Free Oddest of All by Bruce Coville

Froglandia, and his life span, for a mere human. But love does that to frogs.
    â€œAnyway, the point is that you, Dennis, have a small but still significant component of frog blood within you, waiting to assert itself. This explains, by the way, why you have been attracted to swamps all your life.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œOh, don’t try to deny it. We’ve watched you gaze longingly into our murky waters. We’ve listened to your sighs. Search your heart, Dennis Juggarum. Isn’t it true that when you stand at the edge of the swamp something in your blood cries out, ‘Home. That’s
home!
’”
    Dennis stared at the king in astonishment. Speaking very slowly, he said, “You’re telling me that I’m part frog?”
    â€œYes. A distant relative, in fact.”
    Dennis gulped and hoped his eyes weren’t bulging too much.
    â€œOf course, you’re not the only cousin-several-times-removed we have wandering around the human world,” continued the king. “But you are the only one who happened to be close to a swamp at the moment, which meant you were the one we turned to for help. After all, we can’t just go hopping into the city and haul people off the streets.” He chuckled at the thought, the sound reverberating in his enormous throat.
    â€œWhat is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” asked Dennis uneasily.
    The king’s tongue flicked out and snagged a passing insect the size of a small bird. He swallowed, then said, “As you have seen, my subjects are suffering disastrous effects from the chemicals being leaked into the water. Frogdom has many levels, of course, and at the moment it is only the smallest of my people who are suffering—the ones tied most closely to your world. But that which happens to the least of my subjects is of concern to me. Am I not their king? What I want, Dennis, is for you to go to the man causing the pollution and make him stop!”
    â€œHe won’t listen to me. I’m just a kid.”
    â€œHe’ll listen if you go to him as a giant talking frog.”
    Cold fear prickled along Dennis’s neck. When he finally managed to speak past his confusion, the words came as a whispered “You want me to become a frog?”
    â€œExactly!” cried the king, leaping to his feet. “I want you to arise as the righteous avenger of all frogdom and terrify these despoilers of our waters. Hop into their hearts as a symbol of the wrath of nature—nature aroused and angry—nature that will rend them from limb to limb if they persist in their evil ways. I want you, Dennis, to become a crusading frog of doom!”
    â€œYou want me to become a frog,” whispered Dennis again.
    â€œOh, not permanently,” said the king, airily waving a long green hand. “You’re not built for it, long term. But just as tadpoles transform themselves into frogs, you have the bloodlines to do the same thing. You just need a little . . . prodding.”
    â€œWhat kind of prodding?” asked Dennis out loud. In his mind he was saying,
Don’t panic. It’s only a dream!
    Reaching out with his scepter, the king struck the gong that hung next to his throne. Its clang was like the croak of a metallic frog.
    â€œYeah, yeah, yeah,” grumbled a hoarse voice, the words seeming to come from the ground itself. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
    A sudden hiss of steam beside the throne made Dennis step back. The ground bubbled, which was an alarming sight, and the steam gathered into a swirling cloud that turned green then vanished. In its place stood a stoop-shouldered old frog with wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He wore a dark green robe covered with stars and moons. Cupped between his green fingers was a wooden goblet with lilies carved around its stem. Steam flowed over the edge of the goblet, falling to the ground like mist. There it curled around the old