Frogs and Princes Read online

  "I'm not part of any story," I told Shorty. "And neither are you. What story would you be in, anyway? The troll under the bridge?"

  "Good one," Franco told me.

  I felt like a jerk for saying that, but the stress was getting to me. A flash of hurt raced across Shorty's features. Then he twisted his mouth into a smile. "Not that one."

  "You can stop with the happy act. We know what it is," I told him.

  I wanted to get back home. I had to, before Dad knew I was missing. Marge would be so obsessed with getting my bike tracks off the kitchen floor that she wouldn't check for me.

  But Dad wouldn't notice for days. If his trip got extended and he came back during the school week, he'd expect me to be gone and wouldn't worry for quite a while.

  I hated it. Hated it all. I wished Mom hadn't left. Then he would have had an excuse to stay home more.

  Shorty hesitated, then sighed. "This is my first time here in Fable, but I know some things about this place. The fairy tales are real. And you just came face to face with one. The frog that was talking to you, Candice--you've met him before. He told me so."

  "The what?" Franco sputtered. "You're saying that frog was having a conversation with you while I was holding it? Why didn't I hear it?"

  "Only people from Fable or those connected to this world can hear the animals here talk," Shorty continued. "I guess I got it from my parents. Franco, you won't hear a thing from the creatures here since you're strictly from the regular world. Sorry. Or maybe that's not a bad thing. It's not great listening to them sometimes. The frog was obnoxious."

  It was my turn to back away. "I don't have any connection to this world," I said. Then I remembered Mom and Dad's arguments. Dad mentioned that he was from another place. No. Dad wasn't from here.

  Then I thought of the frog in the pond who rescued my amethyst ball, making me promise my friendship. Now another person claimed to have heard it speak. "Frogs don't talk to me, Shorty. I think you've been smoking something really interesting."

  Shorty's cheeks flushed. "You know they do," he told me. "I know they do. My parents are Watchers. That means they work for a wizard who lives here, and they get to go back and forth between the regular world and Fable to do things for him. I've learned some things about this place because I've spied on their meetings. They never had any idea."

  I whirled around in a circle. "Okay. We're in some kind of weird movie right now. This can stop."

  "I agree," Franco said. "I think we're just in another part of the park."

  "Anyway," Shorty said after another pause, "My parents work for this wizard. His name is Alric. That's what I've heard my parents call him. And get this--they use mirrors to talk to this guy. I about screamed when I saw it happen the first time. It was weird, watching a guy from another world appear in glass." Shorty was scrambling. "They'd talk about what Fable was like. What was here. Alric would tell them where the local portals were so they could go back and forth. I don't know much about this Alric, but he told my parents that a lot of characters from famous fairy tales have escaped from Fable and settled in the regular world for some reason. It's the Watchers' job to find them and bring them back home. And right before my family moved to your town, Alric told them that they needed to find the frog prince."

  Shorty stared right at me.

  "Our science project wasn't it," I said. Cold horror rose in me. "Look somewhere else. And don't look at me. I've never even been in this world." But even as I spoke, my parents' arguments came back to mind. Something about them seemed to match up with all of this. Dad used to remind my mother about where he was from, wherever that was. Dad was always talking about stories and how they followed you.

  "But has your father?" Shorty asked me.

  "Of course not." How did Shorty know all of this about me? He must be the turbo stalker.

  Franco looked between us as if he wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't, either. I was still banking on this just being a dream. No. A nightmare. Shorty was in it, so it counted as one.

  "How do you know that?" Shorty asked. "I heard that your father got out of Fable two decades ago. Then he married a woman from the regular world and they had you. That's the information my parents dug up and told to Alric. Then we moved, and I started going to your school. You were easy for me to track down. I'm not sure I like the sounds of this Alric guy, and I don't know why he's tracking your family down, so I've been following you around. Yeah. I’m a creep, but I swear I was making sure nothing crappy happened to you." Shorty coughed. "I'm sorry about that."

