“Every time I look at this poster, it will remind me that I’ll never be good enough to follow in his footsteps,” Ginger said. She shoved the poster into her closet.
“It’s not my place to judge,” Melody said as she grabbed her headphones, “but I think you might be overreacting.”
“Overreacting?” Ginger cried. “What if you told everyone that you were going to DJ a party and no one showed up? Or what if everyone showed up but you couldn’t get the music to work, and your reputation was ruined?”
Melody nodded. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Yesterday was horrid for you. But you still have friends. And you still make the best treats at Ever After High.”
At that moment, having friends and being a great pastry chef didn’t feel like enough to Ginger. Yesterday’s failure stung, not only because it had embarrassed her, but also because it had embarrassed Hopper. That old familiar feeling of not wanting to be noticed came flooding back. So, instead of her usual candy-colored clothes and frosted tights, she found a pair of plain leggings and a plain T-shirt. And instead of her favorite cupcake hat, she pulled an Ever After High cap over her pink hair, tugging the rim down low to hide her eyes.
“Who are you?” Blondie asked as Ginger stepped into the hallway. “And what have you done with Ginger?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ginger grumbled, slinging her cauldron purse over her shoulder.
“You can’t hide anything from me,” Blondie said with a gentle pat. “I’ll get you to talk about it. I always do.”
As they headed toward the Castleteria for breakfast, it appeared that everyone else was going about their day as usual. The end of Spells Kitchen hadn’t changed anyone’s life. Only Ginger’s.
Faybelle flew past, then did a sharp 180-degree turn and landed right in front of Ginger, her arms crossed. “You look terrible,” she told her.
“What do you want?” Ginger asked.
“Just so you know, I’m still angry that you didn’t choose me to be on your show, even though your recipe was a spelltacular failure.”
Ginger glared at the future Dark Fairy. “I’m not scared of you, Faybelle. Do whatever you want. I’m already in a rotten mood. You can’t make it any worse!”
“Oooh, I sense a scoop,” Blondie said, pulling her MirrorPad from her book bag. At first, Ginger thought Blondie was going to record the argument, but something else had caught the reporter’s roving eye. She hurried down the hall, where Daring, still dressed in his pajamas, was looking at himself in a mirror. A cluster of sighing girls stood around him.
“Hi, Daring,” Blondie said, elbowing a couple of girls until they made room. “Is something going on?”
“Turn off the camera,” he told her, holding his hand in front of her MirrorPad’s lens. “I’m in no mood to be filmed today. I didn’t get a wink of sleep. And now I have…” He leaned closer to the mirror. “I have dark circles under my eyes!” He said this as if the world had come to an end.
Blondie shrugged. “I don’t see any dark circles. You look as perfect as ever.”
“Well, of course they are perfect dark circles, but they are dark circles nonetheless,” Daring boasted. “This is Hopper’s fault. He croaked all night long. What am I going to do? Makeup!” Three of the girls pulled powder puffs from their pockets.
Ginger didn’t care about Daring’s beauty crisis. A powder puff couldn’t fix her life.
“Hopper croaked and croaked,” Daring explained as the girls fought to dab makeup under his eyes. “He refused to turn back into a prince. How can I be expected to get my eight hours of beauty sleep with ribbit, ribbit, ribbit coming from the other side of the room?”
Ribbit, ribbit? Ginger paused. She’d never heard Hopper the frog make actual frog noises. He usually recited poetry.
With all eyes on Daring, Ginger slipped away. She headed back toward the dormitory. Something was very wrong, and it had nothing to do with Daring’s face. Hopper always turned back into a boy. He usually retained his frog form for only a matter of minutes. His curse, to be a frog forever until a princess kissed him, was not supposed to happen until he was an adult. That was how most of the curses worked. Like Duchess Swan turning into a swan forever, and Briar Beauty falling into a slumber of one hundred years.
So why was Hopper still a frog?
Chapter 16
Frog Forever After
Two family crests were mounted on the door, one for Charming, the other for Croakington. Ginger knocked. No one answered. “Hopper?” she said. She knocked again, then looked around. The hallway was empty. Everyone had headed out for breakfast. “Hopper?” She pressed her ear to the door.
