Toad Rage Read Free Page A

they've got small brains. What if they make you go out in the sun? You'll burn up.”
    Limpy looked down at his sister's dear, anxious face.
    “I'll stay in the shade,” he said gently. “I'll get a pair of those black glasses humans wear. Don't worry.”
    But he could see that Charm was very worried.
    “What if it's too cold for you at night where humans live?” she said frantically. “In our biology class Ancient Eric told us that humans make their own body heat. They plug themselves into electricity or something. Stuff we can't do. What if there's no warm rocks or bitumen for you to sit on? You'll catch a cold and die.”
    “I'll find a sleeping human,” said Limpy, “and sit on it.”
    He tried not to let Charm see him shudder at the thought.
    “You mustn't go,” pleaded Charm, flinging her arms round him. “It's too dangerous.”
    “I have to,” said Limpy. “I have to try and stop humans from hating us.”
    Gently he explained to her how none of the family would ever be safe until he did.
    Charm frowned and nodded.
    “Okay then,” she said. “I'm coming too.”
    Limpy sighed. This was what he'd dreaded. Now he'd have to say stuff he'd rather not hear.
    “You can't,” he said. “Even though I'm going to bevery careful not to get sunburned or catch a cold, it still might be a little bit dangerous.”
    He paused, wishing there was a less scary way of saying it.
    There wasn't.
    Limpy watched the faint light of dawn creep through the swamp. He found himself looking at his favorite climbing bush and his favorite mud hole and his favorite patch of slimy moss, hazy in the soft gray light.
    The memories that rippled through him were soft too, but they still made his glands ache.
    Dad showing him how to eat a freshwater prawn without getting the spikes up his nose.
    Mum letting him and Charm make a slippery slide down her back.
    Him and Charm making Mum and Dad wet themselves with laughter on family picnics by pretending to be mud worms with ticks in their tummies.
    Limpy looked down at Charm's anxious face.
    “It wouldn't be fair to Mum and Dad,” he whispered, “if we both went and neither of us came back.”
    Charm squeezed him even tighter. He put his arms round her and hugged her and felt like he never wanted to let her go.
    “Don't worry,” he said, “I will be coming back. That's what I want you to tell Mum and Dad. But waittill I'm far enough away that they can't try and stop me.”
    Charm didn't say anything, and for a moment he thought she was thinking of more reasons why he shouldn't go.
    Please, he begged her silently, don't.
    She didn't.
    Instead she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
    “They'll be so proud when I tell them,” she whispered. “You think they don't care about what happens on the highway, but they do. I've seen Mum when she dusts your room. Sometimes she stops and puts her head in her hands.”
    Limpy felt his eyes getting hot. He wanted to go to Mum right now and hold her head gently in his hands.
    He didn't.
    Charm kissed him on the other cheek.
    “Bye,” she whispered. “Be careful.”
    “I will,” said Limpy, to himself as well as to her.

“Y ou'll never make it,” sneered a blowfly, buzzing past Limpy's head. “The gas station's miles away. You'll get heat exhaustion and wander round in circles till you collapse in a heap and galahs peck your warts off.”
    Limpy ignored the blowfly.
    The day was too hot for snacks.
    Instead he plodded on, wishing that Queensland highways had big shady leaves next to them instead of straggly grass and sunbaked dirt that half-cooked your feet.
    To take his mind off the scorching sun, Limpy tried to remember happy things. Like the top puddle he'd found in a shady ditch earlier on. He'd sat in it for ages, drinking in the delicious muddy water through his thirsty skin.
    Now, plodding northward, his mouth felt dryer than a lizard's lounge room.
    “Give up, you big handbag,” yelled an ant. “You haven't got a