declaration for my psyche to bear.
The younger me from two days ago would have argued this request; I wasn’t actually the one culpable here, nor did I participate in perpetuating these crimes against Mr. Simmons, Mr. Simmons’ chair, or Libby’s stupid pants (although on that count, the real crime was wasting a delicious cupcake on such an ignoble prank). But that was Monday. Now it was Wednesday. I’ve flown on a dragon, survived a rabid gemstone attack, and am harboring a rogue elf. I’ve aged, man. And with age comes wisdom. And with wisdom comes an understanding of when to pick your battles. And this was not a battle that seemed particularly interesting. When you’ve been confronted with the injustices of a soul-sucking rock trying to take over the universe, then the injustices of a silly classmate and erroneous punishments just aren’t even a blip on the radar.
I gathered up my bag and books and walked silently across the classroom. I could feel all 27 pairs of eyes of every student in that room on me. And that included Gemma Mason’s lazy eye.
“Ugh! Just leave already!” hissed Libby at me as I passed her, my head down.
I reached the door, pushing when I needed to pull. As if this exodus could get any worse. I pulled the door open just enough to slither out around the corner, but it still fell loudly shut as I made no effort to slow its momentum.
I leaned against the outside of that door to Room 112B. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, taking a moment to compose myself and sort out what on earth I was supposed to do now. My brain was on overload. Just breathe, Eve, I said to myself in the calm voice my mom used when I was freaking out about coming in second in the science fair last spring. Breathe from your belly, slowly and intentionally. That’s right.
As I breathed, I did actually feel myself calming down and relaxing. I felt a warm rough talon on my left shoulder, and then a small, clammy hand grab my right thumb. My eyes startled open. Dragon was to my left, Baert to my right.
“Of course you two know each other,” I said with a long dramatic eye roll, my anxiety returning.
“I am terribly sorry, Evechild,” said Dragon behind me.
His soothing cadence countered the startle though. My heartbeat slowed and I felt immediately at ease when he spoke. And I like that he called me Evechild, which surprised me.
“Lassie, bid those bahoochies farewell,” Baert said stoically.
He backed up, squared himself to Room 112B, and with a sort of salute declared loudly, “Land may yer lum reek!”
Baert turned on his heel and marched forward, glancing over his shoulder and waving us forward, then marching more slowly but still very grandly.
I stifled a laugh and looked at Dragon who was also looking rather tickled and staring after Baert’s tiny but proud march.
“Land may yer what?” I asked, giggling.
Dragon stretched and sighed simultaneously. He folded his wings back in as he yawned and did a funny little hop, tilting his head side to side to stretch his neck. These movements resembled a warmup an athlete might do pre-match, and the thought of Dragon hopping around the side of, say, a tennis court next to a small, unassuming tennis player entertained me immensely.
“Land may yer lum reek!” Baert repeated, calling the odd phrase again commandingly over his shoulder.
“That saying, let’s see. It’s akin to a favorite popular culture aphorism your kind love to relay,” Dragon explained, “That is, ‘live long and prosper’.
“More like ‘live short and burp’,” I mumbled, irritated but chuckling to myself.
And with that, I plopped down, leaned heavily against the wall, and sighed dramatically. I crossed my arms in front of me and tried to look menacing.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said decisively. “Last time I did that, I flew through a wall somehow and then a creepy yellow rock tried to kill me with happy naps. And then this little guy appeared,” I gestured forward toward Baert.
“I see the sudden shift in your daily goings-on might have you a bit uneasy,” Dragon said.
“A bit uneasy?!” I yelled back at him, my arms falling dramatically to the carpet, “I draw dragons, I don’t ride on their backs through walls!”
“If you would just come with us, I think you might understand better,” Dragon offered softly.
“I brought some right skan candy for the journey!” Baert yelled from where he stood stubbornly down the hall.
“Yeah, because that doesn’t sound like the line of every child predator my mom has ever warned me about,” I shot back. (I was again really regretting forgetting my phone for the one millionth time; there were so many inside jokes I could be texting my mom about, which would undeniably delight her.)
“Listen, it’s not lost on me that it’s pretty freaking cool to be talking to a dragon. I’ve actually dreamt of this very thing since I was a kid,” I floundered for the right words for a moment, “but a kid’s dream feels safe because there’s the security of knowing that it, like, won’t ever happen, so you never really have to play out how would actually react if presented with it … you know?”
Dragon looked earnest, but still shook his head slowly.
“You’re awesome but you freak me out,” I said quickly.
