Leonie was no longer surprised when frogs proposed to her. 

The first time happened when she was seven. Mama had sent her out to play before Dad got home. It was a Thursday and her dad always played poker on Thursdays. He was always losing too. Leonie climbed under the unfinished chain link fence and moseyed up an old trail into the woods.

Though the woods weren’t far from her house, Mama always worried about her going alone. Leonie wasn’t sure why. The woods weren’t ever empty. Leonie always heard birds chittering, found beetles clinging to her pants, and had the occasional staring contest with a deer. Besides, Leonie figured she already spent a lot of time alone. If she could sleep in her own room, being awake and alone was a lot less scary. 

Leonie couldn’t put into words why she liked the woods. It was familiar but different each time. The best part was the creek. The creek wasn’t big or deep, but Leonie could still get lost in it. There’s something about wading knee-deep in a cold creek. Best Leonie could describe it was like when you bit into a crisp apple, but your whole body felt it.

Leonie was sitting in the creek, burying imaginary pearls, when she dug up a frog. He was mud brown but smooth, like Laura Lynn chocolate icing. 

“Hey. Come here often?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, do you come here often? I haven’t seen you before.”

He hopped onto the buttons of her yellow shirt. His eyes were shiny, like prized marbles.

“I would remember seeing someone like you. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Leonie. I don’t mean to be rude, but are you a frog?”

“Yeah, I’m a frog. We’re pretty common in these parts. Usually hopping around, catching flies.”

“I know what a frog is, I just haven’t seen a talking frog is all.”

“Listen, Leona. You know your fairy tales, don’t you?”

Leonie nodded. Mama didn’t tell her a lot. She skipped most of the stories about princesses, but she told her stories like Little Red Riding Hood or The Three Bears. Even then, Leonie knew there was a story about a frog who was a prince. 

“Well, today is your lucky day. I’m a talking frog, and for one kiss I could become a prince. Your prince.”

Leonie stared at the frog. 

“Uh, thanks, but I’m okay.”

The frog’s cheeks puffed up like Leonie’s Uncle Ted during Thanksgiving. “What do you mean, you’re okay? I’m a prince. I have a white horse, and it’s a purebred Arabian. I’d let you take it for a ride if you were my princess.”

“I don’t know if I can be a princess tonight. It’s a school night.” 

The frog jumped off and turned to glare at her.

“I didn’t even want you to kiss me. I was just trying to be polite.”

For the first time, Leonie went home early. Mama wasn’t home, but Dad was in his recliner. He was wrapped in Leonie’s quilt, picking at his skin and watching infomercials.

Leonie grabbed a beer for her dad before taking a plate from the sink and fixing herself a microwave meal. Mama’s manager at the grocery store, where she worked the night shift, let her take home the ones that had expired. 

Leonie wasn’t sure where her dad was working now, probably some odd job, but he always seemed tired. He used to work construction. He’d borrow Uncle Ted’s car and drive an hour away to the bigger counties. North Carolina was always starting roads but never finishing them. Dad never talked about it. He just came home covered in dust.

A few days later Leonie met another frog. He was squat, heavy as a can of beans, with skin like stained cheetah print pants. He, too, asked for a kiss. Once again, Leonie refused.

“What a floozy! Acting like you want to be a princess, then not kissing me.”

When a shifty, sand-colored frog with black stripes started chatting her up, she told him right away she wouldn’t kiss him. He yelled at her for not even bothering to get to know him. 

“You know you want to kiss me,” the frog said. “Everyone knows you redheads are hot for it. You have hotter blood.”

Leonie had never measured the temperature of her blood, but she was sure it was not hotter than anyone else’s. Well, not any other person’s blood. Frogs are cold-blooded, so hers was probably warmer. 

Most days after school, Leonie had to go to her uncle and aunt’s house, who lived just down the road. Unlike her parents, both Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Ted were plump. Her aunt had faint blonde hair and a soft face, while Uncle Ted looked like a wild man Santa Claus. They had four boys, all older than Leonie. Mama said that Aunt Phoebe always wanted a girl, and that’s why she had Leonie visit all the time. But Aunt Phoebe never seemed like she wanted Leonie around. 

Leonie would help her aunt wash dishes, do the laundry, and dust the living room. Leonie cleaned their house more than her own.

“It’s practice,” Aunt Phoebe said. “You’ll thank me one day, for teaching you all these lessons.”

But Leonie preferred to sit around with Uncle Ted, watching old movies. Uncle Ted was a preacher once, but Mama said he swore too much in his sermons, so the church kicked him out. Leonie didn’t get it. Church taught her the word ‘hell’, so what was wrong with that?

