Standing or sitting directly in my path, a good two stories taller than me is something that has to be an image projected from my imagination. It can’t be real.
Large burnt-orange scales cover the dragon’s body. His piercing yellow eyes slowly close and open again, only allowing me short glimpses of the cat-like irises.
A queasy feeling settles over me, and I can only hope Max and the others find me so my dead body isn’t left out here, assuming the dragon doesn’t eat me. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. It’s irrational. None of it makes sense, but I can’t be seeing what my brain thinks I’m seeing.
Dragons don’t exist. My parents made sure I was aware of that fact nearly every day of my life since I was five years old.
“You’re not real. This is a dream. It’s a trick. An illusion. Whatever it is, it’s not real.” I refuse to believe it’s real. I run my hand over my eyes and blink rapidly, like trying to clear out the memory of what I think I saw, wondering how to make this mirage disappear.
Some of the tears spill over. I wipe them away with my fingers, drying them on my pants, and continue shaking my head. No matter how much I try to change what’s in front of me, it remains. I look at the ground, repeatedly reassuring myself that it’s all in my head.
“Alita?” I can feel the ground reverberate as a deep voice says my name.
I look up, staring into what I feel should be terrifying, yet comforting eyes, as though I know them. I’ve stared into them before, and I feel at peace. “This can’t be real,” I whisper. “It’s not possible. I’m scared and alone. Lost in the dark. It’s my imagination. It has to be.”
The enormous creature bows his head slightly so he’s closer to my height, our eye contact never breaking. “I’ve missed you.” His voice fills me with warmth, and a fuzzy feeling like I belong. I’m safe,--I am home.
“How is it possible that I feel the same way when you’re not even real?” I ask, but those words don’t ring true. “And yet I feel as though I’ve known you my whole life.”
“Come forward, my little wingless child, and put your palm on my forehead,” he instructs, seeming to understand my confusion.
I don’t know why I trust him, or why I trust myself to think any of this is real, but I do what he says. The scales are smooth except for along the edges, where they’re ridged to better fit together. The moment my palm is perfectly shaped to the middle scale, my eyes are forced shut, and there’s twirling and spinning around me. And a sudden need to vomit.
A scene unfolds before me. That moment in almost this exact same place, only ten years earlier. The first time I met Yackros, though at the time that isn’t what I called him. And I certainly didn’t understand what was happening.
The swirling and spinning and mind-numbing senselessness returns, throwing me back into the present. The dragon from my memory staring at me now at fifteen years old instead of five.
“What—what was that?” I shake my head repeatedly, unable to hope.
“These lands are forbidden to any but dragons, and yet you continue crossing the border. I don’t know how you continue breaking through the magic barriers put in place to keep your kind out, but I don’t care because I fear I simply don’t have the will or strength to send you away again.”
I don’t understand half of what he’s talking about, but I don’t care. This shouldn’t be possible. “You’re real! I . . . I can’t believe you’re actually real. You’re the dragon I met as a child, the one they told me didn’t exist. I’ve spent the last eight years trying to get past that because I couldn’t believe I’d imagined it. They teased me relentlessly, but it’s true. It was always true. That dragon is you.”
I look at him differently. Not as something that shouldn’t exist, but as the friend I should have known all these years. And almost reverently, one word escapes my lips. “Sparkles.”
3
Running my thumb over the jagged edge of the golden scale in my palm, I watch the sky, looking for constellations, hoping for a shooting star, and doing everything I can to avoid looking at the mountain just to the right of me, so close, yet so far away.
The shingles against my back are still warm from the sun bearing down on them all day. It might be comforting if not for the fact that it’s night, a full moon shining down, and still eighty degrees out.
And yet it’s nothing compared to the heat I felt beside Yackros. Just thinking his name sounds odd and right at the same time. All this time I remembered him as Sparkles, which is probably why it was easy to believe my parents when they made it clear to me I was crazy for thinking there were dragons in the mountains. Or anywhere.
But they were wrong. At five years old, I wandered away from a family reunion picnic at the base of the mountain and somehow found myself in a hidden forest that no one else knows is there, filled with massive winged beasts that could easily eat me whole.
I befriended a dragon and was then mocked for eight years by my parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and every other family member I have. While I was young, they thought my story was cute. But the older I got, the teasing became hurtful rather than funny. Now it’s angering. They made me feel stupid, and I was right all along.
Not that it matters. The jokes will never end because I can’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to know. I certainly shouldn’t be going around informing everyone else.
“I can’t push you away again, my dear little wingless human. But I can’t put my home and fellow dragons at risk either. You must promise me you won’t speak a word of this. Not to anyone, no matter how much you believe you can trust them. Do you understand this? Do you agree?” He had said it so fervently.
I simply nodded in response. But he demanded a spoken promise, and I agreed.
Despite that, I wanted nothing more than to tell Max—once Yackros led me to the correct path again and sent me on my way, that is. Even if I could have told him, I never got a chance. I barely had time to grab the fallen dragon scale I noticed on my way into the magical forest before Sherri and John spotted me. And they were so relieved they found me, they didn’t let go of me until they delivered me safely to my front door.