  "My dad's not from here," I told Shorty. Horror filled my chest. If Shorty had been following me to make sure I was okay, then that meant he might--"There's no way. He's just a business guy obsessed with computers. And you didn't need to stalk me."

  Shorty about shriveled. "Well, I couldn't just walk up to you and say that your dad's from a world called Fable and a wizard is looking to bring you back here. I don't even know why this Alric guy wants the fairy tale characters back here. It can't be good if they've all been fleeing Fable and hiding in the other world."

  I could see the torture in Shorty's eyes. For a moment, I felt bad for the guy. He didn't agree with what his parents were doing. He was just caught in the middle of all this.

  "Good point," Franco said. He had calmed down. "But I still think we're in the same world. We should start walking and see where we end up."

  "I am not from here," I said. "I hope Franco's right and you're delusional. Sorry."

  "But you are. Sort of," Shorty said. He wasn't grinning now.

  I wanted to call up my dad. I pulled my phone from my pocket, but there was no service. It only made the dread in my stomach grow.

  And that same frog might still be in this pond. If the pond in the park was a portal to this world, the frog would have come through with us.

  I sidestepped away from the pond and from the dragonflies hovering over it. This was too much like that one day. "I think we should get out of here and see what's around."

  Franco wrapped his hand around my arm, and I was glad that he was there. "Come on. Let's get away from Shorty and back into civilization. We can't be too far from town."

  Shorty didn't seem to hear us. He pointed through the trees. "Look over there. This is supposed to be where your story takes place."

  I squinted and peered through the trees to humor him, hoping that I would see nothing weird.

  But I had no luck there.

  Shorty was right. There was a clearing up ahead, where the sun shone brighter than before. And somewhere far out in that clearing was a large, stone structure.

  "It's a castle," Shorty told me. "Alric showed this to my parents in the mirror."

  I glanced at Franco. He shrugged. Either Shorty was on some major drugs or something was super weird.

  But whatever Shorty was on, we must be on, too.

  Franco tugged on me. "Let's go check it out. It won’t hurt. We might find someone to ask around."

  I turned away from Shorty. This was some joke. It had to be. We'd find a spot where my phone worked and we'd call for help.

  He wasn't right about this.

  Just no.

  Franco and I hurried past the pond. It definitely wasn't the same one we'd seen in the park. This one was much bigger. Darker. Deeper.

  Don't go.

  I stopped.

  It was the frog. Talking to me again.

  "Candice?" Franco asked.

  Shorty caught up with us. "Keep going," he insisted. "You don't want to get involved with that frog."

  Franco stared at him. And meanwhile, I eyed the pond.

  A ripple ran across the surface of the water, and the frog poked its large eyes out. It blinked at me, and I shuddered.

  Don't leave, he said. Take me with you. I cannot catch up.

  It was the same frog, all right.

  Did you forget your promise?

  "Candice," Shorty said.

  I couldn't stop staring at the frog. I wanted to
say something to it, but Franco was right there. I couldn't let on that I might be as crazy as Shorty. But this whole thing was crazy. We might be standing in another world.

  But what if that frog really was a prince?

  That was stupid. Of course he wasn't.

  You promised me your companionship. And I will have it.

  The frog's voice grew sharp. Angry. It was glaring at me. I was sure.

  "Come on," Franco said. "I don't like the looks of this. That frog's getting creepy. It's like a stalker on four little legs."

  I agreed. It was odd for Franco to say anything bad about any animal, but he had reason here. I turned away from the water and followed Franco through the trees, down a small path worn down by forest creatures.

  But on checking behind me to make sure the frog wasn't coming, I saw Shorty charging for the pond. Underbrush crashed and the frog dove under the water, trying to escape.

  Shorty splashed into the pond and a swamp smell filled the air. Lilies trembled as he waded further into the water, searching for the missing amphibian.

