Stink and the Freaky Frog Freakout (Book #8) Read Free Page A

test.”
    “A
frog
test,” said Judy, coming into the kitchen.
    “I have to learn frog calls,” said Stink. “For the First Annual Frog Neck Lake Frog Count on Friday.”
    “Riigggght,” said Mom.

“It’s a real thing. The test is on the computer,” Stink told her. “You click on a frog and it makes a sound. Then you guess which frog is making that sound.”
    “Multiple choice?” said Judy. “Easy peasy,” she teased.
    “I have a multiple choice for you,” said Mom. “You can go back upstairs and a) finish your homework, b) finish your homework, c) finish your homework, or d) all of the above.”
    “But —” Stink protested.
    “It’s your choice,” Mom said.
    Stink trudged back up the stairs, with Judy close behind.
    “And don’t forget your NON-frog homework, too,” Mom called.
    *   *   *
    In Stink’s room, Mouse curled up on his backpack. “How am I gonna learn all these frog calls by Tuesday?” Stink asked Judy. He held out his notebook for her to see. “You can’t go on the frog count unless you pass the quiz. Jasper said.”
    “I’ll help you,” said Judy. “But let’s make it a game. Instead of Rock, Paper, Scissors, we’ll call it . . . Rock, Balloon, Squeak Toy.”
    “How do we play?”
    “Close your eyes. I’ll make a sound. You guess which frog it is. But we have to keep it down because Mom won’t like us doing
frog
homework first.”
    “Okay, c’mon,” said Stink. He squeezed his eyes shut. Judy rubbed the balloon. She twanged the rubber band. She clicked the stones.

“Mrrow!” Mouse pawed at the stones.
    “Chorus frog. Wood frog. Cricket frog,” Stink guessed.
    Judy checked Stink’s notebook. “Sorry. Leopard frog. Green frog. Cricket frog.”
    Stink hung his head.
    “Hey, you got one right. Cricket frog. C’mon, Stink. Just get super-duper quiet. And really listen. Okay. Ready?”
    “Ready, Freddy,” said Stink.
    Judy rubbed, clicked, squeaked, and twanged.
    “Balloon, stones, squeak toy, rubber band,” Stink said. “That’s leopard frog, cricket frog, spring peeper, green frog.”
    “Bingo!” said Judy. She laughed, chuckled, whistled, peeped, snored, squeaked, jingled, and croaked until Stink knew pickerel frog from peeper, chorus frog from cricket.
    “Yikes,” said Judy, putting a
shh
-finger to her lips. “I bet they can hear us all the way at the end of Croaker Road.”
    “Do you think they call our street Croaker Road because of all the frogs?”
    “Because of animal frogs, Stink, not human boy frogs.”
    “Ribbet!” Stink croaked.
    “Okay, close your eyes. I bet I can stump you. Ready?” Judy made a
zzzzz
sound.
    “Bullfrog. No. Wood frog. No. Bullfrog.” He opened his eyes.
    “Zipper frog,” said Judy. “That was just me zipping the zipper on your backpack.”

    “No fair,” said Stink. “There’s no such thing as a zipper frog.”
    “Mrrr-ow!” Mouse pounced on the jingle bells.
    “Jingle frog!” Stink and Judy said at the same time. They cracked themselves up.
    “We gotta finish our NOT-frog homework, Stink. Besides, you’re like the Frog King now. No, you’re like President of the Frogs. Now you just have to practice on real frogs.”
    “Sque-enk!” said Stink.



On Tuesday, Stink Moody, Frog Genius, passed his test with flying colors. Frog test, that is.
    Now if only he could pass a put-your-head-under-the-water swimming test, too. On Wednesday, Stink got wet up-to-but-not-including his nose. He dipped his left
and
right ear in the water. He leaned way back and got his hair wet.
    “Go, Stink,” said Cammy, his swim teacher. “Now let’s see if you can blow bubbles.” Stink blew bubbles with his mouth. He almost-just-about-not-quite blew bubbles with his nose.
    Almost!

    Someday, Stink would even get his eyeballs wet. He wished he had gills, like a tadpole. He wished he could breathe through his skin like a frog.
Ribbet!
    *   *   *
    Stink could not wait for Frog Friday. At last, it was Friday