Once Upon a Toad by Heather Vogel Frederick Read Free Book Online Page A

get out of my weird great-aunt at school. If I ever went back, that was.
    Great-Aunt Abyssinia swiveled her head sharply in my stepsister’s direction. Her eyes glinted behind her glasses. “‘The cat who ate the canary’ is not always an attractive look,” she told her. “You’d do well to remember the rest of the tale, my dear—the part we rarely hear these days. Puss came to a sad end when he choked on the feathers.”
    Olivia blinked. I was pretty sure I understood what my great-aunt was getting at, but she tended to talk in circles. It took some getting used to.
    â€œWell then,” said Iz brightly, “would you like to join us for lunch, Abyssinia? We’re just having chili and corn bread, but there’s plenty, and it’s all homemade.”
    â€œSounds divine,” Great-Aunt Aby replied. She patted the pockets of her sweater and frowned. “Now, where did I put that? Oh yes, here it is.” She pulled a small plastic bag out of the pocket of the ratty sweatpants she was wearing. We all peered at the brownish powder in it. “Add a pinch of this,” she told my stepmother. “It’ll give the chili a little snap. It’s my secret ingredient—works on diaper rash, too.” She gave a slight nod in Geoffrey’s direction.
    Iz’s mouth fell open. My little brother wasn’t quite out ofdiapers yet. He still wore them at night. But how could my great-aunt have known that?
    â€œHow … interesting,” said Iz, taking the bag from her.
    â€œIsn’t it?” Great-Aunt Abyssinia replied, beaming. “The world is so full of interesting things. And I have seen many of them.”
    Over lunch she proceeded to tell us about a number she’d seen recently, ending with her Christmas trip to the Grand Canyon.
    â€œEveryone should spend time in the canyon in winter,” she enthused. “Best time of year—hardly any tourists, and all that snow frosting everything! It’s pretty as a picture.”
    Olivia yawned.
    Great-Aunt Abyssinia’s eyes glinted behind her glasses again.
    I took a bite of corn bread and watched her surreptitiously. Except for the new hair color, she looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen her, when my mother and I vacationed with her at Mount Rushmore. My great-aunt has a large, Mount Rushmore–worthy nose planted firmly in the middle of a big moon of a face, eyes that can twinkle or blaze depending on her mood, and prominent front teeth that shoot forward slightly, as if maybe they’re trying to escape from between her lips. Over her sweatpants she was wearing a baggy green sweater with two denim pockets sewn onto it. I figured Great-Aunt Aby had sewn them on herself, because they were lopsided. Like me, my great-aunt doesn’t have much patience for crafts.
    The sweater itself was probably another thrift-store find. Great-Aunt Aby loves thrift stores and flea markets and yard sales. “Junking,” asshe calls it, is one of her hobbies. You can barely move in her RV for all the knickknacks and souvenirs she’s collected.
    Across the table I noticed Olivia sizing her up too. Her gaze lingered on the crooked pockets, and I sighed. I’d be hearing about them, too, no doubt.
    Great-Aunt Aby caught my eye, and her lips quirked up at the corners. I smiled back sheepishly. I had the feeling that she knew exactly what I was thinking. She winked at me. It was a great big wink because her glasses were the kind that magnify your eyes. They made her look like a lemur or a bush baby.
    After lunch we went into the living room for tea and cookies. Geoffrey seemed to have overcome his shyness, and once Great-Aunt Aby had lowered herself onto the sofa—kind of like a hippo sinking into a water hole—he climbed up into her enormous lap. Popping his index finger back into his mouth, he leaned back against her with a sigh of contentment.
    â€œWould you care