The Boy Who Flew with Dragons

by Andy Shepherd

  Over the next few days I spent most of my time trying to avoid Ted, Kat and Kai. They’d believed me when I told them I had let Flicker and Tinkle go the following day, like I’d promised I would. But I didn’t trust myself not to give the game away. With every day that passed they missed their dragons more – and even Kat was beginning to question whether it had all needed to happen quite so soon.

  Every time I looked at Flicker now I felt an equal dose of relief and guilt. I couldn’t imagine going to sleep at night without him curled up next to me, warming my dreams. But I knew that must be how the others had felt too. And they had gone through with it.

  I was desperate to keep Flicker hidden, so I mainly only let him fly around my room. Sometimes I crept out at night, when it wasn’t raining too much. After school, when the others headed over to the park, I raced home to be with him.

  But something was wrong. He still fluttered over to greet me, but I could see that his bright red scales were becoming duller somehow. More and more often he was just staying a pale grey colour. And unless I fed him the broccoli stalks by hand, he didn’t seem to be eating much either.

  Every night since we had let the dragons go I had had the same dream. I was back in the land of fire and ice, but this time there was more. Sometimes a dream can feel so real it’s hard to believe it isn’t happening. I was flying again – seeing the world through a dragon’s eyes – and it was so vivid I could almost feel the wind on my face.

  Shimmering wings beat hard and fast, lifting me over the park, taking me higher and higher into the twilight until the town below became a distant flicker of lights. But I didn’t stop even when I lost sight of the houses.

  I flew on across open countryside until I reached the coast, where the sea met the crumbling cliffs and shingle beaches. I looked down and saw a pier jutting out into the sea and a row of little fishing boats heading out towards the horizon. I flew on, with the night growing darker around me, following the meandering coastline, past inlets and harbours and amusement arcades, sandy beaches and rocky cliffs. Until there was sea below with a few scattered islands, and then nothing but water.

  And still I flew, eyes fixed on the shining light of one brilliant star. At last a glimmer of morning light began to appear and a new colour filled the sky. And then I finally saw it. A wide open land, bare and rocky, surrounded by sea and cut through with glaciers. I swooped lower, looking down on red-hot craters and great gushing fountains of steam that blasted up from the earth below. A living breathing land of fire and ice, stretching on and on.

  Now my wings beat even harder, as though something was pulling me onward.

  In the distance, I saw an enormous volcano. Its silhouette loomed high into the sky. And it was a second before I realised it was erupting! Great shards of colour shot out of the top of the volcano and into the sky. A blaze of orange streaked across the crater and then red and fiery white. I’d only ever seen volcanoes erupting on television. But I wasn’t afraid. I flew on. Until I realised something strange.

  I was close to the volcano now, but it was just as cold as ever. The volcano couldn’t be erupting after all. But then what was causing the sky to burn with those incredible colours?

  Suddenly I felt a burning inside my belly. It burst through me and flames shot from my open mouth. I swooped lower and roared at the sight before me.

  Because the volcano was erupting with DRAGONS!

  Dragons of every conceivable size and colour were rising out of the crater of the volcano and soaring up into the sky. With another burst of flames I swooped in to join them, and as I dived and wheeled about my scales flickered from fiery red to azure blue, from crimson to blazing orange to deep purple, lime green, brilliant white and midnight black. And the flames I breathed into the air shone so brightly my eyes burned with the glare.

  Dozens of dragons circled around me. I was becoming part of the amazing dance above the crater. I could hear the other dragons calling out, long sonorous notes. And I raised my head and answered them.

  Finally the dragons settled on the rim of the crater and I flew down to join them. One after another, the colourful dragons approached and greeted me. They bent their massive heads forward and we crossed necks and let our heads rest there, as the rising sun warmed the air with its reddening glow.

  When I finally opened my eyes Flicker was there curled up next to me, his heat warming me like a comforting hot water bottle. He was changing colours just as he always did, but the purring I thought I used to hear now sounded more like a rumbling sigh.

