Return to Sender by Kevin Henkes

CHAPTER 1
Dear Frogman
    I T ALL STARTED when Whitaker Murphy sent a letter to Frogman. “Honey,” said his mother, “I really think it’s just a waste of time.” His father said, “Listen, Whit, it can’t hurt to try. Just don’t feel bad if you don’t get an answer.” Molly, his little sister, screamed and said that she’d die if Frogman wrote back. That was all the incentive he needed.
    Whitaker wasn’t sure where Frogman lived, so he simply wrote the words
    FROGMAN—SUPER HERO
    in large capital letters across an envelope, put his own return address in the upper left-hand corner, stuck on plenty of stamps, and mailed it at the box downtown.
    When Orson Pitt, the head clerk at the post office, saw the envelope, he grumbled and groaned. “It’s things like this that slow up the service,” he muttered as he stamped Return to Sender, Not Deliverable As Addressed on the envelope. “Dumb kids.”
    Then the letter was placed in one of the cubbyholes in the shelves above Barney Edwards’s desk. He was Whitaker’s mailman.
    Barney first noticed the letter as he shuffled up the Murphy front walk. He saw the stamp. And he saw the words FROGMAN—SUPER HERO. He chuckled. Barney knew the Murphy children and he was certain that Whitaker would be terribly disappointed if he didn’t get a reply, so he gingerly put the letter in his shirt pocket and continued on his route.
    That night at home, after a dinner of three grilled cheese sandwiches, apple slices, corn chips, and cinnamon ice cream, Barney opened the envelope and read the letter. It said:
    Dear Frogman,
    Were you born a frog? Do you really live underwater? Is your skin really green? Or is it fake?
    Your friend,
Whitaker Murphy
    P.S. My sister Molly is afraid of you.
    P.S.S. She thinks you are slimy and ugly.
    Barney found some stationery, took out his old Remington typewriter, and wrote this reply:
    Dear Mr. Murphy,
    Yes, I was born a frog. Yes, I really live underwater, but just part of the time. And yes, my skin is really green.
    Your amphibious* friend,
Frogman
    P.S. I am not afraid of Molly.
    P.S.S. I am not slimy and ugly.
    *Go ahead and look that up in your dictionary!
    Just for fun, Barney signed Frogman’s name in green magic marker. After addressing the envelope to Whitaker, Barney sprinkled a few drops of water on it, blurring the letters a bit, for a touch of authenticity. Then he set the envelope on the kitchen table, next to his vitamins, so that he wouldn’t forget it in the morning.
    The late-August sun was hidden behind Franklinville, Wisconsin’s tallest structure—the water tower—by the time Barney turned the corner onto Kewaunee Street. Whitaker lived on Kewaunee—third from the corner—in the square blue house with the long, rambling porch. Ivy leaves, like musical notes, sang their way up and down and around the railings.
    Whitaker and Molly were sitting on the porch steps, waiting for Barney.
    â€œSee, Molly,” Whitaker explained, pointing to the water tower, “it really is a spaceship. It’s just disguised as a water tower.”
    â€œI don’t believe you,” Molly said as she dressed her doll and carefully brushed its golden hair.
    Whitaker raised his hands in disgust. “Why else do you think it’s painted silver or has that red light that blinks on and off at night, then?”
    Molly looked at Whitaker. “Last time you scared me, Daddy told me that the light is so airplanes don’t hit it in the dark.”
    â€œWRONG,” Whitaker protested. He took the doll away from Molly and held it by its hair. “This dumb doll is really one of the space creatures. And tonight while you’re asleep, it’s going to turn green like Frogman and eat you!”
    Molly didn’t even try to get her doll back. She just ran into the house, shrieking, “MO-O-O-O-o-o-o-om!”
    Whitaker was too absorbed