Leonie never learned any more about that story because Mama left when she was nine. She took her clothes, some money, the coffee pot, and the good bowls. But not Leonie. Leonie wasn’t sure she wanted to leave, but she would’ve liked the option. Though Dad didn’t seem fazed, he started getting into more fights. Everyone in Waysville knew she wasn’t coming back. People said she ran off with a new boyfriend to Florida, others said she’d hop from bus to bus until she ran out of money. Leonie didn’t understand her leaving, but she knew Mama wasn’t coming back. 

“When a woman takes the good bowls, she don’t come back,” Uncle Ted said. “That’s why I make sure we got no good bowls!”

“For heaven’s sake, Ted, she’s right here.”

“She’s not listening. Besides, she needs to know my sister isn’t coming back.”

Leonie headed for the creek. By then, a new frog suitor would always appear. They were big, fat frogs and thin, lanky frogs. They were every shade of brown and all the darker greens. Never bright green like in the books. Leonie guessed either bright green frogs didn’t exist, or they didn’t need kisses.  

 But she was tired of talking to frogs. It was always a one-sided conversation. They didn’t have much to talk about besides kissing. They’d ask her about other things, but it was always expected that it was worth a kiss. 

Her uncle told her once, “Don’t ask, ‘How was your day?’, if you don’t really mean it.” The frogs hadn’t learned that lesson. 

Leonie gave up on going to the creek not long after Mama left, but the frogs refused to leave her alone. Every night they would hop on her windowsill, trying to get a kiss. Many would serenade her with croaky renditions of show tunes or Hank Williams. Occasionally, one would sing Ritchie Valens, thinking foreign words made the frog’s ribbiting more enticing. Leonie had no idea why. It’s not like she knew these songs. She had to look up the words on her aunt’s phone. Other frogs would whistle at her, call her names, and throw their tongues against the window. 

The frogs would shout out proposals, promising Leonie everything—gold, dresses, servants. They promised her the whole world if she’d kiss them. Leonie didn’t know what to do with the world if she had it. She didn’t want that responsibility.  

She told them no, and they taught her new swears before leaving. By the time she was ten, Leonie had learned to sleep despite the constant croaking outside her window. 

Leonie didn’t complain. She tried once, but Mama gave her the strangest look. So she figured everyone had their own thing. Annie had too many freckles. Bobby Jon had big ears. Leonie was courted by frogs that only she could hear. So what? It didn’t make her special. She still had homework, still had chores to do. There were far worse things than hearing frogs as far as Leonie was concerned. 

Leonie guessed her Granny was why she heard frogs. She’d never met her Granny, but every stranger in Waysville had a story about her. Granny had gone off to live in the mountains years ago, with nothing but a popcorn pan and a pair of overalls. Folks would say they see her all the time, gathering weeds and mushrooms into a wicker basket, peddling some broth for good health or a charm to ward off spirits. 

Bill, the manager of the Nell Cropsey Drugstore, told Leonie that young pregnant women that needed fixin’ would go looking for Granny.

“What she got to fix?” Leonie asked. 

“The baby,” Bill said. “Some worry it won’t be born healthy. Some worry it’ll be born. Most just want the baby to come out a certain way. Asking your Granny to make sure their baby comes out with blue eyes or no red hair or white.”

Granny was a mountain witch. That’s what it sounded like to Leonie. She used to wish she’d find her Granny when she went to the creek, and together they’d banish spirits and fix babies. Not anymore, though. Leonie figured if Granny hadn’t bothered to meet her by now, she wasn’t worth meeting.

The next day, Leonie asked Uncle Ted if Granny ever showed him any of her spells.  

“Granny ain’t no Pagan,” Uncle Ted said. 

Leonie did not know what a Pagan was, but he didn’t answer her question. 

“Granny ain’t no Pagan,” Uncle Ted repeated. “She don’t worship the devil. She’s a good Christian woman. She just knows a few natural remedies, all them old mountain women do. Don’t make her no damn witch.”

Witch or no witch, Leonie wanted to know whether her Granny could hear frogs, too. They both had red hair, maybe she inherited something else. 

Aunt Phoebe had been standing there, waiting to cash in her two cents. “If she knew magic like they say, she could’ve changed your hair color, Leonie. You’d have been such a smart girl otherwise.”

“Why is red hair a curse?” Leonie asked.

She never got an answer. She knew some people thought it was from the devil, but all the pictures of the devil she’d seen he had black hair. 

