When Jeremy rolled his eyes, his father shot him a look that said very clearly, "Be nice, or you're dead meat."
He decided to show Mary Lou the office. "This way," he said, making sure to keep far enough away that she couldn't sneak in a kiss when he wasn't looking.
"I'm sorry I barged into your room on Friday," said Mary Lou, as they walked down the path behind the house.
Jeremy shrugged. "Forget it," he said, opening the office door.
"I didn't tell anyone about the dragon," said Mary Lou, once they were inside.
Jeremy laughed. "Do you think they would have believed you if you had?"
"Probably not. Good grief. That's the biggest cat I've ever seen!"
Mary Lou was standing in front of Fat Pete, who had come in for more stitches that morning.
"Probably the crankiest, too," said Jeremy, as Mary Lou reached her hand toward the cage. "I wouldn't ..."
His words were too late. Pete swatted at Mary Lou.
"Ouch!" she cried, pulling her hand back. "You rotten thing!"
"No sense in getting mad at a cat for being a cat," said Jeremy. "Come on. We've got stuff to put on that."
While Jeremy doctored Mary Lou's hand they started to talk about books. By the time they returned to the house they were deep in an argument about the Chronicles of Narnia. Jeremy ran up to his room to get Prince Caspian to prove a point to Mary Lou.
He found one of Tiamat's teeth beside the bookshelf, and deposited it in the collection he had started in his desk.
When he left the room he closed the door carefully, to avoid a repeat of the disaster with Grief. Unfortunately, while he was concentrating on shutting the dog out, he forgot to worry about keeping the dragon in. Though Jeremy didn't know it, Tiamat was already in the hall when the door clicked shut.
Jeremy rejoined Mary Lou in the living room. But before he could find the page he was looking for, his mother called them to supper.
They were eating in the dining room, which proved it was a special occasion—as did the fact that his mother had bought new candles. Jeremy felt a great longing in his head when she lit them. He blinked. The feeling came from Tiamat.
Fire! she thought happily, flying into the room.
Jeremy dropped his fork. Mary Lou gasped.
"What's wrong with you two?" asked Dr. Thatcher.
"Nothing!" they said in unison.
"Kids," said Mary Lou's father, as if that explained everything.
Fire! sang Tiamat in Jeremy's head. She landed on his shoulder and began to crawl down to the table.
NO! thought Jeremy desperately. Not now! Go away!
Tiamat glared at him angrily. Then she turned and flew from the room. Mrs. Hutton blinked, looking puzzled by the sudden breeze created by Tiamat's wings.
Once the dragon was gone, Jeremy felt better—until he heard the yowl from the kitchen.
"What in heaven's name was that?" said Dr. Thatcher.
He started to his feet, but before he could get away from the table, one of the kitchen cats came streaking into the dining room.
"Oh!" cried Mary Lou's mother. "Get it away from me. I can't stand cats!"
That was unfortunate, since at that moment three more cats came running into the room. Tiamat was flying after them, snapping at their tails. The first cat dashed under the table. So did two of the next three.
The fourth, however, which was the one Tiamat was closest to catching, jumped right onto the table.
The adults all began to yell at once. With that much noise, Jeremy didn't figure anyone would hear him, so he shouted, "Tiamat, cut that out!"
The dragon ignored him. The cat was careening around the table, stepping on people's plates and knocking over glasses.
One of the under-table cats began climbing onto Mrs. Hutton's lap.
"Get it away!" she screamed. As she jumped to her feet, the cat sprang forward onto the table.
Now there were two cats scrambling among the dishes, with Tiamat chasing after both of them.
"Herbert!" cried Mrs. Thatcher. "Do something!"
Dr. Thatcher dived for one of the cats, missed, and landed face first in the mashed potatoes. A cat ran over his head.
Mary Lou's father tried next. His hand came down on the edge of a plate, which sailed into the air, spraying gravy across the room.