They even wanted to inform my parents of the incident. After I repeatedly assured them there was no need, they hurried home, taking Max and his six foster siblings, leaving me to face my parents. And I’ve felt more alone than I’ve ever been. Because now I know the truth. And I still can’t do a thing about it.
Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I hold it up and turn on the screen, wondering if I should text Max. What could I possibly say, though? I’m not about to betray Yackros’ trust.
Noting the late hour, with resignation I crawl to the edge of the roof and slowly climb in through my bedroom window. If that distance was any farther, I’d never be able to do that. But despite my crushing fear of heights, I find comfort and solace up there at night, alone with my thoughts and feelings.
The big red numbers on my alarm clock turn over, showing me it’s midnight. Not as late as I feared. Still late enough that I’ll regret it in the morning. No one should have to get up at six to get ready for school. And yet I’m forced to do it every day because for whatever crazy reason, my parents decided moving to a town where the bus ride to school is forty-five minutes into another town was a good idea.
I crawl into bed and watch the numbers flicker, wondering why I bothered getting all tucked in. There is no chance I’ll sleep tonight.
The school bus rattles along the dirt road, inching closer to the next stop. The constant up and down caused by driving on a road made up of potholes means there’s very little chance of sleeping on the way there, at least until we reach the highway leading into Benson. But still, I try.
My prediction of last night was too accurate. Instead of falling into an unconscious dream of things my subconscious wanted, I lay there tossing, turning, getting tangled in my thin blanket, and adjusting the fan.
Someone taps my shoulder, startling me from my half-dozing, half-lost
-in-thought state. I look up, taken aback by Hanna’s face barely a breath away from my own.
“Yeah?” I mutter, leaning my head against the window again.
“Are you okay? Max wouldn’t say what happened. Mom and Dad were arguing all night. They feel so guilty, they decided to tell your parents you went missing for a little while.” Without asking, Hanna plops down beside me.
“Your parents really don’t need to say or do anything. Max and I got separated from the group, and then from each other. But it all worked out, and it was really only a few minutes,” I explain, annoyed that Max didn’t tell them anything. What was the point in keeping that from them? I mean, sure, I have a reason not to tell anyone the whole truth. But Max doesn’t.
I look over at him, two benches ahead on the opposite side of the bus, sitting sideways so I can see his profile, his hair gelled back so it’s slick and a little more tamed than usual. His lips are turned down, shoulders slumped as he stares at the floor. Is there a chance he feels guilty for leaving me alone?
Hanna clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. She pushes some hair behind her ear, looking at me sheepishly. “Are you sure there isn’t more to the story?” She glances between Max and me.
I nod. “I’m sure.” I’m sure there’s a lot more to the story. I’m also positive I’ll never tell Hanna, as dear a friend as she is.
When we finally reach the highway, I hunker back down to a semi-comfortable sleeping position, knowing the rest of our journey should be smooth. I can try again to get a quick nap to make up for lost sleep.
Hanna’s leg against my own disappears, but I don’t bother looking up. I’m just hoping she moved back to her original seat, leaving me in peace. Any hope for a moment to myself is smashed by the sudden larger, heavier leg practically sitting on me.
I look up with a glare already taking over my features to find Max beside me. “Yes?” The word comes out a little more forcibly than I’d intended.
“Are you okay?” His voice so is quiet I almost miss what he said.
“Why does everyone keep asking that?” I sit up and lean toward him. “What did you say happened last night?”
“Can we talk about it later—?” He glances around the bus. “When there aren’t so many prying ears?”
What could he have said that’s so horrible he wouldn’t want our classmates to overhear? I nod, unable to form words without going into a panicked question spree demanding to know what it is he can’t say right now.
Realizing I’m never going to sleep and it’s pointless even trying, I sit back up and stare out the window for a lack of something better to do.
Max bounces his leg up and down repeatedly, which might not be so annoying if our thighs weren’t touching. After a few seconds, I already can’t take it and grab his knee. He chuckles and brushes my hand away before resuming the action.
There’s so much I want to say. Some of it in jest, other bits only partially joking. Instead, I scoot my leg away, turn my head lopsided, and give him a knowing look so he understands my level of annoyance.
He simply smirks and begins bouncing his other leg. Which I can still feel, though it’s less annoying. I take a calming breath and try to appear at ease. When Max’s focus has turned to something the kids behind us are saying, I close my eyes and wish for this day to end. Or perhaps a more accurate plea would be for the school day to end because as soon as that last bell goes off, the moment the bus drops me off at my stop, I’m heading back up to the Dragoon Spring. I need to see Sparkles again.
There’s a nasty screech as the bus comes to a halt, and we all fall forward. My head hits the back of the seat in front of me, which is thankfully pretty padded, but it still hurts. I’m going to have a wicked headache in roughly twenty minutes, and for what? I glance up wondering why the bus was stopped so hard.
The whoosh of air sounds and the doors open. Kids swarm to the aisle, pushing and shoving their way to the front and exiting. Max waits until everyone in front and behind us are out before standing—or slouching, in his case—grabs my bag, and heads out.
