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When You Wish Upon a Frog

by Rita Betti

Chapter 1

Donnie hated Skeet. The thing was Donnie didn't want to hate him. It's just that Skeet made it impossible for him to do anything else. Ever since last summer when Donnie's family had moved here, Skeet had had it in for him.

It all started at Sutter's Pond last year when Donnie had climbed on Pirate's Rock to sun himself. He was new so how could he know Skeet claimed it as his territory? But it didn't matter, he got beaten up anyway. From that day on there'd been no love between them.

It was summer again and Donnie wasn't about to give up swimming at Sutter's Pond just because of an overgrown ox like Skeet. Now here they were nose to nose, pushing and shoving while everyone gathered around to watch. They stood about the same height but Skeet was a good twenty pounds heavier than Donnie, twenty pounds of tough muscle. Donnie felt himself losing ground as Skeet leaned into him with all his weight.

"Shove him off, Skeet!" shouted Rick and Drew, Skeet's homeboys. "Put the punk in the water!"

"Show that ox who's boss!" yelled Dave, Donnie's best friend.

"Yeah man!" added Toby who was standing behind Dave. "Kick him in the—" Dave cut him off with an elbow to the chest.

"Shut up unless you plan on backing up those words," hissed Dave.

Several girls stood in a tight knot to the left of them, giggling and whispering. Donnie didn't want to lose this one, not in front of a bunch of gossipy girls. He'd never live it down, never.

Donnie strained against Skeet's shoulder. The sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. It stung making him ever madder. With a giant heave, Donnie threw his whole weight against Skeet. Skeet rocked backwards off balance for a moment. Donnie lunged and hooked his right foot behind Skeet's left leg and yanked. But Donnie didn't see the patch of wet moss just under his own left foot. It slipped out from under him and he landed on his back. Skeet jumped on top of Donnie and pinned him to the rock. Then with a swiftness that shocked everyone, Skeet grabbed Donnie's swim trunks and jerked them down to his knees. A howl went up from the crowd. The girls screamed.

"How about that church-boy," Skeet sneered.

Donnie heaved Skeet off and rolled into the water, his face hot with humiliation. He pulled up his trunks and swam to the opposite side of the pond. He pulled himself up on the bank and turned back to look at Pirate's Rock. Skeet stood between Rick and Drew, laughing and pointing in his direction. Hot rage burned inside Donnie. "I swear I'll make you pay for this," he growled through clenched teeth.

He spotted Dave and Toby swimming toward him and waited until they reached the bank.

"Wow man. That's a bummer—" Donnie cut him off.

"Yeah thanks to you two. You really know how to watch my back!" Donnie snapped.

"What did you expect us to do, man?" demanded Toby, his brown eyes flashing. "You had him, Donnie, and then you –" He stopped and looked down avoiding Donnie's glare.

Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and stared across the field. "If you want we can go

back . . ."

"And do what?" Donnie looked from Dave to Toby. They both looked away. Donnie threw up his hands and started across the field. Dave was just plain chicken and Toby—well Toby was just too small to make any difference.

"I'll get your clothes and bring 'em over later," Dave called after him.

Donnie didn't even turn around. All he could think about was what Skeet had done. And then had called him "church-boy." That name stung almost as much as losing his pants. It wasn't his fault his dad was a preacher. He couldn't change that even if he'd wanted to.

Donnie climbed through the barbed wire fence and onto the dirt road. He looked back at Sutter's Pond and could barely make out the figures of Skeet, Rick and Drew stretched out on Pirate's Rock. Well, this was the last time, he, Donnie McMillan would be put down by Skeet Reilly. The last time.

Chapter 2

It was early when Donnie headed out for Sutter's Pond. He wanted to beat Skeet to the Rock and plan what he was going to do. He needed a good plan.

The sun, already hot, beat down on Donnie's back. He wasn't sure if it was the heat or his nerves that was making him sweat. Probably both. He could do it. He had to do it. His whole reputation depended upon him doing it. He had to put Skeet down and that's all there was to it.

He'd tried to tell his dad about what had happened but it didn't work. When he mentioned running into Skeet at Sutter's Pond and that Skeet had threatened him, his dad put his hand on his shoulder and said "Donnie, you just need to pray for the boy." He dropped it. He just didn't want to hear another sermon about forgiveness and turning the other cheek. Maybe adults could afford to do that but in his world it was just plain suicide. His parents just didn't seem to understand what he had to face every day. He hadn't even considered telling his mom. She would have called Skeet's parents and wanted a "meeting." No, this was between him and Skeet anyway. He'd handle this in his own way.

Ahead in the field to his left, Sutter's Pond glistened cool and green in the bright sun. No one was there yet. Donnie stopped in front of the old sagging gate and lifted the wire loop over the post. He squeezed past the sign: KEEP GATE CLOSED and replaced the wire making sure it was secure. No need to make old man Sutter mad too.

Donnie peddled his bike along the path gouged deep by bicycle tires and tennis shoes. Maybe he should have asked Toby and Dave to come with him. It was probably stupid to face Skeet alone. But then neither Dave nor Toby had been any help yesterday. No, he really needed to face Skeet alone. He had to prove to himself he could do this.

Donnie threw his bike down at the edge of the pond and stripped off his shirt. Flinging his pants and shirt beside his bike he dove into the water with a whoop. A cold shock ripped through his body but it felt good. He shot to the surface and swam to Pirate's Rock pulling himself up on its smooth surface. Shivering he stretched out and let the sun soak into his wet body.

"Hey kid! Get off my rock!" The voice was rough and husky. Donnie jerked upright.

"Who's there?" asked Donnie. The wind rustled through the willows. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Slowly he laid back down.

"I said get off my rock!" the voice said again, louder.

This time Donnie jumped to his feet. "Who's there!" he yelled, looking around. Skeet? Couldn't be.

"I'm over here, kid."