At sixteen, Leonie gave up looking for answers about frogs. She had to move in with Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Ted because Dad got arrested for attacking a neighbor while high on something. Not paying his taxes and defaulting on the house didn’t help either. Everyone seemed surprised. Not that he was in jail or lost the house, only that it had taken so long. Now, Leonie slept in her aunt and uncle’s guest room. Even there, the frogs found her.

When Leonie wasn’t in school, she was working part-time at the Nell Cropsey Drugstore. The old men that would hang around the store had lived in Waysville their whole life. They would often complain they didn’t recognize the area anymore. They told Leonie funny stories about growing up with Uncle Ted or knowing her granny. They’d curse her dad sometimes, but they never mentioned her mother. Still, they were better conversationalists than the frogs.

Leonie was at the Nell Cropsey Drugstore when the new girl arrived. Leonie looked up from her pulp novel to see a tall blonde smiling at her. She was dressed like it was Sunday Service, but it was Tuesday. Her eyes were like big marbles made of emeralds. She smelled just like strawberry ice cream on the hottest day in summer. When Leonie first saw Faye, her vision blurred.

With a feathery voice, the girl said, “Hello. I’m Faye, Faye Green. I just moved here from Charleston.”

In her silk gloves, she held chocolates. From her purse, she pulled out another purse that was her wallet. From that purse, she pulled out a coin purse to make the exact change. Most customers didn’t have purses, let alone nesting dolls of them. 

Faye’s father was a restaurateur in Charleston, known for sharing his signature fixings with folks. His food was mighty popular, old-style home cooking meets French cuisine. It made the Green’s richer than their carrot cake’s icing. Now, he was here to break bread with his northern neighbors.

When Faye started going to school with Leonie, the boys certainly noticed the new girl. They offered to carry her books, save her seats in the cafeteria, and even used cleaner language. They wouldn’t do that for their homeroom teacher. 

The girls at school seemed to worship Faye too, in a way that Leonie found girls usually didn’t. Uncle Ted described the Greens as Southern exotic, different enough to be shiny and new but still familiar. Everyone was enamored with Faye Green. Except maybe Leonie. 

In class, Faye had all these little ways of insulting Leonie. She’d correct Leonie if she used the wrong word. She’d laugh at Leonie like she was telling a joke, except Leonie didn’t know any jokes. She’d invite Leonie to sit next to her at lunch, but then someone would always be sitting next to Faye. One time, Faye brought her father’s famous macarons for the class. Everyone else had chosen a flavor, but Leonie was left with the last one in the box.

“It’s red velvet,” Faye said. “It reminded me of your hair.”

And yet, Leonie couldn’t help but notice that Faye could be nice to her too. She would greet Leonie every day in homeroom. She would wave at Leonie in passing, grinning with a smile that could grow sunflowers.

One afternoon, Faye stopped Leonie before she could walk home.

“I have to run some errands for my father tomorrow,” Faye said. “I need to pick up a few things. Will you be working at the drugstore?”

“Bill will be there.” Leonie didn’t understand why she needed to be there.

Faye tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Leonie, you can be so simple sometimes.”

Leonie was prepared to walk off, then Faye said something that almost made her trip.

“I’m not going to go shopping. I want to visit you, silly.”

Two to three times a week, Faye would visit the drugstore. Sometimes she bought chocolates or mints. Faye would always ask Leonie about her day. Unlike the frogs or the old men or her family, Faye seemed to mean it when she asked. Maybe Faye did laugh or correct her, but at least she listened. After every conversation, Leonie’s steps felt lighter. It wasn’t like wading in the creek, but when Faye would say she’d see Leonie tomorrow, Leonie felt like she was dipping her toes into something new and exhilarating. 

Leonie couldn’t put into words why Faye could make her so angry and then so happy, and that was the most frustrating thing about Faye.

When Faye announced Big Papa’s Kitchen would open, she brought a sampling of her favorite dishes for the class to share for lunch. Faye served everyone a plate packed with boiled peanuts, field peas, and a smorgasbord of shrimp and seafood. Leonie was surprised at how much she liked the salty taste. 

“Are these really your dad’s recipes?” Leonie asked.

Faye laughed. “Of course. My daddy used to be a teacher at a culinary school. He would have me and my mama try his dishes before his class. He’s a big fellow, but that’s how you know he’s a good cook.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of a father cooking.”

“I guess you would find that unusual.”

“What does that mean?”

“I just mean your dad doesn’t really cook, since he’s…you know…”

Leonie’s face flushed red. The other students were only chuckling until Zeke Timmins started hollering. And then everyone was laughing, because everyone knew—even Faye Green—the kind of tree that Leonie came from. Leonie jumped up and ran out of the classroom.

