Bradley Wallace’s father always offered to help with the math problems, and for years had been very helpful. But he lacked patience, and the New Math confused him.
In the New Math, getting the right answer wasn’t as important as using creative methods to get there, and that drove Jack crazy. So whenever Bradley Wallace couldn’t grasp some concept, and Jack couldn’t either, both would usually get fed up and quit.
Tonight, as on almost every other, he offered to aid his son with the homework, but Bradley Wallace was far too tense and uneasy to permit either of his parents much exposure to him. They’d surely notice his apprehension and pump him for an explanation. So he declined his father’s offer even though he didn’t have a clue how to convert decimals to fractions. And even if he did, he couldn’t concentrate tonight anyway. Instead, he thumbed through a “Famous Monsters of Filmland” magazine (he kept his collection hidden in the cabinet under the counter), but couldn’t even get interested in an article about the upcoming “Dark Shadows” movie. Now that was uptight.
After what seemed to him an agonizing eternity of waiting, his mother finally stopped by his room to announce bedtime. Only too happy to oblige, Bradley Wallace quickly pulled off his shoes - leaving the laces tied, as usual - and climbed under the covers of his bed fully clothed. When his mother returned a short while later to kiss him goodnight (which he was too old for anyway, he thought), Bradley Wallace feigned sleep, blanket drawn up around his neck to hide his unusual sleeping attire. She kissed him anyway and quietly left the room. Of course, it was still only nine o’clock, and his parents would be up quite awhile yet, probably watching TV or arguing, which seemed to be a nightly habit of late. So, the boy waited.
He stared up at the ceiling above his bed, from which hung suspended a fake yellow parrot with green feathers, wings spread apart, brown, plastic beak open as though in speech, seated on a perch looking happy and carefree. Atop the bird’s wire perch, held in place by the hanging chain, was a green and gold “Happy New Year” hat his parents had brought home from some party last year. The bird was a memento of the family’s Disneyland trip when Bradley Wallace had been four years old; as a consequence of his age, the boy remembered little of the Magic Kingdom except a submarine ride wherein their nautical vessel was attacked by a giant octopus with hordes of grabbing arms. He’d cried like a baby. Still, he remembered it as a truly magical place, and longed to return there someday.
With nothing to do but wait, Bradley Wallace’s thoughts returned to the dragon. Could he have somehow been walking in his sleep this afternoon and dreamed the entire encounter? It was just so incredible, and mystifying.
A dragon that could project thoughts in English into the boy’s mind? It seemed like something he’d see on “The Twilight Zone.” What was he going to do? Where could he hide a dragon? How could he feed it? How could this creature know his thoughts and feelings? These questions spun through his mind like a whirlwind, and he gradually drifted off to sleep.
Waking with a start, Bradley Wallace sat up quickly in bed. Someone had called his name. He glanced sleepy-eyed at the illuminated dial clock on his bed table and saw it was after midnight.
Oh, no! He threw back the covers and leapt from the bed, scrabbling in the dark for his Keds, not daring to turn on the light.
His fumbling hands finally located the shoes at the foot of his bed (his mother must have moved them) and he quickly slipped them on. He had heard someone call him, and he knew who it must’ve been.
Reaching under his bed, Bradley Wallace pulled out the flashlight he’d remembered to hide there earlier and quickly, but stealthily, exited his room, closing the door gently behind him. He even remembered to stuff clothes under his blankets so it would look like he was still in bed, just like in the movies.
The house was deathly quiet, and the boy scarcely dared breathe as he crept down to the playroom and let himself out the sliding door to the yard. He waited till he was well clear of the house before engaging the flashlight.
The beam cut a jagged path through the inky blackness as Bradley Wallace clambered down the incline and entered the dark, forbidding night world of the Gully. Under cover of darkness it seemed so sinister, so evil, as though demons and monsters lurked behind every tree, just waiting pounce on unsuspecting travelers, rending and tearing at their flesh . . . Bradley Wallace shook such morbidity aside as the beam of light picked the aging warehouse out of the gloom ahead. He’d often wondered how far the beam from a flashlight travels - he liked to think it went on forever.
