“Chuji! Partner up?” I searched for him among many faces paired at black counters.

  Mr. Osborne, the science teacher, was speaking in a high, reedy voice. “—I want to see precise measurements and every step of your equations. Clear language. Don’t forget to put the date on your books. I’m talking to you, Emma.”

  A blonde tossed her hair. “It’s fine, Mr. Osborne. I have more important things to do.”

  “And I have labs to grade.” This earned a couple laughs. Mr. Osborne was one of the “cooler” teachers and I was pretty sure he was middle-aged despite having a shock of gray hair. Occasionally students visited his house, but here, he burdened us with the same exacting standards as his academic experiences. His cool factor was what saved his standing from Emma and the whispers in her grapevine.

  She rolled eyes at the red-plaid, scholastic man in spectacles. I hastily evaded eye contact. Emma was one classmate I sometimes spent time with in the forest. She had Devin to copy off of anyways.

  Please don’t pair me with Emma. My chances were thinning as I was still alone at my counter. Likely due to the time I spilled chemical all over Emma’s spanking-new stockings. On her date night. In front of everyone.

  My mind was further occupied on Sven and the book business. Shadow-2? Marathon? What is this, a role-playing exercise?

  I prodded a flask filled next to a measuring cylinder. Any real answers were dancing right out of reach. Similar to the precarious tipping of my vial, almost-but-not-quite ready to splash out. Hairs were standing on the back of my neck. Unease rippled in my tummy.

  Nothing quite added up. Like a Bunsen burner I now gazed at with longing, tucked with its brethren in a corner. Why’d we have so many if we barely used them?

  Chuji waddled to my table. I let out a grin. My smile slipped immediately as he brushed the front of his hair and side-eyed the door. He tremored. “Have you seen Tommy?”

  “Yeah—no.” I quickly stopped myself. Chuji was wiping his forehead and shutting his eyes tight, panting. Introducing Evil Sven seemed premature. “What’s up?”

  “He didn’t follow me to class today! We agreed to be lab partners.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Sorry, Cecelia.”

  “Oh.” I deflated faster than a lead balloon. “That’s—fine.” I couldn’t blame Chuji for having other friends.

  Mr. Osborne noticed too. He called out. “Chuji! Where’s Tommy Motomochi?”

  “He is five minutes and twelve seconds late. We have a swimming competition at four o’clock,” Chuji stammered, shooting a glance at a wall clock.

  He whispered to me, “The LE-4 is an acrylic of an impossible tower on which a small world sits. It is how we have built up the last two months. When I came out Tommy insisted he was going! However he is not with the rest of us. This is a true challenge!”

  Translation: linchpin missing, major yikes, help. I raised my hand quick. “I can get him, Mr. Osborne.” Anything to spend ten minutes away from the dread of a lab partner.

  The teacher gave a nod. “We start in five minutes.” I leaped from my seat and into cold sunshine.

  My sneakers slapped pavement. I struggled to recall Tommy’s appearance. This was harder than it sounded since, like Chuji, I tended to see him in his swim gear. Thin and tall. Black hair, right? Cropped and wavy. Looks like he belongs in the water, long torso and long arms, that stretched fish kind of build.

  I tugged hair and wailed in my head. This shouldn’t be difficult! The whole street is deserted! A lot of peeps were in class or doing outdoorsy activities.

  An overcast sun warmed, and cast large shadows of sprawling trees and the occasional student. Hang on. Shouldn’t Sven be looking around too? I don’t think Tommy would want to run into him. I need to narrow down Tommy’s location. My hand played with a stray curl as I pouted in concentration.

  My mouth formed words as I thought them and muttered. “Did he listen to Sven in the first place? What if he went back to the pool to practice?”

  I visualized the scene in my head. If I were Tommy, I’d already committed to be with Chuji and go to SJ in an important competition. Why would I listen to a random like Sven yelling at me to go leave, out of nowhere? No, I’d be scared at first, but being a bullheaded sportsman, I’d come straight back to swimming.

  Which would explain why Chuji would be confused too. Without context Tommy would have disappeared before his team left the pool—via Sven—then vanished again once they walked to their classes together—via his own decision. Perhaps Tommy had been too rattled to tell anyone.

  But if he’s practicing, why hasn’t he come back?

  I rushed to the pool’s gate, iron bars with a bolted latch, and grabbed the handle.

  Locked.

