A Boy and His Dragon

by Michael J. Bowler

  The terrors and frustratingly unanswerable questions of October fortunately faded into an uncommon serenity for Bradley Wallace in November. After a time, he even stopped looking over his shoulder every time he went outside. Whilly didn’t mention the Halloween incident again, and neither did the boy. Since there was no way to prove what he thought happened one way or the other, Bradley Wallace decided not even to mention it. He certainly didn’t need Whilly thinking he was crazy, too.

  School also progressed smoothly. Wagner still held his superior status and even though no one was really interested in hearing details of the “fight” anymore, it was a given that he was better than Bradley Wallace. Therefore the bully apparently felt no real need to harass him on a daily basis. Bradley Wallace still felt the sting of his demotion in the eyes of his peers, but at least he didn’t have to deal with Wagner’s constant torments.

  During this rather peaceful period, too, Bradley Wallace finally managed to secure another copy of Foe of Barnabas Collins.

  He still hadn’t forgiven Sister Rose for her treatment of his original, and he refused to carry her book bag anymore. Whenever he saw her approaching, he’d deliberately walk away in the opposite direction.

  The weather worsened, lashing San Rafael with one vile storm after another, each more potent than the last. The Murphy home lost a few roof shingles, but otherwise came through the repeated beatings unscathed. With Thanksgiving fast approaching, Bradley Wallace found himself in the unpleasant situation of trying to explain another human holiday to Whilly. He’d never realized how many holidays there were until he had to try making sense of them to a dragon. Geez! He equated his task with trying to explain the color red to a man blind from birth.

  But at least this time Whilly seemed to approve the human custom of giving thanks, of commemorating a time when humans came together in friendship rather than violence. As with most holidays, which were “there’s” in the boy’s language, Bradley Wallace pretty much took Thanksgiving for granted. It had always just been a day when everyone ate turkey (which he’d never liked anyway) and watched parades and football on TV. He suddenly realized this year, through Whilly’s incessant questions, that he’d never paid attention to the real meaning behind Thanksgiving. It really was neat the way those Pilgrims and Indians chose to eat a big dinner rather than fight each other. Why couldn’t it work that way today, both he and Whilly wondered together? Why couldn’t everyone be friends instead of enemies? He didn’t really know, but told Whilly he suspected it was due to some part of human nature he didn’t yet understand. But he did enjoy the holiday much more this year, and even managed to sneak Whilly some leftover turkey. The dragon pronounced it bland, but not offensive. Bradley Wallace laughed and agreed. All in all, November was a good month.

  CHAPTER 13

  “A Bradley Wallace Christmas”

  And so November blustered its way casually into December and, of course, the advent of Christmas, without doubt Bradley Wallace’s favorite time of year. Everyone was so filled with good cheer and good will, always acted so friendly toward others, sort of proof that people can co-exist without enmity or strife. Why then, he’d always wondered, couldn’t the Christmas season last all through the year?

  Whilly expressed it somewhat differently, more strongly: if people could be good and kind to each other one month out of the year, why couldn’t they act that way during the other eleven? It was a bright, cloudless December day, mercifully without rain, as dragon and boy sat atop the grassy hillside discussing this apparent paradox. The air around them crackled with a crisp, decidedly hostile, cold snap that had descended over all of Northern California like the new Ice Age. Bundled up in his heaviest down jacket, Bradley Wallace pondered the question Whilly had raised, similar to his queries about Thanksgiving - since it was obvious humans could be good to one another, why weren’t they?

  The boy had always wished people would act this way, but never really pondered the reasons behind why they didn’t. “Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus, the Son of God,” Bradley Wallace began, as much for his benefit as the dragon’s. “When Jesus grew up, he wandered around telling everyone to love thy neighbor, and a lot of people followed him.”

  They also killed him, Whilly commented.

  “That’s true,” the boy agreed, frowning at the dragon’s seemingly arrogant tone. He paused momentarily.

  “I think maybe some of his spirit of giving and goodness rubs off on more people during Christmas time because they’re more open to it,” he finally said, verbalizing a sudden burst of insight.

