Real Dragons

by Rebecca Shelley

  Weldon tore off a scrap of the boy's tattered shirt and pressed it against the boy's wrist where the blood came from. He felt something hard beneath the makeshift bandage.

  "Go get Alice now!"

  "Fine." Phillis put her hands on her hips and stamped over to the stairs that led to the apartment above the shoe shop.

  Weldon eased the cloth back and wiped away the swelling blood. A dragon bracelet wrapped around the boy's wrist, shimmering with diamonds.

  Weldon gasped.

  "They tried to take it," the boy croaked. "But it wouldn't come off." He rubbed a swelling lump on the side of his head. "That's when they beat me. But I can't take it off. I don't know how."

  Weldon pressed the cloth back over the wristband. The muggers had tried to tear it from his wrist, but only succeeded in tearing his skin.

  "What’s your name?" Weldon asked. His heart hammered, and a taste of fear came into his mouth. This couldn't be Barthelme, the fairy from the Realm Below with Diamond, the baby dragon, still wrapped around his wrist. Barthelme was just an imaginary friend. A drawing. Weldon couldn't possibly have brought him to life with a few cigarette butts on the back of a cereal box.

  The boy moaned and rubbed his head. "I don't know. My head hurts too much. I can't remember."

  A door slammed, and Alice hurried over. She pulled out her cell phone. "I better call an ambulance. Looks like he got a concussion."

  "No, wait." Weldon grabbed her arm. If they took Barthelme away, Weldon would likely never see him again.

  Alice glared at him. "You help beat this boy up?"

  "No, ma'am." Weldon shook his head.

  "Then you got nothing to worry about." She punched the emergency number into the phone and started talking to someone on the other end.

  Weldon knelt next to the boy and whispered. "What happened to the other two dragons?"

  The boy sucked in a sharp breath. "Dragons?"

  "Just tell me. Did the guys who hurt you take them?"

  The boy nodded.

  "What did the people who beat you up look like?" So, there had been two more dragons. Weldon's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be Barthelme, but what other explanation did he have?

  "Their skin was dark."

  Weldon choked. "You gotta be more specific."

  "One was really big. He had short hair with a design shaved into it. The other two were smaller. One had a gold ear ring. I don't know anything else. They were hitting me and kicking me."

  "Did you hear any names?"

  "No. None."

  Sirens interrupted their whispered conversation, and an ambulance pulled onto the street.

  "They gonna bring you to the hospital," Weldon said. "The doctors will take care of you. I'll stay here and look for Sapphire and Ruby."

  "Who?" the boy said.

  A Paramedic nudged Weldon away from the stricken boy.

  "Get on home," Alice said. "Both of you. I'll go along to the hospital and make sure they get hold of his parents."

  "What if he don't got no parents?" Weldon said. His mouth was dry, and he had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking.

  "Of course he got parents," Alice snapped. "Now go home."

  Despite Alice's urging, Weldon stayed and watched while the paramedics loaded the boy into the ambulance.

  "This is stupid," Phillis said. "I'm going home." She marched off. Reluctantly, Weldon followed her.

  He paced around the house for a while, thinking of all the guys in the neighborhood that might have attacked Barthelme. His descriptions had been vague, but Weldon couldn't think of anyone he knew that would have done it.

  He just had to think things through. If he had found some dragon figurines made with real rubies or sapphires, what would he do with them? We'll, he'd keep them. Nothing would be more beautiful than seeing them on his windowsill with the sun shining through the twinkling bodies. But most people wouldn't. If the jewels were real, they'd have to be pretty valuable. Maybe worth as much as a whole year's worth of paychecks. Maybe. But if someone stole them, they couldn't just take them anywhere to trade them for money. Would they take them to a pawn shop like a stolen TV or toaster?

  It couldn't hurt to look. But he couldn't go off and leave Phillis alone. Who knew what kind of trouble she'd get into?

  "Hey, Phillis. Want to go to the store with me?" Weldon said.

  Phillis looked up from her annoying PBS Kids TV show. "Why? You gonna buy me something?"

