keep on twitching.
“For our health unit,” Mrs. Larson tells us, “we will be doing a long-term observation of the rats. We will feed two of the rats only junk food, like potato chips, sugared cereal, and soda. The other two will get healt
hy food, like nuts, lean meats, and grains. Then we will weigh and measure the rats daily and observe their activity levels.”
Gabriella raises her hand. “Yes, Gabriella.”
“Can we name them?” she asks.
“We can name them next week, when we officially start our science project,” Mrs. Larson says. “Right now, I think it’s teatime! Are we ready, Mrs. Lattuga?”
“We are READY to PAR-TAY!” says Mom.
MOM! Why does she say stuff like that?
Mrs. Larson puts the towels back over the rat cages. We all line up to get our sandwiches, biscuits, and tea. Jill is first, of course, and starts talking to Mom. She’s back to her British accent.
“This is just lovely, Mrs. Lattuga. What a brilliant idea for a party!” she says.
I always feel uncomfortable around adults that I don’t know, but Jill really knows how to make them like her. Jill stands between Darby and me as we eat. She pulls us close to her and whispers, “I have a brilliant idea!”
“NO!” I whisper back.
“NO!” says Darby.
“Let me at least tell you what it is before you say no,” Jill says. “For the Rizzlerunks.”
“Fine,” we say.
She whispers in Darby’s ear, then mine: “Let’s let the rats out of their cages.”
“NO!” Darby and I say together.
“Oh, Darby and Lily, you have to do it!” Jill says, pointing at her crown and smiling. “I’m the queen!”
“No way, Jill,” I say. “We fought for our rights. As the Daughters of Liberty, we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do!”
“Anyway, if it’s such a brilliant idea,” Darby says, “why don’t you do it?”
“Fine. It’s my idea. I’ll do it,” Jill says, surprising us.
Jill waits until no one is looking, then unlatches the rats’ cages and leaves them a little bit ajar under the towels.
Jill walks away, and I keep watching the cages — but the rats aren’t leaving. I thought rats were supposed to be smart! Then I see one peek its head out from under the towel, followed by another. The pair jumps off the table to the floor, like ninjas. Then two rats emerge from the other cage, their little noses twitching in the air. They scamper around the edge of the counter behind class projects and books.
The Rizzlerunk Club Page 11