Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher: A Magic Shop Book

by Bruce Coville; Gary A. Lippincott

  "I sure hope so," said Jeremy. Then he told her about Fat Pete.

  "You don't know that Tiamat did it," said Mary Lou defensively.

  "True," said Jeremy. "But I don't know that she didn't, either." He shivered. "What if she goes on

  a binge some night and eats all my father's patients?"

  "Maybe I'd better go back and get some more milk," said Mary Lou. She looked embarrassed. "Only, I'm out of money."

  Jeremy dug in his jeans. "The way things are going, I'm going to have to find a job just to feed her," he said ruefully, handing Mary Lou the last of his allowance.

  They left for school with no clear answer to the question of Fat Pete.

  When they passed the Bothill house, Specimen moped out to join them. He was the only boy in the class who would still walk with Jeremy, now that Jeremy was walking to and from school with Mary Lou.

  "I wish whoever gave Kravitz that hotfoot would confess," said Specimen.

  Jeremy felt himself blush. "Wasn't it worth missing the contest to see Mr. Kravitz get that hotfoot?" he asked hopefully.

  Specimen shrugged. "No one asked if I was willing to give up the contest for the sake of a laugh."

  Jeremy's stomach grew tight. It wasn't fair for Spess to be punished for something Tiamat had done. But the only way he could change that would be to tell Mr. Kravitz that he was the one who had given him the hotfoot.

  In a way, he wished that he had.

  Jeremy thought about it all morning. At noon he went to Mr. Sigel and said, "May I go see Mr. Kravitz for a few minutes?

  Mr. Sigel raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "If you want to," he said.

  Jeremy was relieved that he didn't ask why. But that was one of the things he liked about Mr. Sigel. Even though he made a lot of suggestions, he never pried into your personal life.

  Jeremy's hands began to tremble as he walked to the artroom.

  Are you all right?

  Tiamat's question whispered through his brain in a mist of blue and yellow.

  Yes! he thought fiercely.

  She returned an image of his shaking hands, along with her question feeling.

  I have something to do, thought Jeremy. Something difficult. He tried to think of a picture to explain, but couldn't.

  Shall I come help you? NO!

  Tiamat broke the connection, but not before sending a message of puzzled dismay.

  Great, thought Jeremy. If there's anything left of me after I'm done with Mr. Kravitz, I get to deal with a dragon in a snit. How do I get myself into these situations ?

  When Jeremy entered the art room he found Mr. Kravitz sitting at one of the long tables, drawing. The teacher didn't notice him right away, so Jeremy stood and watched the man work.

  Finally Mr. Kravitz looked up. "Thatcher," he said, in such a neutral way that Jeremy couldn't tell if it was a greeting, a statement, or a question.

  Even so, he could feel his stomach getting still tighter.

  "Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Kravitz.

  Jeremy swallowed hard. "I'm the one who gave you that hotfoot."

  "Nice try, Thatcher," said Mr. Kravitz. His voice had a note of contempt. He returned to his drawing.

  "Nice try?" asked Jeremy, uncertain what that meant.

  Mr. Kravitz put down his pencil. "You didn't give me that hotfoot, and we both know it. You were too far away. Who are you protecting? That little weasel, Freddy? What did he do, threaten to hit you if you didn't take the blame?"

  Jeremy blinked in confusion. He had confessed, and the confession had been rejected. Now what was he supposed to do? Explain that it was actually his dragon that had done the deed?

  His throat hurt. His stomach was a knot of emotion. Years of frustration seethed within him. Before he realized what he was doing, he said, "Mr. Kravitz, why do you hate me?"

  Mr. Kravitz looked at him in astonishment. Jeremy blinked at his own boldness; frightened, he took a step back. As he did, he noticed Mr. Kravitz's hand begin to twitch. Suddenly the art teacher seemed to notice it, too. He looked at his hand, put down the pencil, and then looked back at Jeremy, who saw something terrible in the man's eyes—a kind of anger, but a sadness, too.