  "Maybe. A candy bar." He still had a little bit of money left from his birthday.

  "I want bubble gum."

  "Fine." He retrieved his $5 bill from its hiding place under the couch. "Let's go."

  Phillis switched off the TV, and they went out together. He led Phillis down the street toward the grocery store, knowing that Jim's Pawn Shop was on the ground floor of a couple of buildings before it.

  While he walked, Weldon kept an eye on the street, searching the faces of people he knew and ones he didn't. It was a warm day, so lots of people were out, hanging around the stoops, chatting with their neighbors. A group of young boys played soccer in the alley between two of the larger buildings. Half of the older boys and men he saw either had shaved heads or gold earrings. Some were big, some skinnier. He was at a loss to identify any of them as Barthelme's assailants.

  The usual smells of garbage and sweat and car pollution hung over the streets, mixing with the sounds of voices and motors and children laughing. All of it so thick that Weldon felt he was wading along a sludgy river that ran at the bottom of a towering canyon of buildings.

  They came to the pawn shop, and Weldon steered Phillis inside. "Let's check it out."

  "Whatever," she responded.

  A brass bell rattled on the door as they entered the shop. A tall man behind the counter at the back looked up. "What you want?"

  "Just looking," Weldon said. He wondered if there might be some stray art set for cheap enough he could buy it—like those ones advertised on TV that had the markers, crayons, colored pencils, and paints all in one case. Brand new, those sets were a lot more than five dollars. He'd have to hide it from Mama of course, but doubted he could.

  A case full of porcelain dolls caught Phillis's eyes, and she went over to investigate while Weldon made his way past a row of televisions and DVD players. The shop smelled of old grease and cigarette smoke. The entertainment section gave way to some dusty old guitars and a trombone. Weldon abandoned them and went to the back counter.

  "I want to get my mama something real pretty for her birthday. You got anything?" Weldon asked.

  The shop owner spread his big hands out on the countertop and leaned toward Weldon. "What kind of money you wanting to spend?"

  Weldon choked. If he said five bucks, there'd be no chance the owner would show him anything as valuable as jewel dragons. Weldon drew himself up and laughed. "What if I am a rich millionaire?"

  "Not likely," the shop owner said. "Go look in that case." He pointed to a case hung with a shabby assortment of necklaces and earrings.

  Weldon pretended to look at the jewelry for a moment then said, "Mama really likes dragons."

  "Does she now? Well, look at this shelf here." The shop owner led Weldon to a small shelf that held statues of dragons wrapped around fake crystals. A large silver dragon curled around a three-tier fountain with its belly nestled in a treasure hoard.

  "Wow," Weldon said, reaching out to stroke the dragon.

  The shop owner slapped his hand away. "The price tag's hanging on it. You pay before you touch. And don't think about stealing none of them. You try and it will set off an alarm from here to the police station."

  Weldon made a show of looking at the prices while he searched the shelf for any sign of a sapphire or ruby dragon. There were solid blues and reds, clutching fake jewels or wrapped around crystals. None of them looked like the dragons Weldon had drawn.

  "Well?" the shop owner said.

  "They're beautiful," Weldon said. "But I go
t to save up a little bit more money."

  "I'm sure you do." The shop owner laughed, but kept a close eye on Weldon and Phillis until they'd left the building.

  "Not very friendly, was he?" Phillis said. Her mouth was turned down in a frown, and she kicked a rock out into the street. "You really getting Mama a birthday present? It's not 'til next month, you know."

  "I need to start looking now so's I can find something good." He didn't feel a bit guilty about telling Phillis that. He did need to find Mama a birthday present. He realized that even if the owner had the stolen dragons, there was no way he would show them to a kid. He'd probably sell them for thousands of dollars on ebay. Maybe if Weldon went to the library he could check on the internet and see if they were listed. Probably wouldn't be up there yet. They'd just barely been stolen that afternoon.

  Weldon started for home.

  "What about my bubble gum?" Phillis said.