  That still doesn’t explain why they aren’t open to it all the time, Whilly continued, still perplexed. It’s not logical for humans to fight when they can be good to each other just as easily.

  Bradley Wallace agreed. But as Dr. McCoy would always tell

  Spock on “Star Trek,” humans are not motivated purely by logic. “I think maybe people’re afraid to be nice sometimes,” he suggested, his young mind working furiously as these strange ideas sprang to life. “To be nice to someone you have to be more open and vulnerable and think about others first, and I guess a lot of people are kinda afraid of that.” He paused there, surprised by his own words, and wondered curiously where such notions had come from. And yet, it all suddenly seemed so clear. If people would just conquer their fears and selfishness, peace on earth and good will toward men wouldn’t just have to be greetings on Christmas cards. They could be real.

  You are becoming very profound these days, Bradley Wallace, Whilly suggested complimentarily.

  The boy smiled. “That’s probably only because you keep asking so many eternal questions and then don’t stop bugging me till I come up with answers.”

  That’s only because I like your answers, the dragon explained, and Bradley Wallace laughed heartily.

  “You’re nuts,” he chided good-naturedly, punching Whilly affectionately on what he figured was the dragon’s shoulder. But the dragon’s compliment made him feel good.

  The remaining weeks before Christmas day, Bradley Wallace set about shopping for presents, especially one for Whilly.

  He wanted to get something extra special for his friend, but what do you buy for a dragon? Also worrying him was Whilly’s increasing restlessness, even worse than before the Hawaii trip, and he greatly looked forward to his two-week vacation from school - they’d have lots of time together. Hopefully the dragon’s boredom and agitation would be alleviated.

  While wrestling with the question of Whilly’s Christmas present (not to mention keeping whatever he found a secret from the mind-probing dragon),

  Bradley Wallace introduced his friend to all his favorite Christmas TV specials: “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed

  Reindeer,” and his very favorite of all, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” He could relate to Charlie Brown, he had told Whilly on other occasions, because both were misunderstood outcasts. Whilly could relate to that, too. Watching these shows this year with the dragon was like seeing them for the first time, and Bradley Wallace grew misty-eyed at the touching conclusion of “Charlie Brown.” Whilly enjoyed it, too.

  In the final week before school let out, some of the guys began challenging Bradley Wallace once again to arm wrestling matches, obviously deciding enough time had elapsed since his humiliating “defeat” to Wagner. He continued to win every time, and began to regain some measure of his lost respect. His opponents marveled at his strength, some even wanting him to flex his arm so they could feel the muscle (which he noted with some pride was surprisingly solid). But he also caught numerous glowers from Wagner during these matches, and he feared he would soon be once more in open warfare with his enemy. Fortunately, Christmas vacation arrived before any confrontation between them. Bradley Wallace was relieved, even though he knew something would no doubt happen in January when they reconvened. But for now, January seemed far away. First there was Christmas.

  On that last day, Janet gave him a greeting card she�
�d made herself, and it was beautiful, he thought, and told her so.

  She sure could draw, he said, probably turning red around the ears, and thanked her for the gift. He felt bad that he had nothing to give her, but who would’ve thought anyone’d give him something? It just never happened. But she didn’t seem to mind. Riding home on the bus that afternoon, he thought about all the attention she’d given him the past few months, and he felt good.

  It wasn’t until Bradley Wallace was out of school that he realized Whilly still went off alone for hours at a time, like he had last summer, always with the rather tired (and Bradley Wallace thought lame) explanation that he needed time alone to think. He began to suspect anew that the dragon was hiding something from him, but he still didn’t possess the necessary mental skills to break through Whilly’s mind barriers and find out what.

  It irked him that his friend should have secrets from him. After all, he didn’t keep any secrets from Whilly. He’d even told the dragon the

  humiliating stuff, like about the sticky dreams.

