Gertie's Leap to Greatness

 

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1

A Monstrosity of Science

The bullfrog was only half dead, which was perfect.

He hunkered in the dark culvert under the driveway and gazed at Gertie Reece Foy with a tragical gleam in his eye, as if he knew that her face was the last lovely thing he would ever see.

Gertie stuck her head and shoulders in the culvert and grabbed the frog. His fat legs dangled over her fingers.

She ran to the house and pushed the kitchen door open with her back. Laying the frog on the counter, she ripped open the drawer that held all the unusual and exciting kitchen equipment. She rummaged through cheese graters, bottle openers, and tongs, glancing up every other second to make sure the frog hadn't moved or, worse,
died
.

“What's going on in there?” Aunt Rae yelled from the living room.

“Nothing!” Gertie whipped out the turkey baster.

She wiggled her index finger between the frog's lips—if you could call them lips—and poked the pipette into his mouth. Then she squeezed the blue bulb at the other end, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

The air must have revived him quickly, or maybe he was a little less dead than Gertie had hoped, because he sprang for the edge of the counter. Gertie lunged sideways and cupped her hands over him.

“There, there,” she said. “You're safe now.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, and he peeked back at her, his eyeballs quivering with gratitude. Or maybe they quivered with rage. It was hard to tell.

She wrapped her hands around the frog's middle, turned on her heel, and crashed into a soft, flowery stomach.

“Oof,”
said Aunt Rae. She blinked at the frog in Gertie's hands. “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?”

“I resuscitated him.” Gertie held the frog closer.

Aunt Rae moved to stand over the air vent in the kitchen floor, and her housedress ballooned around her legs. “You what?”

“Resuscitated,”
said Gertie. “It means I brought him back to life.”

“I
know
what it means.” Aunt Rae swayed her weight from foot to foot. “
Why'd
you resuscitate a ugly old bullfrog? That's what I don't know.”

Gertie sighed. She spent a lot of time explaining things that should have been obvious to people. “I did it so he could become a miracle of science,” she said.

“Huh
.
” Aunt Rae wrinkled her nose at the frog. “Looks more like a monstrosity of science to me.”

Gertie gasped. “Oh my Lord.”

“What?”

“Aunt Rae, that's even better!”

The monstrosity of science wriggled in her hands, and Gertie tried to hold him tighter but not so much tighter that his eyes would pop right out of his head and fall on the floor.

“I've got to get him in his box, Aunt Rae,” Gertie said, “before his eyes roll around on the floor and we have to stick them back.”

“Why would—” Aunt Rae began.

“Oh my Lord! I don't have time to explain every little detail!”

“All right, all right.” Aunt Rae patted down her skirt. “But I want you to use bleach on my counter when you're done, you hear me?”

*   *   *

Gertie put the frog and some nice wet leaves in a shoe box. Then she rubber-banded on the lid and went out to the porch. The Zapper-2000, a bug zapper big enough to fry baby dragons, hung from the rafters.

Phase One of the mission was off to a good start.

Gertie always had at least one mission in the works, and she never,
ever
failed to complete her missions. It didn't matter that she wasn't the fastest or the smartest or the tallest, because what made Gertie a force to be reckoned with was the fact that she never gave up. Not ever. Her father liked to say that she was a bulldog with its jaws locked on a car tire.

Gertie was thinking about having that printed on business cards she could hand out to people.

She crouched in the fluorescent blue beam of light beneath the Zapper-2000 and collected a handful of the mosquito bodies that littered the ground. As she worked, the cicadas and crickets started sawing their night song. Gertie stood and watched the sun set on the last day of summer vacation.

With these tasty mosquitoes, the bullfrog was sure to be fat and croaky tomorrow. And with a fat and croaky bullfrog to take with her, Gertie was sure to have the best summer speech of any student at Carroll Elementary. She curled her toes over the edge of the porch boards.

She, Gertie Reece Foy, was going to be the greatest fifth grader in the whole school, world, and universe!

And that was just Phase One.

 

2

You're in My Seat

Gertie had a reason for wanting to be the greatest fifth grader in the world. Two days before the resuscitation of the bullfrog, something big had happened. She had seen a sign.

Not the kind of Sign with a capital
S
that people saw in crystal balls or tea leaves or unusual mold formations on cheese. No. Gertie had seen a Sunshine Realty sign.

The sign was in front of the house where Gertie's mother lived, and it said
For Sale by Sunshine Realty
. That sign was the reason Gertie was on her most important mission yet. And it was the reason why, when she woke up on the first morning of fifth grade, she launched herself out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth with extra froth in front of the mirror.

Gertie had brown hair which she wore in a ponytail that stuck straight out the top of her head, which encouraged blood flow to her brain, which made her have lots of ideas. She also had a biggish nose and a pointy chin. She had freckles on her face, and she had elbows halfway down her arms. As always, she looked exactly like herself.

She pointed her toothbrush at her reflection. “This is your moment,” she said, and she wiped away her toothpaste beard.

In her bedroom, she put on shorts, her favorite blue T-shirt, and the twenty-five-percent-off sandals Aunt Rae had bought her. Then she fastened a gold locket around her neck. Gertie dropped the locket down the front of her shirt and picked up the shoe box, enjoying the weight it had to it. Nothing, she decided, was as comforting as the weight of a nice, healthy bullfrog.

When Gertie marched into the kitchen, Aunt Rae held out a package of Twinkies, and Gertie snatched it out of the air with her free hand. She stepped through the screen door, then stopped and tilted her head, waiting.

“Give 'em hell, baby,” called Aunt Rae.

Gertie tapped the Twinkies to her brow in a salute and let the door bang shut behind her.

*   *   *

On the bus, Gertie sat next to one of her two best friends. His name was Junior Parks.

Junior had a lot of nervous energy, which must have burned up a lot of calories, because he was the skinniest boy in their class. He was so skinny that some people said he had worms, which he didn't, but Gertie would've been friends with him even if he did, because she wasn't squeamish about worms.

Junior was probably so nervous because of his name. His name wasn't Mitchell Parks Jr. or Benji Parks Jr. His father's name was Junior Parks. So Junior's name was Junior Parks
Jr
.

He always introduced himself as Junior Parks the Second, but everyone still called him Junior Jr.

“What's in the box?” Junior asked the moment Gertie sat down.

You could always count on Junior to notice little details. He was worried that anything new might be a threat to him. For instance, right now he was probably afraid that the box held something horrible, like a severed hand or a dead rat or a nice present for everyone in the class except him.

Gertie settled the shoe box in her lap and patted the lid. “You'll have to wait and see, won't you?” She nibbled a Twinkie. Most people thought the middles were plain cream-filled, but she could taste a hint of lemon.

Junior gnawed his lip.

Gertie gave in. A little. “It's for my summer speech.”

Junior's eyes widened, and his shoes kicked the seat in front of him. “I forgot about the summer speech,” he said in a strangled voice.

“
How
could you forget something this important?” Gertie asked.

On the first day of school, every class at Carroll Elementary spent the morning on the summer speeches. Each student stood in front of their class and told the one most interesting thing that had happened that summer. The teachers said the speeches weren't a competition, but the students knew better.

In first grade, Gertie hadn't known about the speeches, so she hadn't been prepared. She'd only stumbled through, trying at the last moment to think of something juicy.

In second grade, she had carefully reviewed her summer and chosen what
had
to be the most interesting event—when she'd eaten fifteen oysters without throwing up. But that was the year Roy Caldwell had climbed up a pecan tree and refused to come down for two whole days, just so he would have the best story.