  He pivoted around and marched the rest of the way to the grocery store without talking. Finding the missing dragons was far more important than bubble gum, but he couldn't tell Phillis that. He couldn't tell anyone.

  weldon drew dragons with his fork in the gravy on his plate during dinner. Whenever his mama looked over, he scooted his mashed potatoes overtop, destroying the picture. He ate little and thought a lot. Mostly about Barthelme. Part of him said that the boy the ambulance had taken away couldn't be a fairy. He was human-sized, and he didn't have wings.

  "Hey, Phillis," Weldon said after Mama told him and Phillis to clean up the dishes and his father had settled onto the couch to watch TV. "You ever hear of a fairy without wings?"

  Phillis snorted. "All fairies can take off their wings and put them back on. Everyone knows that."

  Surprised, he almost dropped the butter dish into the sink full of soapy water. "Since when can fairies take off their wings?"

  "Since forever. How else do you think they get their shirts on?" Phillis dumped a load of dishes into the sink and headed for her bedroom.

  "Wait. You supposed to help wash them," Weldon said. Her door thump closed behind her.

  "Take off their wings and put them back on," he muttered as he grabbed the damp sponge and started scrubbing the plates. "That just stupid. They don't take their wings off to dress. They wear clothes with slits down the back for their wings to fit out."

  He froze, sponge in one hand and plate in the other. The hurt boy's shirt had a slit straight down the back. Weldon had thought the muggers had cut it or torn it that way when they'd attacked. The shirt had torn easily enough when Weldon had ripped a scrap free to stop the bleeding.

  He set the plate back down in the suds. Everyone knows fairies can take off their wings. That was just crazy. But what if the muggers had torn off Barthelme's wings and taken those too, thinking they were fake fairy wings like the ones sold at the department store right next to the little girlie princess dresses?

  Mama came out of the bedroom. "Do you have homework tonight, Weldon?"

  "Yes, Mama, a little. You said to wait and do it with you." You took my pencil, remember, he thought bitterly.

  "Finish up the dishes and let's get going on it."

  "Phillis is supposed to be helping me," Weldon said.

  "For heaven's sake, she's just a little girl," Mama said.

  "She old enough. I did dishes when I was her age." Weldon scrubbed the plate clean, put it in the rinse water, and started on the next one. His mother made no further comment about Phillis doing the dishes.

  Weldon finished washing, drying, and putting the dishes into the cupboard with no help from his sister while his mother grabbed his backpack from where he'd dropped it by the front door.

  She got out his math book and each one of his papers, checking both sides to see if he'd drawn anything. Weldon's dinner tumbled in his stomach as he watched her. He'd never get any artwork past her at this rate.

  The phone rang.

  Mama picked it up and listened for a moment. "It's Alice," she said, handing the phone to his father. Papa was best friends with Alice's husband before he passed away.

  Weldon sat down at the table and opened to his math assignment. He didn't really have trouble in school. It was just so boring. He started in converting fractions to percentages as soon as his mother handed him the pencil. She hovered over him while he worked, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

  His father mumbled into the telephone. Finally he turned it off and rose to his feet. "I got to go over and help Alice move some things around. She got a new foster kid."

  Mama frowned. "I thought she decided she was too old for that a few years back."

  Father shrugged. "She asked me to bring Weldon too."

  "Why? Weldon's busy."

  "He got all night for homework. What a few minutes over to Alice's gonna hurt?" His father walked to the door and motioned for Weldon to come with him.

  Weldon bolted from the table and made it outside onto the stairway before his mother could protest further. He waited on the third floor landing for his father to catch up. "Thanks Papa," he said. "It's stuffy in there."

  His father grimaced. "Well, someone stuffy anyway."

  "Did Alice really ask for me to come over?" Weldon had never been up to Alice's apartment.

  "She thought you might feel better knowing that kid you found weren't hurt too bad. She got custody of him 'till they find his parents."

  "They couldn't find his family?" Weldon itched to go faster down the stairs, but had to keep back with his father's slow firm steps.

