Where Did the Frog Go?

Where Did the Frog Go? - Jaysie Ho (Carlmont High School, Tenth Grade)

“Would everyone PLEASE calm down!” Ms. Principal yelled as loudly as she could into

the microphone. The whole auditorium was buzzing with noise. Timmy, sporting a bright pink

hat to cover his spiky hair, swiveled his head, trying to find his best friend, Jimmy, amid the

audience. Timmy could barely see a small hand waving at him and pushed his way through

groups of students who turned to stare at Timmy’s neon orange hoodie.

“Hi,” Timmy smiled at his friend, still huffing and puffing.

“Just in time,” Jimmy whispered, smoothing out his white button-down shirt as Ms.

Principal began to talk.

“Students and teachers of High School, I would like to make an announcement. Popo the

Frog has gone missing. Th-” Ms. Principal was cut off by the shocked murmurs spreading

through the crowd. Popo the Frog? The school mascot? The lovable purple costume? Missing?

“But doesn’t Popo disappear a lot? He's always found within the school, though,” Timmy

breathed out.

“Yeah, but this time it's different,” Jimmy replied, remembering a mysterious glow

around the football field during the last game.

A shrill blast from Mr. Coach’s whistle startled everyone into silence. “LET MS.

PRINCIPAL FINISH!” Mr. Coach bellowed, waving his arms in the air. His face turned beet red

as the room erupted in suppressed laughter. Mr. Coach wrang his leather-gloved hands in

embarrassment. He was a large, burly man with an eccentric sense of style—Mr. Coach’s

mismatched socks and brightly colored athletic wear always made him appear slightly out of

place.

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“Thank you, Mr. Coach,” Ms. Principal said calmly, fidgeting with the bottom of her

leather blazer. She stood with an air of confidence that came with being an authoritative person.

“As I was saying, Popo the Frog disappeared. The mascot was last seen in its respective room by

the freshman Mimmy. She was putting Popo away after the last home game. Popo has not been

seen since.”

Accusatory eyes turned to Mimmy, who sat in the front row. She flushed bright pink and

fidgeted with a beaded bracelet that, according to Mimmy, had special powers.

“She’s the top student in the school and a teacher’s pet,” Timmy whispered to his friend.

Jimmy shook his head in disgust.

"Yeah, but have you noticed how she always knows everything?" Jimmy replied. "It's

almost like she's everywhere at once." Timmy nodded his head, deep in thought.

As Ms. Principal droned on, Timmy and Jimmy turned their chairs towards each other

and started to play thumb war to pass the time, tuning out the rest of the announcements.

As Timmy was about to win his seventh game of thumb war, the sound of chairs scraping

the floor caught their attention. They hastily stood up and followed the rest of the students into

the hallways for lunch.

“Race you to the lunch line!” Timmy shouted. Jimmy laughed and chased after Timmy.

The two friends ran as fast as they could, dodging and pushing through the crowd. Jimmy slipped

on a piece of purple fabric that seemed to have just appeared on the floor and fell into a group of

giggling girls. Panting, Timmy stepped into the lunch line before Jimmy could brush himself off.

“I won!” Timmy shouted triumphantly and rumpled up his hair. Jimmy looked annoyed

and started to flatten his hair, which had been messed up during his collision. As they both

caught their breaths, a group of students in front of them started arguing.

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“I’ll find our mascot first!” one student boasted loudly.

“I don’t think so,” a second student replied. “I’ll find Popo before you and earn that 200

extra credit points Ms. Principal promised!”

“Hey, 200 extra credit points? What’s that about?” Jimmy interrupted.

“Bruh, are you deaf?” The first person asked Jimmy as they neared the front of the lunch

line. “Ms. Principal just announced that whichever student found Popo the Frog first would get

200 extra credit points on their report card.”

“That’s crazy,” Jimmy said to Timmy as they got their food.

“We should try to find Popo,” Timmy said, eyes gleaming with greed. “I need those 200

extra credit points to improve my grade.”

“I want them too,” Jimmy replied. “What if we work together and split the extra credit?

I’m sure Ms. Principal would allow it.” Timmy nodded in agreement, and they spent lunchtime

developing a game plan to find Popo. When the bell rang, they went to their different classrooms,

ready to put their plan into action.

Timmy’s next class was P.E. with Mr. Coach. As the students entered the locker rooms to

change, Timmy slipped into Mr. Coach’s office. Immediate clues caught his eye—a torn piece of

purple fabric, which oddly matched the hue of Popo the frog’s costume, on the basketball rack

and greenish-colored papers strewn across the floor with dirty shoe marks on them. The sound of

the door closing made Mr. Coach jump.