Donnie jerked his head toward the voice. He saw nothing but a small green frog sunning itself. It opened it eyes and fixed him with a strange, unfrog-like stare. "You're on my rock!" it croaked, craning its neck to look up at Donnie.

Donnie blinked at the frog and the frog blinked back. "What's the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue?" it croaked.

"Uh-hu-hh," stammered Donnie, backing up a step. "You're really t-talking."

"Of course I'm talking." it said, turning its head this way and that. "You don't see anyone else here do you?"

"Uh-n-no." Donnie leaned forward, squinting at the little green stranger. "A talking frog?" Donnie clenched his fists and stood up. "Okay Skeet," he yelled. "You can come out now!"

"Skeet? Who's Skeet?" croaked the frog.

"That's funny, Skeet," yelled Donnie, turning around in a slow circle. "Some joke!" Skeet played jokes on people, especially Donnie. Usually they were cruel jokes like putting snakes into his back pack or gum inside his gym shoes. Or taking his clothes and throwing them into Johnson's bull pasture. But this was a new one and Donnie wondered how he did it. He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and scanned the grove of willow trees at the edge of the Pond. Skeet was probably hiding in there with a microphone hooked up to the frog.

"So, you think I'm a joke?" the frog sputtered, hunching its back and looking very insulted.

Donnie dropped to his hands and knees, closely inspecting the frog for wires. "What do you expect me to think?"

"Well!" snapped the frog and jumped into the water with a plop.

"Wait! Wait!" yelled Donnie, sprawling himself flat on the rock and peering into the green water. "Come back!" He didn't see the frog anywhere. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't think you're a joke."

Donnie looked around. Whoever was watching him make a fool of himself like this was going to pay for it. He surveyed the water but didn't see anything except a few water skippers and some minnows darting around the base of the rock. He must have been dreaming! A talking frog—how stupid.

"Well, all right," a voice croaked behind him. Donnie jerked around so fast he almost lost his balance. The little frog sat on the edge of the rock next to him.

"How do you do that?" asked Donnie, eyeing him closely. There had to be some hidden wires or something.

"Do what?"

"Talk. How do you talk?"

"The same way you do—with my mouth," answered the frog, shaking its head.

Donnie rubbed his forehead with his hands. "Okay. So you talk. In case you didn't notice, frogs aren't supposed to talk. Frogs are supposed to sit on rocks and catch flies and swim around in ponds. Frogs are not supposed to talk!"

"Humph," it croaked, sitting up very straight. "I'm not just any frog.

It stuck its nose up in the air and made a nasty face. "And I detest flies!"

"Oh, excuse me." This was getting stupider by the minute. "Then what kind of frog are you? No wait," said Donnie holding up his hand. "Let me guess. You're actually a handsome prince who was turned into a frog by a wicked witch."

"Of course not!" it said, indignant. "I have never been a prince. I'm a wizard."

"If you're a wizard, then why do you look like a frog?" Donnie was getting mad. He didn't have time for this. If Skeet was playing him, he was doing a good job. Donnie was getting tired of this talking frog gig.

"It's a long story," it said, waving its frog-hand around. "Let's just say I've had a bad turn and could use your help. Interested?"

"Help you?" Donnie leaned over and spoke directly into the frog's face. "I'm getting tired of this game. Let's just get it on. Okay?"

The frog cocked its head to one side and peered at Donnie with one yellow eye. "I'll grant you three wishes if you help me."

Donnie tried to keep a straight face but his lip curled into a smile anyway. "Three wishes? You mean like the genie in Aladdin's lamp?"

"I told you I'm a wizard, not a genie. But that's sort of the idea."

Donnie broke out in roaring laughter. "You gotta be kidding. Couldn't you come up with something more original? What do I have to do—rub you?" He erupted into laughter again. "This is too funny!" Donnie stood up and looked around. He was through playing this game. "Cut the crap, Skeet. You must really think I'm lame. Are you afraid to face me?"

Distant voices caught his attention and he looked up. About a quarter of a mile up the road he saw three boys approaching. He recognized Skeet, Drew and Rick. A cold numbness seeped into his limbs as he realized Skeet had nothing to do with the frog.

"You really shouldn't challenge a wizard." The frog's voice was strangely menacing.

Donnie looked back at the frog. He should run but something in the frog's voice stopped him. "And just how can I help you?"

"I've lost this crystal vial containing the potion to change me back into myself. I think it's in this pond. Are you willing to help me?

"Well . . ." Donnie hesitated. "I want my wishes first. Then we've got a deal"

The frog eyed Donnie closely as if debating with itself. "Very well," it said finally, its eyes glowing with a fierce yellow light. "But if you double-cross me, I'll turn you into a fly

and-" its tongue shot out like a black whip.

"I thought you hated flies," Donnie said with a smile.

"I'll force myself," it said smiling back and holding out its front "hand" toward Donnie. "Deal?"

"Deal." Donnie took the small "hand" and gave it a slight shake. "What's your name?"

"George. Just call me George. And you?"

"Donnie-"Approaching voices cut him short. He turned to see Skeet, Rick and Drew walking down the path towards the pond. The wishes would have to wait.

Chapter 3

"Blast! It's Skeet." Donnie reached down and grabbed George. "Dang!" he hissed.

"We gotta get out of here, now!"

"Put me down," George screeched, pumping his long legs against Donnie's hand. Ignoring him, Donnie slipped into the water, eased around the rock and made for the bank. He crawled out and keeping low, grabbed his clothes and headed for the willow grove a few yards away.

Hidden in the tall grass under the willows, Donnie dressed quickly. "I've got to get past those jerks," Donnie whispered, eyeing the trio now on Pirate's Rock. He tucked in his T-shirt then dropped George down the front of it. George tried to climb out but Donnie pushed him down. "Quit squirming!" he hissed. "You're tickling me." Donnie crept through the tall grass, eyes fixed on Skeet and his friends. How was he going to get around them and across the field without being seen? It was at least two hundred yards to the road.

