Warren & Dragon 100 Friends

by Ariel Bernstein

  “What am I going to wash the sandwich down with?”

  I hold up the pretzel.

  “What am I going to eat as my after-sandwich snack?”

  I hold up the grapes.

  “You can’t share the grapes. I need them for my digestion.”

  I hold up the bag of cookies. Now Dragon just looks mad and reaches his arms out to grab the cookies. He stuffs the whole bag in his mouth and finishes it in one gulp.

  “We can make friends later,” he says, and burps.

  “Are you saving those cookies for later?” Nicky asks. He must have seen me put them in my bag before Dragon scarfed them down.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say.

  “This is my cookie for lunch,” Nicky says, and holds up the odd-looking cracker.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  Nicky shrugs and takes a bite. “My grandpa will take me for ice cream after school.”

  “Would you like some pretzel?” I ask, ignoring Dragon’s snorts from below.

  Nicky eyes me warily.

  “Okay . . . sure,” he says and takes half of the pretzel.

  I throw a couple of pieces of pretzel to Dragon and begin to eat the rest.

  “Can I have more?” Nicky asks.

  “I already gave you half,” I say, and take another bite.

  “I’ll trade you my sandwich,” Nicky offers.

  I look at the mushy tuna sandwich.

  “No thanks,” I say. “I don’t like tuna.” I do not say I do like tuna but only when it’s not in a mushy sandwich.

  “You’re not a good friend,” Nicky says, and takes his lunch stuff away from the table.

  I look around and see that most of the kids at the table have left to go outside for recess.

  I give the rest of my food to Dragon. I don’t feel hungry anymore. I had a chance to make a friend and I messed it up. Now instead of one hundred new friends I still have none.

  “Am I a good friend?” I ask Dragon.

  Dragon pats his belly and burps again. “I’ve never had any complaints,” he says, and then falls asleep for a nap.

  7

  Dragon’s Sporty Advice

  I leave the top of my backpack open to give Dragon fresh air as he sleeps and walk outside for recess.

  Kids are running all over, but I only recognize a few faces from Mrs. Tierney’s class.

  Alison is sitting under a tree with colored pencils and her journal. I see Ellie with a group of girls playing by the monkey bars.

  I go over to a long bench and sit down, when I realize Michael is already there. He’s looking at a bunch of boys playing soccer nearby on the grass.

  “They won’t let me play,” he says to me. “They’re all second and third graders and they said I have to wait a year. I’m really good, though. I bet I’m even better than they are if they gave me a chance to show them. Jayden plays with me sometimes, and he says I’m really good, and he’s really, really good and plays on a real soccer team and everything so I know it’s true.”

  “Okay,” I say. I do not know what else to say.

  Michael looks over at me and then peers into my bag.

  “Do you bring that dragon doll around everywhere?” he asks.

  “Was I just called a doll?” Dragon says. I see that he’s wide awake and starting to huff and puff. “Seriously?”

  “Shh . . .” I whisper to him.

  “I can’t calm down! I was just called a doll by Michael. Again. I’m going to need five bags of marshmallows, extra-large and fluffy, to even think about calming down.”

  “Dragon isn’t a doll,” I say. “He’s . . . a keepsake.”

  “What’s that?” Michael asks.

  “I keep him for the sake of annoying my sister,” I explain. “I don’t usually take him to school. I just forgot he was in my bag today.”

  “Oh,” Michael says. “Do you like soccer?”

  “Say yes! Say yes!” Dragon shouts. He’s moved on from being called a doll.

  “Yes,” I say. I do not say the soccer I play involves Dragon and me hitting a soccer ball into mud piles to see how much mud we can splash around and get on my clothes.

  “Great!” Michael says with a smile. “We can ask for a ball from the recess lady over there.”

  Michael begins to stand up but stops when Ewan and Darryl, two of the second graders I know from Mrs. Tierney’s class, come over. I can see they had been playing soccer with the other guys.

  “Henry tripped and hurt his knee. He went to the nurse, so we need another player,” Ewan says to me. “Do you want his spot?”

  I look at the group of soccer players waiting for me and stand up to join them. There must be fifteen or twenty kids there. If I play well enough they would probably become my friends. I think. If I play with Michael, he would be just one friend. Plus, I can always play with him after school since we’re neighbors. I turn to ask Michael if he wants to play later, but he’s already gone.

  I look over at Ellie, who is now playing basketball with even more girls. I have to catch up with all the friends she’s making.

  “Sure,” I say, and stand up.

  “Don’t get nervous,” I hear Dragon shout from my bag. He says this because he knows I am nervous. “Regular soccer is super easy. Just kick the ball in the goal!”

  I nod my head and walk over to the soccer group. Darryl gives me a quick rundown of the game, which I should be listening to, but I keep my eyes on the ball and the two goals.

  “Okay, break!” one of the kids says, and everyone moves around to different positions. I move two steps back. No one says anything so I think I’m in the right place.

  Kids start kicking the ball around and it’s nowhere near me. I move toward the goal and hope the ball comes closer so I can kick it in.