  "He don't remember nothin. Not his parents. Not his house. Not his own name. Alice is hoping you'll make friends with him. He gonna be kind of out of place around here." His father reached the ground floor and opened the door out into the street. "But you better be more careful. Alice says you knocked her over yesterday. You could of broken her hip or something."

  "It was an accident." Weldon still felt bad about that. He hoped Alice would forgive him. "Hey, how do you know about the mugging?"

  "Alice told me. Said you found the kid. I didn't think your mama needed to know about it. She worries too much already."

  Weldon was grateful for his father's silence when it came to Mama. They rounded the corner to the shoe shop. Alice's husband had owned the shop. Someone else ran it now, but Alice still lived upstairs. Weldon's father opened the door and started up the narrow staircase to her apartment. "Don't touch nothin in her house unless she tell you to, Weldon. Some of her stuff be delicate and valuable."

  "Sure." Weldon ran his hand along the crumbling plaster wall as he climbed the stairs. The stairwell smelled like mildew. The rumble of traffic from the street echoed to the top of the stairwell and back down.

  They reached the thin landing for her apartment, and his father knocked. Alice answered. She had even more gray hair than Weldon's father. Her hair was straightened, long, and feathery around her face. Gentle wrinkles curved around her mouth as if she'd spent her life with an easy smile on her face. Just the opposite of Weldon's mama who usually wore a tight frown.

  "Hello, Alice." His father hugged the old woman and stepped inside.

  "Come in, Robert," she said. "You too Weldon. But don't touch anything."

  Weldon held up his hands where she could see them. "Not a thing you don't tell me to." Inside the apartment smelled funny like paint and turpentine. The smell was so strong Weldon felt like running straight back outside for a breath of fresh air.

  The apartment looked much like the one where Weldon lived except it was cluttered with big rectangular objects covered over with tarps. There was barely a walkway from the door to the kitchen at the far side.

  "Wow, are you remodeling?" Weldon said. He wondered if Barthelme lay buried away beneath one of the tarps.

  Alice laughed. "No. It always like this. I work here. But I'm afraid I've stacked up a bunch of stuff in the second bedroom. I'll need some help moving it."

  A toilet flushed, and the kid stepped out. He had a tight bandag
e around his ribs, and his face was still swollen. Both eyes were black. He rubbed his bandaged wrist. Weldon wondered if the diamond dragon was still wrapped around his wrist under the bandage.

  "Hi," the kid said.

  "Hey," Weldon echoed. He shuffled his feet and wondered what he should say. "I'm Weldon." I drew you into existence.

  "I'm . . . " The boy's face screwed up into a frown.

  Alice put her arm around the boy's shoulder. "I'm calling him Tom for now. Don't worry dear. I'm sure you gonna remember who you is after a good night's sleep."

  "I'll get started on this here bedroom," Weldon's father said. "Where you want me to put stuff?"

  "Oh, just over in the corner there." Alice waved toward an edge of the room that looked like it might be able to fit a little bit more stuff.

  Tom shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a worried look around the room. "So, I guess you're the kid that saved me?" he said without looking straight at Weldon.

  "I didn't do much," Weldon said. "Just found you, more like. Alice here called the ambulance."

  "That's Mrs. Walker to you, young man," Alice said. "Why don't you go help your father a minute while I cook something for Tom to eat?" She led Tom over to the small square table and sat him down.

  Weldon retreated to the bedroom, piled with dusty old spiral bound books. His father passed with an armload of them. "I guess books ain't too valuable or breakable," Weldon said, grabbing a stack from the middle of an old bed that sagged beside the wall.

  He got them out of the room and halfway to the indicated corner in the living room when his foot snagged on a heavy box, and he toppled forward, spreading the books across the floor.

  "Sorry. Really, really sorry," Weldon said. He started picking the books up, but stopped and stared at one that had flipped open. The inside of the book had no words, only paper covered in a drawing of a young girl. Someone had sketched the girl over and over again, from the front, the side, the back. The girl jumping. The girl sitting with her hands folded on her lap. Weldon turned the page and found a sketch of some mountains, and on the next page what looked like a city street.