  When Mr. Kravitz finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. "Do you really believe that I hate you?" he asked.

  Jeremy hesitated. Probably he should just say no, and let it go. But he had come too far now to drop the matter. He had put the truth as he felt it in the open. He had to stand by it. Summoning all his courage, he looked back at Mr. Kravitz and nodded.

  The big man turned away for a moment. When he turned back, his face was twisted, as if he were in pain. "I think you are the most talented student I have ever taught," he said slowly. "Talented, but undisciplined. You need them both, Thatcher. Talent and discipline. One without the other is useless."

  Jeremy stared at him in astonishment. Mr. Kravitz stared back. Uncomfortable, Jeremy lowered his eyes to the picture Mr. Kravitz had been working on, a stiff drawing of some trees beside a pond. The drawing was accurate, but still and lifeless. As he watched, Mr. Kravitz's big fingers twitched. The drawing crumpled beneath them.

  Suddenly it all came clear to Jeremy. Mr. Kravitz didn't hate him. The problem was that the man was jealous—jealous because Jeremy was a better artist than he was.

  The idea was astonishing. It couldn't be true.

  Or could it?

  Maybe what Mr. Kravitz resented—hated, even—was that he, Jeremy, was talented, but didn't show any discipline.

  He returned his gaze to the teacher's face, searching it for information.

  The big man looked away from him. "Who really gave me that hotfoot?" he asked after a moment.

  "I was responsible," said Jeremy truthfully.

  Mr. Kravitz sighed. "Go back to your room," he said. "Your class is back in the contest. Everyone except you."

  Twelve - Night Flights

  "I've got a chance!" shouted Specimen when he heard the news. He was so excited, he raced home to work on his entry as soon as school was over.

  Jeremy stayed behind, thinking about his conversation with Mr. Kravitz. He had told Spess only half of it. The personal part—the stuff about his own talent—he was keeping to himself.

  Normally he would have told Specimen everything. But lately he hadn't felt like talking to Spess so much. That shout of joy hadn't done anything to help matters. It was clear Specimen considered Jeremy's banishment from the contest fair punishment for getting the class in trouble to begin with.

  Jeremy was sick of it all—the teasing, the punishment, the injustice. He broke his favorite drawing pencil in half and threw it into the wastebasket.

  By the time he left the building the only kid still hanging around was Mary Lou. She was waiting for him on the steps of the school.

  "That was a nice thing you did," she said.

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  Mary Lou started to say something else, then changed her mind. "We've got company," she said, switching the topic altogether.

  Jeremy looked around warily. Were Howard and Freddy waiting to pound him?

  "Wrong direction," said Mary Lou. "Look up."

  He did, turning in a slow circle, until he spotted Tiamat looming on the edge of the school roof. She was staring down at him with a look that could only be the dragon version of a smile. The tip of her tail dangled down so far it nearly reached the windows.

  What are you doing here? he demanded.

  I came to take you home.

  Before Jeremy could ask what she meant, Tiamat leapt from the roof, spread her wings and began to glide toward him, her claws extended before her.

  "Tiamat!" he yelled. "Tiamat, don't!"

  "What's going on?" cried Mary Lou.

  Jeremy's reply was cut short when Tiamat grabbed him by his sides and snatched him into the air. Jeremy's stomach lurched as the world fell away beneath them.

  "Put me down!" he cried "Put me down!" But Tiamat only pumped her wings
harder.

  Hold still! she commanded when he started to squirm. She sent him an image of a wriggling body falling from a great height.

  He held still.

  Now look. Look!

  Jeremy looked. The world that spread below him was beautiful—more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He had no idea Blodgett's Crossing had so many trees; it was greener than he would have guessed.

  I love this place, he thought with surprise.

  It's your home, replied Tiamat, as she carried him over the park.

  He enjoyed the flight until he spotted a pair of familiar figures below.

  Watch out, he sent nervously, I see Howard and Freddy.

  He could feel Tiamat's amusement. They can't see you, she told him, using the same kind of images she had used to explain why his mother hadn't seen her. Jeremy wondered if that meant he was invisible while she carried him. He liked the idea.

