“I am not in your world, Alita. You—”
“So this is my imagination going wild?”
“No. It’s real. As real as when you were a child. The other humans cannot believe because they are not capable of doing so.”
“What are you talking about?”
The enormous creature bows his head slightly so he’s closer to my height, our eye contact never breaking. He smiles, letting out a contented sigh. “I’ve missed you.”
His voice fills me with warmth, and a fuzzy feeling like I belong. I’m safe—I’m home.
But I shake my head again.
“Come forward, Little Wingless.”
Those two words, a nickname. I’ve heard this voice call me that before.
“Put your palm on my forehead,” he instructs.
I don’t know why, but I do what he says. The scales are smooth except for along the edges, where they’re ridged to fit together better. The moment my palm is perfectly shaped to the middle scale, my eyes are forced shut, and darkness twirls around me. My stomach heaves.
A scene unfolds before me—a moment in almost this exact same place, twelve years earlier. I see a tottering version of myself in a sun-yellow dress. The first time I met Yackros—that’s his name. How do I know his name?
That isn’t what I called him. And I certainly didn’t understand what was happening, yet I still told my parents all about my friend dragon.
The swirling and spinning and mind-numbing senselessness returns, throwing me back into the present. I blink up at the dragon from my memory. At least now I can fit my arms around his if I try.
“These lands are forbidden to any but dragons,” he says. “And yet you continue crossing the border. This time, I fear I simply don’t have the will or strength to send you away again.”
“You’re the dragon,” I say. “The one I met as a child, the one they told me didn’t exist. I’ve spent the last twelve years . . . They teased me relentlessly, but it’s true. It was always true.”
I look at him differently. Not as something that shouldn’t exist, but as the friend I should have known all these years.
And almost reverently, one word escapes my lips. “Sparkles.”
“You remember.” Yackros breathes the words and nods, closing his eyes for a moment before looking directly into mine. It feels like he’s searching for something.
A beaming smile takes over my features.
“You’re a little big to forget.” I chuckle.
He grins. There is so much joy in his eyes as he looks at me and smiles. Laughing, a beautiful sound, deep, causing the ground to vibrate.
“Oh, my little wingless human,” he says, “How happy I am that somehow you still found me again.”
Then my face falls. “People thought I was crazy. I mean, not at first, but I carried it so long, my mom started to consider counseling.”
He leans in close, filling my vision. “Don’t ever let someone else’s truth become your reality. You should put more trust in yourself.”
“I was a kid. How could I argue with adults?”
“Your parents did not mean to misguide you. Magic played a part in their reaction, and I do not fault you for trusting them. But now you know. Do not allow anyone to convince you of another lie.”
“Alita!” a high-pitched voice calls.
I turn, expecting Sherri to come through the very bushes I did.
“Alita, where are you?” Max yells.
“Little Wingless,” Sparkles says. “They cannot enter Runavelius. Go to them so they do not continue searching for you hopelessly.”
“I just got here, and you’re already asking me to leave?” I ask, crestfallen.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I am asking you to take your family away from here. I can’t push you away again, but I can’t put my home and fellow dragons at risk either. You must promise me you won’t speak a word of this. Not to anyone, no matter how much you believe you can trust them. Do you understand this? Do you agree?”
He’s so close, he could knock me over just by shaking his head. I place my hand on his scaled forehead and without hesitation, I say, “Yes. I promise. But I’m coming back tomorrow.”
“Alita!” Max hollers.
I dart a glance behind me. Nothing disturbs the bushes or trees.
“I look forward to it,” Yackros rumbles. He presses into my hand. “Now go.”
I nod, unable to find words. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye. After one last look at my dragon, I run back the way I came, trying to focus on the path ahead.
As I emerge back into the hot Arizona air, my foot tangles in some loose roots. My stomach lurches, and I can’t throw my arms out fast enough before I face plant in the dirt.
The shiny thing I saw before entering the hidden forest is right in front of my eyes—a dragon scale. I can’t help the smile that spreading across my face as I grab it.
The exposed dirt reveals a creepy red bug like the ones I saw earlier. Shuddering at the thought of all those gross bugs getting on me, I jump to my feet and brush the dirt from my clothes.
Then I notice that Max and his entire foster family are watching me.
I can feel my cheeks flame red. A few of Max’s siblings gape, others look quizzical, and a few—including Max—hide smiles or laughter.
Sherri steps forward, her hand coming to rest on my arm. “Are you okay, dear?”
“Yeah.” I nod and fake a smile, realizing I probably look a little crazy to them. “I’m glad you found me. I got a little . . . turned around.”
Act normal. Act normal. What is normal? Can I be normal after what just happened?
“We should get you home.” Sherri hooks her arm with mine and walks beside me, not letting me away from her until we reach the van.
Everyone piles in, squishing into the seats and buckling up for the very bumpy ride down the mountain.
The entire drive, I keep my hand clenched around the dragon scale in my pocket. I can’t think about what just happened because if I do, I’ll blurt it out. And I promised not to say a word to anyone.
