Pillage

  Principal Wales’s big, round face looked even more absurd when he was speaking nonsense.

  “He’s not ready for my class,” Squall protested.

  “Not ready for English Lit?” I laughed.

  “See,” Squall said, sounding like a baby.

  “Quiet, Simon,” Principal Wales said, holding up his hands. “Listen, Beck, the important thing is that we put away foolish thoughts—take responsibility for our actions. We can’t just roll our eyes and start fights and make up silly stories about dragons.”

  “I didn’t make up a story,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” Principal Wales said, relieved. “See, I’m glad you understand. No stories about dragons. There have been rumors in the past of your family and . . . well, no more stories. Now off to class.”

  I stood up and left, having no idea how the world operated when the people in control were adults.

  When I got home from school, Millie fed me a huge cinnamon roll. It was probably the second or third most delicious thing I had ever eaten. I then put on my snow boots and announced loud enough for everyone to hear that I was going sledding by myself down by the road.

  “There’s not much snow left,” Thomas said.

  He was right of course. The weather had warmed up and the snow had melted fast. All the rivers on the mountain were rushing like wet, out-of-control trains.

  “I’ll find enough to sled down.”

  Millie looked at Thomas and I could see him remember something.

  “Stay where you belong,” he said, glancing back at Millie. His instruction sounded rehearsed.

  I walked out of the manor and along the side of the drive. Halfway down the path, I turned and trudged through the woods to the meeting spot.

  When I got to the willow, nobody was there. I was surprised at how excited I felt. I couldn’t wait to get back into the conservatory and see what had happened to the stones.

  Milo and Kate were five minutes late.

  “Again,” Kate said. “Milo’s a slow walker. You’re sure that gardener’s gone?”

  “Positive,” I said. “Everyone else is in the kitchen.”

  There was even less snow than I had thought. Of course, there was way more mud than I had anticipated. Milo got stuck twice, and Kate almost lost one of her shoes. By the time we got to the conservatory, all three of us had high-water mud marks up to our knees.

  There was a large pile of snow on the ground next to the bricked archway behind the conservatory. I couldn’t see the ivy on the ground, but all I had to do was think about it and bright green vines shot upward, grabbing onto the bricks like drowning victims reaching for a rope. The ivy climbed the wall quickly, grateful to be able to stretch.

  “Wow,” Milo said.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  They both nodded. Kate went first, followed by Milo, and then me. The ivy was so easy to climb I wondered why there were no ivy ladders or ivy nets in the world. I figured it was just another thing the adults were missing out on.

  All three of us sat on the top of the wall in a cloud of mist, pausing to catch our breath.

  “Geronimo,” I said, swinging out and climbing down the inside ivy. I landed on the snowy ground and watched to make sure Milo and Kate were coming.

  Kate spotted the change in the garden before she was even off the ivy and swore in exclamation.

  I turned to see what had made her swear. The shack was half burned. The metal bins were filled with melted snow water and a thin crust of ice skimmed across the top. Where the little plants had been, though, there were now eight gigantic, leafy pods. They looked like they were twelve feet in diameter. A couple of the pods shivered as we gazed dumbfounded at the sight. Each pod had a small round hole on top. And, as if the sight of the huge plants wasn’t unnerving enough, each pod was floating two or three feet above their green nest. Thick, bushy weeds blanketed the conservatory grounds.

  “What happened?” Milo asked.

  It seemed pretty clear to me. “The nests grew.”

  “And learned how to float,” Kate added.

  I walked over to the closest nest. I reached out to touch it, but changed my mind because it was shivering like a wet dog.

  Kate walked over to one and touched it despite the shivering. “It’s warm,” she whispered.

  “Is the stone still inside?” Milo asked, clinging to the ivy, ready to climb away if things went bad.

  I stared at Milo, dumbfounded. “I can make things grow, but I don’t have X-ray vision.”