  Darryl has the ball and three kids are running at him. He looks around and sees me behind him. He kicks the ball to me and I can’t believe how easy this will be. No one is around me at all. I turn toward the goal and kick it in.

  I pump my fists in the air, but for some reason I hear groans instead of whooping.

  “Why did you score for the other team?!?” Ewan shouts at me.

  All of the kids on our team are looking at me and seem upset. The kids on the other team are snickering.

  “Oh, so you’re playing that kind of soccer,” I say.

  “What other kind of soccer is there?” Ewan demands.

  “The kind of soccer kids at my old school played,” I say. I do not say kids at my old school probably played normal soccer, too. “It might be too advanced for most players.”

  Ewan opens his mouth like he wants to say something but can’t think of what to say. Darryl looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

  I’m leaving to get my bag when Ellie suddenly runs up to me. “Six more friends just at recess!” she says, starting to count on her fingers before stopping. “There's too many to count right now.”

  I shrug as though I don’t care.

  “How many friends have you made?” she asks.

  “It’s about quantity, not quality,” I tell her, remembering what our dad said on Christmas morning.

  “You mean quality, not quantity?” Ellie asks.

  “Yes,” I say. I do not say I do not know because I’m not really sure what our dad was saying to begin with.

  Ellie sighs. The bell rings and she turns to run inside the school.

  “This day is the worst,” I say. Dragon doesn’t respond. He’s probably upset he gave me such horrible advice about kicking the ball into the goal without telling me to first make sure it was the right goal.

  “At least Mom promised marshmallows for snack after school,” I add to make Dragon feel better, but he still doesn’t answer. Everyone is running to get inside the school, so I hoist my bag over my shoulder and run
in with them. Dragon will be happy once we get home and eat and play our own games. After all, this day can’t get any worse.

  8

  Lost

  It got worse.

  Because at the end of school, just as I am looking forward to going home, I look into my bag and see that Dragon . . . is gone! As in, he is not there, in my bag, where he’s supposed to be. He’s not sleeping or eating or jousting or anything in my bag. Because he’s not in my bag!!!!

  Mrs. Tierney is telling everyone to line up.

  I consider my options. I could throw a tantrum so bad that Mrs. Tierney would have to leave to get the principal to help, which would give me time to look around the classroom for Dragon. But then I’d be known as the kid who threw tantrums in addition to being the kid who kicked the soccer ball into the wrong goal.

  I could pretend to be sick and throw up so Mrs. Tierney would have to get the nurse and the janitor, which would give me time to look for Dragon. But then I’d be known as the kid who threw up.

  “Dragon . . .” I whisper as I walk over to the line, bending to look under the desks. “Dragon . . .”

  “What are you doing?” Alison asks. She’s given me the weird look so many times that it doesn’t look so weird anymore.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Were you looking for your homework sheet?” Darryl asks, and holds up a piece of paper.

  “Thanks,” I say, and take the sheet. I do not say I was not looking for my homework sheet and would have been okay losing it instead of Dragon.

  “I was new last year,” Darryl says. “The first day is always the worst.”

  I do not know what to say so I just nod my head.

  Before I know it we’re walking out of the classroom and toward the front doors of the school.

  All I can think about is poor Dragon. He probably got hungry for an after-lunch snack and went looking for one. He could be in the cafeteria or another kid’s lunchbox or trapped on top of a cubby.

  “Warren! Over here!” I see my dad waving to me from the pick-up line with Ellie by his side. “How was your day?” he asks.

  “It was okay,” I say. I do not say it was not okay and was really the most stinky, stupid, and terrible day ever.

  “Dad, I invited some friends over for this afternoon,” Ellie says.

  “Ellie, I have a lot of work to do in the home office today,” Dad says.

  “You wanted me to make new friends,” Ellie points out.

  “All right, but just for today.” Dad sighs and turns to me. “Did you make any new friends today, Warren?”

  I scuff my shoe on the pavement as we walk.

  I think about Nicky. We were friends for a minute at lunch, but I don’t want to give him all my food every day just to be friends. I think about Alison. Lots of weird looks doesn’t seem to add up to a friendship, even though she’s nice. I think about Ewan and Darryl and all the boys playing soccer. Darryl turned out to be pretty okay, but I don’t know how much I have in common with him.

  I think about Dragon. He was my one best friend, and now I don’t even know where he is.

  I don’t answer, and Dad doesn’t ask me again.

  When we get home I run into the kitchen and put out marshmallows on a plate, in hopes that Dragon will smell them and find his way back.

  “You’re going to eat all those?” Ellie asks as she reaches for a box of crackers.

  “No, they’re for Dragon,” I say.

  “Where is he?” she says, and takes out grapes from the fridge.

  “I’m not sure. I might have . . . lost him.”

  Ellie gasps. “You lost your one and only friend?”

  “Yes! I lost my one and only friend, okay?” I know I look crazy with my hands waving everywhere but I don’t care. “You win. Once again, you are right about everything. I did not make a hundred new friends. I didn’t even make one new friend and I don’t want to make any friends at school anyway. They don’t know it’s totally okay to kick the soccer ball into any goal because the whole point of a soccer ball is to throw it into mud puddles and no one understands compliments and it’s not my fault when kids have yucky lunches and I don’t want to share all my lunch because I get hungry, too.”