  Franco shook his head and walked faster. "That guy's weird," he said. "Let's go see what this building is."

  We left Shorty wading through the pond and cursing under his breath. The frog's angry tone echoed through my mind. Even if it was a prince, it didn't deserve a kiss by talking to people like that. I'd saved its life earlier today. I thought we were pretty even. No. More than that. All it had done for me was fetch that amethyst ball out of the first pond. The frog had no right to demand more out of me.

  But I had made a promise.

  My stomach got more and more upset as we left Shorty's splashing behind. The clearing got brighter, and I could spot the side of the building more now. It was gray stone, all right. Moss grew in cracks as if the place hadn't been maintained in a long time.

  Franco and I burst out of the forest and my heart dropped.

  Shorty was right.

  This was a castle.

  We stood in the middle of a gigantic clearing in the forest, which looked dark in comparison. The castle was big, surrounded by high walls. The drawbridge was down, forming a walkway over an actual moat choked with cattails and other weeds. More frogs croaked everywhere, putting up a whole concert of swampiness. No one had weeded this moat for a long time.

  I could see inside the castle walls a bit. Weeds and high grass grew everywhere. The place was abandoned.

  "We've got to get out of here," I told Franco.

  "I don't think there's anyone here," he said. "This place has been dumped for a while. You really think your father's been in this world?"

  "He hasn't been." But curiosity burned inside of me, and Franco seemed to be changing his mind about our situation.

  What if he had?

  What if the frog that Shorty was going after was really a prince that needed my help?

  And if Shorty was in league with this Alric person, even indirectly, he might not be up to any good. This Alric sounded like a scary guy if the fairy tale characters were fleeing this realm.

  "Maybe there's someone around here that can help us," Franco tried. "You know, a groundskeeper. We should check this out while weirdo over there is distracted."

  "That sounds like a good idea." I had to focus on the most sane thing I could. I checked around the castle, but there was nothing but forest surrounding it along with an ancient looking dirt road that was covered in grass and weeds. It obviously hadn't been used in a long time. Decades, even.

  The drawbridge was old. Moldy. Cracks had formed in places. Franco went across it first, and it creaked in places, but he made it to the other side. "It's safe enough for me," he said. "Come on. It it'll hold me, it'll hold you. And worst case scenario, you'll just fall into some water and weeds."

  "That's nice." I looked down. Water trickled through the cattails and some of those jumping bugs moved across the water. A frog's tongue lashed out and seized one.

  I followed Franco across the bridge. I would not think about frogs or other worlds.

  The heat of the sun warmed the back of my shirt. I was glad I'd left my jacket behind. I hadn't expected to end up falling into another--

  This was not another world.

  We were on Earth, only lost in the woods behind the park or something. We'd passed out. That was all. Maybe someone had dragged us here and they were playing a joke. The frog talking to me was just my imagination fueled by my annoyance with Shorty.

  Franco entered the castle first. I followed. We emerged into an open courtyard and large, puffy white clouds drifted overhead. The weeds slapped at my jeans. Franco had to stop and pull a purple flower out of the hole in his knee. "If there's a groundskeeper," he said, "they need to be fired."

  "Agreed," I said. "Maybe there's some hermit here who's going to yell at us. He'll tell us to ‘get in that crick and start swimming.’"

  Franco laughed. "You need to be funny like this more, Candice. There's a sense of humor in there."

  "It's my coping mechanism." I checked again. "No Shorty. He's obsessed with that frog." He was probably still in that pond, splashing around like a moron.

  Shorty couldn't be sorry for pretty much stalking me.

  Creepy guys never were.

  "This is some courtyard," Franco said, holding his hand to his forehead.

  Balconies towered over us. An old, moldy purple banner hung from one. It was tattered from the elements and faded from the sun, but it made me imagine better days, days where people in dresses and armor walked around in here. My foot scraped a cobblestone buried in overgrowth. This whole castle had a sad air to it, an emptiness that made my heart ache.