  I stared hard at the nest just to make sure. Milo kept his hands on the ivy.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” I assured him. “It’s perfectly—”

  My assurance of safety was cut short by the sound of one nest beginning to howl. The low haunting noise gave me greater goose bumps than the cold wind. Milo was halfway back up the ivy on his way out.

  The howling nest trembled and fell down against the ground. The drop shook the ground we were standing on and caused all the other pods to wobble and fall. Kate fell against me, making me lose my balance. Milo was still up on the ivy, clinging for dear life.

  Once the nests settled, they began to whistle and howl through the holes on top.

  “Maybe we should go,” Kate said, concerned.

  I wasn’t going to argue with her, but I knew that if I climbed out I would eventually have to climb back in to see what had happened.

  “Hold on,” I said. “We can’t just leave. Don’t you wanna know what they are?”

  “Okay,” Kate agreed. “How about if Milo and I leave and you tell us about it later?”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you were much braver than that.” Personally, I was scared to death, and the last thing I wanted was to be alone in the conservatory. I figured if I bullied Kate into staying, I would be better off.

  Kate growled—surprisingly, she still looked pretty.

  “They’re not going to hurt us,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Milo yelled down from the ivy.

  “They’re plants.”

  “Floating, howling plants,” Kate said, trying to sound brave. “Where are the stones?”

  “I’m going to guess inside of those things,” I said nervously.

  I felt like an idiot. I was shaking in fear because of a big plant. There had been times in my past when I had to go out at one o’clock in the morning and find my mother hiding on the street. It was not unusual for her to disappear and hide behind a business or a home somewhere. I always knew that if I reported her behavior I would become a ward of the state or even shipped off to some crazy relative who owned a strange, gigantic manor where plants had personalities.

  “This is stupid,” I said. “They’re just plants.”

  I walked right up to the nearest nest and knelt down. I leaned over and put my arms around the leaves. The nest was so warm and I could hear a faint purring.

  “Stick your hand in the hole,” Milo called down.

  I ignored him, concentrating on the nest in front of me.

  The hole breathed and a trace amount of air escaped. I looked at Kate and decided to pretend I was much braver than

  I actually was. I carefully stuck my hand into the hole. The nest was hot and moist inside and as I lowered my fingers, I could feel thick, sticky goo.

  That was enough for me. I pulled my hand out quickly. There was a thick, orange snot-looking blob hanging from my fingers.

  We all collectively, “Eeewed.”

  I tried to fling the orange stuff off my hand, but it was

  un-flingable. Even worse, it was creeping down the rest of my hand and moving along my arm.

  I’m man enough to know when to scream.

  “What can I do?” Kate screamed back.

  “Pull it off.”

  Kate looked at the slowly spreading goo.

  “No way.”

  It was not the answer I was expecting. Here I had dreamed of having a future together with Kate and she wasn??
?t even girl enough to extract a snotty substance off my arm to save my life and open the possibility to us even having a future.

  While I was lamenting, Kate picked up a stick and poked at the orange blob—apparently she did care. The orange goop moved onto the stick. I took the stick and shoved the goo back into the pod’s hole.

  “Okay,” I said. “Now we’ll go.”

  Before I could even turn around, though, the pod I had just poked began to crackle and slowly open. The movement and noise were strangely mesmerizing. The leaves folded back and wriggled open, exposing a large, gooey center. In the middle of the goo was one of the stones. It was glowing. As if on cue, all the other nests began to sizzle and open, distracting me. The sound was frightening.

  “Come on,” Milo yelled down. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Kate and I ran to the ivy. Like a gentleman, I let Kate go first and then scrambled up after her.

  A loud pop sounded behind me. I lost my grip on the ivy and fell back down to the dirt. I jumped up and looked around, half expecting to see someone standing behind me with a smoking gun.

  There was no gun or smoke in sight, but all the nests were spread open and the enlarged stone in the first nest was cracked.

  There was another pop, followed by a bang and two more firecracker-like explosions.