That night, Leonie couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t because of the frogs. She was thinking of Faye. She imagined Faye laughing at her, eating cuisses de grenouille with a new boy every day at her father’s restaurant.

“Who does she think she is?” Leonie asked. “Thinks she can do whatever she pleases because she’s rich and has perfect dimples.”

Leonie wracked her head against the bed frame. She couldn’t explain why she was so mad.

Her dad was a lot of things, none of them good. Leonie knew it. She didn’t care when her aunt and uncle badmouthed her folks. She wasn’t even fazed when Zeke laughed about her father’s arrest. But it hurt coming from Faye. Maybe a part of it was because Faye was the center of her father’s world. She had a dad that could do things hers couldn’t, like cooking, like keeping a job, like not being locked up. 

Leonie balled her fists and punched the wall. Why did she care so much about this girl? How could Faye drown her or save her with just one look? Leonie didn’t want to know the answer, she just wanted Faye to stop. 

Leonie looked down at her knuckles. The skin had peeled off against the wall, blood dripping onto her bedsheets. 

“You shouldn’t frown. Especially not over her.”

Startled, Leonie turned toward the window. Sitting at the frame was the biggest frog she’d ever seen. He was the size of a small pumpkin, with oily skin as red and rubbery as a ripe tomato.

“You know, I might be able to help you.”

Leonie wanted to tell him to leave, but instead she opened the window. With a single leap, the frog landed on the foot of her bed. 

His back was coated with black spots, and under his arms, curly hairs grew like ivy. He had ridges on his forehead, almost like horns.

“What kind of frog are you?”

“I’m not really a frog. I’m a prince.”

“I figured.”

“I’m called the Cain Toad.”

“Look, I’m not interested in kissing no frogs. I never will be.”

“Not even for something in return.”

“There’s nothing you can give me. Trust me, others have tried.”

“What about the girl?”

Leonie tensed up. 

“Faye needs to be taken down a peg, doesn’t she?”

“You…you can do that?”

He croaked, doubling in size. “Of course. She deserves a little shame, doesn’t she? I’d be happy to deliver it to her…for someone important to me.”

Leonie wanted to move away, but she moved closer.

“Kiss me! Kiss me and I’ll turn into your prince. I’ll punish this girl, then I’ll save you from this place. I’ll take you far, far, away. Give yourself to me and I will give you what you want most. I’ll hurt her.”

The gall of this frog. The thought of something happening to Faye confused her. Leonie wanted to pick up the frog and throw him against the wall. She wanted to crush him under her feet, beat him with a shoe, choke out his eyes. She wanted him gone. 

But she knelt on the floor and kissed him on the forehead. 

Leonie’s whole body started trembling. She pulled away, sitting on her knees, hugging herself. Her heart was beating against her, croaking in her ears. She sat there silent, trying to overcome the taste in her mouth. It was bitter and stung every time she tried to swallow. 

Leonie looked at the Cain Toad. He was happy and said something to her, but her ribbiting heartbeats drowned him out.

She fell to the ground, like gravity had snapped her spine. It felt as if the poison was punching her. Nothing had hit Leonie as hard— not falling in the mud, not her father’s knuckles, not Faye’s smile. 

When the poison finished with her body, it entered her mind. Blue became red and red became brighter red. Leonie knew she was thinking but it wasn’t with her own brain.

She had visions.

One vision was of Faye. The world was black and white, like a scene from the old shows that would play on Bill’s TV set at the drugstore. Faye was bathing in a water tower, her clothes hanging to the side. She peeked out to see Leonie driving up in a buggy. Faye gasped but smiled. She didn’t put on her clothes. She wrapped herself up in a towel and took a seat next to Leonie.

Leonie had struck oil and was leaving Waysville for the Golden State. She was taking Faye with her. 

Faye took Leonie’s hand in her own. Her hand felt as soft as Leonie imagined. Faye started telling her all the things they’d do together in California, all sorts of different foods with French names and special massages they’d have every day. She made up numbers for the thread counts of their sheets and foreign fruits that would make up their drinks. Leonie wanted to try it all.

That was when they hit a bump in the road. Faye went flying off the buggy.

Another vision was about marbles. Everybody in town was playing marbles. Chalk circles were on every street corner, and there was always a game going on. The problem was no one had any marbles. They had to use eyes.

They would make wagers with their marble eyeballs. Sometimes they would lose an eyeball, but sometimes they’d win someone else’s. Most people went walking around with different eyeballs forced into their heads.

Leonie was always playing marbles. She was always losing too.  She only had one eye left, and it wasn’t hers. She forced it into her socket, trying to see the world through the eye. 

