Anything I said at this point was likely to make things worse, but not saying anything wasn’t helping either. I could tell Liam was about to go properly Hulk. He was getting bigger again, his muscles bulging before my eyes. I waited for the sound of his T-shirt ripping.
But before he could squash me with his great green fists, three people suddenly appeared by my side.
Ted, Kat and Kai. Materialising there like my own personal superhero squad.
‘Hey, Tomas. Need a hand with Liam the Unincredible Hulk?’ Kai said.
The relief of having my friends there felt like finally getting your Mr Whippy on the hottest day of the year after joining the Guinness World Records longest ice-cream queue.
I imagined the four of us standing in formation in front of him, wielding our superpowers as Kai’s words blasted out like lasers, shrinking Liam to the size of a pea. It must have done the trick, because although he kept up the scowl, Liam got on his bike and pedalled off.
‘You OK, Tomas?’ Ted asked once he’d gone.
‘Yeah, thanks. I’m fine.’ As I said it I felt Flicker’s heat begin to fade, as if he too was calming down.
‘What’s up with him?’ Kai asked, nodding towards the retreating Liam.
‘Has he been hassling you about … you know, the PE stuff?’ Kat asked.
I bent down and pretended to tie up my shoelace, aware of them watching me, and willing Flicker not to try to wriggle out. Or worse, poo. The last thing I needed was another Whiffy Liffy episode. Even my friends thought I was being weird, without that happening. I spotted Mum and Lolli, miles ahead now and just about to turn the corner into our street, and I willed her to turn round and call me.
‘Nah, you know, just usual Liam stuff,’ I said.
I knew they weren’t buying it. That’s the thing about friends. Especially ones who know you as well as these three knew me.
‘TOMAS!’ Mum shouted.
‘I’d better go,’ I said, rolling my eyes and faking a groan.
I ran off, silently thanking Mum for saving me from another lie. But as I left, I couldn’t help noticing that Kat was looking a bit hurt.
Once I was safely on our street I slowed down. Flicker stretched in my pocket. Mum was already wrestling the buggy through the front door and so, after checking there was no one else around, I reached in to lift him out. He unfurled his wings and shook himself, sending a shimmering ripple across his scales. He sneezed and shot out a spray of sparks that I quickly stamped out.
It was a good job he hadn’t got out and done that when the others were there. And, more importantly, that Liam hadn’t seen him. I really didn’t like the idea of him spying on me. I’d just have to be super careful from now on.
All next day at school I could feel Liam’s eagle eyes watching me. I tried to act normal and thought I was doing a good job, until I saw Ted, Kat and Kai whispering and exchanging puzzled glances. Maybe I was getting normal wrong – or maybe I was being too normal? Was that even a thing? I didn’t have the brainpower to work it out. My head was already full of Flicker and wondering what mess I was going to find when I got home at the end of the day.
That afternoon it wasn’t just Flicker who’d made a mess though. I came into the kitchen and found Lolli covered in a crispy cornflake crust.
My feet crunched across a carpet of rice. Mum was sweeping cereal and dried pasta into little mountains. A river of yoghurt flowed between them with splashes of ketchup along its banks. Lolli was sitting in the middle of the scene waving a picture at me.
‘I only left her for a minute,’ Mum sighed. ‘I rather hoped we were over the painting-with-food stage.’
Lolli pointed to the mess on the paper and beamed.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Er … Great work, Lolli.’
She frowned, looked at her picture and turned it the other way up. Then flapped her arms and made a roaring noise.
Now I’m not sure anyone else would have seen what I saw in her ‘artwork’. But then Lolli and I were the only ones who knew there was a dragon living upstairs. Suddenly I could make out the ketchup flames and the scaly pasta wings and the gluey raisin eyes she’d dipped in glitter. She’d made dragons, and lots of them. She waved it at me again and I took it from her.
‘Thanks, Lollibob,’ I whispered. ‘I’m sure he’ll love it.’