  “They’re all opening,” Kate yelled from her spot on the ivy. “Come on!”

  I leapt back on the wall, pulling myself up as fast as I could. It sounded like a battlefield behind me as the report of bursting stones filled the air.

  Milo had made it to the top of the wall and was already climbing down the outside. I watched Kate push through the cloud of mist and up over the wall as well.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “Kate, hold on!”

  All I could see was Kate’s face through the mist as she peered back over at me. She looked appropriately worried.

  “What?” she yelled. “Hurry.”

  “We can’t just leave,” I said. “What are they?”

  “You’re welcome to go back and look,” Kate said, scared.

  I glanced down, trying to see through the mist. Kate saw my hesitation and panicked.

  “You can’t go down, Beck,” she said. “I was joking, come on.”

  I started to move away from her.

  “Beck, don’t!”

  I smiled and slipped below the cloud of mist and out of her view. I didn’t feel quite so brave without her watching me.

  The popping and cracking had stopped, but the sound of something tittering and chirping could be heard. I looked over my shoulder as I climbed down the ivy, but I couldn’t make out what was making the noise. It looked like something in each of the nests was squirming.

  When my feet hit the ground, I turned to take a good look at what was happening. My mouth dropped open wide enough to house a full-grown chicken. In the center of every nest was a small, wriggling creature. I rubbed my eyes with my hand and took a better look.

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered.

  The small creatures in each nest squeaked and stretched. They were all different colors and slightly different sizes. Most had large, wide-set blue eyes with protruding noses and big mouths. Some were uglier than others; a couple of them were even cute.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  I had grown up watching plenty of movies and TV shows with realistic special effects. I had seen dinosaurs roaming and witches flying, all thanks to the magic of computer animation. Those things had appeared real, but I could tell that what I was seeing now was no special effect, it was real.

  “Amazing,” Kate said right behind me, startling me.

  “I knew there was no way you could stay away.” I smiled nervously.

  I could see Milo coming back down the wall. He slowly let go of the ivy, looking fearfully at what was happening.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  “I think they’re dragons,” I answered honestly, half-wishing they were only special effects.

  I walked up to one of the nests and looked down at the creature.

  “Pick it up,” Kate whispered.

  Apparently I’m influenced by girls whispering things to me. I reached out and lifted the small creature. It was green and folded like an accordion in my hands. It was cute, but I could see misunderstanding and fire in its eyes. I shifted him to Kate’s outstretched hands. She cradled it like a baby and whispered something to it.

  I felt betrayed.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “I don’t believe it.” I stared.

  “The evidence is pretty convincing.” Kate smiled.

  Milo wanted to just look at the creature and not touch it yet. Kate handed me the dragon, and I lifted it up to stare in its eyes. As I did so, it scratched my chin with its sharp back claws.

  “Ow!” I said, quickly putting it back in the nest.

  We all stood back, gazing at the baby dragons stretching and coming to life.

  “Unbelievable,” I said in awe, rubbing my scratch.

  “Are you okay?” Kate asked.

  I realized I honestly didn’t know how to answer her.

  Chapter 16

  Is It Really So Odd?

  I have been taught a number of things in my life. I really can’t remember a time when I wasn’t surrounded by adults bombarding me with things they thought I should know. I remember learning the moon is 238,855 miles away and that “i” comes before “e” except after “c.” Both perfectly useful things to know if you’re going to spend some time writing on the moon. Now I felt gypped. Not a single person had ever taught me how to handle and raise dragons. In fact, I had met a number of adults who had insisted dragons weren’t even real. I wished desperately they could see me now.

  The dragons had hatched two weeks earlier and already we were becoming a bit weary of spending time with them. Not that they weren’t fascinating and cool, but they were also huge and powerful and frightening. They were like gigantic, scaly crows impatiently strutting around and growing huge teeth, which they used to consume the hearty, thick weeds growing in the conservatory.