"I wish I were invisible," Donnie mumbled under his breath.

A mild electric shock passed through Donnie's body, throwing him off balance. He thrust out his hand to steady himself but where his hand should have been, only a dent in the grass appeared. He looked down at his legs but they had vanished! "Aaagghhh!" Donnie cried, jumping up. "My legs. Something has happened to my legs. My arms—whoa, my whole body is missing!"

"Wish granted!" croaked George from somewhere Donnie couldn't see.

"What wish?" Donnie hissed, trying to find the neck of his T-shirt. He finally felt the edge and jerked it open. George looked up at him, yellow eyes gleaming.

"You wished to be invisible. So . . ." He spread his front feet, holding on to what seemed like thin air.

"What! That wasn't one of my wishes. That's not fair," Donnie groaned and let the T-shirt snap back. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Might I suggest making the most of your condition?" George said in a muffled voice. "You wanted to get out of here without being seen, didn't you?"

Donnie stepped forward into the field and stood there. Maybe this wasn't so bad. He strode toward pond and Pirate's Rock, where Skeet stood with his back to him. Donnie bent down, picked up a stick and threw it at Skeet, hitting him squarely on the shoulder.

"Ow," he yelled, whipping around to see who had thrown it. His gaze passed right through Donnie and fixed on Rick. Skeet grabbed him by the arm. "Hey! Why'd you do that," he demanded.

"Do what?" snapped Rick. "I didn't do anything," he growled, jerking his arm away.

Donnie edged his way around the two and stood not six feet from them, arms folded and watched them. This was great!

Skeet turned to Drew and shoved his clenched fist into his face. "I outta punch your face in!"

Drew pushed Skeet's fist away. "I don't know what you're talking about but you'd better watch who you're gonna punch," warned Drew, clenching his own fists. Skeet reached down and picked up the stick, and Skeet shook it at Drew and Rick. "Which one of you hit me with this thing?"

Donnie glanced at the shirts, pants, shoes and caps on the bank next to him. This was just too good to miss. Quickly, he snatched the pile of clothes and stuffed them under his T-shirt. He started to grab the shoes and hats when George suddenly screeched. "I'm suffocating." Donnie smacked the lump. "Shut up."

Rick and Drew stopped suddenly and looked towards Donnie, eyes searching for something. "Did you hear that?" Rick whispered. Drew cocked his head to one side, listening. "Naw. Just the wind or something."

Shrugging it off, they turned back to Skeet. "You're nuts, man." Drew spat. "We didn't do a thing to you. Wanna know what I think, Rick. He's just itching for a fight. "

Donnie turned and broke into a run, tripping over a rock and hitting his knee as he fell. He cried out. Skeet, Drew and Rick jumped and turned around.

"What's there?" Rick squeaked. Nobody moved. "I thought I heard something a few minutes ago, too."

"Maybe so," nodded Drew. "I don't like this. It gives me the creeps."

"What a couple of wusses," smirked Skeet. "Too many scary movies?" he laughed.

"Well, you can stay and find out," Drew said. "I'm getting out of here."

"Same here," agreed Rick as he turned to grab his pants.

Donnie watched them scramble to find their clothes. All that remained of the pile was three pairs of shoes and three baseball caps. "What' going on!" screeched Drew, pawing the grass where his clothes had been. Rick stumbled in a circle kicking the bushes. Skeet scanned the water for any sign of their clothing. Donnie turned to run but was trying so hard not to laugh so hard he could barely make his legs go. He stumbled and lurched forward, grabbing Drew's leg as he fell. Drew screeched and kicked, just missing Donnie's head. Donnie got to his feet and watched as Skeet, Drew and Rick backed into a tight circle.

"Something grabbed my leg," whispered Drew. "Something I couldn't see." His voice was shaking almost as bad as his hands.

"I don't know about you two, but I have a really bad feeling about this place!" hissed Rick, his eyes wild. "Something evil is lurking around here."

"If you two don't cut the —" Skeet suddenly stopped and his jaw dropped as he watched his baseball cap jump from the ground beside him to the top of his head. "I th-think I'm g-gonna leave now," he stuttered, "as s-soon I c-can get m-my legs to move." The other two stood in stunned silence as their baseball caps also jumped from the grass to their heads. Donnie picked up their shoes and one by one tossed them at each one's feet. Suddenly the Skeet, Rick and Drew burst into action, flinging their shoes, stick, rocks and anything they could grab in all directions. One of Skeet's shoes just missed Donnie's head as he ducked but a rock from Drew's hand didn't and hit him in the back of the knee. Donnie dropped to the ground and crawled out of the line of fire.

Drew, Rick and Skeet continued to yell and randomly throw rocks. "Give back our clothes!" Rick screamed, brandishing a long willow branch like a sword. "Or I'll cut your heart out." Donnie patted the wad of clothes and grinned. "I'll give you your clothes," he muttered. "But you'll have to come find them first."

Chapter 4

Donnie headed for Johnson's pasture. Old man Johnson had the biggest, meanest, ugliest bull in the whole county and he just happened to be in the next field. Sometimes on a dare, they'd tease the old bull (nick named "Predator") just to see how close they could get before he'd charge. They'd only succeeded in making him meaner and now he'd charge if they even got near the fence.

Donnie squeezed through the barbed wire fence and instinctively dropped low, hiding in the tall weeds out of Predator's sight. "That's right," he said, standing up and walking toward the old bull. "He can't see me." Then suddenly Predator raised his ugly head and looked directly at him. Donnie froze, old fear washing over him at the sight of the red-eyed monster. Predator, nostrils flaring, sniffed the air and shook his shaggy head. Maybe the old bull could still see him.

"George?" hissed Donnie, stretching out the front of his T-shirt. He poked at the tangle of Jeans, shirts and socks. "George! You there?"

