Chapter Eighteen

Grey gently places the frog back into his tank. "We really should name the little thing you know. It's been about a month."

"Yeah you're right." I handled the bag of insects carefully, made sure that the opening was fully in the tank. I slid the cover shut as far as I could. The crickets fell into the frog's home as I shook the clear plastic bag. The lid firmly shut, I trashed the waste from that day's tank cleaning.

"It's sort of pointless to call him Hoppy with a broken leg isn't it?" I squirted Purell onto my hands.

"Haha yeah. How about Kermit?" Grey suggested.

"Jefferson?"

"George Bush?" I laugh.

"Mohawk. You know, 'cause of that stripe down his back."

Grey smiled and agreed. We both paused and looked at the little fellow. He was a faint brown, small splashes of darker brown floating about on his body. His little leg, wrapped in a baby splint, looked awkard and out of place. A deep expresso stripe ran down his back.

"Oh shoot. I've got to get home." Grey checked his watch. I nod, waved him off when we reached the front door.

Going back to my room, I picked up the little brown frog. "Hey sweetie. Do you like your new name?" Mohawk didn't answer. He squirmed slightly, but soon stopped. I stroked his back gently, moved him closer to my face. Smiling, I touched my lips gently on his back. "You're a cute little frog aren't you?" I smiled at him as I drew my head away. I placed Mohawk delicatly back in his cage and went downstairs to finish up my homework.