The silence was eerie. Not even the lonesome owl hooted his familiar plaintive call this night. But the moon was full, and bathed the grey warehouse in a pale, amber light. The boy shivered more from fright than from cold, and passed through the slit. Playing the beam around the darkened interior, he searched for any sign of the dragon. But he saw nothing save the familiar array of debris. “Whilly?” he called out tentatively, not daring to raise his voice for fear that it might carry and wake some light-sleeping neighbor.
The answering silence mocked him. He didn’t bother calling out again because he knew the dragon was gone. He couldn’t sense its presence as he had previously. Damn! He’d told the stupid beast to stay put! Maybe something happened to him. Maybe somebody found him. He silently cursed himself for falling asleep. And yet, he had heard the creature call him. But from where?
Flicking off the flashlight, Bradley Wallace shut his eyes tightly and concentrated. If Whilly could see into him, then maybe he could see into Whilly. It was certainly worth a try. He focused his thoughts in that direction, hoping for a clue to the dragon’s whereabouts. He cleared his mind and concentrated.
His brows furrowed and his lips tightened as he channeled all his thoughts and all his mental energy toward a single end – the dragon’s location.
At first he saw nothing, and thought he had failed. But then images flickered before him, disconnected images that lacked cohesion or order. Hunger, Whilly slavering wildly, a cat with its back arched and tail distended, hissing and spitting malevolently. And blood. Oh my God, blood everywhere! Whose blood was it? He couldn’t tell. Then screaming. Human screaming. He struggled to make some sense of these erratic images, and finally managed to make out the form of a woman, a screaming woman. He was seeing her through Whilly’s eyes, but the dragon must be hiding behind a hedge or something because his vision was partially screened by twisted up branches and fluttering leaves. Now a man was standing beside the woman, and she pointed fearfully at him. And Whilly called out to him for help. But wait! Those people. He knew them. The Nobles from up the street! Bradley Wallace frantically shook his head to break the mind link and snapped on the flashlight. He dashed madly for the slit, hoping against hope that he’d get there in time.
Tearing up the incline and then up the street as fast as his legs would carry him, Bradley Wallace heard the sound of voices drifting clearly over the night air. He followed them to their source - the Noble’s house. Light spilled from the open front door onto the darkened lawn. Mr. and Mrs. Noble were framed in the doorway, wearing bathrobes, the former attempting to calm the latter.
Bradley Wallace could not see Whilly, but glanced once at the hedge behind which he knew the dragon to be hiding. His mind raced. He had to create some kind of diversion so Whilly could escape. Realizing he had scant seconds to act, Bradley Wallace dashed up the stone steps toward the front door and staged a spectacular fall, rolling on the hard concrete walkway and landing face down at the feet of his astounded neighbors.
“Bradey!” Mr. Noble exclaimed as the boy looked up and revealed his face. The burly man carefully helped the “injured” boy to a sitting position on the stoop. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
Bradley Wallace gripped his scraped knee and grimaced in pain (real, not phony - that walkway was hard!) “I couldn’t sleep so I went outside to sit in the yard. Then I heard Mrs. Noble yelling and thought she might be, you know, getting mugged or something.” He gazed up at the distr
aught woman and prayed she hadn’t seen Whilly.
“Something happened to Isabel!” the dark-haired, somewhat plain woman began. Isabel was her Siamese cat, her pride and joy. “I heard her scream to beat all else. And when I came out here, I swear I saw something moving behind the hedge over there.” She pointed to the exact spot where Whilly was hiding, and Bradley Wallace sucked in a breath. He could not only see with his own eyes, but with those of the dragon as well. It was an eerie sensation, seeing yourself through another’s eyes, and the boy felt extremely disconcerted. He fought to shake the feeling. “Maybe she just got into a fight, Mrs. Noble,” he suggested lamely. “I hear catfights all the time.”
“I’ve never heard her scream like that,” the unsettled woman insisted fiercely. “And I swear I saw that hedge move.”
