Newt Nemesis (2 page)

Looking at them, there was no doubt, thought Amy, that they were up-to-the-minute twenty-first century kids.

“So what's with the 1950s Boy Scout SOCKS?” she murmured, aloud, staring at Josh and Danny
and Charlie, the girl always getting into mischief.

While all the other kids had got rid of their shoes and were wearing surfer-style sandals or flip-flops—or going barefoot—these three were all wearing long gray socks, pulled up to their knees, and heavy hiking boots. And they weren't going anywhere near the lake or the shallow, winding river where so much fun was being had in the hot sun with dinghies and rafts. Instead, they were huddled under a large oak tree, whispering together.

“What are you three up to?” called out Amy as she strode toward them. “Don't you want to play in the water? It's a perfect day for it . . . I'm surprised you're not eager to get your feet wet!”

“Ummm,” said Josh, while Danny and Charlie plastered wide grins across their faces so fast, Amy was even more suspicious.

“Yeah, well . . . actually,” said Josh, scratching his short, tufty, fair hair nervously. “We were wondering about building a tree house—up there!” He pointed up into the impossibly high branches of the oak tree.

“Josh, you'd need mountaineering gear to get up this one.” Amy laughed. She was nice, sturdy, and jolly with her wavy, brown hair always in a ponytail, and everyone at Outdoor Action Camp liked her.

“OK—well go and find a better tree!” said Charlie with a bright smile, and she grabbed Josh's and Danny's arms and tugged them away while Amy shook her head and shrugged. Kids. Weird. In so many ways.

And these three were weirder than most. As soon as they got around the far side of a small
clump of holly bushes, Josh, Danny, and Charlie sat down and sighed. “Let's look again,” said Charlie after a few seconds. “It might have worn off a bit.”

They all rolled their long gray knee socks down to their boots. It looked as if they'd all recently smacked their ankles with bats. The skin was greeny-brown, as if it were covered in a massive bruise. A bit weird.

Danny unlaced his boots first and pulled them off with a groan of relief. Then the rolled-down socks followed, allowing his poor cramped feet to spread out. Soon all three had their boots off and weird just went right off the super-weird-of-allweirdness scale.

All of them had perfectly formed frogs' feet.

Josh flexed his webbed toes. “Aaaah, that's better.”

“How long is this going to go on?” asked Charlie, anxiously chewing on one of her many beaded dark plaits. “We can't hide these forever. These boots are killing me. Why can't I just wear my rain boots? There's more room!”

“We're trying not to stand out, remember?” Josh sighed. “On a hot, dry day, we can just about explain socks and ankle boots . . . but rain boots? I don't think so.”

“And I SOOOOO want to get them wet,” moaned Charlie, her shiny green flippers waggling up and down. “They belong in water! Can't we just creep into the river and have a little paddle? It'll be lovely and cool and sloshy and slippy . . .”

“And funny and strange and then shouty and screamy,” pointed out Danny. “And then doctory and ambulancey and FREAK SHOWY!”

“Fair point,” admitted Charlie. “But what if they never change back? We'll get found out sooner or later . . . and then what will we tell people?”

“Oh, I dunno,” said Danny, rubbing his green ankles vigorously. “The truth?”

“What?” said Charlie. “That your next door neighbor, who seems like a nice old lady, is actually a bonkers genius scientist with a S.W.I.T.C.H. spray for turning humans into creatures? And that she turned us into frogs yesterday? And this is . . . just an aftereffect? Oh. OK then. Nothing to worry about. Yeah—I'm sure they'll all believe THAT!”

“Well, trouble is . . .” said Danny, picking a small black beetle out of his scruffy, spiky, fair hair and absentmindedly eating it, “there's nothing else that makes any better sense, is there?”

“Petty Potts MUST have the antidote spray!” said Charlie. “I can't believe she just lost it! She has to find it and change us back properly. I want to go rafting and—”

“Well . . . actually . . . we did ask her to S.W.I.T.C.H. us, didn't we? Begged her, in fact.” Josh could hardly believe these words were coming out of his mouth. Only a couple of weeks ago, he and Danny had vowed solemnly that they
would NEVER let Petty Potts S.W.I.T.C.H. them into anything ever again.

After a summer of being S.W.I.T.C.H.ed into spiders, insects, and beetles, they'd really had enough of Petty's Serum Which Instigates Total Cellular Hijack. Their cells had been hijacked way too many times.