And he did. After I pinned it to my wall, Flicker curled up in front of the picture and stayed there, rumbling with contentment.
Meanwhile, I cleared up the lurking poos and hid yet another shredded pillowcase. Feeling pleased with my efforts, I ducked downstairs for a drink – where Mum collared me.
‘Grandad’s been telling me all about his plans for the garden,’ she said while scrambling an egg with one hand and dropping counters into Connect 4 with the other.
Lolli loved undoing the catch and watching all the counters clatter out. She slotted the last ones in and then jiggled up and down in anticipation.
‘Sounds like the pair of you have taken on a bit of a project,’ Mum continued.
I remembered us walking home the day before and how I’d promised him I’d go over today. I smiled awkwardly, a pang of guilt squirming inside my tummy. It was easy to get distracted with Flicker around.
‘I haven’t seen him fired up like this for ages. It’s good.’ Mum glanced up at me for a second. ‘Don’t leave it all to him though now, will you?’
I felt myself blush. Had she just read my mind? If she had, I hoped she didn’t read any further and figure out I had a dragon in my room! Anyway, she was right – Grandad needed me.
‘I’ll go now,’ I said, marvelling at her ability to catch the tiny astronaut Lolli had just launched into orbit before he splat-landed in the egg with one hand, while scooping up the scattered Connect 4 counters with the other. I sometimes wonder if my mum secretly has her own superpowers.
Flicker was only too keen to get out of the house, and he flitted happily from tree to tree as I walked to Nana and Grandad’s house. But every so often, if there was no one in sight, he’d zoom down and send out a puff of smoky warm breath to tickle my ear.
When I arrived Nana met me with a freshly baked chocolate muffin and gave me a flask of lemonade for us both. I found Grandad down the garden with a handful of seed packets, a look of pure concentration on his face.
‘Hey up, Chipstick. I’ve got a problem. I can’t decide on the best kind of beans to try. I’m a runner-bean man myself, but there’s all sorts here – haricot vert, scarlet runner, winged, yard-long. I never knew there were so many. It’s up to you really. What do you say? Feel like something a bit more fancy?’
His eyes were twinkling and I could see Mum was right about him being fired up about the veg garden.
‘Er …’ I said. ‘I’m more of a baked-bean fan.’
Grandad chuckled and ruffled my hair.
It should have been difficult to get excited about any type of bean when I knew there was a dragon just metres away. I doubted even magic beans would beat a dragon.
But it was hard not to get caught up in Grandad’s enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but enjoy yourself with him around. And it wasn’t just the constant supply of caramel toffees either.
Flicker had been happily exploring the hedges and eating his fill of greenery. He was careful to keep out of sight, but every so often I had the feeling he was playing a game with Grandad, flitting down behind him and then zipping off again just as he turned round. Eventually I saw the bright shine of his scales dim a little, a sign he was getting tired, and he disappeared among the cactus-like arms of the dragon-fruit tree. When he didn’t reappear, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least if he was asleep I didn’t have to worry about Grandad spotting him.
After about an hour of digging and planting, and redigging and replanting when Grandad changed his mind, I leaned my spade against the old shed and rubbed the ache out of my arms.
‘You know, I don’t think we’re going to get much jam out of that there tree, Tomas,’ Grandad sai
d, offering me a glug from the flask. ‘Nothing left but the skins of the last few fruit. Reckon the squirrels must have got them. And I’ve not seen hide nor hair of any more fruit. You sure we shouldn’t just pull the old thing out?’
I leaped up and spluttered through a mouthful of lemonade.
‘No, we can’t! I’m sure there’ll be more.’
Grandad didn’t look convinced, and I could see him eyeing up how much more space there would be for his exotic beans without it.
I wished I’d found out more about the tree. The books in the library had shown me loads of different types of dragon, but they had all come from eggs, not trees. There was no mention of a dragon-fruit tree in any of them.
What if Grandad was right? What if there was no more fruit? I wouldn’t be able to stop him pulling it out if one little crop of squirrel snacks was all the tree had to show for itself. He’d want it gone for sure.