“Oh! Timmy! Y-you should be c-changing right now,” Mr. Coach stammered.

“Sorry, Coach,” Timmy grinned. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding

Popo the Frog.”

“Go ahead,” Mr. Coach murmured, shuffling his feet.

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“Are you an alien?” Timmy asked in all seriousness. Mr. Coach stood, blinking

confusedly at Timmy.

"What makes you think I'm an alien?" Mr. Coach asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, for one, you always wear those leather gloves, and your socks never match. Plus,

you have this strange greenish tint to your skin," Timmy replied, eyeing Mr. Coach's peculiar

ensemble of bright athletic wear and mismatched socks.

“No, I don’t think I am an alien,” Mr. Coach said slowly, articulating each word, for

Timmy’s expression showed disrespect.

“Prove it,” Timmy nearly shouted in excitement and anticipation at his teacher. “Take off

those leather gloves. I know you’re hiding something under there.”

“I-I refuse,” Mr. Coach shook his head. “Now go to the locker room, or I’ll deduct points

from your participation g-grade.” Timmy opened his mouth to retort but found nothing to say. He

nodded and retreated, sneaking the purple fabric into his pocket as he left the office.

Meanwhile, Jimmy’s next class was math with Ms. Math. Ms. Math was strict, her stern

demeanor reflected in her tight bun and the immaculate rows of equations on the chalkboard. As

all the students sat at their desks and started taking out their books, Jimmy confidently

approached Ms. Math to interview her.

“Ms. Math, I was wondering if you knew anything related to the disappearance of Popo

the Frog,” Jimmy said sweetly to Ms. Math.

“No, I don’t know anything, Jimmy,” Ms. Math replied curtly. “As you know, this

classroom is the farthest from Popo’s room. If that is your only question, please sit down, as I

need to start class.”

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“I just thought that someone could have taken Popo out for repairs and misplaced it,”

Jimmy said hastily.

“No, I don’t know anything, Jimmy,” Ms. Math repeated. “Now sit down so I can start

the lesson, or you’ll get a pop quiz.” Jimmy shuffled back to his seat, dejected.

“Psst,” someone whispered. Jimmy looked up to find Mimmy staring at him. “You’re

searching for clues about Popo the Frog, right?” Jimmy nodded, intrigued, but skeptical, for

Mimmy was a teachers’ pet. “I saw Ms. Math last week in the faculty room making copies of

something on chartreuse cardstock, the same color of paper used for Popo’s maintenance

instructions. Also, Ms. Math was in charge of Popo’s maintenance the day the mascot

disappeared.”

“How do you know that?” Jimmy whispered to Mimmy.

“I just do,” Mimmy replied eerily.

Jimmy seemed doubtful as he turned his head to the front of the classroom to listen to

Ms. Math’s lecture.

Timmy and Jimmy had their next class, The Science of Making Peanut Butter class,

together. The class was taught by Mr. Peanut, who did indeed look like the infamous planter’s

mascot, with his monocle and cane. Mr. Peanut was old, his hair graying and his movements

slow but deliberate. There was an air of distrust surrounding him, often noticeable in the way

other teachers interacted with him—cautious and guarded. The two boys took out their

notebooks and pens and started to write. After Mr. Peanut’s introduction to how the Incans

ground their peanuts into peanut butter, Timmy ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook

and threw it to Jimmy. Jimmy ripped out paper from his notebook and threw it to Timmy.

Mimmy, who sat to Timmy's left, glared at the two of them, evidently annoyed at the disruption.

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Jimmy read Timmy’s note: Mr. Coach sus. Won’t show hands - I think he’s alien;

chartreuse colored paper on the floor. Stole purple fabric from his desk.

Timmy read Jimmy’s note: Ms. Math sus. Says she doesn’t know anything, but she’s the

one in charge of Popo’s maintenance. Mimmy said Ms. Math was making copies of green paper

last week.

“MR. PEANUT, PLEASE REPORT TO THE OFFICE AFTER HOURS FOR AN

INTERVIEW,” the loudspeaker sounded. Mr. Peanut stopped mid-sentence, and Timmy and

Jimmy looked up. Mr. Peanut flushed red. His hands started to shake, as if he had just been

caught doing something wrong. Timmy and Jimmy exchanged meaningful glances. There was a

few seconds of silence, then Mr. Peanut continued the class.