  The flight was the greatest adventure of his life, and Jeremy couldn't wait to repeat it.

  That night, after everyone was asleep, he slipped out of the house and walked down to the barn. Tiamat was waiting for him.

  Let me try riding, he thought, sending a picture of himself mounted on her back.

  Tiamat agreed, and Jeremy found it far more comfortable to straddle her back than to be carried in her claws. Once he was settled, she pumped her

  great wings, and they lifted into the moonlit sky. Jeremy waited until they were several hundred feet above the earth to let out a shout of joy.

  Every night after that, Jeremy slipped out of the house at midnight to accompany the dragon on her journeys across the sky. Sometimes she went so high that the air became thin and hard to breathe. They flew into clouds, skimmed across rivers, soared over cliffs.

  Tiamat hunted on these nights. Out in the wild, away from the pets and people of the town, she would put Jeremy on top of a high hill and then swoop through the darkness, catching squirrels, rabbits, bats, and raccoons.

  The first time he watched her eat a rabbit he thought he was going to be sick. No sense in getting mad at a dragon for being a dragon, he told himself, turning his head from the gory sight.

  But even the hunting she was doing was not enough. She was over twenty feet long now, and still growing. Soon she would need larger prey.

  I have to go home soon, Tiamat told him each night when the flight was over. Jeremy would nod, leaning his head against her shoulder, trying not to weep. Once she folded a leathery wing around his shoulder, as if embracing him.

  Yet as much as he dreaded her leaving, he knew it would also be a relief. Caring for her had put such a strain on him that his mother had started to worry about his health. A week after the night rides began, Mrs. Thatcher announced she was taking him to the doctor for a checkup.

  "Why can't Dad check me?" protested Jeremy. "He's a doctor."

  "He's a veterinarian!" said Mrs. Thatcher crossly. "I want you to see a people doctor." But other than general exhaustion, Dr. Hulan found nothing wrong with Jeremy.

  "Have you been getting enough sleep?" he asked, rubbing his bearded chin in puzzlement.

  When Jeremy shook his head, Dr. Hulan scowled. "Start sending him to bed earlier," he said to Mrs. Thatcher. "And give him a mug of warm milk before he turns in."

  That was fine with Jeremy. He had been looking for an excuse to go to bed early. A little extra sleep then would give him more energy for his midnight flights with Tiamat.

  Not that there were many of them left.

  Soon, far too soon, Friday the 23rd of June arrived.

  The day of Midsummer Night was a day of endings—the last day not only of school, but of sixth grade. Jeremy had gone to Blodgett's Crossing Elementary more than half his life. Leaving it with the thought that next year he would go someplace new was both exciting and frightening.

  The school gathered for a final awards assembly. When Mr. Martinez announced that Specimen had won first prize in the art contest Jeremy clapped and cheered. But inside he ached, because he had wanted so much to win it himself. He wondered if Spess would remember their mutual pledge that the winner would share the prize.

  Jeremy was leaving the building, still stinging with loss, when Mr. Kravitz stopped him.

  "Thatcher," he said.

  Jeremy turned. His stomach grew tight with the anticipation of something nasty about to happen.

  Mr. Kravitz paused. Then to Jeremy's surprise, he nodded and said, "Good luck next year."

  What was even more amazing was that he sounded like he meant it.

  But even that miracle did little to distract him from the coming loss, and he spent the afternoon in a daze of sorrow.

  After dinner, he placed Tiamat's baby teeth in a small leather bag his uncle had given him several years before. He had found nearly three dozen of them, the tiniest no larger than a pencil point, the biggest nearly the size of his litde finger. Their soft, pearly color disguised the fact that they were razor sharp and steel hard.

  Next he took her skins—she had shed seven times in all—out to the barn. When he had smoothed them out on the floor they were like a diary of Tiamat's growth. He laid the first skin, barely a foot long, in the palm of his hand. It reminded him of the night she had hatched.