‘Right, Chipstick, let’s see if you’re right. Come on.’
Grandad pulled open the door to the garden shed and disappeared inside. I followed him, trying not to cough at the dust and the earthy smell. The shed leaned awkwardly and I couldn’t help wondering if it might just give up and collapse if either of us so much as sneezed.
On one side there were wooden shelves loaded with empty flowerpots, bits of string and ancient-looking packets of seeds. Grandad reached up to pull something from the top shelf. It was a huge old book. He swept dust from the leathery cover.
‘I spotted this in here the other day when I was rootling about for a trowel. The old woman who lived here before must have left it. She left all sorts of bits and pieces as it happens. But unlike the Guatemalan rain stick, this might actually be useful. It’s an encyclopedia of plants.’
We laid the book on the little counter-top under the window, brushing away as much of the dirt as possible first and sending a family of spiders scurrying to safety.
‘A World of Plants, it’s called,’ Grandad said. ‘I was thinking of using it to look up things to grow. Let’s see if it’s got anything to say about your tree, hey?’
The cover was thick with grime, but the lettering of the title was all fancy, like some old spell book you see in films.
I was sure it creaked when we opened it. Inside, the pages were stiff and yellowed, crammed with illustrations and information.
We flicked through, but there was no sign of the strange spiky dragon-fruit tree. Until at last Grandad cried, ‘Bingo!’ and thumped his hand down on the counter, half choking me with a dust explosion.
And there it was: the pitaya – our dragon fruit!
I ran my hand over the picture as if I could feel the spiky leaves on the page.
‘Looks as if you were right,’ he said. ‘Says here we should get five or six crops of fruit at least.’
He started reading to me about flowers that bloomed for just one night but I only had eyes for one thing. In a swirly bordered box at the bottom of the page was a tiny picture of a dragon, and a paragraph of text.
I had found the legend of the dragon fruit! I read the first words, my heart jumping around inside me, eyes skittering over the letters in my excitement.
Sadly, my excitement soon fizzled out. Legend had it that dragons were supposed to breathe out the dragon fruit. But it didn’t say anything about dragons actually growing inside the fruit, like Flicker had.
I peered out of the dirt-streaked window, wondering if there really were more dragons out there or if mine was the only one.
At home again, muddy and tired, I set all the books from the library out on my bed. Maybe there was something I’d missed. Flicker flew over and started scratching at the covers, but I didn’t think Mrs Olive would be too happy about that so I found him a cereal packet to destroy instead.
I read until late, until my eyes burned with trying to keep them open. Finally I gave in and wriggled down under the covers.
I loved night-time with Flicker, and not just because there wasn’t so much poo and mess to clear up. You see, when I lay in bed, he left the toy box and curled up against me. I draped my dressing gown over him, just in case Mum or Dad peeked into my room, and lay there with him, listening to the murmurs he made while he slept, almost like a cat purring.
I slept so soundly with him beside me, and I had fantastic dreams too. I dreamed about flying over icy glaciers, with volcanoes erupting below me and ice storms swirling across the open land. The dreams were so vivid that I woke up remembering every colour and detail, as if I had really been there. I always woke up with such a happy feeling. And sometimes when I opened my eyes and saw Flicker curled up, he was changing colour in flashes, one after the other, as if he was dreaming a happy dream too. His scales rippled from red to orange to blue to white, pulsing like a fiery kaleidoscope.
That night though, I woke up with a shiver. There was no warming breath across my chest. Flicker wasn’t on the bed. I peered across the shadowy room, waiting for my eyes to adjust, searching for the glow of the little dragon.
I finally spotted him perched on the windowsill. No wonder I hadn’t seen him straight away; he seemed to have turned a dusky charcoal grey in the darkness. I tiptoed over. He was staring out at the inky sky and the rain that was falling.
