58

The frog commissioner looks up at me when I don’t answer.

“I said, Name, please.”

“Ummmmm.” I try to ride the vibrating wave of the m sound, hoping I can break into Cornelia without blocking on empty air. I look for Bo in the crowd, even though I don’t expect to see her. A boy with a frog twice the size of mine edges forward. “What’s going on?”

“If you want to race, I need your name,” the commissioner says again. “Are you going to race or not?”

I take a deep breath and push my foot into the ground. “C-c-c-c ...” I stop.

“What?”

More of the kids behind me move closer now. “C-c-c-c-c ...” I want to sink into the ground.

The commissioner looks at me unbelieving, then laughs. “What’s the matter, forget your own name?”

I take another breath and laugh right along with him. Then I spell my name. The easy way out is as simple as J-e-l-l-O.