Dragons Are People, Too

by Sarah Nicolas

  The bell finally rings and I send up a prayer of thanks that I made it through at least one class discussion without saying anything too moronic. Maybe I shouldn’t take this stance, considering my job, but I hate politics. I can’t stand that it’s not something you can truly learn. There is no right or wrong answer. But then again, I can’t tell if I hate politics because I hate this class, or vice versa. Back in the days of Imperial China, the rulers were all dragons. They were open about it, too, with their “dragon thrones” and “dragon beds” and all that, but modern scholars believe it was all a farce to instill fear and loyalty in the people. Personally, I’m not interested in ruling anybody.

  I shove my untouched notebook back into my backpack and head to lunch.

  Jacob is still in line for lunch when Sani joins me at our usual table in the dining room. Not a cafeteria, let’s make that clear. The Academy has a schmancy dining room complete with mahogany—or whatever—tables, padded arm chairs, and antique vases for decoration. Thank the Gods they stopped short of making it full-service.

  “Who caught it on camera?” he asks, getting straight to business. Unlike me, a direct descendant of the founders of DIC, Sani is a first-generation DIC operative. He still has one of those thick accents you can’t quite place, overlaying a voice as smooth and subtle as his movements. He fled Uganda when his parents were murdered five years ago and found out about DIC through a distant cousin. DIC offered him housing, training, education—things he never had in Africa, even despite giving everything for his government. Like most of our operatives, he wants to give back to the country that gave him a safe place to call home and started training when he was twelve. In addition to CIA-mandated missions, DIC is also the only organization in the world that helps weredragons establish a normal (as possible) life. As a result, most dragons live in the United States, even though there aren’t any native to here as far as I can tell. Dragon history is spotty at best, owing to our solitary natures. Before DIC formed, no more than two adult dragons lived in the same place at one time. That’s probably how we’ve gone so long without being discovered, I imagine.

  I tell Sani as much as I can about last night for the next four minutes while tracking Jacob’s slow process through the lunch line, hindered by all the people who stop to talk to him. Even as I’m telling the story, I notice how Jacob talks to everyone—including the scholarship kids—with the same easy smile and genuine friendliness. No one talks to the scholarship kids. He’s a friend to these people; he’s a friend to me. This sudden heartbreaking realization hits me, and I stumble in the story I’m telling. It may be my duty to protect him, but I want to do it, too. It’s the only mission I’ve ever given my heart to and, once Director Bean is done with me, DIC is going to take it away from me.

  “Kitty?” Sani says. “You there?” He’s waving a hand twice the size of my own in front of my face.

  I’ve entirely stopped talking, and my hands are clenched so tightly on the edges of my lunch tray the plastic is starting to warp. The dragon inside me rages against my emotional control. It wants to be let out. Heck, I want to let it out, but I know that wouldn’t exactly fix anything. It’s only through force of will that I loosen my grip and give Sani a small smile.

  When I tell Sani about the meeting with Director Bean this morning he says, “There was nothing you could have done.”

  He places a warm, reassuring hand over mine, and both of my hearts skip a beat or two when I meet his totally, weirdly beautiful eyes. Like those of all African dragons, they’re a strange yellow-green color with elongated pupils—almost like a cat’s but not enough so that you’d notice when passing him on the street. That’s probably because African dragons look more like a black cat-salamander hybrid than any dragon you’ve ever imagined; they have a lightly furred catlike head on top of a long, slender four-legged body.

  “Done about what?” Jacob drops his tray noisily across the table from me. I jump and yank my hand away from Sani’s.

  “I got a C on that English paper Mr. Sadler handed back today,” I say. This is total bull. Blessed with a dragon’s intelligence, I have to intentionally make mistakes to get anything less than an A on any assignment.

  Jacob laughs and takes a swig of his apple juice. “The way your faces looked, you’d think the world was ending.”

  I fake a laugh that emptily echoes his. “Yeah, I guess when you put it into perspective…”

  Sani shoots me a look before changing the subject. “Have either of you met the new girl?” He nods toward a table on the other side of the dining room where a blond girl sits by herself, pushing food around her plate.

