Phredde and a Frog Named Bruce and Other Stories to Eat with a Watermelon

By Jackie French

Beautiful new editions of popular titles that will entice a whole new generation of readers to the exploits of Phredde and her friends. Phredde and a Frog Named Bruce and other stories to eat with a watermelon When your teacher's a vampire, your brother's a werewolf, and a frog named Bruce refuses to try to help to save Sleeping Beauty from the Prince, what else can happen? Ages 7-12

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Dec 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9780730491279

Jackie French

Jackie French AM is an award-winning writer, wombat negotiator, the 2014–2015 Australian Children's Laureate and the 2015 Senior Australian of the Year. In 2016 Jackie became a Member of the Order of Australia for her contribution to children's literature and her advocacy for youth literacy. She is regarded as one of Australia's most popular children's authors and writes across all genres — from picture books, history, fantasy, ecology and sci-fi to her much loved historical fiction for a variety of age groups. ‘A book can change a child's life. A book can change the world' was the primary philosophy behind Jackie's two-year term as Laureate. jackiefrench.com facebook.com/authorjackiefrench

Book preview

A Bit About Stories

There are stories that move you, that become part of you, that make you think and dream…

Then there are the sorts of stories you read when school has stretched out like a long, flat road and you’re feeling totally brain dead and just want to read and laugh and eat some fruit.

These are stories for those times.

Escape stories. Silly happy stories.

Stories to eat with a banana…or a watermelon.

PS…Yes, I do mean eat.

Some people READ stories—mostly when they’re told they HAVE to go and read a story.

And some people EAT them—they way they eat potato chips or cherries…

or watermelons.

A Frog Named Bruce

It was an ordinary day at our castle.

I was dangling my legs over the battlements, watching the piranhas in our moat lurking under the drawbridge in case a cow fell in (did you know that piranhas can skeletonise a cow in ten minutes? I wonder how long it’d take them to eat a guinea pig?) and Gark our butler was sweeping up the werewolf hair on the terrace down below.

The werewolf hair was from my brother Mark.

Whenever Mark turns into a werewolf he gets fleas, and whenever he gets fleas he scratches himself.

It drives Mum crazy, but not half as crazy as it does when he lifts his leg on her geraniums. Brothers…

What was I saying? Oh, about the battlements.

Battlements are those bits on top of castles which you stand behind to pour boiling oil down on your enemies.

Not that I had any enemies, unless you count Edwin at school, and he’s really improved since Phredde turned him into a corgi, even though Mrs Olsen made her turn him back into a snotty kid ten minutes later.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, it was an ordinary day at our castle.

I was dangling my legs over the battlements watching Gark and the piranhas, and my pirate ship swaying with the waves down in the bay (our castle should really overlook the boring grey road and the shopping centre, but it’s a magic castle so it doesn’t). The sky was blue like it always is above magic castles unless you want it to rain, and the waves were going swish swish swish and I wasn’t thinking about anything much, certainly not about my homework, but then again it was only Saturday and there was no need to stress about homework for ages…

When suddenly there was a PING! beside me, and there was Phredde in bright pink joggers and matching hair…

‘What’s up?’ I demanded, alarmed.

Phredde’s a phaery, and can PING! anywhere she wants to.

But phaeries have really good manners and normally knock at the door like everyone else…well, not quite like everyone else because they’re only about as big as your hand and have to fly up to the door knocker to knock, but you know what I mean. Phredde would never just PING! right beside me, unless there was something REALLY wrong.

Phredde hovered in mid-air like an out-of-control sparkler.

‘Pru, you’ve got to help me,’ she gasped.

‘Sure,’ I said. After all, Phredde’s my best friend and something terrible must have happened to upset her. Obviously it wasn’t just some minor little problem, like wondering how to tell her parents her dragon had burnt down her bedroom again (parents always have a major stress attack about silly things like that). ‘What’s up?’

‘It’s Aunt Petunia,’ cried Phredde, and then she started to cry, which really worried me. I’d never seen her cry before.

Phredde doesn’t cry. She just gets mad. If you think a wasp is fierce when it gets mad, you haven’t seen Phredde.

‘Phredde, settle down,’ I said soothingly, patting the battlements beside me. ‘I can’t help if I don’t know what it’s all about.’

Phredde sniffed twice then zoomed down onto the battlements, her wings drooping. ‘You know my Aunt Petunia,’ she began.

‘No,’ I said. I’d met Phredde’s mum, the Phaery Splendifera, and her dad, the Phaery Valiant, and her uncle Mordred who was mostly a dragon. But that was all, I was sure. I mean phaeries tend to stick in your mind.

‘Oh. Well, Aunt Petunia’s Mum’s aunt really,’ explained Phredde. ‘Aunt Petunia’s fantastic, even better than Uncle Mordred. She doesn’t even ask how school is or dumb stuff like that, but she does get a bit…well, sort of vague sometimes. And now she’s really in trouble! Everyone’s angry with her, and Mum says that if she doesn’t stop making a muddle of things she won’t even ask her to Christmas dinner, because who knows what she might do, and…’

‘But what’s Aunt Petunia done?’ I cried.