The bell rang 49 minutes later, signaling the end of the school day. Timmy and Jimmy

rushed out and started the long trek to Jimmy’s house, discussing the disappearance of the

mascot.

“Mr. Peanut looked suspicious when he was called out,” Jimmy noted.

“Yeah, he should be added to the suspect list,” Timmy nodded. “By the way, what do you

think of Mr. Coach?”

“He’s definitely a suspect because of the purple cloth and chartreuse-colored paper,”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Okay, but besides that, I can guarantee he’s an alien,” Timmy smiled at his conclusive

thought.

“Timmy. Just because Mr. Coach doesn’t want to show you his hands does not make him

an alien,” Jimmy sighed, exasperated.

“It so does,” Timmy shot back at his friend.

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“If Mr. Coach is an alien, how will he help us find Popo?” Jimmy asked.

“Popo’s an alien too,” Timmy said gravely.

“Whatever,” Jimmy replied.

Jimmy fumbled with his house keys as they approached his front yard. Timmy followed

Jimmy downstairs to the basement, which doubled as Jimmy’s room.

“Fine. Maybe Mr. Coach isn’t an alien,” Timmy nodded. “We should make a game plan

to find more clues.”

“Finally, you’re talking sense,” Jimmy said. He strode toward his whiteboard, with

Timmy trailing behind carrying a box of markers.

Two hours and 24 minutes later, the boys had a solid plan. They decided to sneak back

into school after dinner to spy on their teachers (since they practically lived at High School).

Only after school hours, when the teachers let their guard down, could they uncover any secrets.

Timmy and Jimmy quickly snarfed down a box of chicken nuggets—courtesy of Jimmy’s

mother—and headed out onto the street.

The sun had nearly set by the time Timmy and Jimmy arrived back at the school. They

snuck through the back entrance and split up. Timmy made his way to the administration office,

where Ms. Principal was likely interviewing Mr. Peanut. Meanwhile, Jimmy headed straight for

Popo the Frog's room.

Timmy stuck to the wall like glue and tiptoed to Ms. Principal’s office. The door was

slightly open for ventilation (the school was built without air conditioning), allowing Timmy to

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overhear every word spoken inside. Just as Jimmy predicted, Ms. Principal was interviewing Mr.

Peanut at 7 pm on the dot, which was when all interviews happened.

“As you're aware, many teachers suspect you of taking Popo the Frog,” Ms. Principal

stated firmly, her voice carrying through the crack in the door. "Ms. Math saw you entering

Popo's room on the day of the mascot's disappearance while she was in the faculty room copying

papers. Care to explain?"

“Well,” Mr. Peanut started, licking his lips nervously. “As the teacher of the Science of

Making Peanut Butter class, I needed to make peanut butter for my students, and was making

peanut butter the day that Popo disappeared.” Ms. Principal nodded, as the claim was valid.

“I left the room to wash my hands in the bathroom down the hall after I had finished

making the peanut butter,” Mr. Peanut continued. “When I returned to my room, I noticed the

peanut butter was gone, and a bunch of purple fuzz from purple fabric was spread around the

room. I knew at once Popo had eaten my peanut butter.”

“Popo is a costume worn by Mr. Coach during school events, not something that could

start walking and eating peanut butter,” Ms. Principal interrupted, looking skeptical.

"I know, but what else could have made such a mess and taken my peanut butter?" Mr.

Peanut countered. "I went to Popo's room to check, and he was missing. That's when I came

straight here to report it."

“Ah yes, a well-devised script made by a well-versed man!” Mr. Coach shouted from the

corner of Ms. Principal’s office. Timmy flinched. He did not notice Mr. Coach standing with Ms.

Principal. Ms. Principal nodded in agreement with Mr. Coach’s statement.

“Yes, I agree. "Your story seems rather convenient, Mr. Peanut," Ms. Principal remarked

coolly. "Especially considering your history of fabricating stories."

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Mr. Peanut had lied in the past? That was certainly suspicious. Timmy peeked at his

watch. He had long surpassed his stay. Timmy quickly made his way to the school storage room

where he and Jimmy had agreed to meet at 7:15 pm.

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered when Timmy arrived at the storage room and closed the door

behind him. “Ready to start?” Timmy recounted everything he had heard to Jimmy.

“Is that all you heard?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, but you know what I think? I think Ms. Principal is a time traveler. Mr. Peanut

would never lie. This is most definitely his first time lying.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope! Hear me out. If this really is Mr. Peanut’s first lie, but Ms. Principal said

otherwise, then she must be from the future, hearing the same lie twice!” Timmy declared.