  “I’ve seen her in the halls,” I say. “She just started today?”

  Sani nods once. “Must be why she’s eating lunch alone.”

  Don’t get jealous that he noticed her, Kitty. Of course he noticed; he always notices things like that. That’s part of what makes him such a good partner, remember? You want him to notice things.

  The little pep talk does nothing to dampen the raging jealousy stabbing at my stomach.

  Jacob stands up. “That’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “We should be a little more welcoming.”

  “Yeah,” I say knowingly. “She is pretty cute, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jacob winks at me. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

  Sani shakes his head. “He’ll make a great politician someday.”

  “America’s had much worse,” I say.

  As a general rule, no one ever joins our little group for very long. It isn’t a policy—it really isn’t even on purpose—but it turns out teenagers aren’t a big fan of background checks on everyone they know just so they can hang out with somebody. And the body searches? Not the most popular. Not even the Senators’ kids are exempt from the precautions—and most of them can’t stand to be subjected to the same standards as “normal” people.

  In about ten seconds Jacob has the blond girl following him across the cafeteria, her tray balanced on his right hand. He tries to guide her by placing his left hand on her back, but she pulls away with a shy smirk. His smile doesn’t even waver at the slight, and he beams at us when they reach our table.

  “Kitty, Sani,” Jacob nods at each of us when he says our names. “This is Gesina.”

  I instantly realize I had been wrong in my previous assessment; she isn’t just cute, she’s gorgeous. I mean the high-end-magazine-cologne-ad kind of gorgeous. Flawless lightly tanned skin, eyebrows plucked to perfection, shimmering hair the color of sunlit wheat, blue eyes that seem to glow from within. She is the most beautiful human I have ever seen.

  I fight back the wry look I have for Jacob and smile. “Hey.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Sani says, then throws me a glance. “Gesina…?”

  I know what he’s getting at; the paperwork the Secret Service requires when a new person starts spending time with Jacob is insane. We need at least a last name to start the process, and I really don’t want to break into the musty old student record filing cabinet again.

  “Sorry?” she says with a delicate tilt of her blond eyebrows. Her heavy accent dominates even that one word, distorting the two syllables. Gesina is decidedly German, and I suddenly understand why Jacob is grinning so widely; as much as the Secret Service hates when Jacob takes in strays, it’s even worse if they aren’t American.

  “What’s your last name?” I clarify.

  She glances around as if caught in a trap. Subtlety has never been one of my strong suits.

  Sani rushes to cover for me. “Your homeroom is decided by your last name,” he explains. “We were just wondering if you’re in one of ours.” Somehow, I’m still occasionally caught off guard by how smoothly Sani lies. We all have the same homeroom—it’d been arranged by the Secret Service—and both of us knew she wasn’t in it. For as noble and thoughtful as he is, he can spin untruths with the best of them.

  “Ah, of course,” she says, her body lan
guage returning to normal. She smirks a tiny bit. “Fuchs.”

  “Oh, not in my homeroom. Too bad. Please, sit down,” Sani says.

  Jacob plops her tray on the table and she sits between me and the First Son. Sani sends me a look and a jerk of his head obviously meant to say it’s my turn to call this one in. It amazes me how much Sani and I can communicate using only looks and glances after the past three years on Jacob’s detail. I sit through a few more minutes of the obligatory getting-to-know-you questions (Where are you from? What grade are you in? Do you play any sports?) before excusing myself.

  “Little girl’s room,” I say with an apologetic shrug as I gather up my lunch tray and stand. “See you next period.”

  Jacob gives me a single wave without removing his gaze from Gesina’s face. Sani nods and Gesina says, “Tschüss.”

  I grimace a little at her use of German. If Gesina lasts very long, the Secret Service will probably make me learn how to speak it. Though if this morning’s chat with the director is any indication, Gesina will last longer than I will. Soon, she’ll become someone else’s problem. A possessive ache pulses in my stomach.