  Kate had names for all eight of them: Myth, the fat, spiky one with skin so foggy and gray that she didn’t look real; Jane was almost pretty with yellow skin, piercing green eyes, and bright white teeth; Mercury, the silver, metallic-looking one; Ishmael, the big, white one I preferred to call Whitey; Carpet, the extra-hairy one; and Saber, who had two large teeth sticking out of his mouth like a saber-toothed tiger. Kate had named the tallest and skinniest one Rydon because she said it sounded like a dragon name. The smallest one we called Pip for obvious reasons. They all had hairy backs and odd, colorful markings.

  Rydon was half as tall as the walls of the conservatory. He was covered in gray scales from the neck down, but his head was orange. He had a nice shaped single horn right above his nose and a fine looking tail covered with sharp, jagged pieces of cartilage. He struggled with walking, but when he flapped his wings, you could feel the air move all the way to the corners of the conservatory. Pip was green with a black stripe down her stomach and white, furry ears. She had the most personality and was really the only one who seemed happy to see us when we delivered extra food and attention.

  It had not been easy taking care of them. We spent hours each day trying to avoid Scott and collect extra food from the forest for the dragons. We figured we should probably be feeding them meat, but Kate said the moment we fed them something that could actually bleed she was out.

  Ishmael nipped playfully at Milo’s hair, knocking him to the ground in the process. Milo didn’t find it as enjoyable as Ishmael did. Milo picked himself up and moved over by Kate and me.

  “They’re getting a little too big,” he said needlessly.

  “I know.”

  “What happens when they learn to fly?” Kate wondered aloud.

  “I guess the problem will take care of itself at that point,” I said.

  “We can’t just let them fly away,” she reasoned. “
There has to be someway to manage them.”

  Each dragon was possessive of his or her space, rarely moving too far from the spot where they had been born except to drink from the metal bins or to tussle with each other.

  “Your uncle has to know something about managing them,” Milo said. “This is his place.”

  “My uncle’s a little different,” I admitted.

  “I told you,” Milo said.

  “Still,” Kate said, watching Pip eat a pile of weeds as big as her. “In a few days these things are going to be too big for even this place to hide.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I insisted.

  “What about that book you found?” Milo asked.

  “The book from the basement? What about it?” I asked, confused.

  “There’s a tunnel connecting the conservatory to the basement,” Milo pointed out. “Maybe that’s important.”

  I shook my head. “The dragons are important.”

  “Maybe the book is too,” Milo said insistently. “You should read the book more carefully.”

  Rydon turned and, while spinning his tail, clipped my right side, sending me flying into Carpet, the purple dragon with the thick, hairy back and wings. Carpet didn’t enjoy having me dumped on him. He bit my shirt and lifted me up. He shook me like a dog shaking a toy and then flipped me into Mercury’s nest. Milo had originally wanted to name Mercury, Shiny, but I had argued that that was quite possibly the worst dragon name ever. So we changed it.

  Mercury nudged me. I poked him back with a long stick and he screamed at me. I decided it was time to get out of the nest. I hurried back to Kate and Milo.

  “I gotta be honest,” I said. “I don’t think they are going to take orders from us much longer. I should tell Wane; she’d help us.”

  “No,” Milo said. “They’ll take them away or kill them.”

  “No one’s going to kill them,” I replied, more confidently than I felt. I knew how much adults loved to take apart and study everything in an effort to keep themselves busy.

  “This is so strange,” Kate said softly as she looked out over the herd.

  “I know,” I said. “Dragons aren’t even real.”

  Kate smiled at me.

  I held my hand out and she put hers in mine. I pulled her over toward the half-burned shack as Milo followed us. We hefted up the metal grate and Kate and Milo dropped down into the hole. Standing on the small footholds in the wall, I reached up to shift the grate back into place before descending to the tunnel floor. I had wised up days ago and now kept a small flashlight in my pocket for safer tunnel travel. There was no water in the hole, but there were still a few parts that were muddy from ice that had frozen and then thawed.