"Alright you, tell us whatcha know."
Johnny accused, pointing a flashlight into the agitated frog's face as I held it in my hands.

It had been a few weeks after the incident and we had finally agreed upon never speaking of it again.

Today we were on the run looking for a huge alien in disguise as if we were Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the X-Files.

This "alien" was a fugitive hiding from the CIA who had the tendency to suck and slurp out an animal's, or human being's, organs with their long tongues.

Completely destroying them.

As anyone could guess, this one was my idea this time.

Instead of us standing in the shallow end of the pond outside, near the woods and my house—where we really were—we were in a dark, old, and abandoned warehouse where we had just cornered the creature.

In reality, a few ominous storm clouds had gathered and rolled in to cry with their resounding catcalls.

Also, I was becoming a bit annoyed.

Why he always got the opportunity to play bad cop when I always had to play good cop, I wouldn't know. And it really bothered me.

"John!!"

"Yeah Mom!?" Johnny called back.

"Will you guys come inside?" She looked down at us from the porch, "It's about to rain and we need to find Annabelle."

Annabelle, Johnny's twin sister that didn't look at all like him, was found playing with her dolls in my room.

Her long, black hair was tied in two braids that trailed down her back. If taken out, these braids would become messy curls that would flow down around her waist.

Not like Johnny's short, wavy, golden hair that curled around his ears.

Icy blue eyes always met me with welcoming joy as she'd silently and shyly put her dolls down.

Her eyes were not at all like John's sapphire green ones, that seemed to reflect and sparkle into different hidden shades of colors.

Sometimes, it was difficult to even see them as being related, more so as brother and sister.

They were just so . . . So different in so many ways.

While John was outgoing, Annabelle was introverted.

While he was opinionated and sometimes a bit rude, and dare I say, feisty, she was calm, polite, and agreeable.

She was the pure definition of girly-girl, at least, in my eyes.

Her and I barely had that much of a connection when compared to Johnny and I.

Yeah, we talked, we played, we did stuff together that I never really got to do with anyone else.

But the truth is: she was hard to get along with at times.

I just wasn't so into doing the "girl stuff", so we didn't really do that much. Also, whenever we did do things together, they'd tend to bore me.

I've always had the tendency to become bored easily. In my life, I needed constant excitement.

She really didn't offer that when she would ask me which skirt was better for which doll.

"Your mom wanted to know where you were." I spoke plainly.

Uncrossing my arms, I noticed that she was still waiting for more of an explanation.

When I didn't give her one, she said "Ok."

And then she smiled cheerfully as she went, literally hopping, to tell her mother that she was in my room.

- - - - - -

Coming back into the kitchen, I had walked in to find little Annabelle in great distress.

"But mother--"

"Ah-ah-ah" she tsked.

"I said that you need to get your things so we can leave. It's getting pretty late as it is, and we don't want to impose on your friend and her father." She guided her daughter along and gently pushed her back so that she would get moving.

What!

They were leaving already?

It seemed as if they had just arrived.

"It's really no trouble to us if you want to stay." My Daddy generously offered.

But the woman waved him off saying, "No I couldn't do that, besides . . ." I had left by then to find Johnny, again.

Finally finding him, which really wasn't that strenuous, I told him about what I had overheard.

"Darn!" He groaned as he pushed the ground with his foot to make the porch swing swing faster.

With trepidation, I sat down next to him and began swinging as well.

To my great astonishment, I observed that he still had the frog in his hands.

When asking him why, he responded with "You wouldn't think I would let him get off the hook that easy do you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, I suppose not!" I giggled back covering my wide grin with my hand, "The perpetrator must be caught. But what if he isn't the one we're looking for my fellow investigator?" I teased.

"How bout we find out, partner?" He spoke with a crafty tone as he held the amphibian up to my face, "Kiss it!" He shouted in triumph.

"Gross! . . ." I scrunched up my nose in disgust as I turned and scooted farther away, hand out as if the frog's lips were the sun and I was blinded.

Nevertheless, the smile that crept to my face had made it undeniable that I was amused.

"Oh, but I know you want to!" He made a bizarre kissy-face as he pushed the uncomfortable frog nearer.

Collected laughter escaped from both of us as he took back the creature.

"Y-yeah, *cough* but still," he spoke, while he tried to compose himself after the hefty amount of laughter we had produced. "Someone needs to take care of him."

He gave another sneaky look towards me.

"Why do I have to do it!"

"Cause it was your pond and at your house, where we found it!"

"You're the one who found him!"

"Well you're the one who came up with the whole alien thing!"—

"Guys!" John's mother interrupted. Calming down and lowering her voice, she added "Johnny, it's time to go now."

"But Why!" He complained like his sister. One of the few times that he actually reminded me of her.

"No buts. Come on, let's go. I'll tell you why, later."

Unwillingly, he stood up, handed me back the frog, and we all walked to their car.

Annabelle was already inside and had stolen shot gun.

Johnny began to protest, but was immediately shot down.

Getting in the car, his expression shifted from that of a happy-go-lucky boy with an added pout to one of pure uncertainty.

Like always, we glanced at each other as he would wink and I would give my line "See ya later, Stupid!" With a snide, cheery smile, that with dimples, was ever so complete.

"Yeah, see ya later, Lost Girl!" He'd reply, giving a smile of his own.

The window rolled up, the car's ignition announced the car's take off, and it slowly disappeared down my dad's gravel driveway.

An even greater melancholy point to add to the tone, the rain began to pound down upon me as it tried to nail me into the ground, like a nail being hit by a hammer.

But these were millions and millions of hammers.

Dad came up and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder.

Lifting my head, I revealed my tears.

Today was different than the others, even I knew . . .

As he led me into the house, I carried my new little friend in with me.

The little sad excuse showed itself to have feelings too as it rested itself in my grip.

This little creature would soon become known as Mr. Hops, and we would be going through a few of our own adventures together.

"Still, I may never see Johnny again . . ."