  Chapter Three

  Five minutes left in the last class of the school day and I can’t seem to keep myself still. The tension playing through my mind started as a gentle whisper but spent the day crescendoing to a disastrous clamor. I should have heard something by now, surely. After calling in for Gesina’s file and to begin her background check, I called my mother for any news about the Lebanese embassy. Her phone went straight to voicemail. When I called Marcy’s desk, the phone rang until I gave up after a few minutes. This was unprecedented.

  I cross my legs underneath my desk, steal a glimpse of my DIC phone in my pocket, uncross my legs, lean back in my chair, lean forward. And still, a minute hasn’t even passed. I try to focus on Mr. Sandhill’s explanation of our next chemistry lab assignment, hoping it will make the time go faster. Big surprise: it doesn’t. I conquered college-level chemistry when I was eight, after all. I can’t even focus enough to finish up the article about Brangelina’s latest humanitarian mission. That’s how I know it’s serious. Finally, mercifully, the bell rings.

  I spring from my seat and take my first step toward the door in the same movement, but then I hear Jacob calling out to me.

  “Kitty! Wait up!”

  I groan under my breath, but wait out in the hallway for him. He comes out of the classroom wearing his this-smile-gets-me-anything-I-want smile.

  “Oh, no. What do you want?” I ask.

  “Why do you think I want something? Can’t a guy just smile at his best friend?”

  Sani had stopped to ask Mr. Sandhill a question, and he catches up with us now. “Best friend?” he asks Jacob, then turns to me. “What does he want?”

  Jacob’s incredulous face makes me laugh despite my eagerness to get back to DIC and check on the Lebanese situation. I cross my arms dramatically over my chest and raise one eyebrow. “That’s what I was just trying to figure out.”

  “Okay, okay. You got me,” Jacob says, holding up his hands in surrender. He tilts his head down and looks at me through his lashes, letting his voice turn husky. I’ve seen this work on just about every girl in school. “I was hoping you’d hang out with me tonight. Maybe we could grab dinner or watch a movie at the House or something. Sani can come too.”

  “Thanks so much for the warm invitation,” Sani mutters good-naturedly.

  Despite the flirtatious way he’s approaching it, I know he’s not asking me on a date. This is how he usually gets what he wants from girls—he forgets I’m not like most girls. There’s something more. I move closer to Jacob and sniff several times, circling him.

  “What are you doing?” Jacob asks.

  “I smell something fishy,” I say, barely containing my laughter.

  “Oh, forget it.” Jacob waves a hand dismissively at us and spins on his heel toward the student pickup area.

  “Wait,” I call out, laughing. I take a few quick strides to catch up with him and keep pace on his right side. Sani joins us on his left side. “Seriously, what was that about?”

  Jacob shifts his eyes to the right and then to the left to look at us, trying to decide if whatever he’s holding back is worth telling us. He sighs. “I want to hang out with Gesina, and I was thinking it would be less awkward for her if there were other non-suits there.”

  “Oh,” I say in a teasing tone, stretching the word out for several seconds. “I get it.”

  “Just forget about it,” Jacob says again.

  “Really, Jake. I’d love to go on a double date,” I say. Sani’s eyes widen momentarily, and there’s no way I miss it. “But my mom’s expecting me home right after school for some important family stuff.”

  Jacob looks with pleading eyes at Sani, who presses his full lips into a regretful frown. “Sorry, man. Doctor’s appointment.”

  Jacob’s shoulders slump ever so slightly but he’s already too media-trained to let the entirety of his disappointment show.

  “Maybe we can do it tomorrow?” Sani suggests. Then, after a slight shake of my head, “Or later this week.”

  Jacob looks down at the ground. “I already asked her. And she said yes.”

  “You did? She did?” asks Sani.

  We trade a worried glance behind his head. One of us has an eye on Jacob every second of the school day, and we hadn’t seen him talk to Gesina since lunch.

  “When?” I ask.

  He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and wiggles it in front of Sani’s face. “She slipped me her number at lunch and I texted her during chemistry. She’s going to ride home with me, already got permission from her mom.”