With my free hand playing with the ends of my hair, I just try to think about the rest of my day. How boring it all was. Nothing got done. I almost didn’t come on this trip. When Max invited me, I thought it was going to be just the two of us. I had hoped that maybe we’d finally talk about our feelings.
Instead, I discovered a secret.
Nope. Don’t go there. Do not think about it.
I continue fidgeting to keep my hands busy, but it’s a much harder battle to occupy my mind.
When we finally pull up in front of my house, I breathe a sigh of relief.
That is, until John and Sherri get out of the car, feeling the need to tell my parents they lost me out there, and they’re sorry. I wait impatiently for them to tell their story.
Mom pulls me into a hug, relieved I made it home. Dad doesn’t seem all that concerned, and honestly, I’m with him. It was no big deal. Well, it was for me. But not because I got lost. Why all the fuss? But still, I wait. It’s the polite thing to do. And of course, why would I be in a hurry? No one else knows I’m freaking out on the inside.
“Thank you so much for making sure she came home safely, Sherri.” Mom releases me and pulls Sherri into her arms.
It’s a quick embrace, but still too long “We’d better get going,” John says, urging Sherri away from the door.
Mom, Dad, and I stand in the doorway and watch them drive away. Dad does his little grunt and shrug before going back inside and plopping down in front of the TV. I head straight for my room.
“Do you want to tell me about what happened?” Mom asks. I can hear the concern in her voice. I know she’s giving me the look of disproval even before I’ve turned back to face her.
I meet her gaze anyway. “Nothing happened, Mom. We got separated for like, maybe ten minutes. They didn’t even need to tell you. Seriously.”
“Are you sure?” She raises one brow, hands on her
hips.
“I promise.”
“Okay,” she says, clearly not believing me, but also knowing there’s no point in pushing me.
“Good night!” I holler before making a beeline for my room, closing and locking the door behind me. I toss my bag on my bed and head straight for the window, climbing out to sit on the roof.
Running my thumb over the jagged edge of the golden scale in my palm, I watch the sky, looking for constellations, hoping for a shooting star, and doing everything I can to avoid looking at the mountain just to the right of me, so close, yet so far away.
The shingles against my back are still warm from the sun bearing down on them all day. It might be comforting if not for the fact that it’s night, a full moon shining down, and still eighty degrees out.
And yet it’s nothing compared to the heat I felt beside Yackros. Just thinking his name sounds odd and right at the same time. All these years, I remembered him as Sparkles, which only made it easier to believe my parents when they made it clear to me I was crazy for thinking there were dragons in the mountains. Or anywhere.
But they were wrong.
At three years old, I wandered away from a family reunion picnic on the mountain and somehow found myself in a hidden forest no one else knows is there, filled with massive winged beasts that could easily eat me whole. I befriended a dragon and was then mocked for twelve years by my parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and every other family member I have. While I was young, they thought my story was cute. But the older I got, the teasing became hurtful rather than funny. Now it’s angering. They made me feel stupid, and I was right all along.
Not that it matters. The jokes will never end because I can’t tell anyone. I promised Yackros I would keep this a secret.
Even knowing I could never hurt him like that, I want to tell Max. Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I hold it up and turn on the screen, wondering if I should text him. What could I possibly say, though? I’m not about to betray Yackros’ trust.
Would he even believe me?
With resignation, I crawl to the edge of the roof and slowly climb in through my bedroom window. If the distance was any farther, I’d never be able to reach it. But despite my distaste for heights, I find comfort and solace up there at night, alone with my thoughts and feelings.
The big red numbers on my alarm clock turn over to midnight. Not as late as I’d feared. Still late enough that I’ll regret it in the morning. No one should have to get up at six to get ready for school, and yet I’m forced to do it every day because for whatever crazy reason, my parents decided that moving to the middle of nowhere was a good idea, forty-five-minute bus ride included.
Although, as of today, I appreciate my location a little more.
I crawl into bed and watch the numbers flicker, wondering why I bothered getting all tucked in. There’s no chance I’ll sleep tonight.
The school bus rattles along the dirt road, inching closer to the next stop. The constant up-and-down caused by driving on a road made of potholes means there’s very little chance of sleep, at least until we reach the highway leading into Benson. But still, I try.
My prediction of last night was too accurate. Instead of falling into dreams—and seriously, dreaming of dragons would have been nice—I lay there tossing, turning, getting tangled in my thin blanket, and adjusting the fan.
Someone taps my shoulder, startling me from my half-dozing, half-lost-in-thought state. I look up, taken aback by Hanna’s face barely a breath away from my own.
“Yeah?” I mutter, forcing myself out of my slouch. Mostly.
Without asking, Hanna plops down beside me. “Are you okay? Max wouldn’t say what happened. Mom and Dad were arguing all night. They feel so guilty, even after they told your parents you went missing.”
“Your parents really don’t need to feel bad. Max and I got separated from the group, and then from each other. But it all worked out, and it was really only a few minutes,” I explain, annoyed that Max didn’t tell them anything. What was the point in keeping that from them? I mean, sure, I have a reason not to tell anyone the whole truth. But Max doesn’t.