  Despite persistent prodding from Bradley Wallace, Whilly still maintained his story about needing privacy. But after a few days, during which the boy grew ever more irritated, the dragon ceased his mysterious disappearances altogether. At first Bradley Wallace felt relief, thinking he might have gotten through to Whilly in some small way. But then an insidious suspicion began gnawing at the back of his mind that the highly intelligent dragon might simply have halted his excursions until after the boy returned to school. The more such paranoiac thoughts persisted, the more deceitful Whilly appeared, and the guiltier Bradley Wallace felt. If he couldn’t trust Whilly, he couldn’t trust anyone. Besides, this was Christmas, and mistrust didn’t fit into the holiday spirit. So why did the uncomfortable feeling persist?

  Bradley Wallace went with his mother and picked out a beautiful Christmas tree, which, as usual, Marge insisted be sprayed with that spongy white fake snow (she claimed it cut down on dropping needles, which she hated to clean up).

  All the family helped to some extent in the decorating. Bing Crosby and Mitch Miller records playing in the background added to the holiday cheer. All they needed was snow, Bradley Wallace thought, gazing in delight at the blue, gold, and red ornaments on the finished tree. Unfortunately, California wasn’t known for its white Christmas’s. Too bad.

  At last the big day rolled around - Christmas Eve (he considered it bigger than Christmas day because the anticipation was really what it was all about), but Bradley Wallace did not feel the usual joy and excitement. He had the requisite gifts for all the family, but still hadn’t found that special present for Whilly. The dragon had grown even more restless, almost melancholy, and nothing the boy did seemed to make much difference.

  He decided to invite Whilly to watch Midnight Mass with him (he was an altar boy) because he knew how much the dragon seemed to like Christmas carols and there would be a choir at church. That idea generated a spark of interest on Whilly’s part, because he thought he could actually be there when Christ was born, right at midnight. Bradley Wallace had to explain that Whilly wouldn’t actually see Christ, that they were just remembering his birth, not recreating it. The dragon was disappointed about that, too.

  Bradley Wallace spent the better part of the morning walking through practically every store in downtown San Rafael, from Macy’s to Fur, Feathers, and Fins pet shop, and found nothing. He wished he were still working with Mr. O’Conner; the old man almost always had an idea about everything. But Bradley Wallace hadn’t seen Mr. O’Conner since Halloween night (he shivered at the memory) because the old man didn’t go around selling ice cream during the winter. The boy missed his afternoon sessions with him, and vowed one of these days to call and say hello. As he was pedaling home, feeling dejected by his failure and thinking about calling Mr. O’Conner, it suddenly hit him. To give Whilly something that he, himself, treasured, something he considered a part of him, something to prove his love for the dragon. Of course, why didn’t he think of that before? And he knew just the present, too. Pumping harder, the excited boy whizzed rapidly along San Pedro Road, anxious now to get home.

  Midnight Mass was impressive, at least to Bradley Wallace, who’d never attended before. There was standing room only, and every pew was jammed so full of people he thought if someone let out a breath too quickly, everyone would go tumbling into the aisles. Whilly settled himself outside the window to watch, and when the choir erupted with a splendid rendition of “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful” (Bradley Wallace’s recent favorite, supplanting “Frosty the Snowman”), the dragon was enraptured.

  Bradley Wallace’s mother drove him to church that night against her will, even though she refused to allow him to go alone on his bike. But she seemed to get into the spirit of the celebration, he noticed from his perch up on the altar, between yawns, that is, he thought drolly. Through Whilly’s total absorption in the service, Bradley Wallace experienced a glorious awareness of what this night was truly all about, people gathered together as one to commemorate and participate in a joyous event - the birth of peace and love incarnate.

  As Bradley Wallace gazed up at the high, raftered ceiling with bright moonlight streaming in through its stained glass panels, he could almost see the Star of Bethlehem hovering overhead, a beacon to draw wise men and shepherds here to this lowly manger to see a tiny baby wrapped in swaddling clothes (even though he didn’t know what swaddling clothes were), a baby who would grow up to change the world. Through Whilly’s fresh, untainted perspective, it all seemed so real, not just stories in the New Testament, but something truly magnificent. This was the most wonderful Christmas Bradley Wallace ever had, and it wasn’t even morning yet!

