Miss Croaklyn Toad's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Croaklyn arrived at the gazebo the next morning to find a crowd gathering. Priscilla Peacock stood at the center, her feathers gleaming as she held up a sheet of paper. The other contestants leaned in to read it. When Croaklyn pushed through to see, her stomach dropped. SECRET TALENT CATEGORY ANNOUNCED. PERFORMANCES BEGIN TOMORROW AT THE STAGE. The metal gazebo behind Priscilla had been transformed overnight—lanterns hung from its frame, sheer cloth panels rippled in the breeze. This was where they would all perform. Croaklyn's throat tightened. She had no talent prepared. Nothing rehearsed. The other contestants were already chattering about their acts—singing routines, dance numbers, juggling tricks. Priscilla smiled directly at her, and Croaklyn knew this ambush had been planned. She spent the afternoon in the clearing where someone had strung rope between two tree trunks—a practice ring abandoned by another contestant. Croaklyn tried to think of something, anything she could do. She couldn't sing. Couldn't dance. Had never learned an instrument. She paced the leaf-covered ground, panic rising. Then she spotted the sequined unitard hanging from a branch—discarded, probably left behind by someone with actual talent. The fabric caught the light, shimmering blue and pink. Croaklyn grabbed it. She would wear this tomorrow and improvise. Surely the judges would be so dazzled by the sequins they wouldn't notice she had no real act. The next morning, Croaklyn stood backstage in the borrowed unitard, watching the other contestants perform their polished routines. When her name was called, she walked to the center of the metal gazebo and froze. The judges stared at her. The audience waited. She raised her arms and attempted some kind of movement—half pose, half stumble. Someone in the crowd laughed. Croaklyn held the pose longer, as if confidence could replace skill. The judges marked their papers without expression. When she walked off, she knew the sequins hadn't saved her. For the first time, she couldn't blame anyone but herself for being unprepared.