A muffled croak emerged from somewhere under the clothing. Donnie lifted the bottom of his t-shirt and let everything drop onto the ground. After a moment, a panting, disgruntled frog fought his way out of the wad of shirts and jeans.

George leered at him. "I nearly suffocated you bone-head!" he growled, yellow eyes flashing.

"Sorry," Donnie whispered. "Can he see me?" he asked, gesturing to the bull ambling toward them, still sniffing.

"No, but he can hear and smell you. And now that you've dropped your load, might I suggest—"But Donnie wasn't listening. His attention was fixed on the old bull who had dropped his head and stood shaking it menacingly. Predator snorted and pawed the ground. Donnie reached down, grabbed the pile and bolted toward the fence. The bull let out a bellow and charged after him. Donnie looked back over his shoulder at the pair of short curved horns coming straight toward his backside and let out a yell. The sound of pounding hooves and heavy snorts was closing in. Predator was gaining on him.

"He can see the clothes. Drop the clothes!" screeched George but Donnie couldn't hear him. All he heard was Predator puffing behind him like a steam engine. George, caught in the tangle of shirts, worked his way to the top of the pile. Clutching Donnie's shirt he pulled himself out of the pile.

"Oh God, I wish I could fly," panted Donnie, realizing with horror that Predator would reach him before he reached the fence.

As if snatched from above, Donnie shot up into the air with a scream, dropping the clothes in a heap on Predator's poised horns. The bull tossed his head with a snort, flinging shirts and jeans everywhere.

But Donnie was too stunned to notice. Up, up he zoomed into the deep blue sky as Predator and the pasture grew smaller every second. "George!" shrieked Donnie, arms and legs flailing wildly around him. "Help me!"

"Level out," yelled George, clinging anxiously to Donnie's shoulder. "Flatten your body—like you're swimming."

"I can'," Donnie cried, kicking his legs and pumping his arms. Almost losing his grip, George screeched and crawled up on Donnie's back.

"Glide, don't pump, you idiot!" commanded George, thumping Donnie's neck with his back leg. "We're going to end up flattened against a tree or off in the ozone if you don't!"

Donnie gritted his teeth and slowly forced his arms and legs straight, flattening his body like he'd seen Superman do in the movies. It worked. He leveled off, slicing through the air like a paper airplane.

"Whoa, this is cool man," Donnie hooted attempting a turn. He banked to the right, made a wide arc then headed back toward Predator's pasture and Sutter's Pond. "Hey George, look, I'm flying!" George flattened himself against Donnie's neck and grinned.

Donnie swooped low over the pasture where Predator was still tossing Skeet, Rick and Drew's clothing around. Ahead he could see the three of them scouring the area near the pond for their clothes. He laughed out loud and zoomed toward them.

"Hey, George? How is it I'm able to fly?"

"Well, you did make a wish," replied George. "I'm just keeping my side of the bargain."

"What? Oh no I didn't—"But then he remembered his off handed comment.

"Just great," Donnie groaned. "Now I have only one wish left and so far haven't gotten anything I really wanted."

"Well, when Predator almost had you and you mumbled something about wishing you could fly, I thought it was a pretty good idea. It did save your life."

"I suppose. But now what am I going to do? Will I always be this way?" Donnie knew the answer already. Well, he might as well make the most of it. If he could teach Skeet, Rick and Drew a lesson, it would all be worth it. At least he hoped it would be.

Chapter 5

Donnie circled the three boys several times in an attempt to hear what they were saying but he couldn't get close enough to catch more than a few words, none of which were repeatable. Anger now ruled and Skeet's face reflected his temper as he glared at Drew and Rick. They glared back with dark looks of their own.

Donnie returned to Predator's pasture and flew along the fence. There had to be one along here somewhere. Finally he spotted it—a gate! He only had to land, open it and lure the big, ugly bull toward the three boys. There was only one problem; he didn't know how to land.

Donnie swooped low near the gate and dropped his feet. One foot struck the ground and nearly flipped him over. He pulled up just in time. He tried it again but was flying too fast and had to suddenly pull up to keep from rolling. On the third pass, he stuck his legs out but as soon as his feet hit the ground he lurched forward and rolled head over heels through the grass landing belly first in a big cow patty.

"Ugh!" Donnie groaned, almost gagging. He got up and tried to rub the smelly manure off his shirt but it was invisible like the rest of him. "Oh crap," he growled with a shrug and headed toward the gate. When this was all over he'd have a nice swim in the pond.

It took a minute to get the tight wire loop off the post that held the gate closed. Once loose, the wire gate fell in a heap and he pulled it back against the fence. Now all he had to do was get old Predator through the gate and headed in the direction of Skeet, Drew and Rick. Once the ornery old bull saw the three of them, instinct would take over. He couldn't wait to see the look on their faces when they saw the two ton monster bearing down on them. This was gonna be a kick!

Donnie trotted toward Predator who had tired of tossing the jeans and shirts and resumed grazing. Rick's bright red shirt lay in a heap some distance from the rest of the clothing. Predator must have really gone after that one. Donnie picked it up and stuffed it under his T-shirt. He slowly picked his way through the grass and into the bull's line of vision. Predator's ears twitched and he raised his shaggy head, looking directly through Donnie. Suddenly Donnie whipped the shirt out from under T-shirt and flapped in Predator's face. Predator let out a bellow and charged, lunging so suddenly he almost gored Donnie's arm. Donnie shrieked and ran toward the gate, Predator thundering after him. Donnie flung himself through the gate and sped toward Sutter's Pond waving the red shirt behind him. The old bull galloped through the gate after the red shirt, bellowing as he ran.

About a hundred yards from Skeet, Drew and Rick, Donnie stuffed Rick's shirt back under his own T-shirt as he turned aside out of Predator's path and leapt into the air for take-off. Splat! He landed flat on his stomach in the soft grass. He stumbled to his feet and rubbed his legs. This flying business wasn't as easy as Superman made it look. He sprinted toward the pond for a second try only this time he tried springing high into the air. It worked. He soared upward just as Predator spotted the three boys.