  I think I knew deep down that keeping Flicker wasn’t right. You know things in your heart sometimes, before your head is ready to listen. And sadly, right then, my head was definitely not listening.

  Usually when I feel upset or sad or worried about something, the superhero squad are on hand to cheer me up, or at least distract me. Ted brings out one of his weird and wonderful facts that startles your brain so much it can’t be amazed and worry itself into knots at the same time. Like the fact that the average person has sixty-seven different species of bacteria living in their belly button. Or if you could look at the earth from sixty-five million light years away, you’d see dinosaurs. That sort of thing. It felt like a bit of me was missing without them there.

  And of course there had always been Grandad. He didn’t even need mind-boggling facts to make me feel better. When I pictured his twinkling smile, I knew I had to see him. After all, I could tell him the dragons had gone. I’d just have to skip over the teeny-tiny fact that not all the dragons had gone.

  I found Mum in the kitchen, chatting away to the cockatoo. They were bobbing their heads up and down in unison.

  ‘Can I go and see Grandad?’ I asked.

  Mum stopped mid-bob and turned to look at me. She sort of smiled and slowly nodded.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Grandad,’ she said. ‘About how poorly he’s been. And why he’s still in hospital.’

  ‘You mean his hip?’ I asked. ‘That’s bound to take a bit of time to heal up.’

  ‘Well, to be honest, love, it’s a little bit more than the hip operation. Come and sit with me.’ She sat down in the old squidgy armchair Grandad had given us and patted the armrest. I perched on it and she wrapped her arm around me.

  ‘They wanted to know why he’d wobbled off the stool,’ Mum said.

  ‘Well, anyone can do that,’ I said defensively. ‘Especially Grandad, being so keen to get to Nana’s tarts.’

  Mum smiled. Another not-quite smile.

  Grim’s face suddenly flashed into my mind as I remembered what he’d said about Grandad’s heart.

  ‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘But as it turns out he did have a funny turn again, and that’s why he fell.’

  I bit my lip as my heart shrivelled to the size of a crinkly dry raisin. So Grim had been right all along.

  ‘But he’ll be OK?’ I asked quickly.

  ‘Of course he will. He’s a tough old boot, your grandad.’

  My raisin heart stayed almost as small and tight as before.

  Mum leaned over and gave me a squeeze. ‘Is there anything else?’

  Apart from the gigantinormous lie I’d told my best friends and the dragon sleeping upstairs who wasn’t eating properly, there was actually. When I’d first found out about Grandad hurting his hip I was upset, of course I was. But there was a tiny piece of me that was relieved that I wouldn’t have to carry on lying to his face. And maybe even thought that I wouldn’t have to rush into letting the dragons go. Now most of the dragons were gone anyway, I couldn’t see my friends and I’d found out that Grandad was way more ill than I’d thought. I felt completely and utterly horrible. How could even an infinitesimal bit of me have felt relieved that Grandad was out of the way?

  Part of me wanted Mum’s squeeze to squeeze the whole terrible truth right out of me so she would see just what an awful person I was. I wriggled free and shook my head. It was bad enough worrying about Grandad, without making myself
feel even worse.

  Last time I had imagined the worst when I’d heard about Grandad. The worry had swelled to planet-size and exploded, but I had to remember the places my imagination went weren’t always the right ones. Maybe I could give Destination: Panic a miss this time.

  ‘So when can we go?’ I asked.

  ‘How about right now?’ she said with a smile.

  Seeing Grandad in hospital wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Probably because of the huge ear-to-ear grin he gave me when I walked through the door.

  ‘Chipstick!’ he bellowed, and started waving madly as if I wouldn’t be able to spot him. Which given there were only four beds in the ward wasn’t exactly likely.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Chipstick,’ he said, still grinning. He patted the bed for me to sit down. ‘Jelly?’ he asked, offering me a spoon of wobbly green gloop.