Unless . . .
I look over at him, two benches ahead on the opposite side of the bus, facing the window across from him, giving me a view of silhouette. His hair gelled back so it’s slick and almost tamed. His lips are turned down, shoulders slumped as he stares at the floor. Is there a chance he feels guilty for leaving me alone?
Or could it be that he saw something while we were out there?
Could he know about what I found in the mountains?
Hanna clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. She pushes some hair behind her ear, looking at me sheepishly. “Are you sure there isn’t more to the story?” She glances between Max and me.
I nod. “I’m sure.”
I’m sure there’s a lot more to the story. I’m also positive I’ll never tell Hanna, as dear a friend as she is.
When we finally reach the highway and it seems the questions are over, I hunker back down to a semi-comfortable sleeping position.
Hanna’s leg against my own disappears, but I don’t bother looking up. I assume she moved back to her original seat, leaving me in peace.
Any hope for a moment to myself is smashed by the sudden larger, heavier leg half-squashing mine.
I look up with a glare already taking over my features to find Max beside me.
“Yes?” The word comes out a little more forcefully than I’d intended.
“Are you okay?” His voice is so quiet, I almost miss what he said.
“Why does everyone keep asking that?” I sit up and lean toward him. “What did you say happened last night?”
“Can we talk about it later?” He glances around the bus. “When there aren’t so many prying ears?”
What could he have said that’s so horrible, he wouldn’t want our classmates to overhear? I nod, unable to form words without going into a panicked question spree.
Realizing I’m never going to sleep and it’s pointless even trying, I sit back up and stare out the window for lack of something better to do.
Max bounces his leg up and down repeatedly, which might not be so annoying if our thighs weren’t touching. After a few seconds, I already can’t take it and grab his knee. He chuckles and brushes my hand away before resuming the action.
There’s so much I want to say. Some of it in jest, other bits only partially joking. Instead, I scoot my leg away, turn my head lopsided, and give him a look so he understands my level of annoyance.
He simply smirks and begins bouncing his other leg—which I can still feel, though it’s less annoying. I take a calming breath and try to appear at ease. When Max’s focus has turned to something the kids behind us are saying, I close my eyes and wish for this day to end. Or perhaps a more accurate plea would be for the school day to end because as soon as that last bell goes off, the moment the bus drops me off at my stop, I’m heading back up to the Dragoon Spring. I need to see Sparkles again.
There’s a nasty screech as the bus comes to a halt, and we all fall forward. The whoosh of air sounds, and the doors open. Kids swarm into the aisle, pushing and shoving their way to the front exit. Max waits until everyone in front and behind us are out before standing—or slouching, in his case—grabbing my bag, and heading out.
I follow after him, stretching my arms and legs the moment I’m free from that wretched-smelling bus. I inhale deeply, but the outside air isn’t much better, though for different reasons. It’s like filling your lungs with heat and feeling them slowly bake.
“So,” I begin, taking my bag from Max and slinging it over my shoulders. “What did you say about last night that you couldn’t tell me on the bus?”
His neck to his cheeks turns bright red. He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.
“Max?” I poke his side.
A high-pitched squeal escapes him. “Hey!” His hands are around my wrist so fast, my sides ache from laughing.
“You started that game.” I wriggle my hands loose and poke his side as quickly as possible before backing out of reach to avoid retaliation. “What are you so embarrassed to tell me?”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and puts it back almost as fast. “Alita, could we maybe do this later? I know you hate being the last one to class, and the bell is about to ring.”
A very childish part of me wants to stomp my foot and demand the answer now. I refrain. “You’re really worrying me, you know? I can’t imagine what you told your family if you’re this unwilling to tell me what it was.”
I mean to be more playful about it, but my emotions get the better of me.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Butterscotch, chocolate, and peanut butter ice cream, my treat, after school.”
He takes my hand, like he did last night, and tugs me into the building.
I’m equally annoyed about his odd behavior and his offer of ice cream on the one day I have somewhere else to be. I let go of his hand, feeling more than a little self-conscious.
“I’m busy after school,” I say. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
Max opens his mouth, holds up a hand, pauses, and clamps his lips. After a second, his mind no doubt spinning as he tries to come up with a response, he says, “Busy with what?”
“Max, why can’t you just tell me?”
He holds both hands up this time. “Not here. Just . . . give me fifteen minutes after school. Can we do that?”
I purse my lips. He doesn’t seem to squirm.
“Fine.” I sigh. “This better be worth all the fuss.”
He kind of chuckles. “I’m not making any promises, but I certainly do hope it’s worth it. See you later.” He offers a final grin before heading in the opposite direction, leaving me alone with my feelings. I shake my head and make my way to class.
Mr. Erickson is standing at the chalkboard, erasing whatever was there. I slide into my seat, dropping my backpack on the floor just before he turns around, clearing his throat.
“Good morning!” His words thunder through the room, the clap of his hands like the lightning to go with it.
Dragon Wings Page 2