Magic in the Air
RUM-RUM. RUM-RUM. RUM-RUM. RUM-RUM! There they go, the bully bullfrogs again . . . bellowing away like they do every evening. Really, they give frogs a bad name! They also give me a big fat headache! I wish they’d just go away. Instead, I’m the one who went away—but I didn’t mean to!
Oops. I nodded off again. It is soooo quiet with no bullfrogs here and my neighbor gone for the weekend. Total peace and quiet. Ah, the swamp was never like this.
I am content to float in the water. After a while, I break into song—a tune that Uncle Chinwag taught me:
I sing a hoppy frog song,
I sing my song out loud
So everybody hears me
And knows that I am proud!
I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m sad,
I sing because it feels good
And that makes me so glad.
I sing a hoppy frog song
With jolly words that rhyme,
And since you like my frog song,
I’ll sing it one more time!
It’s a song without any end, so I sing many verses until Aldo comes in to clean.
“Hiya, Og, old pal,” he greets me. “I heard you all the way down the hall.”
He’s friendly as usual, but he seems lost in thought as he does his work and leaves quickly.
The room is beautifully clean. No muck, no mud, no cattails, no pond scum.
I spend a very quiet evening and go to sleep early.
But in the morning, when the sunbeams warm my tank, it’s back to my workouts. After all, as Granny Greenleaf says, “Be strong, live long.”
Which is true . . . unless a wily water moccasin catches you off guard.
My morning is spent splashing and leaping. Once I leap so high, I touch the lid of my tank. That’s a first!
I do more jumping jacks than I’ve ever done before (though I always miss my pal Jack when I do them).
I stop to give my muscles a break, and I am SHOCKED when the door to Room 26 opens and a mysterious figure who looks as wide as she is tall comes in.
“Og! Are you all right?” a familiar voice asks.
It’s Mrs. Brisbane, all bundled up for cold weather. She hurries over to my tank.
“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. All I could think about was how cold it was. And I know that when the temperature drops, frogs go into hibernation!”
“I’m just fine!” I tell her, bouncing up and down to show her I’m not hibernating.
“Oh, Og! Thank goodness!” she says. “The students love to watch you and listen to you, and they’d be so disappointed and worried if you started hibernating.”
Really? Disappointed and worried?
Hibernation is really just a nice, cozy nap, but I’d hate to miss out on all the activity in Room 26.
I want to see if Gail and Heidi make up and if Tabitha makes more friends.
I want to see if Mandy stops complaining—at least a little bit.
I want to hear more jokes from Kirk and Mr. Brisbane.
And I’m very curious to see what wacky thing my funny, furry neighbor, Humphrey, does next!
Ah, life at the Brisbanes’ house! What more can any creature ask for?
Mr. Brisbane generously feeds me a cricket while his wife is out of the room.
I am busily digesting my treat . . . but when Mrs. Brisbane starts talking about me, I start to feel queasy.
“I found someone from the university to help us sort out this idea that Og should go back to the swamp,” she tells her husband.
“What do you think he’ll say?” Mr. Brisbane wonders.
“She,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “I really don’t know. Whatever she suggests, some students are bound to be disappointed.” She sighs.
“You worry about Room Twenty-six too much,” Mr. Brisbane says.
“I can’t help it. But the good news is, Tabitha is getting more comfortable in class,” Mrs. Brisbane tells her husband. “She and Seth have something in common. They both love sports.”
Unlike Humphrey and me, Tabitha and Seth speak the same language. I hope they’ll be friends, too.
“And Mandy is complaining less,” she says. “Thanks to Og!”
“I’m trying,” I tell her.
“Gail and Heidi are still at war, though,” Mrs. Brisbane continues. “I thought they’d make up by now.”
Mr. Brisbane pats her hand. “They’ll have to work this out themselves, Sue.”
Just like Granny Greenleaf, Mrs. Brisbane is always thinking about her tads.
She looks so sad, I hop up and down on my rock. “Don’t worry, Mrs. B!” I shout. “Problems have a way of working themselves out.”
I’m just repeating what Granny Greenleaf said. The Brisbanes chuckle and turn their attention to watching me.
I try to be as interesting as possible.
Later that night, I think about what Mrs. Brisbane said about Tabitha and Seth. The Brisbanes want them to be friends . . . and so do I.
And—hold on! Maybe Humphrey does, too. Could that be why he moved Seth’s study guide? He must have wanted Tabitha to have them both so maybe they’d have to get together over the weekend.
That would be a pretty bold and smart plan. I wonder if it worked.
If it did, I feel pretty hopping good about having helped him, at least a little bit.
Then, my thoughts turn to the “she” from the university who is going to help the big tads decide whether I go or stay.
I’m still not sure what to wish for.
If I stay, I’m stuck in a tank. Plus, I have a “job” as a classroom pet that I don’t completely understand yet.
If I go, it’s back to beaky birds, wily water snakes and sneaky snapping turtles, or even worse, a painful shortage of food!
On Monday, I watch carefully to see if anything changed over the weekend.
When Heidi sticks her tongue out at Gail (who returns the gesture), I know nothing has changed there.
But Tabitha and Seth laugh and talk before class starts.
“Thanks for inviting me over,” Seth says. “I’m glad you got my study guide. That was an awesome basketball game.”
“Yes . . . and I hope we both get A’s on the test,” Tabitha replies.
So they did get together over the weekend. Humphrey’s plan worked! (With a tiny bit of help from me.)
I see that another one of Humphrey’s plans worked later in the week when Aldo comes in way before it’s time to clean the classroom. Then I remember that he’s supposed to teach a lesson.
I can’t really make head or tail out of what he’s doing with little squares of paper and the big tads running around looking at things in the classroom—even me.
That gives me plenty of time to dive and swim laps.
Later, I’m hoppy to hear Mrs. Brisbane tell Aldo, “You are a born teacher.”
He and his mustache burst into a great big smile.
As the week goes on, I pay a little more attention to the other things Humphrey does to help the big tads.
When Gail and Heidi talk to him (not together, of course), he listens sympathetically to each of them. And when Art stares out the window instead of listening in class, Humphrey squeaks at him until he pays attention again. When Mrs. Brisbane calls on him, Art actually knows the answer!
He even helps the grown-ups. Humphrey offers very encouraging squeaks when Aldo seems worried, and he always seems to cheer up Mrs. Brisbane.
I have to admit, he helps me by waking me up when there’s something important happening in the classroom.
And each evening, he opens that cage door and comes over to squeak at me.
At least I used to think he squeaked at me. Now I realize he’s squeaking to me.
He can’t understand me, but Humphrey always tries.
Pretty soon, I realize I’m trying to be more helpful, too. Especially when Tabitha talks to me—which is every single day.
“Og? Did you hear that song Mrs. Brisbane sang to me?” she asks one day.
“BOING-BOING! I sure did!” I reply.
“I think I found a new silver friend,” she says. “Seth is pretty nice, for a boy.”
“BING-BANG-BOING!” I agree.
After she returns to her chair, I’m a little low. I have lots of gold friends—my old friends in the swamp, like Jumpin’ Jack, Silly Gilly and Uncle Chinwag.
I’d like to keep my new silver friends, too.
So I sing Mrs. Brisbane’s song.
BOING-BOING-BOING,
BOING BOING BOING BO-ING!
BOING BOING BOING-BOING
BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING!
Before the other students come back into Room 26, Mrs. Brisbane tells Tabitha a secret. “No one knows it yet, but we’re about to have a really special visitor,” she says.
I guess she forgot that I know about the surprise guest, too. I just don’t know what she’ll think of me.