  I shook my head. Thanks to the TV shows Mum watched and my revved-up imagination, I realised I’d been imagining him lying pale and still on a hospital bed, with tubes and wires poking out of him. Now I was here, the relief at seeing him sitting up in his checked pyjamas, waving like a loon, started leaking out of me and I rubbed at my eyes, feeling a bit daft.

  Grandad lowered the jelly and reached out his arm. I leaned in for a squeeze.

  ‘Daft apeth,’ he said softly, ramping up the squeeze till I thought my ribs would bust.

  ‘Are you OK, Grandad?’ I managed to squeak.

  He let me go and waggled his finger at his hip as if telling it off.

  ‘Soon as this fella sorts himself out I’ll be right as rain,’ he said.

  ‘I mean, really OK?’ I went on. ‘Mum said it was your heart that made you fall.’

  Grandad cleared his throat and turned his face into a more serious version of itself. For a moment he didn’t say anything, like he was weighing up what to tell me.

  ‘I know you, Chipstick. You’re not really that daft. If I try and laugh this off, your old head’ll start making up all sorts about what’s going on now, won’t it?’

  I nodded, glad that he knew me well enough to see that I needed to hear the truth. Even if I didn’t want to hear it.

  ‘OK, here’s the thing. My old heart did have a wobble. And that’s why I took a tumble. Turns out all those times I’ve been huffing and puffing for breath in the garden lately, it’s been trying to tell me something.’

  I winced – I really should have been paying more attention. I should have been helping Grandad rather than spending all my time with the dragons.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered.

  Grandad nudged me so I had to look up.

  ‘What are you sorry for?’

  I shrugged. Where should I start? Running him ragged when I was little? Not helping more in the garden? Lying to him about the dragons? Feeling relieved he’d not been at home to hold me to my promise to let them go?

  ‘Come on, what’s spinning round that head of yours?’ he asked.

  He carried on watching me, waiting for me to say something. His eyes were so intense I felt he was reading the thoughts in my head like an open book. Suddenly he let out a little ‘hmm’, as though he’d turned the last page and finally figured it out.

  ‘You know none of this is your fault, don’t you, Chipstick? Not one little bit of it. You have nothing to feel sorry about. Got that?’

  I gave a little nodling, which isn’t really a proper nod at all but a tiny dip of the head. I still couldn’t quite believe that, but I didn’t want to upset him any more.

  ‘And the great news,’ Grandad said, giving me another nudge, ‘is because of all the poking and prodding and checking they’ve done on account of this fall, they’ve figured out what the problem is. And they know just what to do to fix it.’

  ‘Really?’ I stammered. ‘You’re not just saying that?’

  ‘Nope. I am definitely not just saying that. Things are going to be A-OK. OK?’

  He looked me square in the eye and suddenly it was like the twinkle in there shot straight into my heart, a lightning bolt sent to blast all my worries to smithereens. I felt them starting to fizzle and fade.

  I nodded, a proper nod this time, my shoulders sinking gratefully down from where they had attached themselves to my ears.

  They shot straight up again though when Grandad whispered his next question.

  ‘So, have you let those dragons go yet, like we agreed?’

  The squirmy worms in my tummy woke up and started salsa dancing around my insides. Even though I could look him in the eye this time and say what he wanted to hear, I wasn’t going to be telling the whole truth, was I?

  I nodded, hoping that would be enough and that my crossed toes would make up for the bit of truth that was missing from the nod.

  ‘Bet that was really hard,’ he said, laying his hand on mine.

  I nodded again, with more certainty this time. That was something I didn’t have to lie about. It had been horrible watching Sunny, Crystal and Dodger fly away.

  ‘It’s for the best though,’ Grandad said quietly. ‘There’s no place like home.’ He shuffled up his bed and gave a little wince. ‘Home is where the heart is, and mine definitely wants to get itself back there pronto.’

  On the way back from the hospital we stopped to pick Lolli up from nursery. She toddled towards us cradling a couple of cereal boxes splattered in paint with bits of tissue paper stuck all over them.