“Ah. Well. That summation certainly suffices,” Dragon looked hurt.
“I just need a moment to process,” I said, my stomach rumbling loudly just then. “And apparently have a snack. Just … just give me a minute. Please.”
Dragon just nodded. I think I had actually hurt his feelings. But what did he want from me? He’s an extinct mythological creature! In my school! It’s not as though he can just show up, wave some jazz hands, and say “Ta-daaaah! You’ve been drawing me and now I exist! Ok, let’s go meet a magic rock now!”
I shook my head, giggling a little at my own internal monologue. I definitely needed some brain food. I rummaged around in my dying backpack and found my lunch snacks.
“Uuuuuuggggghhhhh!” I wailed, throwing my head back.
Dragon, who had trotted a few paces away to quietly confer with Baert, jolted his head up, his brow furrowed in concern. I thrust my fist forward in his direction, melodramatically producing the contents held within: red shiny empty Nutter Butter wrappers.
Baert saw this. He looked down and coughed hard, turning his head sheepishly away.
“There’s even a note from my mom!” I wailed. “My favorite Eve, you work so hard – here is a well-deserved treat. I love you, Mom.”
I read the note aloud to them, maliciously hoping they felt extreme guilt. Or at least that Baert felt extreme guilt, anyway. Now where had he gone?!
I scanned the empty halls outside the math cluster and spotted Baert maybe 40 yards away now, rather enamored of a neon purple flyer hanging low on the bulletin boards. As he stepped back, dozens of those same flyers came in to focus. I saw him hop up and pull the closest one off, its pushpin falling to the floor in front of him. With one step he promptly stepped on it and jumped up, barking out a very terse phrase that I’m certain was not fit for Beecher Junior High. He fetched a flyer and jogged over.
“Cheer up, lassie,” Baert said, a tiny hop/limp in his left step. “Ye get to enjoy a pure barry dancin’, see!”
He proudly held the flyer up to my face. In all caps, it announced a school social was happening today. Nothing about this cheered me up. Not the event, not the very poor design of the flyer, and definitely not the even poorer choice of font declaring this miserable event. Papyrus mixed with Comic Sans?! The two most heinous fonts in the history of heinous fonts?!
“No,” I said abruptly. “No. No way. Never in a million, trillion years,” I said, all the while shaking my head. “Hard. Pass,” I added, enunciating both words lest they thought there was any wiggle room to persuade me.
“But lassie, I e’en injured meself to bring ya this great knowledge! Dancin’ is such a boon!” Baert implored me.
But he received only more groans and eyerolls from me. Actual, physical, literal eyerolls. I had read in a lot of books that people roll their eyes. And I was suddenly aware of the possibility I hadn’t ever truly rolled my eyes in disdain before this week. And it seemed now I could not stop. Oh no! I was becoming a teenage stereotype!
“Hard pass. The hardest of passes,” I insisted again.
“I’m afraid you are unable to pass, Evechild,” said Dragon. He was holding the small note my mom had included with my lunch. “You see, there’s a backside.”
“A backside to what,” I snarled at them. Dragon jumped back a bit and offered the note I had just read to me.
“Turn it over, dear child,” he said anxiously, adding aside to Baert, “She is wee but commandingly frightful when she wants to be!”
I examined my mom’s note again, flipping it over: Remember I’ll pick you up after your school social today for the dentist! See you at 5:15. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo. (There really were that many X’s and O’s, which made me accidentally smile. Stupid love getting in the way of my deserved outrage.)
“Could today get any worse?!”
I went back to groaning, but then stopped myself. What was I talking about? I’m not in class, and I’m talking to a real life European Arrowtail. I could deal with killing an hour eating sugar cookies while my classmates danced awkwardly to music I had never heard of. And the dentist isn’t so bad. There was usually a smoothie guarantee at the end of it, and when my mom was feeling especially bad about my pain level, maybe even sorbet. Day redeemed!
“Come now, Evechild: Don’t forget Baert. You’re also talking to one of the last remaining Highland Elves,” Dragon added.
“Stop listening to my thoughts!” I snapped. Then I frowned. “What do you mean one of the last elves?”
“Ye dinnae know about me, and ye dinnae need to,” said Baert crossly. “Now skedaddle aff, ye’s got a right jig ta prepare for!”
I understand maybe every other word the small fellow said. Thank goodness I was a master at context clues. (Another point for reading. Really, how do these troglodyte classmates of mine get through life understanding anything without reading?! It boggles the mind.)
