Toad Heaven - Morris Gleitzman [29]
Charm and Goliath stared at him.
“We could go with them,” said Limpy.
A half-chewed hairbrush fell from Goliath's mouth.
“You mean risk being bashed by a mob of humans just to see if they're going to another national park?” said Charm.
“This is our last chance to find a safe place for Mum and Dad and the others,” said Limpy. “What have we got to lose? If we give up now, none of us are going to survive.”
Charm nodded slowly.
Limpy was glad he hadn't needed to use the words “virus germs.”
“Let me get this right,” said Goliath, frowning.“You want us to hide in these rucksacks and not eat too noisily?”
“No,” said Limpy. “That's too risky. If the humans find us, they'll kill us before we even arrive at the national park.”
“So,” said Charm, frowning too. “How are we going to get them to take us?”
Limpy squatted on the shelf and held the little tennis racquet over his head.
“The vital thing,” he whispered to Charm and Goliath, who were squatting next to him, “is not to move.”
“This soft drink tickles,” complained Goliath.
Limpy knew what he meant. But it looked good. As it dried on their skin, it was starting to shine just like the varnish on the poor stuffed cane toads behind them on the shelf.
“Charm,” whispered Limpy. “Hold your golf club a bit higher.”
Charm did.
“Goliath,” said Limpy. “Try not to look as though you want to hit a human with that cricket bat.”
“But I do,” said Goliath.
Limpy sighed.
In the distance he could hear the humans clambering back onto the boat after their swim.
“What will we do,” whispered Charm, “if they don't want to buy any souvenirs?”
“If they don't want to buy me,” said Goliath, “I'll squirt them.”
Limpy tried to sigh again and found that the soft drink had stuck his lips together.
The humans wanted to buy lots of things.
They crowded into the shop, jostling and chattering in their weird human language.
Limpy wished he could understand what they were saying.
What he hoped they were saying was, “We'll take the three cane toads at the front. Please wrap them up really gently, and do it quickly because we're leaving now for another national park.”
What he feared they were saying was, “We're so thirsty after swimming in that salty chip water, we don't give a flying bog weevil about souvenirs; all we want are drinks.”
Limpy felt something tickling his foot. He looked down. A little spider was brushing past his toes. With tiny movements himself, ones he hoped were invisible, Limpy licked his lips till he could move them.
“G'day,” whispered Limpy to the spider. “Can you understand what the humans are saying?”
The spider stared at Limpy in shock.
“Yikes!” it said.“A battery-operated cane toad. Now I've seen everything.”
At that moment a human reached over and picked Limpy up.
Don't move, Limpy told himself. Whatever you do, don't move.
It was fairly easy not to at first because he was rigid with fear. But then the human shifted her fingers to the ticklish spot on Limpy's tummy, and suddenly he was struggling not to giggle.
The adult human held him up in front of a child human.
Limpy stared pleadingly at the human boy's friendly freckled face.
Please don't notice I'm alive, he begged silently.
“Look,” said the mother, “isn't he cute?”
Limpy hoped she'd said, “Look, isn't he dead?”
The human boy stared sadly at Limpy.
“That's really cruel,” he said. “Killing them just to make souvenirs. I'd only want a cane toad if I could have a live one for a pet.”
Limpy hoped he'd said, “That's a lovely souvenir, Mummy, but it makes me a bit sad only having one. Can I have three?”
The mother obviously couldn't afford three, because she put Limpy back on the shelf. Limpy saw the spider nearby, watching with interest.
“Why didn't they want me?” whispered Limpy.
“Cause you're dead,” said the spider.
While Limpy was trying to make sense of this, another human picked Goliath up.
“Boy,” said the human, putting his red face close to Goliath's.