‘Flicker,’ I whispered. He swung his head round and saw me and a little wave of colour rippled down his body. He turned back, took one last look at the sky, then stretched his wings and flew up to my shoulder. As I scratched his head, the clouds parted and the moon cast its light into the room. I smiled as his scales shimmered their familiar ruby red.
I wondered what he’d been looking at. Was he searching for other dragons too? I still didn’t know if there really had been dragons in all those fruit. I’d tried to look earlier, but Grandad had kept me too busy. Seeing Flicker staring out like that, I decided it was time to find out once and for all.
I had a plan. I was going to tell Grandad I was doing a project on bats at school and that I wanted to come over and do Bat Watch in his garden. Grandad would have done his jobs for the day and hopefully be ready to put his feet up and take it easy. So I’d be able to have a good look at the tree and have a proper hunt for dragons. And as for Grim – I just had to hope he’d be taking it easy too.
The next evening I arrived at Nana and Grandad’s fully prepared. In true undercover style I’d brought my night-vision goggles, binoculars, clipboard and a book on bats. I was almost beginning to believe in the bat project myself! Of course it nearly backfired when Grandad started reeling off facts about the habits of our native bats and got so into the idea he decided he’d come and join me.
‘Actually I’m supposed to do the project without any help,’ I told him quickly.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t do the work for you, Chipstick. I’ll just watch. Scout’s honour.’
I shifted uncomfortably.
Any other time I’d have loved to be out in the garden with Grandad – we could be worm watching and we’d have a great time. But I couldn’t miss this chance to look for more dragons. So I pulled out the only thing I knew would stop him in his tracks.
‘I think you’d better take it easy, Grandad. You’ve done loads today.’ And then I added, ‘Think about your heart.’
It was such a low blow I winced even saying it. For a second he looked disappointed. Then in true Grandad form he gave me a smile and said, ‘Right you are. Go on then – off you pop so I can get back to Gardener’s World.’
Which of course made me feel ten times worse.
I hunted everywhere for the dragons, peering into and underneath the hedge, braving the nettles and battling the brambles. I’d seen Flicker dart out of sight enough times to know dragons instinctively hid from humans. Still, I’d hoped that with him flitting around in plain sight of me, any dragons would feel reassured enough to let themselves be seen. But despite that, and my best efforts at hunting through the undergrowth, there was no sign.
Flicker settled on my shoulder and sneezed a glittering spray of sparks.
‘This is hopeless,’ I moaned, nursing a scratch. ‘There’s nothing here. Am I wrong about this, Flicker? Are you the only dragon?’
He flew up and ducked behind me. Eagerly I spun round, hoping he was trying to show me something. He was. It was my smouldering bum. One of his sparks had landed on the seat of my trousers and was smoking! I batted at my backside.
I sighed. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. After all, it was Grim’s garden that had been messed up.
I turned and looked at Grim’s vegetable patch and at the little lean-to greenhouse that was attached to his shed, full of tempting greenery. A new polytunnel was lying in pieces, the plastic shredded and the seedlings it had been covering scattered far and wide. Surely this was proof there had to be more of them? Unless Grim was right and it was just vandals.
‘I need to have a closer look,’ I whispered to Flicker. I wasn’t sure why I kept telling him stuff when he was only interested in demolishing Grandad’s lettuces, but I had to talk to someone.
Before I could change my mind I stepped over the little wire fence that separated the two gardens. For a second I had a feeling that I was being watched. I stood frozen, listening to the breeze rustling the leaves on the hedge that bordered the fields. In my mind I could picture all sorts of things lurking behind there, but now really wasn’t the time to let my imagination run wild. I reined it in and reminded myself that the scariest thing around here was probably Grim.
I looked around, scanning the garden up to the dark house where he lived. There was no sign of him, not even any lights on. If I was lucky, maybe he’d gone out for the evening.
Flicker fluttered over to join me. He settled on another plant with huge leaves and started nibbling at it. I made my way further into the garden, hoping my luck would hold.
The Boy Who Grew Dragons Page 5