“All this note says is that my mom will pick me up after the social, not that I need to be present at it. So, we’ll have a solid hour for you two to tell me who you are and why you know each other and what you’re doing talking to me. And where you came from! So, go on. Spill it.”
Dragon shifted uncomfortably.
“You are deserving of this knowledge, but, alas, we do actually have a sort of errand to run ourselves, and, well, Baert here has to … Baert? Baert?” Dragon drifted off, searching for his small partner.
Baert had settled against the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was happily eating something, but he was also engaged in a pretty ferocious itching battle. He’d take a bite, then fiercely itch his forearm, take a bite, scratch viciously at his neck. He took a bite again, then, while reaching to satiate an itchy spot on his ankle, the truth of what he had been eating came spilling out of his pocket. More Nutter Butters!
“Baert!” I gasped, feeling like a disappointed mother, “you had them all along!”
“Nay, Lassie! I dan swiped this skan from a real peely wally radge, they had it comin’. Not ye, honest!”
His sincerity won me over. And he looked so pathetic, apologizing as he scratched and itched all over.
“Baert,” I said evenly, “Are these all that you’ve eating?”
“All me life? No. But since getting here? Well, I …” he paused to reflect, “well, aye, what need have I beyond such right skan?”
I watched Baert greedily but delightedly inhale the peanut butter cookies. His face was now turning red and splotchy. I wanted to pity him, but his crusty beard and swollen cheeks were making that difficult. I didn’t really even want to look at him now. It was like that phenomenon where there’s a car wreck and you don’t want to look at it but human fascination takes over and you can’t look away. Or like when you see an ugly baby and you can’t not look at it. Baert was the ugly baby. In a car wreck.
“You, uh, you look a little rough, Baert,” I ventured, “is there a chance you have an allergy or something and you shouldn’t be eating these?”
“Shouldn’t? Why would I do such a mean thing tah meself?” he mumbled contentedly between licks and bites. “I love Baert, and I love these wee skan biscuits!”
“You’ve only been eating these?” I asked again.
“Aye, can ye blame a wee braunie? I’d ne’er had right skan like these and mmmmm,” Baert smacked his lips in satisfaction.
“Dragon,” I spun toward the sage beast, looking for some backup, again feeling like the disappointed and now frustrated mother. “I’m no doctor, but I think he’s having an allergic reaction. It’s probably to peanuts. So, uh, maybe keep the swollen red guy away from these?”
I crumpled up the Nutter Butter wrappers and tossed them in a nearby waste bin. Baert whimpered as I did so, as though I were throwing away photos of his family or something. Geez, and I thought I had a peanut butter problem. At least my emotionally charged sweet tooth wasn’t trying to kill me. left Baert in Dragon’s stead and turned my attention back to the note from my mom and the school social flyer.
“What? Me skin! I – cough, cough – I can’t swallow! Am I gan’tah make it?” Baert was writhing around on the floor under Dragon’s belly now, “Perchance ye humor a dyin’ guard with one wee last morsel o’skan beauty?”
“Don’t let him eat any more Nutter Butters,” I ordered Dragon.
“Never you mind us, Evechild; you occupy yourself with revelries and I’ll tend to dear Baert. We shall reconvene après danser,” said Dragon, chuckling a bit at his last little rhyme.
“What kind of errand does a dragon have to run, anyway? You’re lucky my fascination is taking over my better judgement right now,” I said crossly. “Or maybe it’s boredom. Or stupid blind trust. Or exhaustion. I don’t know. At any rate, you’re lucky!”
Dragon just winked at me.
“Thank you for trusting me. I promise you it’s not misplaced, and we shall have more time to explain everything. We’re just on a bit of a tight schedule at the moment.”
With that, he pulled Baert close to him. The little elf was still furiously itching his leg when Dragon crouched down, opened his wings, and disappeared in a faint cloud of purple sparks.
I blinked, amazed at everything I was seeing lately. I definitely wanted to learn more about that! Dragon had bought himself another day.
My amazement was zapped away by annoyance. Not with Dragon and Baert, but with myself. Here I was, left alone with zero questions answered about why I now have a couple of storybook pals hanging out with me at school. Throw a disappearing act and a few pretty purple sparks at me and poof! all is forgiven. Honestly, Eve, I said to myself, where’s your healthy skepticism? Your boundaries? Your common-freaking-sense?!
And then an even more infuriating thought occurred to me: was I really so desperate for friendship that I was just going along with all of this?