  “Umfff.” My arms strained to hit the release on the other side of the gate. However. I was short.

  “Oh my sweet sweet stars. Give me a break!” I yanked on the gate with all my might. The bolt creaked up and out the latch, and a door swung out.

  I stood startled for a good three seconds. Nobody saw that.

  Chlorine hit my nostrils. A soft splish-splash awakened my senses. Hallelujah! I strode through those kingdom gates.

  Only to immediately scurry to safety by the locker rooms. What is that?!

  In the deep end of the pool was a giant frog.

  The biggest frog I’d seen in my life. That was how I could best describe it, but it was straight bizarre. Its skin was mottled green, and a disc the size and shape of a giant lily pad was on its back. Its arms and legs were too long, like a person’s, and ended in webbed feet. Instead of a rounded mouth it had a beak.

  I slumped against a wall, but as I stared and squinted, my thoughts on the frog slowly changed. Umm, it’s about the size of my stomach. Not counting the legs. Could be bigger. I’ll keep my distance in case. Freaky but it’s sort of cute. It had big, round eyes and splashed its limbs, frog-style, up to the surface. It reached a webbed foot at plaster marking the edge of the pool.

  A ringing like tiny bells chimed. I knitted my brows, crinkling my forehead, and to my bemusement the lily-disc frog wrinkled its face as well. The creature stopped and floated in place. Listening.

  Then, in front of the frog, I saw a woman. I jerked backwards and almost fell over. What the heck?

  It was less like she had appeared, and more like she had always been there, and I had merely failed to notice. I sucked in lungfuls of air and swallowed the shout that almost rushed out of my mouth.

  The woman had cold blue eyes and cascading blond hair. She wore a white fur jacket, unzipped despite the chill, exposing pale skin. Her features reminded me of a model.

  The frog was apparently as surprised as I was. It was stunned still.

  In one smooth motion the woman reached a hand down and clamped the frog’s mouth shut.

  The creature’s bulging eyes widened. It reached out its two front limbs and grabbed her left leg. Then it heaved its weight and pulled.

  To my increasing amazement and alarm, the woman didn’t lose her grip on the frog. In fact she barely moved a muscle. A smile played on her lips. With fluid grace she sat herself down, legs in the water, holding the frog’s beak all the while.

  Without knowing why, I shuddered.

  The frog, now submerged, thrashed with violence. It yanked the woman downwards with what I could only describe as pure murderous intent. More than enough force to tear limbs apart. I winced for the woman and averted my gaze. Waters quaked, whirled, and flew wildly. Waves splashed against plaster. The frog’s limbs below the surface flashed, forcing my attention, kicking up foam. They wrenched and tugged.

  I looked again. The woman remained where she was. Unharmed. My mouth was hanging open. How?

  She spoke, icy calm, but I could hear every word. “You’re a clever boy, aren’t you? You thought you could keep it from everyone.”

  She’s talking to the frog? Can it even understand her?

  She ate it.

  I wasn’t able to see, but that must have been what happened. It took several seconds. She had bent over, hiding the frog from view. There was no sound. Only ripples of water and faint splashing. I could hear its struggling growing wild, then feebler, then abruptly silent.

  What the actual fridge—did she just—is this a dream? Please tell me this is a dream.

  I curled up into a ball. I couldn’t speak. My throat constricted tight. My heart pounded loud against my chest. I could hear my blood pumping with every beat.

  The woman in white rose. She was completely calm. The pool was clear and empty.

  There was no sign of the frog. Not even a speck of blood, not on her, her clothes, or in the water. It might as well have vanished.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  My body moved on automatic. It scrambled towards the gate.

  My brain played a broken record. Frog-Eater. Must get away from Frog-Eater.

  The stranger held a small tome in a hand. I hadn’t recalled her having it before, but my stomach sank.

  I clambered to the gate, pressing my back against it, but then I heard a ringing again. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.

  The woman was walking the pool’s perimeter. On her ankle was a small gold bell, attached by a string, jingling.

  I tried to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. In spite of my instincts screaming at me, I was transfixed. The jingling bell arrived at the side of the deck.

  Sitting on plaster was a black box encased in torn papers.

  An oddly familiar box.

  She gathered the black box with the little book under an arm. That was when she walked straight at me.

  Oh gods.

  Frog-Eater sauntered up to the gate. Her cold eyes pinned me down.

