Warren & Dragon Weekend With Chewy

by Ariel Bernstein

  I go back to my room and put the garlic powder lid back on before gathering up the spices.

  “Wait. Where’s the salt?” I ask Dragon.

  He smiles, shrugs his shoulders, and bats his eyelashes. I pick Dragon up and see that he’s been sitting on the salt container.

  I take all the containers down to the kitchen and drop them into the spice rack.

  “What were you doing with those?” Ellie asks as she take out crackers from the cupboard.

  “Why do you care what I’m doing all the time?” I say.

  “Because I need to show Mom and Dad I can take care of you like I’d take care of a pet. Then they might get me a real pet.”

  “That’s the dumbest idea!” I say.

  “It’s a brilliant idea,” Ellie declares. “Do you want a cracker?” she asks as she spreads jam on some. “Pet owners need to make sure their pets are well fed.”

  I think about how Ellie is pretending to be a pet owner. And then I think of my own brilliant idea. “Sorry I called your idea dumb,” I say.

  Ellie gives me a confused look. “Why are you apologizing?” she says suspiciously.

  “If you want to show Mom and Dad you can take care of a pet, why don’t you just take care of Chewy this weekend?” I ask.

  I can see that Ellie’s thinking about it.

  “I could take care of Chewy . . . but he’s pretty easy,” Ellie begins. Ellie obviously doesn’t have her own dragon to keep away from a hamster or she wouldn’t say it was easy. “I don’t want an easy pet like a hamster. I want a pet like a dog. Or a pig. I need to show Mom and Dad I can take care of something big that’s smelly and eats a lot, like you. Plus, it’s your responsibility to take care of Chewy this weekend. Not mine.”

  “I take it back,” I say. “Your idea is dumb. Even if I am big and smelly—and I’m not smelly—I’m not a pet. Chewy is. I don’t need to be fed or watched. Only real pets like Chewy need to be taken care of and . . .”

  Oh no.

  I am not currently watching Chewy. Dragon is currently watching Chewy. Dragon, who wants to eat Chewy.

  4

  Watching Chewy

  I rush back upstairs.

  “Are you sick?” Ellie shouts. “Should I call a doctor? Or a veterinarian?”

  I ignore her and push open my door. The door to the cage is unlocked. Dragon’s head is inside with his mouth open right over Chewy.

  “Stop!” I shout.

  “Oh! Hee hee . . . I was just measuring him,” Dragon says innocently. “His width is one dragon mouth wide. Want me to measure his height now?”

  “Step away from the hamster,” I say.

  Dragon squeezes his head back out of the cage.

  I reach inside and carefully take Chewy out with both hands.

  Chewy looks at me and blinks a few times. He doesn’t look like he knows he was about to be a dragon’s snack. He doesn’t look like he knows much of anything.

  I still don’t get why anyone would want Chewy for a pet, but I am glad Dragon didn’t eat him. I’m sure I’d never hear the end of it if Alison didn’t get her turn to take Chewy home. I pet him on his back gently a few times and realize he’s pretty soft.

  “Ahem,” Dragon says.

  I put Chewy back in his cage and lock the door. Maybe I’ll remember to pet him again later.

  “So, if we can’t eat him . . .” Dragon begins.

  “We can’t.”

  “Can we play hide-and-seek with him?” Dragon asks. “And, um . . . if he gets so well hidden we can’t find him . . . we’ll just assume he’s gotten lost forever and nobody ate him,” he adds very quickly.

  I look at Dragon. He twiddles his claws and looks up at the ceiling, whistling.

  I decide to completely give up on my plan to make Dragon hamster-sit Chewy.

  Instead of spending time thinking about ideas for building the ramp, I end up watching both Dragon and Chewy carefully all afternoon and evening until nighttime. Making sure Dragon doesn’t eat Chewy is a full-time job. I also don’t have time for dueling practice, marshmallow experiments, or creating ninja mazes.