“I can't believe we really begged her to S.W.I.T.C.H. us, this time,” muttered Danny. “I want to swim! It's not fair! She S.W.I.T.C.H.ed us into frogs—she should S.W.I.T.C.H. us back again—properly!”

“We must have been insane,” said Josh.

“It was my fault,” sighed Charlie. “I had to go and ‘borrow' that key, didn't I? And then lose it in the pond . . . ”

“Yeah, but it was our idea to get Petty to spray us with FrogSWITCH and go frog diving for it,” admitted Danny. “We couldn't let you get sent home in disgrace.”

“It's never taken this long to wear off before,” Josh went on. “I guess it's because we got a double dose when she sprayed us with the antidote, which turned out to be more FrogSWITCH. I think
my ankles are a
bit
less froggy. Hopefully, they'll be normal again tomorrow. And maybe Danny will stop eating bugs.”

“I'm NOT eating bugs!” Danny shuddered, a long brown feeler stuck to his lip. “As IF!” Danny loathed creepy-crawlies of all kinds. Even though he'd been quite a few.

“What side effects did you get from being creepy-crawlies?” asked Charlie.

Danny grimaced. “After we were houseflies, I kept trying to lick the trash bin. And I spat goo on my doughnut before eating it. And Josh's.”

“On
my
doughnut?” squawked Josh. “You never told me that!”

“Sorry,” Danny shrugged.

“And when we'd been daddy longlegs,” said Josh, after a short, doughnut-related freeze, “you know . . . crane flies . . . we kept staring at lights, and sometimes even running at them, for days afterward.”

“But those were all, kind of, in our heads,” added Danny. “Not physical stuff, like this. And they all wore off after a week.”

“A week?” Charlie stared at her green shiny feet, aghast. “You mean this could last another five or six days?”

“Maybe,” said Josh. “Unless Petty uses her antidote on us. The right one this time. We need to find her and get her on her own. I haven't seen her all day—but her car's still in the parking lot, so she must be around somewhere. Let's go and find her.” He started to pull the socks back on again.

Danny and Charlie did the same, with much grumpy muttering. It was hot and uncomfortable. Their froggy feet were flat and splayed out and didn't fit properly inside socks and boots. They had to crumple them up.

“Hey! You lot!” bellowed a familiar voice. They all jumped. Rather high. And Danny definitely croaked, but luckily Drill Sergeant was
shouting so loudly at them he didn't hear.

“What are you doing hiding away out here?” he yelled. His real name was Steve, but everyone called him Drill Sergeant because of all the shouting. He didn't seem to be able to talk in a normal voice.

“Just . . . looking at wildlife,” mumbled Josh. It was partly true.

“Well, hop it back to the tepee!” roared Drill Sergeant. “We're practicing the show—remember your parents are all coming to see it at teatime!”

“Ooh yes,” Charlie grinned. “The show! I'm going to star in it, I am!”

The show was to have a caveman theme. They were all dressing up in caveman outfits and putting on a caveman dance. They'd made outfits out of old sacks and bits of fake fur earlier that week. Charlie had found an old bone in the kitchen bin and was planning to shove it in her hair. Danny and Josh had both made axes out of bits of flint and sticks and sticky tape.

Charlie suddenly gulped and looked worried, as they hurried after Drill Sergeant. “Erm . . . Sergea—I mean, Steve—what are we wearing on
our feet? In the show . . . ?”

“Your feet?” bawled Drill Sergeant. “Nothing! Barefoot, as nature intended! Go straight to the tepee now, though. No costumes until the proper show.” Drill Sergeant marched them into the tepee ,and there they had to practice the caveman dance in their hot, hot socks and boots while everyone else stayed cool in sandals or bare feet.

“Why've you got them on?” asked Sayid, one of the boys in Josh and Danny's dormitory cabin, as he pointed with his papier-mâché club at Josh's boots.

“Um . . . warts,” said Josh.

“And me,” said Danny. “Caught 'em off Josh.”

“And me,” said Charlie. “Caught one on each foot from both of them. It's a wart plague.”

“You are nutjobs,” commented Sayid and ran away, viciously clubbing an imaginary dinosaur (he wouldn't believe Josh when he told him there were no dinosaurs in caveman times).

Half an hour later, Josh, Danny, and Charlie were allowed back outside. They ran into a bush and checked their ankles.

Still.

Very.

Green.