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“The Toad Pee Club!”

“Rare!” said Rocky. “We could put T. P. Club on our collages. People will think it stands for the Toilet Paper Club.”

“Perfect,” Judy said.

“Hey, what are you two doing?” asked Stink, running down the sidewalk in too-big boots.

“Nothing,” said Judy, wiping her hands down the sides of her pants.

“Yes, you are,” said Stink. “I can tell by your caterpillar eyebrow.”

“What caterpillar eyebrow?”

“Your eyebrows make a fuzzy caterpillar when you don’t want to tell me something.” Judy Moody never knew she had caterpillar eyebrows before.

“Yeah, a stinging caterpillar,” said Judy.

“We’re starting a club,” said Rocky.

“A secret club,” Judy said quickly.

“I like secrets,” said Stink. “I want to be in the club.”

“You can’t just be in the club,” said Judy. “Something has to happen to you.”

“I want the thing to happen to me too.”

“No, you don’t,” said Judy.

“It’s yucky,” Rocky said.

“What?” asked Stink.

“Never mind,” said Judy.

“You have to pick up that toad,” Rocky told Stink.

“This is a trick, isn’t it?” asked Stink. “To get me to pick up a slimy, bumpy old toad.”

“That’s right,” said Judy.

Stink picked up the toad anyway. “Hey, it feels . . . interesting. Like a pickle. I never picked up a toad before,” said Stink. “Now can I be in the club?”

“No,” said Judy.

“I can’t believe it’s not slimy,” said Stink.

“Just wait,” said Rocky.

“I’m not going to get warts or anything, am I?”

“Do you feel anything?” asked Rocky.

“No,” said Stink.

“Oh, well,” said Judy. “Put the toad back. There. See? You can’t be in the club.”

Stink started to cry. “But I picked up the toad, and I want to be in the club.”

“Don’t cry,” said Judy. “Trust me, Stink, you don’t want to be in this club.”

Just then Stink’s eyes opened very wide. There was something warm and wet on his hand. Judy Moody and Rocky fell down laughing.

“Am I in the club yet?” asked Stink.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” said Judy and Rocky. “The Toad Pee Club!”

“Yippee!” cried Stink. “I’m in the Toad Pee Club!”

D-day. Doomsday. Dumbday. Saturday. The day of Frank Eats-Paste Pearl’s birthday party. I’d rather eat ten jars of paste myself than go to that party, Judy thought.

For three whole weeks she had kept the hand-delivered-by-Frank-Pearl birthday invitation hidden inside the bottom of her Tip-It game, where Mom and Dad (who hated Tip-It) would NEVER find it.

Then today, the very day of the party, it happened. Dad found out.

She, Judy Moody, just had to ask Dad to take her to Fur & Fangs for some toad food. She just happened to be looking at a tadpole kit with real live frog eggs — Watch tadpoles turn into frogs! See tails shrink, feet grow, legs form! — hoping to talk Dad into buying it for her when another kit just like it bumped into her. Holding the kit was Frank’s mom.

“Judy!” Frank’s mom said. “Isn’t that funny? It looks like we had the same idea for Frank’s present! I thought he’d love watching a tadpole turn into a frog. I was about to buy him the same kit!”

“Um, I wasn’t . . . I mean, you were?”

“Frank’s really looking forward to seeing you at his party.”

“Party?” Dad’s ears perked up. “Whose party?”

“Frank’s!” said his mom. “I’m Mrs. Pearl, Frank’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Dad.

“Very nice to meet you,” said Mrs. Pearl. “And Judy, I’ll see you this afternoon. Bye for now.”

Mrs. Pearl put the tadpole kit she was holding back on the shelf.

“Frank LOVES reptiles,” she said.

Amphibians, thought Judy.

“Judy, why didn’t you just say you needed to come here to get your friend a birthday present? Did I know you had a party to go to today?” Dad asked.

“No.”

In the car, Judy tried to convince her dad that there would be kids at the party making rude body noises and calling each other animal-breath names.

“You’ll have fun.”

“You know, Frank Pearl eats paste,” said Judy.

“Look. You’ve already got the tadpole kit,” Dad said.

“I was kind of sort of hoping I could keep it.”

“But Mrs. Pearl put hers back when she saw yours. At least take it over, Judy.”

“Do I have to wrap it?” asked