  I don’t get much sleep in either, because of all the times Dragon wakes up to sneak out of bed. Then he wakes me up and I have to put him back in. And every time Chewy hears us moving, he wakes up and starts running in his wheel.

  “Listen, Dragon, you wake up one more time to eat Chewy and you’re sleeping in the basement,” I tell him when he wakes up for the sixth time.

  “I’m not trying to eat Chewy,” Dragon says as though he’s offended. “I’m trying to go to the kitchen for regular food.”

  “I fed you all my carrots and half a pork chop from dinner,” I remind him.

  “You forgot to feed me dessert,” he says, and pats his belly.

  “I got you two cookies,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, but that was before dinner. They don’t count as dessert if they’re before dinner. I don’t know why you brought home a second pet if you can’t even take proper care of me. And how come he gets so much food?” Dragon adds, and motions to Chewy.

  “It’s just hamster food,” I tell him. “Chewy can’t eat good stuff like marshmallows and ice cream and Monster Marshmallow Madness cereal.”

  “Not even caramel-covered cookies with whipped cream on top?” Dragon asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Poor Chewy,” Dragon says, looking sad. “Stuck eating hamster food in a little tiny cage. That’s not a good life for a pet.”

  I slap my hand to my forehead.

  “You know what would really hit the spot right now?” Dragon says. “Chocolate-covered bananas and jalapeño chips.”

  I slap my forehead again. I need to stop doing that.

  “If I don’t have to watch you chase Chewy around all day tomorrow I can build a ramp with Michael so we can trade for snacks like that,” I say.

  “Really?” Dragon asks. I’m about to reply “Really” when we both hear the bedroom door start to open.

  “Everything okay in here?” Ellie whispers, shining her flashlight on me and Dragon.

  “What are you doing???” I say to Ellie.

  “I heard noises,” Ellie replies. “Do you need more blankets?”

  “No.”

  “Hmmm,” Ellie says, as though she’s thinking hard about something. “I did a bunch of research on Dad’s computer on how to take care of pets. Maybe you’re awake because you didn’t eat enough. Or maybe you ate too much. Pets aren’t allowed to have chocolate. Did you eat any chocolate?”

  “Oh, dear,” Dragon says. “I have been feeling light-headed recently.”

  Ellie doesn’t wait for me to answer before she continues. “Or maybe you’re awake because you need a clean living space. This room is filthy. Pets need clean living spaces. Also, they need to be groomed. Have you been groomed today? Your hair is sticking up. I don’t think you’ve been grooming properly.”

  “I’m always groomed properly,” Dragon says to Ellie, and dusts off his wings.

  “Maybe you have to use the bathroom,” Ellie suggests. “I heard pets sometimes have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

  Dragon looks at me. “Do you have to go?”

  “Leave me alone!” I yell at Ellie.

  “Fine, I’ll leave,” Ellie grumbles. “Just tell Mom and Dad I’d know how to help a real pet sleep well.”

  I throw my pillow at the door just as Ellie’s closing it.

  Suddenly I hear the wheel start to turn.

  “Great, now Chewy is awake again,” I say.

  “He probably needs a bedtime story,” Dragon says. “Chewy, listen to this. Once upon a time there was a hamster that came home with a boy, and the boy’s magnificent, beloved dragon. The boy could be awesome too if only he remembered to feed the dragon dessert. The h
amster never got dessert because the boy was mean. The end. P.S. The dragon was always properly groomed.”

  Dragon yawns. “I’m exhausted now. Please be quiet so I can sleep.” He curls up and soon begins snoring.

  I fall back on my bed with a thud. I have no pillow. Like Chewy, I am wide awake.

  Having two pets is the worst.

  5

  A Trillion Things to Do

  The next morning, I place Chewy in his cage next to me on the floor of the kitchen while I eat breakfast. I don’t like having to watch Chewy closely all the time, but I bet it’s better than telling Mrs. Tierney he’s gone because my dragon ate him.