The commotion attracted Grief, who ran into the room to see what all the excitement was about. He took one look at Tiamat and began barking and lunging at her. His front paws landed on the table. He tried to scramble up to join the chase, but only succeeded in pulling the tablecloth down onto himself.
With a resounding crash, everything—plates, candles, silverware, and food—fell to the floor. Grief ran howling from the room.
Jeremy looked at the clock. Dinner had started at 6:30. It had taken only until 6:32 to turn the room into a total shambles.
Nine - The Heat Is On
Mrs. Hutton was a mess. Mr. Hutton was furious. Mrs. Thatcher was crying. And Dr. Thatcher, his face still dotted with mashed potatoes, was laughing so hard he could barely stand up.
"People always laugh about this kind of thing after they get done being upset," he told Jeremy later. "The Huttons will be telling this story for years. I figure, why wait? If I'm going to be amused later, I might as well be amused right now."
As none of the other adults seemed to share Dr. Thatcher's philosophy, the evening came to an early, uneasy end: "A premature death," as Dr. Thatcher phrased it.
Even though no one blamed Jeremy for the trouble, he spent the rest of the night wallowing in guilt.
Things didn't improve any the next morning when Mary Lou caught him on the way to school.
He had too many other things on his mind to try to escape her, so she walked all the way to school with him. The fact that she didn't try to kiss him didn't stop Howard and Freddy from making loud, sloppy smacking sounds as soon as Jeremy and Mary Lou entered the building.
While Jeremy was trying to decide whether taking a pop at one of them was worth getting beat up for, the principal walked up and said, "I want to see the two of you in my office."
Jeremy's stomach began to squirm so violently that he felt as though he had swallowed something that was still alive. What now? he wondered miserably, as they followed Mr. Martinez.
"You first, Mr. Thatcher," said the principal. He gestured for Jeremy to take a seat inside, then sat behind his own desk. Folding his hands in front of him, he said, "Are you having trouble in art class?"
To Jeremy's surprise, the man's voice was mild, almost friendly. Even more surprising was the effect this question had on Jeremy's emotions. He felt as if Mr. Martinez had unlocked something hidden deep inside him. A flood of anger and sorrow raged through his body, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He knew if he tried to talk, he would break down and sob.
The storm of emotion disturbed Tiamat. At the back of his head he could sense her stirring from her slumber.
Mr. Martinez stared at him. "I said, are you having trouble in art class?"
Still afraid to speak, Jeremy nodded.
Mr. Martinez looked away. "Not every teacher is right for every student," he said at last.
Jeremy was surprised by the gentleness in his voice.
Mr. Martinez straightened his tie. "If you have another day when you just can't cope with art, why don't you come down here for a little while?"
Jeremy tried to answer, but couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat.
"Do you understand me?" asked the principal. His voice had a harder edge now. "If you can't cope, you can come here. But don't just take off. I can't let you do that."
Jeremy nodded numbly. Mr. Martinez escorted him out of the office, then gestured to Mary Lou.
"Did he yell at you?" she whispered, as she walked past Jeremy. Her eyes were wide.
He shook his head. He started walking toward the classroom, then decided to wait for Mary Lou. When she came out, they walked back to the room
together. "He didn't yell at me either," said Mary Lou, sounding relieved.
Specimen rolled his eyes when he saw the two of them enter. Jeremy wanted to explain, but he still didn't trust himself to say anything. A large chunk of emotion seemed to have lodged in his throat and he wasn't sure he could get any words past it without cutting the emotion loose, too. Since he wasn't interested in spending the next several minutes crying in front of the entire class, he remained silent.
During recess he didn't join the baseball game, as he normally would have. Instead, he sat under one of the small trees that had been planted when the school was built. He was scratching a picture in the dirt with a stick when he noticed a strange shadow in front of him.
Looking up, he saw Tiamat circling overhead. Her red wings looked like streamers of blood in the afternoon sunshine.
How did you get here? thought Jeremy in panic.
The dragon coasted down to his shoulder. She was nearly as long as his arm now, and he lurched a little with the weight of her.