Donnie circled the pond. Pirate's Rock was the perfect place to watch the fun. He swooped down and stuck his feet out for a landing but failed to reduce his speed. He missed Pirate's Rock and belly flopped in the middle of the pond. "Dang," he sputtered, blowing water out of his nose. "I've got to work on that!" He swam to the rock and heaved himself onto the smooth, flat surface where he had a good view of the action.

Predator snorted and pawed the ground. Rick turned around just as Predator lunged forward, head down and stampeded toward them. "Run! Mad bull!" he shrieked and bolted toward the Pond, flying past Skeet and Drew. They screamed and bolted after Rick, eyes bulging at the sight of the charging bull.

Donnie doubled over, howling with laughter. A huge splash followed by two more made Donnie laugh even harder. First Rick then Skeet and Drew hurled themselves into the water just as Predator swung his horns upward, attempting to skewer Drew's back side. They looked so stupid. Shouting and slapping the water with their arms, the three of them hardly looking like the bullies they pretended to be. Predator stood at the water's edge bellowing and shaking his mammoth head.

Donnie fell down on the rock and wrapped his arms around himself, too weak from laughing to stand. Suddenly he thought of George. George just had to see this. "George?" he called pulling at his shirt. He didn't see George anywhere. He felt around his neck and arms. He jumped to his feet and pulled his shirt off. George was no where to be seen. Donnie whipped around and frantically scanned the Rock. "George! George!" he yelled, panic gripping him.

Splashing close by caught his attention. Skeet, Rick and Drew had swum within a few feet of the Rock. Rick reached the edge and pulled himself up onto the rock and lay panting. Skeet and Drew followed, coughing and spitting water.

"How'd that bull get out," gasped Rick, his voice raspy from coughing.

"I don't know," sputtered Drew between gasps. "This whole thing is just too weird." "You got that!" Skeet added. "First the stick, then something grabbed Rick's leg, then the clothes and now this," he said gesturing toward Predator who was grazing at the edge of the pond, occasionally lifting his head in their direction. "Someone or something opened that gate." The three just looked at each other in somber silence.

Donnie wasn't laughing anymore. He had his own problems. He had to find George. When did he fall out of his shirt? Where could he be? Where was he to look first? What if the little frog was . . . Donnie couldn't think of that. He moved away from the three of them and squatted down on the far side of the Rock. He had to think.

Chapter 6

Donnie sat with his head on his knees, thinking over the past few hours. So much had happened. Who would have ever believed that when he woke up this morning he would end up an invisible, flying, freak by noon? And now the only person; if a frog can be called a person; who could help him was missing and possibly—dead.

"What are we gonna do?" Drew's question broke the heavy silence. "We can't sit here on this rock forever."

"I don't know," Skeet answered his voice small and scared. Donnie turned to look at him. He was sitting hunched up, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, a haunted look in his eyes. Donnie had never seen Skeet like this before. "It's like something is hunting us." Skeet's voice was barely a whisper.

Donnie always thought he'd enjoy watching his enemies suffer but it didn't have the kick he imagined. Yeah, they did deserve it and yeah, he'd had a laugh and but something didn't seem right. They looked so—well, exposed. He almost felt sorry for Skeet and the other two. Almost. However, he didn't have time to watch anymore. He had to find George.

Quietly he slipped over the side of the Rock and eased into the water. The three boys were still talking in low voices as he sank beneath the surface. Maybe George had fallen into the water. Donnie looked around the murky water but couldn't see much in its green depths. He swam down toward the bottom. Faint shafts of sunlight illuminated the rocks and mud but he couldn't see anything that looked like George. Suddenly, a sparkle caught his eye. As he swam towards it he spied something round and clear and shaped like a bottle wedged between two rocks. It flashed in the filtered sunlight. The vial! Donnie tried to pull it loose but it wouldn't budge. Quickly, he looked around for something to pry it loose but saw nothing. His burning lungs forced him to the abandon the vial. He broke the surface gulping air and spitting water.

Treading water, he looked around trying to think what to do next. If he didn't find George, the vial was useless anyway. Fear began to crowd his imagination. What if he couldn't find George. Worse yet, what if George was dead. He's never get to use his last wish. He'd be bound to live the rest of his life invisible—and able to fly. The flying part wasn't so bad but he didn't like the thought of being invisible. If he only hadn't wasted his first two wishes.

He wasn't sure where to look. He'd been too busy playing jokes to notice just when George disappeared. The last time he remembered seeing him was just after he foolishly wished he could fly. That was in Predator's pasture. He'd start looking there.

Donnie searched every inch of grass all the way back to the gate. He scoured the area around the gate then moved toward the scattered clothes.

"George!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. "George!" He waited. No answer. He picked each piece of clothing and shook it. His heart pounded and his head ached. Maybe if he flew over the area he could see something.

Back and forth he glided, scanning, calling, searching every place he'd been since last seeing George. There was absolutely no sign of George anywhere.

He decided to take one last look and circled the pond. Maybe he had headed for the water.

There! Something floated on the surface near the Rock. Donnie dipped closer. It was a frog. It had to be George. He dropped into the water with a splat and swam toward the small object. His heart pounded. The frog wasn't moving. In fact, he was upside down, white belly exposed, riding the shallow waves like a piece of driftwood. He scooped the limp body from the water and paddled toward the bank.

Donnie spread the little green body out on the grass. "George?" he whispered, stroking the smooth green skin. Tears clouded his vision making his nose run. Instead of last wishes and Skeet, Donnie thought of George falling to his death, a helpless little frog who had harmed no one. "I found the vial George," Donnie moaned. "Won't do you no good now." He covered his streaming eyes with his hand. Why hadn't he put George down first? He was just a stupid, dumb, brain-dead kid. "I'm sorry, George," he mumbled and picked up the limp body.