  I give Dragon extra helpings from my Monster Marshmallow Madness cereal in between yawning. If I can keep him well fed, then maybe he’ll forget to try and eat Chewy. And then I can finally focus on building the ramp. Unless I’m forgetting something . . . but I can’t remember anything else that’s important.

  “You okay, Warren?” my mom asks as she butters her toast.

  “I didn’t sleep great,” I say.

  “You had to go to the bathroom, didn’t you?” Ellie asks. “You always have to make sure pets go to the bathroom before they sleep,” she says to our dad and mom. “I know this because I’d be a super responsible and knowledgeable pet owner. Especially the owner of a pet that’s big and smelly.” Ellie looks at me as I pour some more cereal into my bowl. “And one that eats a lot,” she adds.

  My mom looks at my dad. He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee.

  “What are you up to today, Warren?” Mom asks.

  “I have so much to do,” I groan. My parents look at me with their eyebrows raised. “I have to watch Chewy all the time to make sure he’s okay and I have about a hundred things to do.”

  “It’s more like a billion,” Dragon interrupts.

  “A billion things to do . . .” I begin.

  “No, more like a trillion,” Dragon says.

  “A trillion things . . .”

  “At least ten things to do.”

  “I have a lot to get done,” I say, and toss Dragon some more cereal so he’ll eat instead of interrupting me.

  “Do you need any supervision, Warren?” Ellie asks innocently. “I can take you places, like on a walk. A walk is always good exercise for a pet,” she tells our parents.

  “I do not need to take a walk,” I say. “You, however, can take a hike. . . .”

  “Hiking is a great idea!” Ellie exclaims. “Pets love hiking with their owners.” Again, Ellie keeps glancing at Mom and Dad when she’s talking. “You just need to bring water, and a pooper scooper, and maybe a couple of pet snacks.”

  “Like chocolate-covered bananas?” Dragon asks hopefully.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say to Ellie. “I’m also not going anywhere with a pooper scooper. And I’m definitely not going anywhere with you and a pooper scooper.”

  “Fine, but you’ll miss out on some great exercise, which all pets need,” Ellie says, like she’s an expert or something.

  “Fine by me,” I say. “Like I said, I already have a ton of stuff to get done today.”

  “Sounds like a busy day,” Mom says. “Wait, what exactly are you planning to do today?” She looks worried. Maybe it’s because of all the other weekends where my and Dragon’s plans ended up with walls needing new paint.

  “Uh, take care of Chewy?” I say innocently.

  “That won’t involve any food on the walls, right?” Mom asks.

  “Of course not,” I say. “A ramp isn’t a wall.”

  “Good,” Mom says. “Wait, what ramp?”

  “Can’t talk, Mom. Too many things to do!” I say as I lift up Chewy’s cage and begin to leave the kitchen with Dragon.

  “Including that report,” my dad says right before we make it out the door.

  Argh. The report! I completely forgot about it.

  “I still have to write that stupid report,” I tell Dragon when we get out of the kitchen. “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be about.”

  “You have to write a report the same weekend you bring Chewy home, huh?” Dragon says and taps his belly thoughtfully. “Maybe the report is supposed to be about Chewy?”

  “That kinda makes sense,” I say.

  “Or maybe the report is supposed to be about pets you already have and how they’re so much better than a hamster.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Or maybe the report is supposed to be about why dragons make better pets than any other pet in the world. There are limitless examples you could cite in your report. For example, we’re the most friendly, the most humble, the most helpful . . .”

  “I definitely don’t think so.”

  “Or maybe . . .”

  “Look, I don’t know for sure what the report is supposed to be about,” I say. “But I do know someone who would know.”

  6

  A Phone Call

  Dragon follows me into Dad’s office room. I put Chewy’s cage down on the floor.

  “Who are you calling?” Dragon asks as I pick up the phone. He’s climbed up to the edge of the office desk to stand near the phone.

  “Alison,” I reply. “I just have to find her number in the school directory book.”