  I was tiny! she sent, the message a combination of a crystal-clear image of the hatching, accompanied by a gentle sense of amusement.

  I was frightened, he replied.

  Remembering that night made him remember the magic shop, and something Mr. Elives had said to him.

  Did you really choose me? he asked.

  She replied with a flood of warm assurance.

  Why?

  I liked the colors in your head. I knew we could share beautiful pictures. She poked her head, which was as big as a horse's, over his shoulder. I will miss you.

  And I will miss you, replied Jeremy, stroking her scaly nose. Beneath her eye he felt a piece of hard material. It came away in his fingertips. When he held it up, it sparkled in the light.

  What is this?

  Dragons weep diamonds, replied Tiamat, turning her head away.

  Jeremy pressed the tear to his chest. In the distance he could hear his mother calling him to come in. He glanced at his watch. Almost bedtime.

  Placing Tiamat's skins one on top of the other, he rolled them up, then tied the crinkly red bundle with a strand of yarn he had found in his mother's knitting bag. Next to it he placed the box in which he had carried home Tiamat's egg. Inside, saved as per the directions, were the pieces of the shell. Next to that, he set the bag of teeth.

  Jeremy looked at the collection of material— the box, the bag and the scroll—and wondered if he should add Tiamat's tear. But the letter hadn't mentioned anything about this, so brushing away a tear of his own, he tucked the gem into his pocket.

  When he turned to go, he saw Mary Lou Hutton standing in the doorway.

  "I came to say good-bye to Tiamat," she said softly.

  Jeremy nodded.

  Mary Lou walked to the dragon. "Farewell, Lady Tiamat," she whispered.

  Tiamat dipped her long neck, and Mary Lou embraced her.

  After a moment she turned to Jeremy and asked, as she had several times over the last few days, "Do you want me to come tonight?"

  He shook his head. "I have to do this alone," he replied, as always.

  Mary Lou nodded. "Good luck," she whispered. Her voice was husky; he could tell that she felt nearly as bad as he did.

  Shortly after eleven o'clock, Jeremy tiptoed out of his room carrying the box, the scroll, the bag of teeth, and a flashlight. With no Tiamat to intimidate them, the kitchen cats rubbed around his ankles, begging for a late-night treat. Ignoring their pleas, Jeremy slipped out the back door.

  The night was cool and still, without a breath of wind, almost as if it were waiting for something to happen.

  Jeremy didn't need to walk to the barn; having sensed his approach, Tiamat was waiting for him in the yard. In the silvery light of the full moon she l
ooked enormous.

  They started walking. It would have been easier to fly, of course. Only they couldn't, because Jeremy had no idea where they were going. That wasn't for lack of trying; two days earlier he had walked the entire length of Main Street looking for the corner of "Main and Not Main." As far as he could tell, it didn't exist. That didn't surprise him. He had lived in Blodgett's Crossing all his life and never heard of such an intersection. But its absence had worried him. How was he supposed to take the dragon to a corner that wasn't there?

  Finally he had decided they would just walk along Main Street and see what happened. If the old man wanted them, odds were good that he would find them.

  They were less than a block from home when Jeremy heard a car. He dove for the bushes. No telling what would happen if someone spotted him wandering around at this time of night!

  Maybe you should ride on my back, suggested Tiamat. Then no one will be able to see you.

  She crouched down, and Jeremy climbed on. In a way, it felt even stranger to ride on a dragon walking through town than to fly with her.

  The air was cool and moist, and as they neared the center of town fog began to creep toward them. It grew rapidly thicker. By the time they were two blocks past the main intersection, Jeremy could hardly see.

  Too bad we don't know where the corner is, thought Jeremy to Tiamat. Then we could fly, instead of walking through this stuff.

  She sent her agreement.

  The fog got still thicker, curling around Tiamat's feet like snakes made of smoke. Jeremy begin to worry again. He had a feeling that if they continued walking, they really would come to the corner of "Main and Not Main."

  But when we do, will we be in Blodgett's Crossing— or somewhere else altogether ?