  I try to dial down my anger before talking. Part of the anger is self-directed. I was too absorbed in my own worries to notice what he’d been doing in chemistry. “You’re not supposed to release your phone number to anyone without prior security clearance.”

  “Release my number? Prior security clearance?” Jacob mocks. “Damn, Kitty. You sound like one of the suits.”

  “I—” I begin, but stop myself before revealing something I shouldn’t. I swallow and begin again. “I’m just concerned about you. You know, as your best friend.”

  Jacob scoffed. “It’ll be fine. She’s just one girl and I’ll be with suits the whole time.”

  Three-wide, we burst through double doors out into the sunniest day of the year so far. March in D.C. isn’t exactly known for its sunshine, so all three of us take a moment to tilt our heads toward the warm rays bathing us in light so bright our eyes slam shut.

  “Jacob!” Gesina calls from halfway down the stairs.

  Jacob speeds up to meet her; Sani and I trail a little behind, giving each other wary looks behind his back. Gesina beams at Jacob, then looks at me. “Are you going to hang out with us at Jacob’s house?”

  I stare at her for a second before answering. She doesn’t seem at all nervous that she’s about to go “hang out” with the president’s son—and his full complement of bodyguards. I know she’s fresh-off-the-boat—or plane, whatever—German, but surely she knows who he is, right? Maybe it’s possible she doesn’t realize Jacob’s house is actually The White House? Regardless of their nationality, teenage humans confuse the pants off me.

  “No,” I say. “Prior engagements.” I shrug and try to make it look apologetic.

  “Too bad,” she says with regret, but her body betrays a different sentiment. Her shoulders lift slightly and she raises her chin a fraction of an inch. I allow a smirk to tickle my lips; the girl wants Jacob all to herself. I usually despair a little for the girls Jacob chooses to wear around his pinkie finger for a while, but I think: this one? She may be able to hold her own. She might even give him a small taste of his own medicine.

  An awkward silence wraps its heavy arms around our little group as Sani and I escort Jacob to his waiting car with no less than three Secret Service agents waiting to transport him. Jacob waves good-bye to
us as he climbs in the car. The agent standing at the door tries to close it then, but Jacob stops him with grin.

  “I have a guest riding with me today,” he says, gesturing toward Gesina.

  “Sir,” the agent sighs like he’s done it a thousand times that day. “That is entirely against protocol.”

  Jacob’s pout is so heartrending that I might believe it was genuine if I knew him a tiny bit less. “Now, Dominic. We wouldn’t want to be rude to the German ambassador’s only daughter, would we?”

  I see about seven stages of conflict cross over Dominic’s face in the space of three heartbeats. Gesina steps forward and looks the agent straight in the eye.

  “If it’s too much trouble,” she says, “we can try another day.”

  A tingle sweeps over my skin, like the hum of static on a speaker after the music stops.

  Jacob opens his mouth to object to Gesina’s suggestion when Dominic speaks. “No, that’s okay. You’re welcome to ride with us.”

  “What?” I ask quietly, but nobody pays me any attention.

  “We’re all set then,” Jacob says, waving for Gesina to join him in the car.

  The German girl is standing a few feet to my right side. “Great,” she says.

  Then, she surprises me by turning her body to face me. “Maybe next time,” she says and I can tell there is genuine regret behind those words. Her perfectly manicured hand reaches out to gently touch my arm. I instinctively jerk away, but she’s still somehow able to rest her hand on my wrist for about half a second.

  I suddenly feel like I’m lost in a forest I’ve walked through many times. I stare at a point in front of me that I’m not entirely sure exists. But it must, because I can’t seem to tear my gaze away.

  “Kitty!” Sani is calling my name, but he sounds like he’s above the waves of this ocean that’s drowning me in nothing. Now I can almost see him, standing in front me, shaking my shoulders as if to wake me. The world comes back into focus and the first thing I see is Jacob’s car about to turn onto the main road at the end of the half-mile driveway from the Academy.