Ribbit, ribbit.
Ginger turned the knob and entered.
She’d never been in Hopper and Daring’s room before. It smelled like gym socks and Daring’s cologne. Since both boys came from wealthy families, no expense had been spared. Both beds were covered in opulent fabrics and fur pelts. Daring’s side was exactly as she’d expected. There were dozens of portraits of him. His face was even printed on his pillow. His shelves were filled with trophies for things like dragon-slaying and damsel-rescuing. Athletic equipment lay everywhere—swords, balls, jousting lances. And so many mirrors! One was mounted above his desk.
Hopper’s shelves were also filled with trophies, for Swim Team and the long jump. A couple of extra crowns sat on his desk, and his closet was full of embroidered jackets and loafers. The big difference was that Hopper hadn’t plastered photos of himself all over his walls.
There was one photo, however. Taped next to his desk. Of Briar.
Ribbit, ribbit.
Hopper the frog sat on a pillow, a little crown perched on his head. A dragonfly flitted above him. Ginger had seen the dragonfly only a few times before. He was Hopper’s pet and his name was Drake. “Hi, Hopper,” she said with a wave. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
He blinked in that weird way that frogs blink, with his eyeballs half disappearing into his head.
She stood awkwardly next to the bed. A soft breeze drifted in from the open window. “How are you?” He didn’t reply. “Daring said you’ve been a frog all night. Is that true?”
With a stretch of his hind legs, he leaped onto the windowsill. Then his tongue shot out of his mouth and he captured a housefly that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He swallowed.
Ew. She’d never seen him eat a fly before.
“Hopper, are you mad at me because the wish cake didn’t work?” No answer. Was he giving her the silent treatment? “I’m sorry about that.” She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I tried to help you get together with Briar. Really I did. But nothing worked out. You feel embarrassed again and I’ve lost my show.”
Ribbit, ribbit.
Something very strange was going on. Hopper didn’t stand on his hind legs, or wave his arms through the air, or bow as he usually did. He sat very frog-like, his little suction cup toes splayed on the windowsill. His neck pulsated as he softly croaked. “Are you staying in frog form on purpose? I didn’t know you could do that. I didn’t know you could talk like a frog, either.”
Ginger suddenly felt light-headed as the truth dawned on her. She darted to her feet. “Oh my godmother, I know what happened! Wishing to be able to talk to girls didn’t work, because it’s a big wish. And the wish cake only grants a small wish.”
Maybe she should have felt some relief, realizing that she wasn’t a total failure. She’d followed the recipe correctly, after all. Her skills as a chef were perfection. How could she have doubted herself?
Then she gasped. Slowly, she turned toward the window. “But you made a second wish, didn’t you?” She searched her memory for the words that Hopper the frog had spoken.
Therefore, what I should have wished was to remain a frog forever after.
A frog. He’d wished to be a frog.
That was definitely a little wish.
Holy c
roak!
As Ginger realized that she’d turned the boy she liked into a real frog, Hopper leaped from the sill and disappeared into the garden below. Drake the dragonfly flew after him.
Chapter 17
Eenie Meenie
Hopper!” Ginger cried as she pushed open the dormitory’s front door and ran outside.
Ever After High was surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens, so everywhere she looked, she saw green. The grass grew as thick and luxurious as mermaid’s hair. The hedgerows and shrubs were covered in dense green foliage. There were too many places for a frog to hide. “Hopper!”
A couple of students glanced at her.
She darted around a rosebush, her eyes searching the grass. “Hopper,” she whispered. If he’d turned into a real frog, would he be able to understand her? She scuttled around. “Hopper. Hopper.” Where was he? He had no idea how to take care of himself in the wild.
“Whatever is going on?” Blondie had sneaked up on Ginger in her usual way. “I was interviewing Daring and you disappeared.”