Donnie looked back at the three boys sitting naked on Pirate's Rock. Anger flooded his mind. It was all Skeet's fault. Skeet and Drew and Rick. If it wasn't for them none of this would have happened. Look at the three of them. What a pathetic trio. "They're gonna pay for this!" Donnie hissed, sliding back into the water. He stuck George's body in his shirt again and swam toward the Rock. Now he'd show them real fear!

Chapter 7

Donnie slid out of the water and onto the Rock with the stealth of a snake. Skeet, Drew and Rick were sitting with their backs toward Donnie focused on Predator who had lost interest in the three and had begun grazing.

"He's not looking now," whispered Rick. "Maybe we can slide into the water and swim to the other side."

"And then what? Run to the nearest house in our under pants?" hissed Skeet, eyes flashing. "We don't have any clothes!"

"Maybe we could take some branches and cover ourselves" Drew said. "You know like . . . "

"Like Adam and Eve?" sneered Skeet.

"And which would you be?" Drew howled. Rick snickered and turned his head. Skeet grabbed a rock and threw it. Drew ducked and the rock landed square on Predator's neck. Predator jerked his head around and looked at them, and let out a bellow. He lowered his head and made a dash for the rock, stopping right at the water's edge. The three lowered their heads and were silent.

Donnie watched in silence. He knew what he had to do he just didn't know how. He had to get them off the rock somehow. As he thought his gaze drifted to the patch of dandelions near the edge of the water. Bees danced from flower to flower, the drone of their wings registering in the back of his mind. Suddenly he came alert. Bees! That was it. He slipped back into the water and glided to shore. There had to be a hive nearby. He leapt into the air and took off.

He decided to follow a couple of the bees to see where they went. Maybe they'd lead him to their hive. Up and down, landing and taking off. The bees had to investigate every patch of flowers around. Finally, heavy with nectar and pollen, they flew a straight path to a stand of trees a fair distance from the Pond. Donnie zoomed ahead and landed near the trees. Hanging from one of the branches was a small hive, swarming with bees. Bees buzzed around his head and body, apparently able to sense his presence. He knew if he knocked the hive down he'd be viciously attacked invisible or not. He looked around. What he needed was something to place around the hive to keep the bees from getting out.

A barn loomed in the distance. Maybe there was something in there he could use. He flew toward the open doors and landed inside. In an empty barrel in one corner he spied some large burlap bags. He quickly grabbed one and took off toward the hive. Hopefully it was big enough.

He arrived back at the small grove and looked up at the swarming hive. He needed to get the bag over the hive and then dislodge it from the branch. He leapt up and tried to hover near the hive but he quickly dropped from the sky. Stopping in mid air wasn't part of his flying package. He'd have to climb the tree.

Donnie managed to get up the tree but when he put his weight on the limb, it shook, upsetting the bees. They swarmed around him landing on his face and hands. He drew back swatting and slapping at the bees. There was no hope for it. He'd either have to abandon the idea or endure some stings. He reached inside his shirt and drew out the limp body of George. A fresh wave of anger rushed to his head. This was for George. A few stings didn't matter.

He shoved George back in his shirt. He took the bag and pulled it over his head. Maybe it would give him just enough protection to get to the hive. Straining to see through the loose weave, he took a deep breath and crawled onto the limb. Bees swarmed around him but couldn't get to his face and neck. Instead they landed on his hands and arms. Gritting his teeth against the stings he scooted along the branch to the hive. He yanked the bag off his head, pulled it over the hive, grabbed the edges and pulled it closed. The whine of angry bees was deafening. Stray bees stung Donnie's hands and face as he tried to pry the hive loose from the branch. With a final yank he jerked the hive loose and it dropped to the bottom of the bag. Now all he had to do was fly back to the Rock and drop the hive on the three unsuspecting victims.

Holding the bag with both hands to keep it from falling, Donnie struggled to fly back to the Rock. He dipped and weaved, nearly crashing into the fence, dodging bushes, barely able to rise above the tall weeds in the field. The bee stings on his hands were swelling, making it difficult to hold on to the bag. His eyes felt puffy and his skin burned and itched. But it would be worth it. He snickered as he thought of the bees swarming around the defenseless bodies of Skeet, Drew and Rick.

Ahead he could see the Rock and the naked forms of the three boys still sitting in a tight circle. Just a few more yards and he'd be there. With all the strength he had left, he ascended upward rising several feet above the Rock. With bull's eye precision, Donnie dropped the bag directly in the middle of the three. The bag hit with a splat, bees erupting from the opening in an angry stream. Donnie landed on the shore to watch.

Skeet, Drew and Rick sprung to their feet stunned. "What the-" shouted Drew jumping back. Skeet took a step forward, then leapt backward batting the air with his hands.

"Bees!" screeched Rick, spinning around slapping the air, himself and the other two. Rick took a running leap and dove into the water, followed by Drew. Skeet continued to slap himself, howling and cursing in a frenzied dance, kicking and leaping in the air. Finally with a yelp he flew off the rock into the water.

Donnie should have been roaring with laughter but he wasn't. He watched the three frantically swimming away from Pirate's Rock, ducking and dodging the pursuing bees. His be stings ached and burned, his hands and face were swollen, and he had a gnawing in his gut. He pulled George from his shirt and laid him on the grass. Tears clouded his vision. He shook his head and tried to drum up the anger. But only a sad loneliness emerged.

He looked at Skeet, Drew and Rick, treading water on the opposite side of Pirate's Rock. Predator stood snorting on the shore. Even in their sad state they were better off. At least they were normal. Now what was he going to do. George was gone and nothing would bring him back.

Chapter 8

Donnie knelt in the grass and picked up George's body. The least he could do was give him a decent burial. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, covering his eyes with his hand.

"What are you doing with that dead frog?" a familiar voice croaked.

Donnie jerked his hand from his eyes and stared at the lifeless frog in front of him. "George?"

