Kissing Frogs - A Tropical Fairytale

Oink Oink

It's my turn to cook. I pull chrome lids off silver buffet trays. Hundreds of frogs jump from the steam. Everyone starts screaming and a golden frog lands on Travis's head, chirruping at me. The chirruping gets louder as other voices join the discordant symphony.

I sit up quickly, my heart beating fast.

I relax as I realize it's the cheeping of birds, not frogs. Hands go to my face and I groan. Do I really have a non-date with Travis today? I look over at Harp. She's still sleeping. Quietly, I get out of bed. Too tired to shower last night, I sneak into the bathroom for a quick rinse. Shampooing my hair, I sigh. So much for not getting tangled up. Wrapping a towel around my body and hair, I go back to the bedroom to get dressed. Harp is awake.

"Nice turban," she says sleepily. "Anyone in the shower?"

"All yours."

"Thanks." She yawns, gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

I throw on dark denim cutoffs and a tangerine shirt. I need to find a phone and call Ky, ASAP. I haven't communicated with anyone in over twenty-four hours and want to hear exactly what's been going down in Florida. I also want to ask Mr. A about my research paper. Now that I'm officially stuck on this trip, I suppose I may as well give this whole save-the-biology-grade thing a shot. I walk out of our villa into warm, fragrant air, up to the boys' door, and knock.

Travis answers. His hair is messy from sleep and falls in front of foggy eyes. He's wearing Angry Birds boxers and a blue T-shirt. "That eager to start our non-dates, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Is Mr. A here?"

"Try the bohío." He yawns, one of his large hands pushing the hair out of his eyes. How can guys look so good after rolling out of bed, when it takes me twenty minutes in front of a mirror? Minimum. Turning around, I head toward the large hut. "You could've given me a little more warning," he calls behind me. "These aren't my nicest underwear."

I'm happy he can't see the corners of my mouth lift.

Mr. A is sitting and drinking coffee with Hector and Carlita. There's an enormous array of food on the table.

"I was just going to ring the bell for breakfast," Carlita says, getting up.I smile at her. "Hey, Mr. A," I say.

"Hi Jess, you're ready bright and early." He sips from a chipped blue mug.

"Can I ask you something?" I take a breath, unexpectedly nervous.

"Sure, what's up?" He gives me an encouraging smile.

"About my project. Does it have to be a typical science report on the golden frog? Like, you know, what it eats, its habitat and all that?"

"Well, it should be mostly scientific," he says. "It's for biology class."

"I know, but I was wondering if I could maybe weave some other stuff in there as well."

"Like what?"

"Like some of the myths about the frog and its cultural significance and stuff."

He thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. "Just make sure you cover the biology," he says. "The other stuff should just be the icing on the cake."

"Cool. Thanks." For the first time I feel optimistic about actually being able to pull this off. With the exception of bio, I got straight A's. Of course, nobody knows that but my teachers and parents.

"No problem. Help yourself to some huevos rancheros." He gestures at the buffet.

"Sure." I walk over and serve myself, then sit down at a table as everyone else wanders in, lining up for food. Shoot, I forgot to ask about the phone. I get up from the bench.