  “Oooh, a phone call!” Dragon says, and smiles a really big, swoony smile. “Girls love it when you call them. It’s so old-fashioned.”

  “Wait, she’s not gonna think I’m calling because I want to, is she?” I ask. I start to feel worried. “I’m only calling because I have to.”

  “I don’t know,” Dragon says. “I heard of a boy who called a girl once, and the next thing you know they were married and opened a marshmallow bakery together.”

  “Just because of a phone call?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  I shudder.

  I find Alison’s number and punch in the numbers.

  “Hello?” A woman answers. I’m guessing it’s Alison’s mom.

  “This is Warren Nesbitt. Can I speak to Alison?” I say.

  “You forgot to say ‘please,’” Dragon says.

  “Can I please speak to Alison?” I say.

  “You forgot to say ‘May I,’” Dragon says.

  I put my hand over Dragon’s mouth. He gives it a nip and I take my hand away.

  “Sure. Hold on one moment,” Alison’s mom says.

  “Hello?” I hear Alison say.

  “Hi, Alison. This is Warren. First of all, you need to know that I didn’t want to call you but I have to even though I’d rather drink a smoothie made of anchovies and olives. No, wait. I’d rather stand outside and get soaked in rain and then get struck by lightning. No, wait. I’d rather get eaten by a six-eyed ginormous wasp. No, wait—”

  I look at the phone.

  “What happened?” Dragon asks.

  “She hung up on me.”

  “You should have stopped after the smoothie made of anchovies and olives,” Dragon says.

  He’s probably right.

  “You know, opening a marshmallow bakery doesn’t sound so bad,” Dragon says thoughtfully. “You could have marshmallow pie, marshmallow doughnuts, marshmallow pudding . . .”

  I press the numbers into the phone again.

  “What?!?” Alison says as soon as she answers.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just calling to ask about the report I have to write this weekend.”

  “You mean the report about Chewy?”

  “So the report is supposed to be about Chewy,” I say.

  Dragon does a little jig as he points to himself and says, “I was right. Genius here. Always listen to me. I know everything. I know—” Dragon loses his balance and tips over the side of the desk.

  “What was that noise?” Alison asks after Dragon crashes ont
o the floor.

  I reach out with my free hand and help Dragon up. He’s a little woozy.

  “Something fell, but it’ll be okay. I really have to write a report about Chewy?”

  “Of course the report is about Chewy,” Alison says. “You have to write about how much he eats, how long he sleeps, if you like having him as a pet . . . all that stuff.”

  I write down what’s she’s saying on a notepad. “Okay, eating, sleeping . . . nothing about anyone trying to eat him. . . .”

  “What?!?” Alison shrieks.

  I look at the phone.

  “What happened?” Dragon asks as he massages his head. “Why is she yelling? Did an invisible ninja come out of nowhere and push her onto the floor, too?”

  “She hung up on me again,” I say.

  Dragon gives a sad pout. “Does this mean you’re not gonna open a marshmallow bakery?”

  7

  A Secret

  A couple of minutes later the doorbell rings. I hear my mom greeting Michael at the door.

  I turn to Dragon. “Listen,” I say quickly, “if you write that report for me, I’ll give you all the marshmallows I can find. Plus, I’ll ask Michael for chocolate-covered bananas that you can have. If Michael and I get the ramp built in time, you can even get the bananas after bedtime tonight when we’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  Dragon licks his lips. “How about marshmallows, chocolate-covered bananas, and jalapeño chips?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, sure. I’ll get you all those snacks. So will you write the report while Michael and I build the ramp?”

  “The report has to be about Chewy?”

  “Yes. You just have to write about him eating and sleeping and stuff.”

  “Why can’t you just write the report on Sunday?” he asks.

  “Because, if we’re building the ramp today, then tomorrow . . .”

  “You’ll need a full day to add improvements like a water tower?” Dragon asks. “Turn it into an amusement park ride?”