  He and Katie sat beneath the tree early the next day and opened their presents from “Santa,” while their parents sat on the sofa watching. Bradley Wallace tried to appear excited because he knew it was expected of him. But all he really wanted to do was join Whilly at the water tower so they could share as much of this, their first Christmas together, as possible. Still, with each gift he acted enthused and thanked both parents heartily. He received the usual quota of shirts, sweaters, and a new pair of pajamas; a few books that looked interesting, including The Complete Sherlock Holmes; a model of a ship called the Cutty Sark (it looked hard, too); and a special horn for his bike that would make him sound like he was choking a duck each time he squeezed it.

  As he reached for one small package, he noticed Katie giggle and his parents exchange an amused look. Almost cautiously, he tore off the brightly colored wrapping paper and tossed it to one side, and stared in bewilderment at the razor and can of Foamy shave cream he held in his hands. He glanced up at his mother questioningly.

  She frowned slightly and indicated her own face. “You’re starting to get a bit too fuzzy, honey.”

  He blushed furiously, quickly running his fingers over his chin. Sure enough, he felt soft, downy fuzz he’d never noticed before; fleecy, yes, but whiskers nonetheless. He needed to shave!

  “Trying to grow a beard, Bradey?” Katie taunted, thoroughly enjoying his embarrassment. He blushed again.

  “I’ll show you how later, son,” his father piped up, obviously not as amused as the two women. Bradley Wallace quickly pushed the shaving utensils aside and snatched up another present. He didn’t know why, but he was afraid.

  After the traditional bacon and eggs breakfast (minus the bacon for

  Bradley Wallace this year), Jack marched the boy back to the children’s bathroom for his first shaving lesson.

  The foam felt wet and funny against his skin, and he tried to hide his embarrassment.

  “The only thing you have to remember,” his father added after explaining the rudiments, “is not to cut your throat.” Bradley Wallace froze, the razor just about to touch his skin, and Jack laughed good-naturedly. “I was just joking. Go ahead, give it a shot.”

  The boy nodded self-consciously and moved the gleaming blade against his tender skin. The ritua
l had commenced. It felt as though he was peeling his face, but on the whole, once the bleeding had been quelled and he inspected the results in the mirror, Bradley Wallace at least thought he’d done a respectable job. For his first time. And now he knew what an apple must feel like.

  Jack nodded approvingly, never one to blithely toss out compliments, and told him not to worry about cutting himself, that it happens no matter how long a man’s been shaving. Is that what all this meant? That he was becoming a man? Is that why he felt so afraid? “You’re growing up, son,” his father added before retiring to the family room television set, and Bradley Wallace really panicked then. He didn’t want to grow up. He shoved the razor and shave cream back as far as possible in one of the drawers and hurriedly left the bathroom.

  With Jack firmly planted in front of the TV, and Marge and Katie busily preparing dinner before the cousins arrived (Uncle Joshua and clan), Bradley Wallace saw his opportunity to slip away and see Whilly. Ducking outside before his mother could put him to work, he dashed from the yard and up the street. The cold air stung his face where he’d shaved, and that only served to darken his mood further. He needed Whilly. Whilly would cheer him up.

  But Whilly seemed even more morose than Bradley Wallace. When he arrived at the water tower, out of breath and holding a small wrapped package behind his back, the boy found his friend gazing up at the glowering dark rain clouds drifting innocently overhead, an almost sad expression on the creature’s reptilian features.

  Perhaps Whilly was just reflecting his own blue mood, Bradley Wallace thought as he tentatively approached the somber dragon. Well, it looked like he’d have to be the one to do the cheering up.

  I’m glad you came, Bradley Wallace, Whilly told him, rising to his enormous feet and shaking flecks of mud from his scarlet underbelly. I don’t know why, but I feel strange.

  “I think that’s my fault,” Bradley Wallace explained, tossing off his melancholia like an old shirt and beaming an angelic smile. “But I’m going to cheer you up. I brought you a present.”