  "No one's here," I said.

  "Which is why we need to check inside," Franco said. "This place is going to be awesome. What if there's treasure or something left behind? Something that's worth a lot of money?"

  The greed lit up Franco's eyes. I couldn't blame him for wanting a break. The guy hadn't even been able to afford new pants in several months, and his bike was still leaning against his house, a tire missing. "This is if we can get back home," I told him. Despite my offers to help, he had refused to take my money.

  "We should be able to," Franco said, even though he didn't sound sure. "But I want to have something cool to take if this place hasn't been looted already. After we're done looking around here, we'll head down that road and see where it goes. Besides, we have nothing better to do right now except for go talk to Shorty some more."

  He had a point there. "Let's check it out." At least I had someone with me.

  An archway stood right in front of us. The wooden doors were open as if someone had left in a hurry. One of the doors had fallen off its hinges and lay on the ground, crushing weeds. I spotted an emblem carved on it. A tree, growing from the middle of a pond. Ponds and swampy things seemed to be the theme of this whole place.

  Franco and I entered. A wet, stony smell met my nostrils. It wasn't bad--just as if we were walking through a shallow cave. The wind blew, whistling through some high, narrow windows over our heads. Sunlight streamed through the air and lit the gray stone, making it sparkle. We stood in a hallway which went off in either direction.

  "Hello?" I called.

  Franco wandered down the hall to the left. "This way," he said. "Or we can split up. That might go faster."

  "The hypothetical hermit," I reminded him.

  "Point taken," Franco said. He reached for a wooden post mounted to the wall. No. It was a torch, a spent torch. We were in a place that hadn't seen electrical wiring in all of history. "I guess this is better than nothing. They say you're stronger with something in your hand. You want one?" He pointed to another torch further down the hallway.

  “I’m not sure if this would work," I said, but took the second burnt-out torch anyway.

  Franco and I moved down the hall, which curved and branched into two hallways. We chose the one on the right, and came to some crumbling stone steps. We had to squeeze over to the side, hugging the wall, to
avoid slipping on any of the loose stone.

  At last, we came to a set of wooden double doors. They were shut, but a pull from Franco made one squeak open.

  "It's a dining hall," he said, peeking inside. "It's pretty cool. Are those dishes silver?"

  He threw the other door open so I could see.

  The place was awesome. Long stone tables lined up everywhere, and they still had chalices and empty plates lined up on them as if guests were supposed to start arriving any moment. There was no food, and if there was, it would have been eaten by animals or decayed away a long time ago. I sniffed. The air here was fresh, pouring in through the high, open windows and creating a breeze. Light poured in, making some of the chalices shine.

  "Wow," I said. This stuff was way more expensive than anything my father had ever bought. I walked to the nearest table and picked up a chalice. I could see my reflection in it. "How is this possible that there isn't any bird crap in here? Tons of them should have nested in here with those windows open."

  "I don't get it, either," Franco said.

  I set the chalice back down and the sense of dread crept back. These dishes sure looked genuine. These weren't props, nor were they things you could buy at a joke store.

  "Um, Candice?" Franco asked.

  He stared at the other side of the room, to where a painting hung above the entrance to the kitchens.

  I faced it. It was a large oil painting of a young king, decked out in green and complete with a golden crown encrusted with emeralds. He looked upon the dining hall with a stoic, but gentle expression. He had his arms crossed over his lap as if impatient that he had to sit in one spot for the artist for too long.

  But it was his face that made my heart stop.

  "Candice, that's--" Franco started.

  I gulped. "My father."

  Chapter Four

  I about fell to my knees.

  Shorty had been right after all.

  My father was younger in the picture, maybe about twenty years younger, hardly more than a teenager himself. But it was him. He had my father's deep brown eyes. The huge, thick eyebrows I'd grown used to. Even that one mole right above his eyebrow.