“I’m just, ya know, enjoying the sunshine.” Ginger stepped back onto the walkway. She didn’t want Blondie in the grass, where she might accidentally step on Hopper. It was bad enough that Hopper was a real frog; he didn’t need to get squished, too.
Blondie smiled. “I’m going to edit my interview with Daring and upload it right away. I’ve never seen Daring not looking perfect. This scoop will get a zillion views.” Her fingers flew over her screen.
Ginger caught a streak of green out of the corner of her eye, then a little splash sounded from the nearby swan pool. Uh-oh. Did swans eat frogs? Ginger ran to the edge of the pool. There he was, frog-kicking his way through the water, his little gold crown still on his head. “Hopper,” she called. The swans looked up. One of them eyed him. Was that a look of hunger? “Don’t eat him!” Ginger yelled. She didn’t bother taking off her shoes. She climbed into the pool and waded as quickly as she could. Two swans hissed at her.
“What are you doing?” Blondie called.
Those little green legs were fast. When the Candy Witch went frog hunting, she’d take a sturdy net. And she’d chant a little song.
Eenie, meenie, miney, moe
Catch a froggy by its toe
Ginger didn’t have a net and she certainly didn’t feel like singing. She finally caught up to Hopper only because he’d stopped to eat a water bug. She scooped him into her hands. “Gotcha!”
“Ms. Breadhouse!” Headmaster Grimm stood at the side of the pool. “There is no swimming allowed in the swan pool.” He pointed to a sign.
THERE IS NO SWIMMING ALLOWED IN THE SWAN POOL.
“Sorry,” she called as she clasped Hopper in her hands. He sure was wiggly. Then she stepped out of the water and smiled politely at the headmaster.
“What are you doing, Ms. Breadhouse?” He looked down his long nose at her. Her leggings dripped. A lily pad was stuck to her shoe.
“Uh, I’m just…” One of Hopper’s legs slipped out between her fingers. “I’m catching frogs.”
The headmaster raised an eyebrow. “I see.” Then he surprised Ginger with a smile. “That is good news, indeed. Your mother is a skilled frogger, is she not? I understand the legs make an excellent soup. If this is a sign that you are taking your witchy heritage seriously, then I am most pleased.” With a sharp turn on his heels, he began to walk away.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to put you into a soup,” Ginger whispered into her clasped hands. She opened one of her fingers so his little head could poke out. He was still wearing his crown.
“Now are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Blondie asked. “Why are you holding on to Hopper?”
Ginger glanced around. A few students sat on benches, but they were chatting on their MirrorPhones. No one seemed to be paying attention to her. “I’ve done something terrible,” she told Blondie. “I’ve turned Hopper into a frog.”
Blondie frowned. “I don’t understand. Hopper always turns into a frog.”
“But this time he’s a real frog. He doesn’t recite poetry. He croaks. He eats bugs!”
Ribbit, ribbit.
“The wish cake worked. Hopper wished to be a frog forever after. Now he is.”
Blondie leaned in close, peering at the frog in Ginger’s hands. “He does seem slimier, if that’s possible. And he is making weird sounds. If what you say is true, this is going to be the biggest scoop since the news about the dish breaking up with the spoon.”
“Please don’t say anything,” Ginger pleaded. “I’m asking you as a friend. If word gets out that I turned him into a real frog—”
“How very interesting,” a snarky voice said. Faybelle had glided over, her wings as silent as a breeze. Ginger gasped, then closed her fingers over Hopper’s froggy head. “Oh, you can’t hide your mess, Ginger Breadhouse. I heard everything.”
“You’re really good at sneaking up on people,” Blondie said, looking impressed. “I should get a pair of wings.”
Faybelle flew a slow circle around Ginger. “What will Hopper’s parents say when they find out that you’ve turned their precious son into a real frog?”
“Don’t tell his parents,” Ginger said. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m going to turn him back.”
“How?”
Ginger had no idea.
Faybelle continued to circle. “I bet Headmaster Grimm will be happy to hear that you’ve embraced your destiny and poisoned one of your fellow students.”
“Poisoned?” Ginger started to clench her hands into fists, but then she remembered she was holding Hopper captive.