“I’m starting to reconsider ever partnering with you,” Jimmy shook his head in disgust.

His hand reached for the doorknob and pulled. The door did not budge. Jimmy shook the

doorknob vigorously.

“Let me help,” Timmy put his hands on Jimmy’s shoulder. Together, they pulled. Hard.

“I think we’re locked in here,” Jimmy said slowly.

“Did you push?” Timmy asked with a grin appearing on his face.

“3...2...1..!” Jimmy and Timmy grunted and pushed hard at the door. It opened easily.

The boys tumbled out and tripped over each other. Timmy’s hands flew up to the walls for

support, and triggered the fire alarm.

“RUN!” Jimmy yelled, too startled to scold his friend. Jimmy did not want to get caught

and punished. That would certainly reduce his chances of getting extra credit. Red lights flashed

and a deafening screech filled the halls. The boys bolted towards the nearest exit and burst

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through the door. From the left, Ms. Principal and Mr. Coach sprinted towards them, their faces

contorted with rage. Jimmy turned right, with Timmy close behind.

“THERE!” Timmy shouted to Jimmy, pointing at an intersection. They could escape

there.

Jimmy glimpsed back. Ms. Principal was slowing down, breathing heavily, while Mr.

Coach seemed unstoppable. Timmy sped up, turning left at the intersection and sprinting down

the street. He dashed up the driveway of his house and slammed the door behind him.

Jimmy continued straight at the intersection. His legs were in pain, but the adrenaline

made him run even faster. He could almost see his house. Jimmy was about three houses away

from his own home when Mr. Coach whispered in Jimmy’s ear.

“Too late,” Mr. Coach said, his voice a stern echo in the empty street. Jimmy’s heart sank

as he realized he was caught.

“GROUNDED!” Jimmy texted Timmy in anger later that night. “Grounded AND

detention for a WEEK!” He was left on read.

The two friends barely got to see each other in the morning, and when they passed each

other in the halls, their usual banter was muted by the weight of Jimmy’s punishment. It wasn’t

until lunch that they found a moment to speak.

“That sucks,” Timmy mumbled to Jimmy in response to the latter slamming his tray

down at the table.

“Yes, it does,” Jimmy seethed, his voice low and tense. “All because YOU pulled the fire

alarm.”

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“But it was fun!” Timmy's face lit up with excitement. “I love running.” Jimmy's

frustration boiled over into a cry of annoyance.

“You,” Jimmy pointed an accusatory finger at Timmy, “you always ruin everything!

We’re done. We’re not partners anymore. If you find Popo, you get all 200 points. If I find Popo,

I get all 200 points.”

“You’re so boring!” Timmy shot back, his voice rising above the din of the cafeteria,

ignoring Jimmy’s words about the points. “All your ideas are unimaginative because you’re

overly cautious!”

“Well, your ideas are a huge distraction!” Jimmy’s voice matched Timmy’s intensity.

People at nearby tables began to stare at the escalating argument. “Everything you think of is

unrealistic! You’ve watched too many movies!”

Before Timmy could retaliate, Jimmy abruptly stood up, the clatter of utensils against his

lunch tray echoing loudly in the sudden silence of the cafeteria. His face flushed with anger,

Jimmy shot a piercing glare at Timmy before storming out without another word. Timmy stood

there, stunned by the sudden turn of events and the harsh words exchanged between them.

Later that evening, Timmy lay in bed, tossing a bouncy ball in the air and catching it

repeatedly, his mind replaying the argument with Jimmy. He felt defeated and frustrated that he

had lost his partner in crime. Hoping for inspiration, he hopped off his bed and scanned his shelf.

His eyes fell upon a pair of old yearbooks. Yes, maybe there was a way to prove himself right

and find Popo.

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There had always been a rumor circulating about a ghost of a student from 30 years ago

haunting the halls of High School and causing mischief. Timmy speculated that this ghost might

have taken Popo the Frog to create chaos. However, he needed the ghost’s name to investigate

further, a detail he had forgotten over time. Determined, Timmy promised himself he’d visit the

school library the next day to search through the old yearbooks for clues.

What did all the suspects have in common? That question lingered in Jimmy's mind as he

lay in bed later that night. He recalled Timmy's suspicions: Ms. Principal, possibly a time

traveler, Mr. Coach, maybe an alien, and Mr. Peanut, the teacher accused of lying. Then there

was Ms. Math, who was in charge of maintenance the day Popo disappeared. That was it! Jimmy

could investigate Popo’s maintenance logs to uncover potential clues. Satisfied with his plan,

Jimmy closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep, his mind buzzing with thoughts of

unraveling the mystery surrounding Popo’s disappearance.

