Toad Rage - Morris Gleitzman [18]
Limpy had been deep in thought about how he'd try and learn human language once he was a Games mascot so he could explain to them about rain. He looked up and saw Goliath striding off across the oval.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“Revenge,” replied Goliath.
Limpy leapt up in alarm.
Which is when he saw, at the far end of the oval, a lone human figure in a sports singlet doing warm-up exercises.
Limpy peered through the rain.
There was something familiar about the human. Its dark hair was in a ponytail, and when Limpy squinted, he was sure he could see freckles on its face. But it wasn't till it picked up a very long stick that Limpy recognized her.
“Wait, Goliath,” he yelled. “Don't hurt her. She's the one who rescued me.”
Goliath didn't hear. He strode on toward the girl, his shoulders hunched like they always were when he boasted how one day he'd bash up a human.
Limpy hurried after him.
Just before Goliath reached the girl, she suddenly held the stick over her head, sprinted for a while, then jammed one end of the stick into the ground and pivoted herself with it high into the air.
Very high.
Limpy gaped.
He'd seen creatures with some pretty spectacular ways of escaping predators, but nothing like this.
He watched the girl turn gracefully in the air, then plummet down onto what looked like a very large car-seat cushion. By the time she sat up, Goliath was next to her, grabbing at her stick where it had fallen.
Spectacular, thought Limpy anxiously, but not that effective with predators who were maniacs.
“Goliath,” he yelled, hurrying over. “Don't.”
“I'm gunna whack her one with this,” said Goliath, muscles and eyes bulging as he tried to pick up the stick. It didn't budge.
The girl looked over and saw Goliath. Her eyes bulged too, in amazement.
“A cane toad?” she said. “You're a bit far south, aren't you?”
Goliath glared at her.
Limpy flung himself forward. Suddenly he didn't know if he was trying to rescue Goliath or the girl. Then he realized it didn't matter because he was going round in circles.
The girl saw him.
Her mouth fell open. She stared for a long time.
“Don't I know you?” she said at last.
Limpy didn't understand what she was saying, but he hoped she was pleased to see him.
The girl looked over to where the truck was being noisily unloaded at the edge of the stadium.
“Stack me,” she said. “Did you hitch a ride?”
Limpy still couldn't understand, but the sparkle in her eyes and the size of her grin gave him hope, and then a brilliant idea.
Perhaps she could help him apply to be a mascot. If he could just find a way of asking.
Behind her, he saw, on a post holding up a roof over a hillside covered in seats, was a big picture of the other mascots. Limpy went over to it, hopped up, and clung to the picture so he was between the kookaburra and the platypus.
He waited for the girl to understand.
He could see she was thinking hard.
Finally she spoke. “I'm really glad to see you guys,” she said. “You can be a big help to me tomorrow.”
Limpy was pretty sure he understood. “Yes,” he was pretty sure she'd said, “I can definitely help you apply to be a mascot.”
So, unlike Goliath, he wasn't at all worried when she picked them both up and put them in her sports bag.
“Yum,” said Goliath, “shoes.”
Limpy sighed.
He took a deep breath and tried to explain to Goliath that when a person has let you spend the night in her bath at the Games village, and shared her mushrooms on toast with you, and let you sit up late watching telly with her, and is now taking you in her bag to meet the Games Mascot Committee, it's pretty ungrateful to eat her shoes.
Goliath spat out a lace and thought about this.
“You're right,” he said after a bit. “I'll eat her socks.”
Limpy was about to snatch the sock from him when the bag tilted violently and they both went sprawling into a damp towel.
From the way the bag was moving, Limpy guessed the girl was carrying them up some steps.
The Games Mascot Committee is probably so important, he thought,