  Kojiki, I thought numbly. That box is from Kojiki.

  I pried my fingers against the bars behind me but I knew it was useless.

  Welp, I’m dying.

  Mom, I’m sorry, Grandpa, I’ll see you, constellations—screw it, you stars are useless.

  That made my mind clearer, somehow. Warmth spread to my hands and arms. Into my chest.

  “Loving the confidence.” I gave a weak thumbs-up. Let it be known I went down at least attempting to save my life.

  Frog-Eater tilted her head. She was unreadable. “How did you get in here?”

  I hadn’t anticipated her talking to me. I babbled. “The gate was open.”

  “That gate was locked.”

  It was a matter-of-fact statement. Yet it carried a weight.

  A short silence hung in the air.

  Frog-Eater smiled pleasantly. She bent down to my huddled form. I flinched.

  The woman was close enough to touch my face. With her fur jacket, I had a distinct impression of a predator scenting potential prey. “Why are you scared? I have my loyalties. I sense your associations.”

  I couldn’t answer. My tongue was glued in place.

  It struck me her breath was clean. Minty fresh. I chanced a glance at her mouth. Perfect white teeth. Every bone in me felt very frail.

  “Can you help me with something?” Sheets rustled.

  I looked up again to see a black lockbox with four metal clasps. She was holding out the remnants of Kojiki.

  How? I wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. It was either succeed or—that other option.

  Please please please work. I grabbed the box’s lid and pulled. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. Open, open, opennnn!

  The clasps clicked. The lockbox hinged open, revealing three artifacts nestled in a bed of silver particles, one big and two small. I was assaulted with the smell of aged copper.

  Oh. Wow.

  Taking up most space was a bronze water pot. It was so exquisite I almost forgot about the woman. The pot stood on three legs, with a flower-shaped lid topped by a jewel-shaped knob. On its sides were three engraved oval windows. The window most directly facing me was of a phoenix riding on clouds.

  The other two items were spoons. Identical to the one I’d found in Kojiki myself, with thin and long scoops. Further proof they came from the same book.

  Fanciest crock I’ve seen in my life. How can anyone eat with those?

  The woman murmured, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Before I could answer the unlocked box was smoothly pulled out of my trembling fingers.

  Frog-Eater held out another book. That tome I’d only seen minutes ago, the one she’d been suddenly holding in the pool. A softcover manga with a cover of a bow-wielding samurai wrestling a massive white tiger, himself in green floral attire, and tangled near a tree.

  The title read, Uji Shui Monogatari: A Collection of Tales from Uji.

  With a title like that, an LN for sure, my barely functioning brain thought.

  She opened it up. I was greeted with another black box, with caution tape crisscrossed, clasps, a lock in the center, and a label.

  Do not open. Property of the Government of Japan.

  I had a plunging sensation in the pit of my stomach. We both knew what she wanted. I held out my hand and grasped the box’s cool edges. I pulled.

  This time the lid popped off without a hitch. Inside were two antiques. First a gilt, hexagonal pedestal, like a place an artist would set a pen or a brush. Second, dwarfing it, a dragon-head pitcher.

  Yes, a dragon head. The lid was of an Eastern dragon, with antlers like a stag and bearded chin, the type one would see at a temple. Attached below the lid was a vase-like body with a long neck, as well as a slender handle that reminded me of a tail. The pitcher’s metal was silver and gold plated.

  That’s wicked. I gawked at the stand and the pitcher, and once again a box was slid from my grasp.

  Frog-Eater was pleased, judging by her smile. She leaned into my ear. “You’ve been a great help. I would be remiss not to pay you. What are your greatest desires?”

  Top-three wish list? This ain’t no genie, I reminded myself. This is Frog-Eater. But what did I have to lose? I wasn’t, like, dead yet.

  Overwhelmed, confused out of my mind, I couldn’t think. I blurted. “More time with my family. Quality time, like they’re really present with me. I want my mom to be healthy. I want to find work where I can be myself. Where I can be accepted.”

  “How admirable.” A lilt in her cold tone sounded genuine. Weird, but that was how I interpreted it. “May I have your consent?”

  “Consent for what?”

  She didn’t answer. Merely waited. A small part of me was becoming curious.

  “Um, okay, I guess.”

  “What’s your name?”

  I wanted to ask her in kind, but I squeaked, “Cecelia Seimei.”

  “Hold out your arm.”

