Looking Back to a Bright Future*

It’s Saturday and we’re back at Oak Hill. Dad had the chance of some overtime and when he asked if I minded I told him that it didn’t really matter to me – being grounded in the house is just as bad as being grounded at Oak Hill. I think he looked a bit sad when I said that but I don’t care – I hope he feels guilty for wrecking my summer.

Nobody has said a word to me about what happened the other day with Martha. I turned up at the water fountain as usual the day after but she didn’t appear. I expected to get hauled in front of Dad and given a hard time, but it’s like nobody knows that I abandoned her. Almost as if she didn’t tell anyone, which I find difficult to believe because I definitely get the impression that she can’t stand me. She could have written it down in her notebook and shown Beatrice.

After saying goodbye to Dad at his shed I race through the gardens, heading straight for my secret hideaway. A whole day on my own will be good – I could do with some peace and quiet after all the excitement of this week.

I run round the corner and screech to a halt. There is somebody here. In MY hideaway. I haven’t spotted a single person here all summer but now I can see somebody crouched down in the long grass by the stream. I stand still, unsure whether to turn and run before I’m spotted or march over there and tell them to get lost.

Before I can make up my mind, the figure stands up and looks straight at me.

‘Hey!’ he calls. ‘Come and see this!’

He crouches back down in the grass and I walk forward slowly, staring at him in disbelief. It’s him again. The gorgeous, scruffy-haired boy. The one that raced in to rescue Martha the other day. Why is he HERE, in my secret place? Maybe he’s come to have a go at me about leaving Martha all alone. I make a pathetic attempt to smooth my hair down as I get closer to him and wish that I wasn’t wearing my old jeans and a ratty T-shirt.

He looks up as I get close.

‘Look! It’s so cool!’

I look where he’s pointing and my first instinct is to recoil in horror. It is not cool. It is disgusting. There, right next to gorgeous boy, is the ugliest, wartiest frog that I have ever seen. Not to mention the biggest.

‘I haven’t seen one this size before,’ he says, sounding excited. I sigh, feeling disappointed. There’s always something to spoil it. He might look stunning and seem kind of friendly – but he’s obviously a total weirdo.

‘Er – no,’ I say. ‘Me neither. But then again, I don’t exactly go out of my way to look for frogs.’

‘It’s not a frog!’ he says, laughing and standing up. ‘It’s a toad.’

‘Oh – I’m so sorry. My bad. Frog – toad. Whatever.’

I’m aware that I’m not being very friendly but I’m seriously put out that someone else has intruded into my personal space – even if he is really good-looking. Plus I’m getting ready to defend myself if he starts blaming me for Martha’s fall.

‘I’m Lucas,’ says Frog Boy. ‘We go to the same school, don’t we? You’re about to start Year Nine, right?’

He holds out his hand and it takes me a moment to realize that he wants us to shake hands. I hesitate – if he’s been touching that frog then I have no intention of getting slime on me and anyway, who shakes hands in this day and age?

‘It’s OK,’ he tells me. ‘I haven’t got toady hands.’ And then he grins at me and I find myself putting my hand in his – this strange, mind-reading, gorgeous Frog Boy.

‘You must be Erin,’ he says and I feel my insides lurch. Maybe he is actually psychic. I really hope he didn’t read my mind when I was thinking mean thoughts about him.

‘Yeah,’ I say. I am not behaving like a particularly sophisticated young lady right now but thankfully, Frog Boy either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.

‘My grandad told me about you,’ he says and we start walking through the grass towards the bench that I spent hours clearing. ‘I’ve been looking out for you for a while – I mean, Grandad’s great and everything but when him and Mum start rambling on about the old times I do get a bit bored. I thought I’d tracked you down the other day but then we had to deal with Martha falling out of her chair. By the way, sorry if I sounded bossy – it’s just that you looked so freaked-out and I knew we needed to get some help! And today I stumbled upon this place – I guess I’ve found your hidden lair!’

‘I guess so,’ I mutter weakly.

‘You come here every day, right?’ continues Frog Boy. I nod – he seems to have stolen my voice. ‘Cool! Mum wants to visit Grandad loads over the next few weeks because she’s taken some time off work. We can hang out.’

We’ve reached the seat and for the first time in the last few minutes, Frog Boy seems unsure of himself. ‘I mean, only if you want to. I don’t want to invade your space or anything.’

I look at him, my brain trying to think straight. I don’t know why, but I just can’t seem to say the right thing to this boy and, even with his weird frog fixation, I think that I might like him. But I’m messing it up and now he’s smiling at me and nodding a bit and walking away, and in two seconds he’s going to have gone round the corner and out of sight, and I’ll have missed my chance.

‘I’d like that!’ I suddenly call. ‘Hanging out, I mean. I’ll be here on Monday afternoon.’

Frog Boy grins again and holds up a hand to wave goodbye. I wave weakly back in reply and it is only then, as I watch him disappear down the path, that I have two thoughts. One: that he doesn’t seem to know that Martha’s fall was my fault, and Two: that he held my hand all the way from the frog to the seat. And I didn’t even notice.