  “We need cookies for this,” Ellie declares, and goes on her tippy toes to get the hidden stash of cookies it took us the whole weekend to find in the new house.

  Ellie hands me a couple of cookies and we eat for a bit.

  “You have to tell Dad,” she says.

  “I can’t,” I say. “Dad told me not to bring him to school and I did, and now he’ll get mad if he finds out.”

  We both look toward the office room where Dad is working.

  “Okay, we gotta figure this out then,” Ellie says. “Where did you last see Dragon?”

  “He was with me at lunch. And he was in my bag at recess.”

  “How about after recess?”

  “I didn’t see him after recess.”

  “So he got lost at recess?” Ellie asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, and think some more. “I had him when I sat on the bench and talked to Michael. . . . Hey!”

  “What?”

  “Michael saw Dragon. Maybe he knows.”

  “Let’s go ask him,” Ellie suggests.

  “Dad, we’re going to our neighbors’! Be right back!” we shout at the office door, and leave before Dad can say no.

  9

  Found

  We run to Michael’s house and I ring the doorbell. His mom Paula opens the door and looks surprised but happy to see us. Addie is in her arms and points at me.

  “Warri-Boo,” she coos. I ignore her.

  “Is Michael home?” Ellie asks.

  “Yes, he’s up in his room. I can go get him. . . .”

  “It’s okay. We’ll go to him!” Ellie says, and we run past Paula and Addie up the stairs. We don’t know where Michael’s room is, but when I see a door with pictures of soccer players taped to it, I go over and knock.

  “Who’s knocking?” I hear Michael ask. I open the door.

  Michael is on the floor of his room setting up action figures and stuffed animals in between two mini soccer goals. And right there, in the very middle, with a soccer ball by his foot, is Dragon.

  “Uh . . . want to play?” Michael asks.

  “That’s my brother’s doll!” Ellie shouts.

  “Did she just call me a doll?” Dragon asks. He jumps up and walks slowly over to me, taking care to avoid all the actual dolls and sports toys on Michael’s floor. “Took you long enough to find me,” he says, and lets out a big huff.

  “He’s not a doll,” Michael says. “He’s a dragon.”

  I’m about to agree with Michael, but then I remember he stole Dragon.

  “Why’d you steal Dragon?” I ask.

  Michael looks down at his floor. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to steal him. I just wanted to play at recess, and you got up to play with all the second and third graders instead. And then I saw your dragon in your bag and remembered how you always have him with you, so I thought he’d be fun to play with and then I forgot to put him back in your bag.”

  “You forgot?” Ellie asks.

  Michael scratches his head like he’s trying to think real hard. “Maybe I didn’t forget. He’s really fun to play with, so I on purpose didn’t remember. I’m really sorry. Please don’t tell my mom. Or wait to tell my mom Nia because she never remembers to punish me.”

  Michael’s mom Paula shows up at the door. “I talked to your dad,” she says to me and Ellie. “He says you can play here or Michael can play at your house but Ellie needs to come home for when her friends arrive.”

  Michael looks at us with lots of worry on his face. I’m glad he’s worried, but I don’t want to get him in trouble, because I’m always
in trouble and I know it doesn’t feel good.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “We’re both going home now.”

  “Thanks,” Michael whispers as we go.

  10

  Chocolate-Covered Bananas

  Ellie’s friends are already starting to arrive when we get back, so she leaves me to greet them. I take Dragon to the kitchen, and he immediately scarfs down most of the marshmallows.

  “I can’t believe you let yourself be dragon-napped,” I say. “I was really worried.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Dragon says, and burns a marshmallow to a crisp before inhaling it. “I didn’t have my bodyguards with me.”

  “But if Michael took you right next door, why didn’t you just walk home?” I ask.

  “He kept wanting to play,” Dragon says. “I was waiting for my chance to escape when you rescued me.”

  “Was it horrible?”

  Dragon thinks for a minute. “No, it wasn’t horrible. I missed you, but Michael’s pretty fun. He recognizes my superior athletic skill and made me the soccer captain, the basketball captain, and the ice hockey captain. He also has great snacks. No marshmallows, but he did have chocolate-covered bananas.”

  “I like chocolate-covered bananas,” I say.

  “They’re really yummy.” Dragon finishes the marshmallows and hops down to the floor. “Can we play at Michael’s now? He said he’s going to show me his tree house, and I bet he’d invite you, too.”

  “I’m not friends with Michael!” I say. “He stole you! From me!”

  “He said he’s sorry,” Dragon says.

  I stomp around the kitchen to show how upset I still am.

  “Did I mention he’s got a tree house?” Dragon asks.

  “I like tree houses,” I say.

  “And you like chocolate-covered bananas,” Dragon adds.

  “That’s true,” I agree. “It’s kinda like, we have stuff in common.”

  “Friends have stuff in common,” Dragon says.