The next morning, Jimmy woke up with a renewed sense of determination. As he got

ready for school, he reviewed his plan mentally. He would need to discreetly access the faculty

room and check Popo’s logs during a free period. His mother called from downstairs, reminding

him to grab a quick breakfast before heading out. Jimmy rushed through his morning routine, his

thoughts already occupied with the tasks ahead.

During lunchtime at school, Timmy found himself in the library, meticulously searching

through the old yearbooks for any mention of a ghost. His fingers brushed against the dusty

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covers, pulling out each volume with anticipation. When he finally located the one from 30 years

ago, Timmy carefully blew off the accumulated dust and opened it, hoping to find a clue.

To his surprise, as Timmy flipped through the pages, a shiny object fell out onto the floor.

Timmy bent down to pick it up and discovered a silver key. Intrigued, he pocketed the key,

wondering what it might unlock. He glanced at his watch; there were still 16 minutes left of

lunch. Determined to continue his search for clues, Timmy hurriedly put the yearbook away and

left the library, eager to explore further.

Timmy rushed down the hallway, his mind racing with excitement. Unbeknownst to him,

Jimmy was sprinting from the opposite direction. The chaotic collision between the two friends

caused the key to fly out of Timmy’s pocket and a piece of paper to slip from Jimmy’s hands.

“Jimmy!” Timmy gasped in astonishment. “What are you doing?” Jimmy ignored

Timmy.

Timmy's expression fell. He quickly retrieved the key from the floor. His eyes went to the

paper Jimmy seemed desperate to recover—it was a map with a depiction of a key. It was not a

typical map key, however. It was the design of a literal, metal key.

“What’s that?” Timmy asked, pointing to the map curiously, the key in his fist becoming

more prominent in his mind.

“None of your business. Now, I just need to find the key,” Jimmy mumbled.

“Key? You mean this one?” Timmy held up the key he had found. Jimmy’s eyes squinted

and darted up and down the blade of the key. The blade of the key matched up perfectly with the

inscription on the map. Jimmy snatched the key and darted away. Timmy, not comprehending

Jimmy’s realization, became indignant that the key had been taken from him. He chased after

Jimmy into the gym.

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“Hey, wait a minute!” Timmy yelled as he saw Jimmy crossing the gym. Jimmy stopped

at a door Timmy had never paid much attention to–it blended in with the wall. Jimmy ignored

Timmy and slid the key into the keyhole. The lock clicked open, and Jimmy slipped inside,

unaware that Timmy was right behind him. Jimmy turned around to lock the door and jumped

when he saw Timmy.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy asked, momentarily forgetting his anger in his

surprise.

“That was my key you took,” Timmy responded, annoyed.

Jimmy looked at the key in his hand. “Oh,” he said.

Timmy crossed his arms, smirking. “See? My so-called ‘wild ideas’ actually solved a

clue this time.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, one out of your three theories turned out to be true.

What happened to the other two?”

“They remain unsolved,” Timmy said ominously.

Jimmy chuckled slightly, lowering his gaze. “I was wrong to dismiss you, and I’m sorry.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for what? Taking the key or not believing me?”

“Both,” Jimmy admitted. “I thought you were just messing around and trying to stop me

from finding Popo. I didn’t think you’d actually be right about something for once.”

Timmy's face softened. “Well, sometimes a second chance pays off. Maybe we could try

trusting each other more?”

Jimmy smiled. “Deal. Let’s work together on this.”

“Together on what?” a voice asked. Both boys turned and saw the translucent head of

Mimmy floating through the wall. Jimmy screamed, staring in shock.

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“Where’s your body?” Jimmy asked, fear knocking all logic from his brain.

“Oh! I’m a ghost,” Mimmy said casually, suspiciously nodding at her glowing beaded

bracelet before floating away.

“Uh huh,” Timmy nodded. “So, let's pretend that didn’t just happen. Teamwork makes

the dream work!”

The two friends shook hands, still trembling slightly. They started to look around the

secret room for clues. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy noticed a slip of chartreuse paper on

the floor. He bent down, picked it up, and read it aloud.

“My name is Popo,” the note read. “I look like a frog costume, but I am a magical frog at heart.

I’m going to the swamp to find my friends! Bye, High School!”