Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher: A Magic Shop Book

  This was the beginning of the Company of Hatchers. Since that first hatching, a handful of eggs have come to this world each decade. Each egg is held out of sight of the moon, until the right person appears. Then the egg is entrusted to the Hatcher, who must guard the young dragon and, when the time is right, help it to go home.

  Jeremy closed the book and sighed. It looked like he had better find out about Midsummer Night.

  Eleven - Confessions

  "Ah, Midsummer Night," said Mr. Thatcher. "Wonderful date, filled with magic. Twenty-third of June, if I remember correctly."

  "That's not the middle of summer," cried Jeremy. "It's the beginning!"

  "Just another little trick of the English language," said Dr. Thatcher with a shrug.

  Jeremy felt sick. He had thought Tiamat would still be with him for another couple of months. Midsummer Night wasn't nearly so far away.

  "Anything wrong?" asked Dr. Thatcher.

  Jeremy shook his head and left the roOm. For some reason June 23rd sounded vaguely familiar. He went to check the calendar in the kitchen and found that the date was circled. He had circled it himself, in red, with exclamation points, because it was the last day of school for the year. And it was only two weeks away.

  Two weeks, thought Jeremy in despair. Can I stand to let Tiamat go, when the time comes?

  He really didn't know. The dragon was a part of him now. He was used to her constant presence in his mind, the never-absent play of colors at the back of his head that spoke to him of her moods. He loved those colors. They were starting to show up in his art, making it richer and stronger than it had ever been before.

  Yet Tiamat was already too big to stay in his room. In fact, he was planning to move her to one of the small barns that very night.

  Jeremy waited until the house was quiet. Walking on tiptoe, he led Tiamat down the stairs. Though the cats hissed as they crossed the kitchen, none of them came near. Jeremy had to open the door for Tiamat. The cat door she had been able to slip through such a short time ago was already far too small for her.

  "Now for heaven's sake, don't sit in here and try to breathe flame," said Jeremy as he led Tiamat into the barn. "You'll burn the whole place down!"

  He accompanied the speech with an image of a flame-breathing Tiamat setting the barn on fire, and a sense of how upset he would be if that happened.

  Don't worry, she replied with a whirl of white and gold.

  After Tiamat was settled into one of the abandoned stalls, Jeremy returned to his room—and worried. He worried so much that the next day in school, somewhat to his own surprise, he found himself telling Mary Lou both that Tiamat had grown enormously large, and that she was supposed to leave.

  "What are you going to do?" asked Mary Lou.

  "What can I do? She can't stay here."

  Mary Lou put her hand on his arm. "Do you want me to go with you when you take her?" she asked quietly.

  Jeremy surprised himself again by considering the offer.

  "I don't think so," he said at last. "Saying goodbye to her is something I'm going to have to do on my own."

  "There must be some way I can help you."

  Jeremy shrugged. "You can help feed her if you want."

  Mary Lou seemed delighted. "I'll bring over a gallon of milk tomorrow morning!"

  In fact, Mary Lou rode her bike over with a gallon of milk every day that week. On Friday morning, Jeremy began to wonder if the milk trick was still working. That was because Fat Pete's owner came to the Thatcher house to ask if anyone had seen his cat.

  Jeremy swallowed hard. Though Fat Pete often wandered away, he always came back within a day or two. Now he had been gone for three days— the exact amount of time Tiamat had been in the barn. Had he saved the cranky cat from Freddy only to have Tiamat down it for a midnight snack?

  Excusing himself, he raced down to the barn.

  Tiamat was waiting, her long neck stretched out beyond the edge of the stall.

  Breakfast? she asked, sending an image of her bucket of milk, along with her question feeling.

  "Later," said Jeremy irritably. Then he sent her an image of Fat Pete, along with his own question feeling.

  The feeling she sent back could best be translated as Yum!

  Jeremy turned pale. Did that mean that she had eaten the cat—or only that she would like to?

  He was still trying to figure out how to image the question when Mary Lou walked in with a gallon of milk.

  "Good grief," she said, staring at Tiamat in awe. "She's getting bigger by the day."

  Jeremy nodded in dismay. Judging by the marks he had been making on the stall wall, she was at least a foot longer than yesterday. Most of that was tail, but still, her size was getting to be a matter of real concern. Much as he loved her, Tiamat at ten feet was not as charming as Tiamat at ten inches.

  "Do you think this will be enough?" asked Mary Lou, as she poured the milk into Tiamat's plastic bucket.

  "I sure hope so," said Jeremy. Then he told her about Fat Pete.

  "You don't know that Tiamat did it," said Mary Lou defensively.

  "True," said Jeremy. "But I don't know that she didn't, either." He shivered. "What if she goes on

  a binge some night and eats all my father's patients?"

  "Maybe I'd better go back and get some more milk," said Mary Lou. She looked embarrassed. "Only, I'm out of money."

  Jeremy dug in his jeans. "The way things are going, I'm going to have to find a job just to feed her," he said ruefully, handing Mary Lou the last of his allowance.

  They left for school with no clear answer to the question of Fat Pete.