He followed her pointing finger with his eyes, and saw the mirror image through Whilly’s. “I don’t see anything,” he stated as calmly as he could, his heart thudding wildly with fear.
“Neither do I,” Mr. Noble agreed. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go look.”
He started across the lawn toward the hedge. “No!” Bradley Wallace cried loudly, causing the man to whirl around and hurry back.
“What’s wrong, Bradey?” Mr. Noble asked anxiously, both he and Mrs. Noble hovering over him.
“I,” the boy began, stammering because he’d cried out as a last resort and hadn’t thought of a good excuse for doing so. “I just moved too much and it hurt real bad,” he attempted, gripping his knee and grimacing in pain. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it.
The Nobles exchanged an anxious look. “We’d better get him inside and look at that knee,” Mrs. Noble suggested, her motherly instincts replacing her fear. “I’m sorry, Bradey, I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“Can you stand?” Mr. Noble asked him, all thoughts of the hedge apparently forgotten.
“I think so,” the frightened, but relieved, boy acknowledged. He was shaking like a tuning fork, and it wasn’t acting; he’d almost wet his pants, and that sure would’ve been embarrassing. In his mind he saw Mr. Noble looking behind the hedge and finding Whilly, and shuddered outwardly. Man, that was close!
The concerned couple each took an arm and gently eased Bradley Wallace to his feet. Ouch! He winced sharply as pain ricocheted through his knee like an erratic bullet. But he couldn’t let on how much it really hurt to the Nobles. They’d tell his parents for sure.
“I’m sure Isabel will turn up in the morning,” Mr. Noble assured his wife as the three entered the house and shut the front door. She reluctantly agreed that perhaps she’d dreamt the ferocity of the scream. As they sat Bradley Wallace down in the fine-grain wood and Formica kitchen (an odd combination, he thought), the boy marveled at how easily grownups tend to dismiss as imagination anything that doesn’t seem instantly explainable, even when they themselves were the ones who saw it or heard it. Another reason he didn’t want to grow up.
Mrs. Noble made hot cocoa while Bradley Wallace assured them he wasn’t seriously hurt - he’d just banged his knee a little and scraped his hands. When asked again what he was doing outside so late, the boy repeated his earlier story, at the same time watching in his mind as the dragon slipped from behind the hedge and disappeared into the darkened street toward the Gully.
Bradley Wallace almost sighed aloud with relief. He realized he must be getting better at lying, because the Nobles gave no indication they disbelieved his fib, to which he’d added with ease that he couldn’t sleep because of a math test the next day. Lying may be getting easier, he noted, but it still didn’t feel any better.
After spending another interminable fifteen minutes with the Nobles, Bradley Wallace thanked them for the hot cocoa and insisted he could make it home by himself, that his leg was fine now. And he begged them not to tell his parents about this because they’d only worry if they thought he had trouble sleeping, and he wouldn’t anymore, anyway, after this math test. He knew it sounded lame, but he was too tense and anxious to conjure up anything better.
Finally free, the boy limped hurriedly down the street toward the Gully incline, wincing from the sparks of pain shooting through his leg like a shorting electrical cable. He shivered from cold and fear, realizing for the first time that he was drenched in chilled, clammy sweat. He had never been so scared in his life. If the Nobles had seen Whilly, that would’ve been it. Damn that dragon!
Entering the slit, he felt Whilly’s presence before actually locating the creature with his wavering flashlight beam. The dragon crouched in a corner near the Masher, forepaws on the ground in front of him, head inclined at an angle, regarding the approaching boy with a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment. An irrational anger rose like bile in Bradley Wallace’s throat, bubbling and frothing as he stalked to the quiescent creature squatting so innocently before him.
“What do you think you were doing?” he demanded hotly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay here? Didn’t I?” He was angrier than he knew he should be, but couldn’t control himself.
*I was hungry,* the dragon projected confusedly, obviously baffled by the boy’s vitriolic fury. You did not come back with food.
“I fell asleep, okay?” Bradley Wallace snapped caustically. “I was tired. But your stupidity tonight almost blew everything!”
I needed food, came the emotionless reply.