I follow after him, stretching my arms and legs the moment I’m free from that wretched-smelling bus. I inhale deeply, though the air isn’t much better, though for different reasons. It’s like filling your lungs with heat, which shouldn’t be a thing. But in Arizona, it is.
“So,” I begin, taking my bag from him and slinging it over my shoulders. “What did you say about last night that you couldn’t tell me on the bus?”
His neck to his cheeks turn bright red. “Ahem.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.
“Max?” I poke his side.
A high-pitched squeal escapes him. His hands are around my wrist so fast, my sides ache from laughing.
“That’s cheating,” he mutters.
“I don’t think there are rules. And this is a battle you started, my friend.” I poke his side as quickly as possible before backing up out of reach to avoid retaliation. “What are you so embarrassed to tell me?” I ask.
Giving no response whatsoever, he pulls his phone from his pocket and puts it back almost as fast. “Alita, could we maybe do this later? This really isn’t the kind of conversation I want to have right now. Especially because I know you hate being the last one to class, and the bell is about to ring.”
A very childish part of me wants to stomp my foot and demand the answer now. Instead, I take his hand in mine, trying to calm him, to comfort him. “You’re really worrying me, you know? I can’t imagine what you told your family about last night if you’re this unwilling to tell me what it was.” I mean to be more playful about it, but my emotions get the better of me.
“I’ll make it up to you. Butterscotch, chocolate, and peanut butter ice cream, my treat, after school.” He takes my hand, like he did last night, and walks me to my classroom.
I’m equally annoyed about his odd behavior and excited for ice cream. “Fine. I’ll take what I can get. But you’d better hope it’s worth all this fuss.” I let go of his hand, feeling more than a little self-conscious.
Max opens his mouth, holding up a hand, pauses, and clamps his lips. After a second, his mind clearly spinning trying to come up with a response, he kinda chuckles and sighs. “I’m not making any promises, but I certainly do hope it’s worth it. See you later.” He offers a final grin before heading in the opposite direction, leaving me alone with my feelings. Butterflies in my stomach, a cloud around my head.
I exhale, grinning, though I’m sure it looks stupid and dreamy. “Me too.”
I turn around, slamming my nose against a hard form. For my dignity, I’d like to say I took a step back. But it’s more like I bounced back from the force.
“Wow, that hurt! What do you have under that shirt—rocks? Bricks? A steel plate?” I rub my poor nose and glance up. Nick is staring down at me. If I think Max is tall, it’s nothing compared to his brother. Which is understandable, considering they’re foster siblings from all different places in the world. “Oh, hi, Nick. What are you doing?”
He stands at least a foot and a half over me, with a mean glint in his eye, a reputation for being rough, arms as thick as logs, and the body of a weight-lifting champion. It’s not hard to be intimidated by him, even if his younger brother is my best friend and ninety percent of my life is spent at their home.
“Alita, you know I’ve always liked you. You’re a stand-up person. You’ve always been kind. Smart. Funny.” He pauses between each word, as though making a point. Really, it’s just kind of awkward, and is making the conversation last way too long. But I listen because what else am I going to do—argue?
“But I need to make it clear before this goes any further. Max is not a toy. He is not something you use and throw away. He’s never had a real girlfriend. In my opinion, you’re both a little young for that. And I’m not saying you’ll work out, and I don’t expect things to be perfect. But if you hurt him, you will be blacklisted. No one in the Schmidt family—” He leans in. �
��and I mean no one—” He clears his throat. “Will be able to retain your friendship and keep you a part of our group. Got it?”
I know he’s referring to Hanna. She and I were friends long before I knew Max, or loved Max. But now the question is, how on earth does Nick know about my feelings for him? And what in the world makes him think that A: I’m his girlfriend, and B: that I’d hurt him?
“Nick,” I say as slowly and sweetly as I can muster. “I don’t know what you’re referring to. But I promise I have no intentions of hurting Max, or anyone else in your family, or our group. So if you will please excuse me, I really need to get to class.” I nod at the door he’s blocking.
He blinks slowly, giving me a dumbfounded stare. “What do you mean, you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“It’s really not important right now. I don’t want to be late for class. I’ll find you later, okay?” I try to brush past him, but his hand grabs hold of my upper arm.
“Alita, are you messing with me right now?” He rubs the back of his neck.
“No. I don’t know why you think I’d hurt Max after being friends with him for years. What’s changed? What makes now so special? As for him having a girlfriend, if you think I’m getting in the way of him asking someone out, please tell me! That’s not my intention at all. I don’t want to hinder his chances, though I think that anyone interested in him should know that by now. I mean, we’ve been friends for a long time.” I’m kind of rambling at this point, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m baffled.
“Um.” He clears his throat and stands up straight. “What exactly happened last night?”
“Didn’t Max already tell you?” I know I sound irritated, but I can’t help the annoyance that comes with answering the same question repeatedly. I mean, I have a good reason for not telling anyone my version of last night’s events. But why would Max want to keep it hush-hush?
Unless … the thought strikes me, and I try not to let my face show it. Is it possible that Max stumbled upon the same thing I did? A hidden forest? Creatures as tall as some of the trees that shouldn’t be able to grow in Arizona? Could it be that we weren’t so far apart after all?
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