"That's not me!" croaked George, leaping into Donnie's lap.

"George!" Donnie cried. "I thought you were dead!"

George looked down at the dead frog and shook his head. "How could you mistake him for me? We're not even the same color green," he said, scowling. "Hope you didn't try mouth to mouth. You might end up with warts on your lips." He made a snorting sound which Donnie realized was laughter.

"What happened to you?" Donnie asked, wiping tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

"You need to work on your landing! When you did that goony bird touch down, I was thrown clean out of your shirt. I tried to yell but the impact knocked the air out of me. By the time I got my air back you were playing bullfighter with Predator. I figured the best I could do was come back to the pond and wait for you here. Honestly Donnie, I'm insulted that you took this common little frog for me!" George snapped his long tongue at a fly but missed.

"I've got to get back to my old self before I actually catch one of those nasty things," he said, puckering up his face in disgust.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I found the vial, George."

"Good work Donnie! Let's have it, my boy!" cried George, slapping his front feet together.

"Well . . . I don't have it with me. It's stuck between two rocks about right there," Donnie said, pointing to a place near where Skeet was treading water.

"Stuck? Did you try to get it loose?"

"Yeah but it wouldn't budge. If only I had something to pry it loose with--."

"NO! NO! You can't do that" cried George, pawing the air with his front feet. "It's made of a very special crystal. Very fragile. You must think of another way. And soon." George gave a dismal sigh. "You see, I forgot to tell you that if I don't get changed back before the sun goes down, I will stay a frog forever. And—cree—eek," he sputtered blinking his yellow eyes. "Sorry. The closer to sunset it gets the more frog-like I become."

"Oh great," Donnie groaned, looking toward the west to where the sun was midway to its setting. There were only a few hours left. He dropped his chin in his hands and watched George try for a grasshopper. This time he didn't miss.

"I'm going to try again," Donnie blurted, watching the two back legs of the grasshopper disappear into George's mouth. "And I'm gonna keep trying until I get that thing loose. I promise George, I'll get that vile for you."

Donnie slid into the water and dove for the two rocks. Placing his feet on either side of the two rocks, he carefully wiggled the vial but it didn't budge at all. He tried to pull the rocks apart but there were too big. The burning in his lungs sent him to the surface. Treading water, he made a plan. He dove again to the two rocks. Placing one foot on either side, he pushed with all his strength. The rocks held fast. He leaned against the smaller of the two, pushing with his shoulders, both feet planted on the larger one. Still nothing. He shot to the surface for air.

There had to be some way to get that vial from its wedged prison. Think, Donnie. The sun hung dangerously low in the horizon. There wasn't much time left.

Donnie swam to the shore and heaved himself on the bank. There had to be something. The barn. Maybe there was something in the barn he could use to pry the rocks apart.

He sprang into the air and zoomed to the barn. There had to be something here. Leaning against the wall in one corner was a large iron crow bar. Donnie grabbed it and turned to run. His whole body snapped back. He grabbed it with both hands and barely lifted it off the ground. How in the world would he get it back to the Pond? There was nothing for it—he'd have to carry it.

It took almost thirty minutes but he finally made it. His arms ached and his legs felt like lead. He paused for a moment at the edge of the pond then waded in. The bar wasn't quite so heavy in the water enabling him to make his way to the two rocks easily enough. Needing air again, he dropped the bar near the rocks and made a quick trip topside.

The long rays of the sun skipped across the pond surface. He had less than an hour. Donnie gulped air then dove into the murky water. Barely able to see, because of the fading light, he groped for the bar. He felt the hard metal and grabbed it with both hands. The smaller rock seemed most likely to give so he positioned the bar at it's base and pushed down. The rock didn't move. He shot to the surface for air, then dove again.

This time he repositioned the crow bar on the other side. He wedged his feet under an nearby boulder and strained with all his weight on the end of the bar. The rock began to move. His lungs were beginning to burn but he had to try one more time. He leaned on the bar and bounced hard. The boulder gave and lifted up on one side. The vial slid from its place and dropped under the rock. Donnie stretched out his hand to grab the small crystal, straining against the burning in his lungs. Just as his fingers touched the vial, the crow bar slid sideways and rock dropped back in its place. Donnie dropped the bar and sprang for the surface, his lungs nearly exploding. He gulped fresh, sweet air and noticed the sun touching the edge of the horizon. Time had run out and so had his options. And the vial was gone forever.

Chapter 9

Donnie pulled himself up on the bank and lay there gasping for air. After a moment he

propped his head up on one elbow and looked at George. George appeared to be sleeping in the long slanted rays of the sinking sun. He looked like any ordinary frog. Almost too ordinary.

"George?" Donnie whispered, poking him gently with his finger. George's eyes flew open. He turned and started to leap into the water. "Wait a minute, George!" Donnie cried, grabbing George by the back leg.

"Scree—eech!" George screamed, kicking furiously.

"George! It's me, Donnie!" Donnie picked him up and shook him.

"D-donnie?" George stuttered, struggling to speak. "Hurry. I-I'm losing it. Ree-keek!."

Donnie sighed and stroked George. The vial was history and the sun would be gone in a matter of minutes. George would turn permanently into a frog and he'd be a flying nothing forever. He'd never get to use his last wish.

Wish! That was it. He could wish the vial out of its trap and restore George. Donnie stood up. He looked down at George squirming in his hands. If he did that, he'd never be normal again. But if he didn't save George, he'd never be normal again anyway. Better that one of them be saved.

"George," Donnie said, holding him close to his face. "George? Can you understand me?" George blinked his yellow eyes and nodded at him. "Can you still grant me my last wish?" George nodded slowly, opening and closing his mouth and making gurgling noises in his throat.

"Good." Donnie took a deep breath and held out his right hand, palm up. "I wish I had the vial here in my right hand." He held his breath. Nothing happened. "George! Try!" Donnie cleared his throat and tried again. "I wish I had the vial in my right hand." Still nothing happened. Panic gripped his chest. "George!" he shrieked, "You have to listen to me—now!"