  When they passed the Bothill house, Specimen moped out to join them. He was the only boy in the class who would still walk with Jeremy, now that Jeremy was walking to and from school with Mary Lou.

  "I wish whoever gave Kravitz that hotfoot would confess," said Specimen.

  Jeremy felt himself blush. "Wasn't it worth missing the contest to see Mr. Kravitz get that hotfoot?" he asked hopefully.

  Specimen shrugged. "No one asked if I was willing to give up the contest for the sake of a laugh."

  Jeremy's stomach grew tight. It wasn't fair for Spess to be punished for something Tiamat had done. But the only way he could change that would be to tell Mr. Kravitz that he was the one who had given him the hotfoot.

  In a way, he wished that he had.

  Jeremy thought about it all morning. At noon he went to Mr. Sigel and said, "May I go see Mr. Kravitz for a few minutes?

  Mr. Sigel raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "If you want to," he said.

  Jeremy was relieved that he didn't ask why. But that was one of the things he liked about Mr. Sigel. Even though he made a lot of suggestions, he never pried into your personal life.

  Jeremy's hands began to tremble as he walked to the artroom.

  Are you all right?

  Tiamat's question whispered through his brain in a mist of blue and yellow.

  Yes! he thought fiercely.

  She returned an image of his shaking hands, along with her question feeling.

  I have something to do, thought Jeremy. Something difficult. He tried to think of a picture to explain, but couldn't.

  Shall I come help you? NO!

  Tiamat broke the connection, but not before sending a message of puzzled dismay.

  Great, thought Jeremy. If there's anything left of me after I'm done with Mr. Kravitz, I get to deal with a dragon in a snit. How do I get myself into these situations ?

  When Jeremy entered the art room he found Mr. Kravitz sitting at one of the long tables, drawing. The teacher didn't notice him right away, so Jeremy stood and watched the man work.

  Finally Mr. Kravitz looked up. "Thatcher," he said, in such a neutral way that Jeremy couldn't tell if it was a greeting, a statement, or a question.

  Even so, he could feel his stomach getting still tighter.

  "Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Kravitz.

  Jeremy swallowed
hard. "I'm the one who gave you that hotfoot."

  "Nice try, Thatcher," said Mr. Kravitz. His voice had a note of contempt. He returned to his drawing.

  "Nice try?" asked Jeremy, uncertain what that meant.

  Mr. Kravitz put down his pencil. "You didn't give me that hotfoot, and we both know it. You were too far away. Who are you protecting? That little weasel, Freddy? What did he do, threaten to hit you if you didn't take the blame?"

  Jeremy blinked in confusion. He had confessed, and the confession had been rejected. Now what was he supposed to do? Explain that it was actually his dragon that had done the deed?

  His throat hurt. His stomach was a knot of emotion. Years of frustration seethed within him. Before he realized what he was doing, he said, "Mr. Kravitz, why do you hate me?"

  Mr. Kravitz looked at him in astonishment. Jeremy blinked at his own boldness; frightened, he took a step back. As he did, he noticed Mr. Kravitz's hand begin to twitch. Suddenly the art teacher seemed to notice it, too. He looked at his hand, put down the pencil, and then looked back at Jeremy, who saw something terrible in the man's eyes—a kind of anger, but a sadness, too.

  When Mr. Kravitz finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. "Do you really believe that I hate you?" he asked.

  Jeremy hesitated. Probably he should just say no, and let it go. But he had come too far now to drop the matter. He had put the truth as he felt it in the open. He had to stand by it. Summoning all his courage, he looked back at Mr. Kravitz and nodded.

  The big man turned away for a moment. When he turned back, his face was twisted, as if he were in pain. "I think you are the most talented student I have ever taught," he said slowly. "Talented, but undisciplined. You need them both, Thatcher. Talent and discipline. One without the other is useless."

  Jeremy stared at him in astonishment. Mr. Kravitz stared back. Uncomfortable, Jeremy lowered his eyes to the picture Mr. Kravitz had been working on, a stiff drawing of some trees beside a pond. The drawing was accurate, but still and lifeless. As he watched, Mr. Kravitz's big fingers twitched. The drawing crumpled beneath them.

  Suddenly it all came clear to Jeremy. Mr. Kravitz didn't hate him. The problem was that the man was jealous—jealous because Jeremy was a better artist than he was.

  The idea was astonishing. It couldn't be true.

  Or could it?

  Maybe what Mr. Kravitz resented—hated, even—was that he, Jeremy, was talented, but didn't show any discipline.

  He returned his gaze to the teacher's face, searching it for information.

  The big man looked away from him. "Who really gave me that hotfoot?" he asked after a moment.

  "I was responsible," said Jeremy truthfully.

  Mr. Kravitz sighed. "Go back to your room," he said. "Your class is back in the contest. Everyone except you."

  Twelve - Night Flights

  "I've got a chance!" shouted Specimen when he heard the news. He was so excited, he raced home to work on his entry as soon as school was over.

  Jeremy stayed behind, thinking about his conversation with Mr. Kravitz. He had told Spess only half of it. The personal part—the stuff about his own talent—he was keeping to himself.