  ‘For Tinkle,’ she announced. And then whispered to me, ‘Tinkle sad.’

  I must have looked surprised because Lolli nodded seriously and said, ‘All sad. Singsong gone.’

  Now I thought of it, there was a definite absence of birds at home, apart from the cockatoo who didn’t seem to be going anywhere. No stray emus, no inquisitive turkeys, no chicken strutting up and down on the breakfast table. Lolli was right. Tinkle had stopped singing.

  ‘I’m sure that’ll cheer her up,’ I whispered back.

  But I was suddenly aware of a nagging feeling pulling at me like Lolli when she was trying to get my attention. I shook the feeling off and stared out of the window.

  But it got worse when we got home. Up in my room I found Flicker curled up on the windowsill staring out at the rain. Over the last week it seemed we’d had nothing but endless drizzle. When he saw me he lifted his head. His scales flickered red, glowing through the dull grey, and the twinkle returned to his diamond eyes. But I couldn’t help noticing the scales he had shed along the sill and across my desk.

  Yes, I know, my heart was probably jumping up and down at this point, trying to get my head’s attention. But my stubborn head was still refusing to listen.

  I heard voices downstairs and just managed to scoop Flicker up and hide him under my bed when there came a tapping. The door swung open slowly and three heads peered round.

  It wasn’t the normal storming-in I was used to from Ted, Kat and Kai. But then nothing had been very normal since we’d let the dragons go. I’d hardly spoken to them, for one thing.

  Ted gave me a nod and I got a wary ‘Hiya’ from Kai, but Kat hung back by the door, a worried look on her face.

  ‘Your mum told us to come up,’ Kai said, as if he needed to explain their arrival in my room.

  I wasn’t used to feeling awkward with my best friends. But I felt so bad about everything that had happened I didn’t know what to say.

  And then Kat stepped forward and I could see she was frowning back the tears.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, Tomas,’ she said. ‘I know you hate me right now, but please don’t blame them. It was me who suggested letting the dragons go.’

  I looked between the three of them, now shuffling uncomfortably. And I realised that they were feeling bad too. They’d thought I was avoiding them because I blamed them for losing Flicker. Great. Now I felt even worse.

  ‘We all feel the same, Tomas,’ said Kai. ‘We all miss them. But I think we did the right thing.’

  I winced inwardly as they waited for me to say something.

>   ‘It’s fine,’ I mumbled at last. ‘Of course I don’t blame you.’

  They let out a collective sigh and Ted, relieved of his burden, jumped on my bed and started tucking into a packet of crisps. I bit my lip hoping Flicker wouldn’t smell the vinegar. He loved salty crisps, and vinegar was something he couldn’t resist. I silently begged him to stay hidden.

  I noticed Kai following my gaze, which was fixed on the floor by the foot of my bed, and I hurriedly looked away.

  ‘Glad that’s sorted,’ said Ted through a mouthful. ‘Now, time to fill you in on that sneak Liam. We’ve been keeping our eyes on him and he’s definitely up to something.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, glad that Ted’s expert crisp-eating skills meant he’d already demolished the lot, although the smell still lingered.

  ‘Well, nothing. But he keeps disappearing.’

  I frowned.

  ‘Disappearing?’

  ‘On a bus,’ Ted added, as he carefully and thoroughly licked each finger.

  ‘Every day after school he gets on the Number 6 at the top of the road,’ explained Kai.

  ‘And tell him how sneaky he looks,’ Kat said.

  She apparently wasn’t ready to believe I’d completely forgiven her yet and risk talking to me directly.

  ‘We don’t know what he’s playing at, but what if he’s gone and grown himself another dragon-fruit tree?’ Kai went on.

  ‘But like we said, it won’t do him any good, will it?’ I pointed out.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘But what if we’re wrong?’ Kat said, finally addressing me.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What if somehow he has managed to grow dragons?’

  I was about to reply when Kai leaped off the bed shrieking. He clutched his foot, which had been dangling over the side.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Kat cried.