Learning Not to Drown Read Free Page B

wannawin the Frog-Jumping Contest, this is the place to get ’em.”
    â€œOohhh!” I did want to win. I wanted to get the first-place trophy, and the free tickets for the games booths, but mostly I wanted to be in the parade, riding in back of Lucille Jordan’s fancy convertible. Mandy Jordan took all her friends for a ride on her birthday. Not me. I wasn’t invited to her party. Mandy’s friends said it felt like flying and that they were like movie stars. I wanted to try it too. And I could . . . if I won the Frog-Jumping Contest.
    Looking around, Luke pointed out different frogs, sleeping in the muck.
    â€œWhich one is the winner?” he asked me.
    I scanned the mud. Pointed at the biggest frog I saw.
    â€œShhh.” Luke signaled with one finger against his lip. Cautiously he lifted the frog out of the mud and into my hand. Its body was soft and slimy, and it didn’t even try to get away. I watched the space under its chin get big and small, big and small. It was cute.
    Once we’d waded back to shore, I carefully set the frog down on the grass. He took an instant gigantic leap, racing toward the lake. “Let’s name him Speedy!” I said as Luke swooped in to pick him up just before the water’s edge.
    He was fast! We could win! But as I put Speedy in my beach pail, adding some reeds from the lakeside, a rock, and some muddy water, I remembered Mom.
    â€œWon’t Mommy be mad? You know she doesn’t like animals.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Squeakers.” Luke winked at me. “I’ll talk to her. She won’t be mad for long.”
    When we brought Speedy home, Mom’s upper lip disappeared. “Frogs are vile. Besides, you’ll kill it. What are you going to feed it? Luke, you will be returning the frog to the lake immediately. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
    â€œBut, Ma,” Luke protested. “Ma. Let her keep it until Saturday. You know, the Frog-Jumping Contest at Patriot Days. We have a winner here.”
    Peter looked into the pail. “Doesn’t look like a winner to me,” he grumbled.
    â€œI said no, Luke,” she said, ignoring Peter.
    â€œCome on, Ma,” Luke cooed, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s only a few days.” Mom’s angry forehead vein was slowly disappearing. Luke was doing it! He was convincing her it was okay.
    Peter put his finger in the pail and touched the frog, then picked him up.
    â€œBack in the pail,” Mom instructed. Peter dropped him back in.
    â€œHey—watch it. We need to protect those legs!” Luke warned. His brown eyes flicked from Mom over to Dad, who was relaxing in front of the TV.
    â€œHey, Pop,” Luke said, “come look at what Clare and I found.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Dad pushed himself out of his easy chair with a grunt. “Aha! A frog. I was on a walk this evening when I spotted one smashed on the road. A big one. Flatter than a potato chip. Guts everywhere. That’s how it goes. Frogs and cars just don’t mix. I had a baggiein my pocket so I scooped it up.” He grinned wickedly at me. “It’s in the back of my truck, if you want to see it. . . .”
    â€œStop it!” I covered my ears until Dad stopped talking.
    â€œI really wish you’d leave your work stories at work,” Mom said, shaking her head. “So, what do you think of this?” She motioned to the frog with her hand.
    After inspecting it, Dad nodded.
    â€œLooks like a fine jumper. Make sure you feed it a few crickets. Oh, and cover the pail with chicken wire so he doesn’t escape. And so the raccoons don’t get him.” Dad had made the final decision. We were keeping Speedy until after the race.
    â€œMaybe . . . ,” I whispered softly to Speedy. “Maybe if you win, Mommy will love you and let me keep you forever.”
    After dinner, when Peter groaned to Luke that