The last vision took Leonie back to the creek, but the water was sweltering, a heat that cooked her body. She floated on her back, unable to move. 

Young pregnant women lined the creek, fishing poles in hand. They cast their rods at Leonie, sinking their hooks into her skin. They started pulling and tugging, tearing her body apart in the creek. 

The young women apologized. Said that Leonie’s Granny needed a sacrifice to fix their babies and they were good Christian women, but God couldn’t know they broke the babies they were supposed to have, so they needed Granny’s mountain magic. They were real sorry, but it had to be done and it was not like Leonie would use her body the right way. They would leave Leonie her red hair, but her pretty parts would be made into a soup to fix their unborn babies. They were good Christians and were real sorry.

When Leonie woke up she was still on the floor. She could move again. She sat up and looked over her room. There was vomit, hers she reckoned. It was still night, and the window was still open. The Cain Toad was gone. 

She stumbled into bed, too tired to sleep. Leonie lay there, staring and listening to the world outside her window. Waiting. The night was silent. 

◆

Laying in her king-sized bed, Faye found it too quiet to sleep. She stood up, ignoring the heaviness of her head, and grabbed her coat. She knew her father would be upset if she went out, but she doubted he would say anything. For the last few months, he’d hardly spoken a word to her.

As she started down a worn hiking trail, Faye tried to recall that night as best she could. Her father was driving when it started to rain. Faye swore she’d seen a frog hop into the road. Then suddenly they were swerving straight into an eastern hemlock. 

Faye woke up in the hospital the next day. Her airbag didn’t fully deploy, only cushioning the right side of her face. Faye didn’t ask about the left side. She could feel it, at first a constant itch before it began feeling worse and worse, like someone had thrown tacks into her eye. 

The doctors performed enucleation surgery, removing her left eyeball. They replaced it with a temporary implant, something like a marble, sewing it to the remaining rings of muscle tissue to hold it in place. 

A few of her classmates had visited her in the hospital. But not the person she wanted. She wished Leonie was at her bedside. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to Leonie talk. She wanted to take Leonie’s hand and hold it tightly. But she hadn’t seen Leonie since that day. No one had.

Some people said she ran into the forest to live with her granny.

“I heard they found a body floating down the river in the next county,” Zeke Timmins said. “They haven’t identified ‘em yet. Wanna bet it was her?”

“How can you say that?” Faye tried to speak with venom in her voice, but instead she warbled out the words.

“I was just saying. Probably not, but it could happen. Maybe she went to jail like her daddy?”

The first place Faye went after leaving the hospital was an ocularist. He took measurements to fit the hole and said he’d have her back for a fitting, like she was buying a prom dress. Faye got a glass eye, the same shade of green. 

Her vision returned quickly, too quickly. Faye could feel everyone looking at her, but no one would meet her gaze. She was used to being watched, of course. She always tried to appear proper and to make her father proud. She was his pride and joy; she wanted to make him happy. So she carried herself carefully. Now, she only seemed to make her father uncomfortable. The mammoth of a man had already lost thirty pounds. Faye imagined he was eaten up by guilt.

When Faye ran into Leonie’s oldest cousin, she asked if he knew when Leonie might be coming back.

“I doubt she will.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s surprised, you know? Granny left, her mama left…the women on that side of the family always get up and leave.”

The only person who seemed to miss Leonie was Bill at the Nell Cropsey Drugstore.

“Have you heard from her?” Faye asked.

Bill shook his head. He rubbed his chin. “I haven’t heard anything about her. But…”

Faye stared at him. He looked at her point-blank before sighing. “I was driving to work. Thought maybe I saw her.”

“Where?”

“I was at a stoplight. In front of me was a beat-up old black Ford. I remember the driver. Something about him. Big guy, with red hair. They went towards the highway and for a second, I thought I saw Leonie in the passenger seat.”

“Did you recognize the man?”

“If I saw him before, I’d know it.”

“Are you sure it was Leonie? Maybe it was the man’s daughter?” Faye didn’t know why, but she wanted to believe it wasn’t her.

“Could be. Could be.”

A couple of days later, Faye saw the help wanted sign in the drugstore window. 

Faye stopped walking. She had gone off the path and wandered deep into the woods. Reaching a small creek, Faye dipped her toes into the water. The water was so cold but she sank her feet deeper, wanting to feel numb. She could hear frogs all around her, croaking as if they were having a party, as if they were laughing at her. And suddenly she saw Leonie, retreating out of the classroom again. She should have gotten up. Faye closed her eyes. Wherever Leonie had gone, Faye wished she could have gone with her.