He hadn't framed his question in a form she could understand, so he got no answer. He paused. Figuring out the best way to communicate with the dragon was like working a puzzle. Finally he sent a mental image of Tiamat sleeping at home, along with the question feeling.
Tiamat's response was a picture of himself, looking sad.
He took this to mean she had been worried about him. But how had she gotten out of his room—not to mention the house?
Her answer made him a little nervous about just how smart she was getting to be. It consisted of a series of pictures. In the first she flew up to the ceiling and began puffing at the smoke detector mounted above his door. The second showed Jeremy's father rushing into the room, looking worried. The third showed Tiamat taking advantage of the open door to escape from his room. Finally she offered him an image of the little door the cats used to go in and out—a door just wide enough for a small dragon, if it folded its wings tightly against its sides.
Go home! thought Jeremy, sending her an image of herself returning through the little door.
Tiamat's response felt like a frown inside his head. She didn't want to go home. He felt bad, and he needed her here.
I feel fine! insisted Jeremy. But it's hard to lie when you're communicating with thoughts instead of words. He didn't feel fine, and they both knew it. So Tiamat stayed.
As if things weren't bad enough, Mary Lou showed up next. "She's here!" she cried in delight.
Jeremy nodded.
"How come the others don't see her?"
Jeremy shrugged. "There's a lot about dragons I haven't figured out."
Tiamat sent him a little wave of smugness.
To his enormous relief, Mr. Sigel waved his hand to announce it was time to go back inside. They started toward the door, Jeremy hanging back a little so that no one would accidentally touch Tiamat.
Go home! he urged again as the line approached the school.
Tiamat refused. Jeremy trudged into the building, carrying the dragon on his shoulder.
In the classroom Tiamat slithered down Jeremy's arm, crawled under his desk, and curled up at his feet. She lay there, snoozing contentedly, while he worked on his math test.
He was glad she had consumed all her milk that morning. He was giving it to her in a mixing bowl now, and she was gulping down at least a quart at a time. Jeremy frowned. His parents were already wondering where all the milk was going. Before long he would have to start buying it out of his allowance.
I suppose it's worth it to keep her calm, he thought. He checked under his desk. She raised her head and gave him a dreamy dragon smile. He smiled back. They had made it through the first half hour without any trouble. And her presence actually had helped him calm down. That was partly out of necessity. If he didn't force himself to be calm, who knew what Tiamat might do?
He finished his test and looked around. Mary Lou was staring at him. When she saw him look at her she blushed and smiled.
What the heck? he thought, and smiled back.
Her blush deepened to crimson, and she turned away.
Jeremy was surprised. Maybe he wasn't powerless against Mary Lou after all. I wonder what would happen if I sent a note saying I wanted to kiss her? Would she run away and leave me alone for good?
He shook his head. What if she took him seriously? The risk definitely was not worth it.
As Mr. Sigel was collecting the tests, someone knocked at the door. Before anyone could get up, the door swung open. Mr. Kravitz stepped in.
Jeremy's reaction to the man woke Tiamat, who poked her head out from under the desk.
"I've come to discuss the Spring Art Contest," said Mr. Kravitz.
Jeremy's interest perked up. This was what he had been waiting for!
"As you know, the contest is sponsored by the Downtown Merchants' Association. They want things they can use to decorate their storefronts. As always, the grand winner gets to paint the giant window of Zambreno's Department Store.
"You're all invited to enter. But—I don't want to see anything but your best work. This contest is going to represent the school, and I want us to look good."
That made sense. But true to his fashion, Mr. Kravitz managed to say it in a way that made it seem very insulting. As the man talked, Jeremy found himself getting angrier and angrier. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. It wasn't until he saw Tiamat slinking down the aisle that he realized what a major mistake it was to let his emotions get out of hand.
Tiamat! he thought desperately. Get back here!
Since he forgot to frame the command in pictures, the dragon ignored him. He searched for an image, then sent a picture of Tiamat crawling back under his desk.