  I did, my left, and it was shaking because I worried she’d chop it off. I’m not ready for disability insurance.

  “Recite after me. Ushi no koku mairi. Ushi no toki mairi. Inochi to karada o mamoru.”

  Ushi-sushi-what-now? Gods. I shut my eyes. I’m doomed. Once Frog-Eater heard my butchered pronunciation, she’d murder me on the spot. She seemed the formal type.

  “Ushi no koku mairi. Ushi no toki mairi. Inochi to karada o mamoru.” My tongue tripped and I mumbled the parts I couldn’t exactly remember. Especially that last part, like what even was that sizzle?

  “Good.” She touched my forearm. A sharp pain shot through her palm and into my body. I gasped. I also squealed like a pig and jerked my arm away.

  “What did you do?” I whined, fastening my gaze at my jacket sleeve. I pulled it up, hyperventilating.

  I braced myself—for singing, a bruise, an ugly cut. However, my arm looked totally normal. Almost.

  On my skin, right below my wrist, was a little black dot like a tattoo.

  Frog-Eater told me, with winter calm, “Think of that as a good luck charm. It will remind me to treat you as someone valuable. Stop worrying.”

  She spoke that statement like a command. I breathed fast and hard. I forced myself to calm down, observing dimly that the pain from her touch had gone. It had been nothing further than a single shock.

  The woman beamed. It was as if I’d completed a task she’d approved of. “Good girl. Would you like a sticker?”

  My mouth opened and closed. “A what?”

  She reached into the folds of her jacket and produced a sheet of stickers. Like ones I saw in elementary or middle school. Different colored stars.

  She peeled off a gold star and stuck it over my tattoo. “Boop.”

  Boop? Had I misheard?

  I gaped like a guppy on dry land. The woman stood straight, white fur swaying, and strode past me and out the gate.

  The bell at her ankle jingled.

  Then I was alone.

  I probably didn’t lay there long. Less than thirty seconds. I staggered onto my feet, unsteady, and out the entrance.

  Back to class.

  ***

  Everyone was moving and bustling with cylinders and flasks. Mr. Osborne was very displeased, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, snapping. “Cecelia! You’re late! Where’s Tommy?”

  I muttered the first reason I could think of. Because I didn’t know what the heck did happen to Tommy. “Gone. Went home.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Chuji’s pupils dilated. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “What about our competition?” he whispered.

  I didn’t have time to reply because Mr. Osborne yelled, “You’re with Emma!”

  I sidled away from Chuji, who’d been integrated in a team of three. Emma was fiddling with an eye dropper, squeezing liquid from a glass. She raised her eyebrows at me and scolded loudly. “Oh my gosh, Cecelia, did you get distracted again? I’ve had to do so much without you. Help me measure. Sixty millimeters.” She thrust our lab instructions and her graphing notebook at me.

  She berated me and yelled a few times when I fumbled. I barely heard her. Didn’t remember anything she said. I responded on autopilot, moving my arms when she told me, mute and limp like a robot. In one ear, out the other.

  One hour. I had never felt so glad failing a lab.

  ***

  I needed a ride home. I walked to Sven’s car. Gray sedan. He tended to park in the same place.

  Sven was already in the driver’s seat. His face was worn out and dark as a storm. Alicia sat on the opposite chair. She looked disgruntled as I popped open the passenger door and slid in.

  I croaked, “Hey, Sven, I wanted to ask you about—”

  Sven held up a hand. He twisted in his seat to me. “Look, Cecelia, I’ve had a very long day. Stop your yapping. I need time to think.”

  Alicia meowed in agreement.

  I shut up. The ignition rumbled. Car shuddered and rolled along.

  After several minutes, Sven glanced back. “Everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I don’t know how to explain. Where can I even begin? Also, Sven was on a short fuse. Monologues would be shut down. “Had lab,” I mumbled. “With Emma.”

  Sven’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “She and Devin can go f*ck themselves. Don’t stay around those guys. I’m telling you, you need to push them away and push them hard until they fall on their a**es.”

  I nodded. Mumbled. “Yeah.”

  “You let me know, or your parents, or Alicia or—” he stopped. “Let me or your dad know, and we’ll beat some sense into them. I know your dad has his principles but I can be, um, extralegal about it.”

  “Thanks.”

  The car pulled up to my driveway. I went in, settled into my bed, and fell asleep staring at my gold sticker.