Phredde sniffed again. ‘It wasn’t her fault,’ she said defensively. ‘She just wanted to help, that’s all. Aunt Petunia’s always trying to help.’

‘Phredde…’ I said warningly.

‘It’s all Aunt Dandelion’s fault anyway…’ sniffed Phredde.

I blinked. It was getting hard to keep all these phaery relatives straight.

‘Who’s Aunt Dandelion?’ I demanded.

‘She’s Mum’s aunt on her dad’s side. You see Aunt Dandelion had a baby called Pinkerbelle…’

‘You mean Tinkerbelle,’ I corrected.

‘No, Pinkerbelle,’ insisted Phredde, fluttering her wings like a berserk bee…she always does that when she’s upset. ‘Tinkerbelle’s my second cousin on Dad’s side of the family. She’s a real pain. She’s got a crush on this really dumb boy…’

‘Not Peter Pan?’ I interrupted.

‘Yeah. How did you know?’ demanded Phredde, surprised.

‘I just guessed. Anyway, go on about Pinkerbelle.’

‘Well, Aunt Dandelion asked Aunt Petunia to be Pinkerbelle’s Phaery Godmother, because if you’re a Phaery Princess you have to have a Phaery Godmother.’

‘How come she’s a Phaery Princess?’ I asked.

‘Well, everyone on Mum’s side of the family is a Phaery Princess,’ said Phredde reasonably. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘No.’ I said. ‘Hey, are you a Phaery Princess too?’

Phredde looked mutinous. ‘I can’t help it. If you tell anyone, I’ll spit!’

‘I think it’s cool,’ I began, then stopped when I saw Phredde’s expression. ‘Okay, okay! you’re a Phaery Princess but I’ll keep quiet about it. Continue with the story.’

‘Well,’ said Phredde. ‘Aunt Petunia gave baby Pinkerbelle a magic gift, just like Phaery Godmothers always do…’

Phredde suddenly looked like she was about to burst into tears again.

I was beginning to see where all this was heading. ‘What sort of magic gift?’ I demanded.

‘A really nice gift,’ sniffed Phredde. ‘A sensible gift. Everyone’s always saying that Aunt Petunia’s never sensible, so this time she thought she’d choose something really…’ Phredde’s voice died away.

‘Out with it, Phredde,’ I said.

‘It was a spell so that as soon as Pinkerbelle turned twenty-one she’d always get a good night’s sleep,’ said Phredde defensively. ‘You know how important a good night’s sleep is. Mrs Olsen’s always telling us.’

(Mrs Olsen’s a vampire and sleeps in her coffin, mostly in short naps during the day, but like all teachers she’s really good at giving kids advice.)

‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ I asked.

‘The spell went wrong,’ said Phredde in a small voice. ‘Aunt Petunia used too much phaery dust.

‘And now Pinkerbelle’s twenty-one, and she’s fast asleep, and no one can wake her up and her roses are growing wild all over the castle…did I tell you Pinkerbelle breeds roses? Magic roses…and Mum’s furious and says that Aunt Petunia has really done it this time and no one can come up with a counter spell because Aunt Petunia can’t remember her original formula and she’s my favourite aunt and I’m soooo unhappy!’ wailed Phredde.

Well, the whole story was starting to sound familiar. I mean really familiar.

‘Er, Phredde,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ sniffed Phredde.

‘Have you ever heard of the story of Sleeping Beauty?’

‘No,’ sniffed Phredde.

‘Well, it’s all about this evil phaery…’

‘My Aunt Petunia’s not evil!’ sparked Phredde.

‘Shhhh. Just listen will you? It’s just a story…This phaery casts a spell on this kid so that when she turns twenty-one she’ll prick her finger on a rose thorn and then she’ll sleep for a hundred years.’

‘That’s sort of like what happened,’ agreed Phredde. ‘Hey, how did you know about the bit with the rose thorn?’

‘It’s part of the story. It’s a really old fairy…I mean phaery…story. You know, one of those soppy stories parents always read little kids.’

‘But what happens in the end?’ demanded Phredde, entranced.

‘Well, it all turns out happily.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, sure. Because this other fairy, I mean phaery, turns up, and she says she can’t undo the spell, but she’ll cast another one to make it all better in the end.’

‘Good thinking,’ agreed Phredde.

‘And this new spell makes this handsome prince turn up and hack his way through the roses to the castle and kiss the sleeping beauty…’

‘Oh yuk!’ cried Phredde.

‘And she wakes up and they get married and live happily ever after,’ I concluded.

I expected Phredde to be really cheered up by this. It WAS a happy ending, after all.

But she looked at me with horror. ‘A handsome prince?’

‘Yep.’

‘And he KISSES her?’

‘Yep.’

‘Urrk!