Once upon a time, a girl named Adelaide lived with her type-A, middle-class parents in a modern high-rise on the city's edge. Her cosmopolitan parents named her Adelaide, a nod to the French word for "ugly," as she wasn't a pretty baby. As she grew, her looks did not improve. The only way she could tolerate her appearance was through countless selfies, which she edited extensively in Photoshop to straighten her crooked nose, enlarge her deep-set eyes, and make her plain lips look inviting.
"I'm sorry, Adelaide," her father would say, "Plastic surgery isn't an option. Your mother gets priority, and you know how much our timeshare costs us."
Adelaide, friendless, dateless, and with parents too preoccupied with their investments, sank deeper into depression.
Adelaide cherished holidays in their timeshare apartment located in the East wing of an old château nestled in the rolling hills of Limousin. Her room, with its antique fire screen, comforting brass bed, and faded prints of the Massif Central, faced the sunrise. She would open the large wooden shutters at dawn, gazing over the lawns and the fishing lake. Summer brought sweet air filled with insect life, birdsong, and crooning frogs. Her father spent his days cutting wood, always on his business phone, while her mother foraged for cèpes and made cheese.
One morning, unbeknownst to Adelaide, the planets aligned, opening doors to the supernatural. She wandered down to the lakeside to greet her favorite frog, a particularly large green frog with intelligent eyes that always came to the lake's edge. She would sit for hours with a snack of local bread and goat's cheese, watching butterflies and dragonflies.
"I wish," Adelaide said to a beautiful yellow and black butterfly, "that I could switch places with you. Then I'd be pretty, free, and happy forever, without returning to my awful life in that dreadful city."
What Adelaide didn’t know was that the frog was her fairy godmother, enjoying her time as a frog away from her life as the neighbor's yappy Schnauzer. "No sooner said than done!" the frog croaked. Suddenly, Adelaide found herself soaring above the lake, plummeting towards the water. Her arms turned into wings, lifting her briefly onto a breeze.
"Oh!" Adelaide exclaimed, but only vibrated her proboscis. "I’m flying! How did this happen? Where is my body?"
Her body now hosted the bewildered Swallowtail, which, unable to manage a complex nervous system, passed out on the lawn.
Adelaide, thrilled with her new freedom, rode the breezes to her window. Inside, her mother tidied the bedclothes left scattered from a hot night. "Mum!" she called, but her mother couldn't hear her. She opened the window, blowing the butterfly back into the air. It fluttered towards the lake where her daughter dreamt in the grass.
Adelaide woke, recalling a dream of being a butterfly, her head aching. The frog watched from a mossy stone. "That wasn’t a great success, was it?" the frog croaked.
"I loved flying," thought Adelaide, "but maybe a dragonfly would be more fun. They are so fast and beautiful. Oh, I wish I were beautiful!"
Instantly, Adelaide was airborne again, now in a vivid scarlet dragonfly body with iridescent wings. She darted from lily to lily, unaware of the heron between her and the sun.
The frog leaped onto Adelaide's twitching body, now hosting a disoriented dragonfly. "Get up!" urged the frog. "Otherwise, that heron will have my god-daughter for breakfast!"
The dragonfly’s rudimentary mind caught on, and the girl’s body slowly rose. "Wave the arms!" thought the frog.
The heron drew back as Adelaide's arms flailed, narrowly avoiding its beak.
Adelaide regained consciousness, standing with arms raised. "That was close!" said the frog. "Can we stop this?"
Adelaide only remembered a dream of being a dragonfly, wishing again for the freedom of flight. A blackbird sang in a chestnut tree. "Oh, if I had a beautiful voice like that, and could fly from tree to tree, I’d be so happy!"
The fairy godmother sighed. "At least this is the third and final wish," she thought. She watched the inevitable exchange; the blackbird forgot its song, and the girl beside her started hopping and babbling.
Adelaide nearly fell from the tree, unused to perching. She flew to a nearby conifer, exhilarated. Hungry, she thought of worms. Hopping through daisies, she was unaware of the lurking château cat.
The blackbird, now in Adelaide's body, grasped the situation. "Leave it to me," it said to the frog. "Poor girl, she hasn’t a clue!" The blackbird, now in Adelaide's body, ran toward the cat. Just then, the celestial alignment broke, returning everyone to their bodies as the cat pounced.
"NO!" yelled Adelaide, grabbing the cat's tail, saving the blackbird. She hurled the cat into the lake, where it quickly learned to swim.
Adelaide looked up to see an elderly woman in a green and brown dress. The blackbird sang from the chestnut tree. "Now then, young lady!" said Mme. Grenouille. "Don’t you think you’d rather be a kind-hearted, brave human than a beautiful, flighty creature always at risk from predators? Look into the water..."
Adelaide saw her reflection and, for the first time, saw beauty. "When you come back next summer, kiss the frog waiting at the lake. That’s all I’ll say!"