“How could you do that?” the boy viciously accused. “How could you eat her cat? That’s sick!”
The dragon fell silent, and Bradley Wallace suddenly saw himself through Whilly’s eyes, saw himself spewing animosity like a belching volcano, and he didn’t like what he saw. He suddenly felt ashamed, and lowered his eyes to avoid the dragon’s stingingly reproachful look.
“I’m sorry, Whilly,” he murmured quietly. “I don’t know why I yelled at you.”
You were afraid, Bradley Wallace Murphy. I could feel it in you.
Bradley Wallace nodded agreement, dropping weakly to a sitting position on the fallen rafter. “You’re right, Whilly. I was so scared I almost wet my pants.” He suddenly broke into a mischievous grin. “I don’t think Mrs. Noble would’ve liked me pissing all over her ‘welcome’ mat.” He laughed then, releasing the tension bottled up inside. And he felt Whilly somehow sharing in that laughter, even though he knew dragons couldn’t laugh. Or could they? Just when he began to unwind slightly, the image of Isabel shrieking and clawing, back arched, teeth bared, fighting for her life flashed vividly before his eyes, and he shuddered.
A frown creased his youthful face and he gazed soberly up at the motionless dragon. “Whilly, you can’t go around eating people’s cats. It’s too gross.”
But I must have food to grow.
“But you just can’t eat people’s pets like that. They love those animals and, well, it’s like you’re eating their best friend or something. Do you understand?”
I understand what you understand, the dragon replied simply. But I still have to eat.
Bradley Wallace clenched his fists in frustration. “Look, if you go around swallowing up people’s cats, you’re gonna get caught sooner or later, and then it’s curtains for both of us.”
Curtains? Whilly repeated in bewilderment, struggling to put his newly acquired human knowledge into perspective.
“The end of the line, we’re finished, doomed,” the boy explained anxiously.
*Oh. But where will I get food if I do not catch it?” the dragon persisted.
Bradley Wallace was getting tired of this subject, and sighed in exasperation. “You sure have a one-track mind.”
I am sorry.
The agitated boy considered a moment, his face crinkled with concentration. The dragon watched and waited, not daring to probe the young human’s mind and risk another temper tantrum. Finally Bradley Wallace spoke, his voice thick with worry.
“I guess I’ll have to get you food, somehow.” His voice cracked annoyingly on the last word, rising and falling several octaves simultaneously.
The dragon snorted, and Bradley Wallace immediately took offense.
“You think that’s funny, huh? Just wait till your voice changes, then see how you like it!”
He folded his arms across his chest and sulked. He was sick of everyone laughing at his voice, and defiantly ignored the illogic of what he’d just said.
I do not have a voice. I just project my thoughts somehow.
“You think you’re so smart!” the angry boy sniped. “Well how’d you like it if I just left you here to get caught and killed, huh? You wouldn’t last long without me, that’s for sure!”
From what I see in your mind of this world, you are right. I need your help. But I also sense that you need mine as well. The dragon regarded the sulking boy with interest, but kept his distance.
“I don’t need your help,” Bradley Wallace immediately retorted, his pride wounded by the dragon’s suggestion.
We can help each other, Whilly suggested softly. I think that would be what you would call “good.”
The boy gazed up at the massive jaws with their razor-sharp teeth, and into those fascinating scarlet eyes. “How do you know so much about me, anyway?” He was not quite ready to give in.
The dragon’s answer was simple and logical, and if Bradley Wallace had thought about it for five seconds, he could have answered his own question. But then, he never thought too clearly when he was miffed or angry. I told you before I do not understand it. We are part of each other, and all knowledge that is yours is mine. But knowledge itself has no value without the means to interpret it. This I shall learn on my own, as you do, from experience.
The boy’s anger began to dissipate as the enthralling possibilities of the dragon’s thoughts whirled like a tornado through his mind. They were separate, and yet like one. Each could know the other’s thoughts. It was almost too wild to be possible. The Noble’s cat still troubled him, however, and he eyed the dragon suspiciously.
“How do I know you won’t eat me sometime when I’m not looking?”
A Boy and His Dragon Page 7