Suddenly a horrifying, bone chilling scream split the late afternoon calm. Donnie turned toward the source and saw Skeet flailing in the water, arms flying in every direction. He went under then bounced back to the surface. "Water Moccasin!" he screamed slapping the water with his hands. Something was skimming across the water toward Skeet but Donnie couldn't tell what it was. Skeet tried to swim but in his panic, went under again. There was no sign of either Drew or Rick.

Donnie looked at George, then back at Skeet. What now? He couldn't let Skeet get bitten or drown. Friend or enemy he was still one of God's creatures. But without that vial, George was lost. He looked down at George. "George!" he roared, ignoring the screams of Skeet. "I wish the vial was in my right hand—now George. Now!"

"Cree-keek," squawked George. Out of nowhere the vial appeared, shimmering in the last rays of the sun. "Yes!" shouted Donnie.

He stuffed the vial and George in his shirt, tucking it in securely then jumped into the pond, swimming as fast as he could toward Skeet. Water Moccasin though uncommon did appear from time to time but none had ever been found in the Pond.

"Hang on Skeet!" Donnie yelled, forgetting for a moment he was invisible. "I'm coming!"

By the time Donnie reached Skeet, he was floating face down on the surface. The snake was no where in sight, probably got scared and swam away. Donnie grabbed Skeet by the shoulders and flipped him over and with one arm stretched across his chest and under his opposite arm, towed him to shore. He pulled him up on the grass and began beating on his chest. He rolled him over and bounced on his back between his shoulder blades. Finally Skeet sputtered and coughed up water.

Donnie hadn't noticed Drew and Rick come running to the scene. Skeet opened his eyes and sat up. He looked up at the two boys and nodded. "Hey guys. Thanks for saving my life."

Drew and Rick looked at each other in shock. "It wasn't us, man. When we got here, you were already laying here. Some one or something pulled you from the water."

Looking at the sun's fading rays, Donnie walked away, pulling George and the vial from his shirt. He hoped that by saving Skeet he hadn't lost George. He knelt down in the grass. Now what? He had the vial, but what was he suppose to do with it? Was there a chant or a spell that made it work? Did he mix it with something or just pour it on George?

"What do I do now?" he asked George frantically. But George only pumped his legs and tried to squirm out of his hand.

Donnie pulled the cork out of the vial with his teeth and smelled the contents. It had a strange spicy odor. He sat down in the grass and held George firmly in his lap. "Well, old buddy, since you can't help me, I'm gonna go for it on my own."

He drizzled a small amount on George's back, then opened George's mouth and poured a little on his thick tongue.

"Please work, please work," he whispered, closing his eyes and concentrating with all his might. "Please . . . "

"Donnie!" The voice was deep and rich, almost musical. Donnie opened his eyes and there before him stood a tall man, clothed in a long white robe, a red mantle draped around his broad shoulders. "Thank you Donnie. A few more minutes and I couldn't have granted your wish."

"George?" Donnie looked down at his hands. Both the vial and George were gone. He looked up at the tall man. "It worked?"

George reached down and pulled Donnie to his feet. His crystal gray eyes seemed to probe deep into Donnie's soul. "You made a great sacrifice. I'm now indebted to you."

Donnie blushed. "Oh well, one of us had to make it back to normal. It won't be so bad being invisible, I guess. At least I can fly."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not invisible to me." George wrinkled up his nose. "And even if I couldn't see you, I sure can smell you."

George put his arm around Donnie's shoulders. "What shall I do with them?" he asked gesturing toward Skeet, Rick and Drew who were standing at the edge of the Pond gaping at George, their mouths hanging open like fly traps.

"I think I'm done with them," Donnie said. He looked at Drew and Rick, naked, shivering, simple followers Skeet the Bully. And Skeet, who proved not to be a bully at all, just a coward with an attitude. His anger was gone and now all he felt was pity. He shrugged and chuckled to himself. "Let them go."

George nodded and mumbled something in a deep rumbling voice. Suddenly they vanished.

Donnie gasped. "Where'd they go?"

"I sent them home." George laughed quietly. "Don't worry, they won't remember a thing except of having a wonderful day swimming at Sutter's Pond."

"Couldn't you have let Skeet remember some of the stuff? Just so he wouldn't be such a rotten bully?"

George shook his head. "I think you can handle Skeet." He looked into Donnie's eyes. "You know the best way to get rid of an enemy is to make him your friend." He ruffled Donnie's hair and laughed. "But now for you."

"Me? What about me?" Donnie asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Don't you want to be normal again? It only takes a wave of my hand," he said raising his arm.

"Wait!" Donnie cried. George lowered his arm and looked at him. "Uh—well, do you think you could just make me visible?"

"You still want to be able to fly?" George asked, his eyes boring into him? "Do you think you can handle it?

"I don't know, but I'd sure like to try," Donnie answered with a half grin.

George gazed at him for a moment, his gray eyes sparkling. "I think you CAN handle it, Donnie. You proved that by rescuing Skeet at the cost of losing me. People are more important than anything we possess. You are beginning to understand that, I think."

George waved his arm and Donnie's body materialized instantly. Predator, grazing a few feet away, raised his head and snorted. He turned and lowered his head pawing the ground. Donnie saw the huge bull charge toward him from the corner of his eye. With a leap he rocketed skyward just as Predator's lunged at him, missing him by a hair. With a hoot, Donnie circled the field and waved at George. "Thanks George, for everything. I hope we meet again sometime."

"Oh we will my boy. We will." And with that George vanished. Donnie swooped low over Sutter's Pond making one last circle before heading home. A small frog sat on Pirate's rock in the fading light. Donnie caught a sparkle in its eye as he sped away. Or was it a wink? He'd have to come back tomorrow and find out.

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