  Normally he would have told Specimen everything. But lately he hadn't felt like talking to Spess so much. That shout of joy hadn't done anything to help matters. It was clear Specimen considered Jeremy's banishment from the contest fair punishment for getting the class in trouble to begin with.

  Jeremy was sick of it all—the teasing, the punishment, the injustice. He broke his favorite drawing pencil in half and threw it into the wastebasket.

  By the time he left the building the only kid still hanging around was Mary Lou. She was waiting for him on the steps of the school.

  "That was a nice thing you did," she said.

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  Mary Lou started to say something else, then changed her mind. "We've got company," she said, switching the topic altogether.

  Jeremy looked around warily. Were Howard and Freddy waiting to pound him?

  "Wrong direction," said Mary Lou. "Look up."

  He did, turning in a slow circle, until he spotted Tiamat looming on the edge of the school roof. She was staring down at him with a look that could only be the dragon version of a smile. The tip of her tail dangled down so far it nearly reached the windows.

  What are you doing here? he demanded.

  I came to take you home.

  Before Jeremy could ask what she meant, Tiamat leapt from the roof, spread her wings and began to glide toward him, her claws extended before her.

  "Tiamat!" he yelled. "Tiamat, don't!"

  "What's going on?" cried Mary Lou.

  Jeremy's reply was cut short when Tiamat grabbed him by his sides and snatched him into the air. Jeremy's stomach lurched as the world fell away beneath them.

  "Put me down!" he cried "Put me down!" But Tiamat only pumped her wings harder.

  Hold still! she commanded when he started to squirm. She sent him an image of a wriggling body falling from a great height.

  He held still.

  Now look. Look!

  Jeremy looked. The world that spread below him was beautiful—more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He had no idea Blodgett's Crossing had so many trees; it was greener than he would have guessed.

  I love this place, he thought with surprise.

  It's your home, replied Tiamat, as she carried him over the park.

  He enjoyed the flight until he spotted a pair of familiar figures below.

  Watch out, he sent nervously, I see Howard and Freddy.

  He could feel Tiamat's amusement. They can't see you, she told him, using the same kind of images she had used to explain why his mother hadn't seen her. Jeremy wondered if that meant he was invisible while she carried him. He liked the idea.

  The flight was the greatest adventure of his life, and Jeremy couldn't wait to repeat it.

  That night, after everyone was asleep, he slipped out of the house and walked down to the barn. Tiamat was waiting for him.

  Let me try riding, he thought, sending a picture of himself mounted on her back.

  Tiamat agreed, and Jeremy found it far more comfortable to straddle her back than to be carried in her claws. Once he was settled, she pumped her

  great wings, and they lifted into the moonlit sky. Jeremy waited until they were several hundred feet above the earth to let out a shout of joy.

  Every night after that, Jeremy slipped out of the house at midnight to accompany the dragon on her journeys across the sky. Sometimes she went so high that the air became thin and hard to breathe. They flew into clouds, skimmed across rivers, soared over cliffs.

  Tiamat hunted on these nights. Out in the wild, away from the pets and people of the town, she would put Jeremy on top of a high hill and then swoop through the darkness, catching squirrels, rabbits, bats, and raccoons.

  The first time he watched her eat a rabbit he thought he was going to be sick. No sense in getting mad at a dragon for being a dragon, he told himself, turning his head from the gory sight.

  But even the hunting she was doing was not enough. She was over twenty feet long now, and still growing. Soon she would need larger prey.

  I have to go home soon, Tiamat told him each night when the flight was over. Jeremy would nod, leaning his head against her shoulder, trying not to weep. Once she folded a leathery wing around his shoulder, as if embracing him.

  Yet as much as he dreaded her leaving, he knew it would also be a relief. Caring for her had put such a strain on him that his mother had started to worry about his health. A week after the night rides began, Mrs. Thatcher announced she was taking him to the doctor for a checkup.

  "Why can't Dad check me?" protested Jeremy. "He's a doctor."

  "He's a veterinarian!" said Mrs. Thatcher crossly. "I want you to see a people doctor." But other than general exhaustion, Dr. Hulan found nothing wrong with Jeremy.

  "Have
you been getting enough sleep?" he asked, rubbing his bearded chin in puzzlement.

  When Jeremy shook his head, Dr. Hulan scowled. "Start sending him to bed earlier," he said to Mrs. Thatcher. "And give him a mug of warm milk before he turns in."

  That was fine with Jeremy. He had been looking for an excuse to go to bed early. A little extra sleep then would give him more energy for his midnight flights with Tiamat.

  Not that there were many of them left.

  Soon, far too soon, Friday the 23rd of June arrived.

  The day of Midsummer Night was a day of endings—the last day not only of school, but of sixth grade. Jeremy had gone to Blodgett's Crossing Elementary more than half his life. Leaving it with the thought that next year he would go someplace new was both exciting and frightening.

  The school gathered for a final awards assembly. When Mr. Martinez announced that Specimen had won first prize in the art contest Jeremy clapped and cheered. But inside he ached, because he had wanted so much to win it himself. He wondered if Spess would remember their mutual pledge that the winner would share the prize.