She responded with a picture of Mr. Kravitz hopping around on one foot.
Jeremy's heart began to pound. What are you up
to?
No answer.
Mr. Kravitz launched into a lecture on his standards for entries he was willing to submit to the merchants' association. "I don't want any of this green sky and pink grass stuff that some of you like to do," he said.
Jeremy heard Mary Lou gasp as Tiamat reached the front of the room and crouched beside Mr. Kravitz's left foot.
"After all," continued the art teacher, "I'm not going to have the people of this town think I haven't taught you anything about color."
Jeremy, watching Tiamat warily, doubted that anyone would believe a sixth grader who colored grass pink was doing anything but having fun.
"And I don't want any of this fantasy stuff," continued Mr. Kravitz, as Tiamat began to breathe on his foot. "No dragons, or any nonsense like that."
Yeah, let's not use our imaginations^ thought Jeremy bitterly. By this time he was so fed up with Mr. Kravitz he didn't really care what Tiamat did. He watched her ribs rise and fall as she puffed on the art teacher's foot.
"And another thing," said Mr. Kravitz. He was starting to look uncomfortable now, and he lifted his foot to rub it against the back of his trousers. "I want you to—to—" Suddenly he bent down and stared at his shoe. Tiamat gave another puff, and it started to smoke.
Mr. Kravitz tore off the shoe and began hopping about on one foot. "Ooooowwww!" he cried. "Ow, ow, ow!"
It was just like the image Tiamat had sent to Jeremy. He could sense her smugness as she slithered back to his desk, and he had to bite down on the corners of his mouth to kill his laughter.
Mr. Sigel jumped up and stared at Mr. Kravitz. He started forward, then stopped, as if he couldn't figure out what to do.
Mr. Kravitz stared at his shoe in puzzlement. Most of the kids sat in wide-eyed astonishment. Given the art teacher's temper, Jeremy knew this was the safest reaction. Even so, from here and there around the room he could hear little snorts of laughter. Mary Lou, the only kid besides Jeremy who knew what had really happened, had her hands over her mouth.
Mr. Kravitz glared at the offenders. "I do not find this very amusing!" he shouted. He examined his shoe
carefully, searching for signs of tampering. "I want to know who did this," he said. "And I want to know now."
When no one answered, Mr. Kravitz grew even angrier. "That does it!" he roared. "Until the coward who did this confesses, Room Nineteen is banned from the art contest."
Tucking his scorched shoe under his arm, he stormed out of the room, giving the door a wall-rattling slam as he left.
The class breathed out together, as if on some kind of signal.
t
"Can he really do that?" asked Specimen, his voice trembling.
"Do what?" asked Mr. Sigel.
"Ban us from the art contest."
Their teacher frowned. "Probably."
The look on Specimen's face twisted Jeremy's stomach.
Tiamat sent the question feeling, but Jeremy didn't know how to respond. The whole problem seemed too complicated to put into images. An hour ago he and Specimen had seemed like sure winners. Now in order for either of them to enter the contest, he, Jeremy, would have to confess to something he hadn't done—and confess it to the man he disliked most in the whole world.
Ten - The Hatchers
"I can't believe it," said Specimen, as they trudged home that afternoon. "We've been waiting six years to win this contest!"
"I know," said Jeremy glumly.
He also knew that unless he was willing to face Mr. Kravitz, there was no chance for either of them to enter.
The idea was appalling. If he did confess, what was he going to say when Mr. Kravitz asked, as he was bound to, how Jeremy had done it? Honesty might be the best policy, thought Jeremy, but it's kind of tough when the truth is something no one will believe.
Tiamat wheeled overhead, sending occasional messages of concern. She stayed with them the same way a puppy would, first sprinting ahead, then falling back to investigate something, circling around them, eager to play.
Her antics made it hard to pay attention to Specimen.
Why can't Spess see the dragon, thought Jeremy miserably, instead of Mary Lou?
Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher: A Magic Shop Book Page 6