Blondie shook a finger in Faybelle’s face. “That’s a rotten thing to say. Ginger didn’t poison anyone. Hopper wished this on himself.”
“I don’t really care how it happened,” Faybelle said. “I’m going to tell everyone that Ginger poisoned Hopper on purpose. And that she’ll poison the rest of us if we let her.”
“She’s ruthless,” Blondie said as Faybelle flew away.
“This is a disaster,” Ginger said. “No one will ever trust my cooking again.” Hopper wiggled in her hands. “I know, I know, it’s a disaster for you, too,” she told him. Then she sighed. “I’ve got to figure out how to turn him back into a boy.”
Chapter 18
The Golden Rule
The Science and Sorcery classroom was empty. But clinking sounds drifted from the open attic door. “Professor?” Ginger called. No answer. The clinking grew louder.
She couldn’t climb the ladder and hold Hopper at the same time, so she opened her cauldron purse and tucked him into a pocket. He blinked at her. “Don’t worry,” she told him gently. “It’ll be okay. I’m going to fix this.” He didn’t look concerned, or even interested. Maybe he couldn’t understand a word she was saying.
The ladder wobbled and creaked as she climbed, rung over rung. Then she poked her head into the attic.
It was hot up there. A spinning wheel and a wooden stool sat in the corner, surrounded by piles of straw. The stool was empty. It appeared no one had failed a pop quiz and needed hextra credit that day, but it was still early. The clinking came from the opposite corner, where Rumpelstiltskin sat cross-legged on the floor, stacking a pile of gold coins. “Professor?”
He pushed his floppy hat from his eyes. “Vhadda ya vant?” Even when not teaching, he tended to shout. His booming voice filled the attic space.
She climbed off the last rung, then hurried toward her Science and Sorcery professor. “I need your help.” Kneeling, so she wouldn’t tower over him, she opened her purse and pulled out Hopper. A couple of decorating sprinkles were stuck to his skin. She really needed to clean out that bag.
Rumpelstiltskin grunted. “Vhy bring me frog?”
Ginger realized that Hopper’s crown had fallen off. She shuffled through her purse until she found it. Then she plopped it onto his head. “It’s Hopper. I mean, it used to be Hopper. Or it still is Hopper. I’m not sure.”
 
; “You make no sense.” He began a new stack of coins.
“I followed the recipe and made the wish cake. Hopper ate it just as planned. But he wished that he could talk to girls without turning into a frog, and it didn’t work.”
“Only little vish vork.”
“Yes, that’s what happened. He made a second wish. A little wish.” She held Hopper up so Rumpelstiltskin could get a good look. “He wished to be a frog forever after. Now look at him.”
Ribbit, ribbit.
“You made good vish cake. You get good grade. Now go!”
“I don’t want a good grade. I want—”
“You no vant good grade?” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “You vant to fail? I give you bad grade. You spin gold for me.” He pointed to the spinning wheel.
“No, no. I do want a good grade. But I don’t want Hopper to be a frog forever after. I need to change him back.”
“Vhy you vant to change him?” Rumpelstiltskin snorted. “You ever hear of rule of gold?”
“Rule of gold?” Ginger asked. “You mean the golden rule?”
“Da, that’s it!” He pointed a hairy finger in the air. “You vant to be chef, not vitch. So you let Hopper be frog, not boy, since dat’s vhat he vant. Leave him alone. Dat is golden rule.”
That wasn’t exactly the golden rule, but Ginger understood what the professor was trying to say. She wanted to choose her own path, so she should afford Hopper the same consideration. “But he doesn’t want to be a frog. His wish was a mistake. He didn’t mean it. He was embarrassed and upset. It’s not really what he wants.”
Rumpelstiltskin snorted. Then he kept counting.
“Professor? How do I reverse the spell?”
“No reverse. He made little vish. It’s done!”
“But there has to be a way.” Ginger looked down at Hopper’s green face. “I know I can make only one wish cake, but what if someone else made a wish cake and the new wish was to turn Hopper back to normal?”