by Jo Grix
A Friend for Adam
Jo Grix
Copyright 2013 by T. Jo Grix
Chapter One
The kids had stared long and hard at the moving van when they’d come home from school, but when there was no sign of the child that surely owned the bike by the garage and the boxes marked “toys”, they went on to their own homes, disappointed. Had any of them lingered, and looked up at the right most window on the second floor, they would have been surprised to see a little boy with sad blue eyes staring back out at them.
Adam Chambers stared out the window at the kids playing across the street. They had been staring up at the house off and on for a while, but it seemed as if the game of tag had become more important than the moving van’s mysterious contents. “I wish I had a friend,” he whispered.
Thud.
Adam turned.
Thud.
There was something in his closet.
Thud.
Adam stared at the closet, until there was another, even louder, thud that sent him bolting for the door. “Mom” he shouted, “Dad!” Stocking feet sliding under him, Adam ran down the hallway to his parents’ room.
“What’s the matter, Adam?” His mom asked as she came to the door.
“There’s something in my closet,” Adam panted, clinging to the doorframe. “I heard it.”
“Sweetie, there can’t be anything in your closet,” his mom told him. “The house was emptied before we bought the house.”
“But I heard it,” Adam insisted, glancing over his shoulder at his bedroom.
Adam’s mom looked at him for a long moment, “Well, let’s go see then,” she said. Adam followed his mom back down the hall to his room, where his boxes were still unpacked. “Adam, I thought you were supposed to put your books away,” his mom said, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Adam said, looking away. He irritably brushed his brown hair from his face.
“As soon as we open your closet, you will get started on that,” his mom told him.
“Yes Mom,” Adam replied.
Adam hovered just in the door as his mom walked over to the closet and opened the door. “Honey,” his mom said and bent over, “I don’t know what you heard, but I found something.”
She turned, holding a stuffed, green dragon. “Where did that come from?” Adam’s dad asked from behind Adam.
“It was in Adam’s closet,” his mom replied. She sniffed it, “It smells clean.”
“Maybe they left it behind,” his dad suggested, he reached down to squeeze Adam’s shoulder, “what do you think?”
“I think he’s cool,” Adam replied. “Can I keep him?”
“I think we should call the sellers,” his mom said, “make sure that he isn’t some little boy’s favorite toy.”
“Ok,” his dad said. “Tell you what, though, Adam. Why don’t you keep an eye on him until we know what the deal is with him?”
“Ok,” Adam said, he scooted forward and took the dragon.
“We’ll go call them right now,” his mom said. “Get those books unpacked.”
“Yes Mom,” Adam said. He watched his parents leave and pushed the door shut. He put the dragon on the ground beside him and leaned against the door, listening as they headed downstairs.
“Nice folks.”
Adam yelped, and clamped his hand to his mouth for a moment before pulling his hand down. “Who said that?”
“I did.”
Adam stared at the dragon, “You can talk?”
“Of course I can,” the dragon said as he stretched his wings out. “I can fly too. My name is Spitball.”
“You must belong to someone,” Adam said quietly.
“I’m here for you, Adam,” Spitball replied.
“How do you know my name?” Adam asked.
“Because I’m a Wish Dragon, and you wished for a friend.” Spitball flapped his wings and took off into the air. “I’m here to help you.” He landed on the bed and regarded Adam. “So you want a friend?”
Adam nodded, “We just moved here, and I don’t know anybody.”
“I can help with that,” Spitball said. “Don’t worry about me being taken away, Old Agatha, the lady who owned this house, was known for collecting stuffed animals to give away. They’ll assume I was one that they overlooked and offer to let you keep me.”
“Are you sure?” Adam asked.
Spitball nodded, “I’m a Wish Dragon, and the Wish Magic will make sure it happens.” He touched his chest, “My Wish Star.” He stopped, “Uh oh.”
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.
“My Star!” Spitball said, “I don’t have my Star.” He leapt into the air, “It must be in the closet.”
Adam ran over, “What does it look like?”
“It’s a blue marble with a white star inside of it,” Spitball replied, “it used to be on a chain.”
“I don’t see it,” Adam said as he crouched down. “What is it for?”
“It holds my magic,” Spitball said, “it helps me hide from adults and,” he landed beside Adam, his voice becoming a whisper, “and the Wish Stealers.”
“The who?” Adam asked.
“Shh,” Spitball said. “You don’t want them to know you’re talking about them.”
“Who are the Wish Stealers?” Adam asked.
“They’re the opposite of Wish Dragons and Creatures and Fairies and Guardians,” Spitball replied. “We help children. When a child makes a wish, a Wish Dragon, Fairy, or Guardian can hear it and help it come true. Say a child wishes for a ball, to play with other kids. We use the Wish Magic to see they get a ball in a good way, as a gift, or by them finding money to buy one. The Wish Stealers use the Wish Magic to make them want to do things like steal it.”
“I see,” Adam said with a nod.
“If the Stealers get my Wish Star, they can use the magic to do bad things.” Spitball said quietly, his wings drooping.
“When did you have it last?” Adam asked.
“Before I went to Sleep,” Spitball said, “when Old Agatha got sick, a lot of us decided to go into the Sleep, where we look like stuffed toys. The chain was broken, but Old Agatha promised she’d fix it and I could have it back when I woke up. Cassie promised she’d protect it.”
“Who’s Cassie?” Adam asked.
“Cassie was Old Agatha’s Wish Bear,” Spitball said. “She was going to stay awake to protect Old Agatha from the Stealers.” He glanced over his shoulder, “Your mom is coming up stairs.”
“The books!” Adam wailed in dismay.
“Go,” Spitball said as he flexed his wings, “I’ll help.”
Adam scrambled out of the closet and lunged for the book marked ADAM’S BOOKS. He flipped it open and grabbed some books. “How can you help?” He asked Spitball.
“Go over by the shelves,” Spitball said quietly. Adam hurried over to the bookshelf and put the books on the shelf. There was a sound like chimes, and more books appeared on the shelf beside them. “You’ll have to straighten them up.”
“I can do that,” Adam said. He began to neaten the books as more of them began to appear on the shelf.
“Adam honey?” His mom said as she knocked on the door.
Adam turned to find Spitball leaning against the box, looking like a stuffed toy, “Yes Mom?” He replied.
His mom opened the door, “We were able to speak with the old owner’s daughter. She said her mother used to collect stuffed toys to give to children. If you want to keep the dragon, you can.”
“Really?” Adam said, he dropped the book in his hand and ran over to her.
“Really, really,” His mom said and bent over to accept his h
ug, then straightened up to regard the toy. “So what are you going to name him?”
“Spitball,” Adam replied as he stepped back, “He told me his name was Spitball.”
“He told you, huh?” His mom said with a smile. “I’m glad you’ve made your first friend.”
“We’re working on that,” Adam replied solemnly.
Chapter Two
