CHAPTER
TWO

THE VIEW FROM NOSE PEAK

Although located on an island, and thus by definition surrounded by water, Clay’s summer camp, Earth Ranch, was tucked inside a valley, with mountains separating it from the ocean on all sides. If you wanted a glimpse of the ocean, the closest vantage point was a rocky hill called Nose Peak in honor of the unique geological formation on top. Nose Peak was steep and slippery, and, strictly speaking, campers weren’t supposed to climb it (or “peak the nose”) without special permission. But it was an open secret that Clay made the twenty-minute climb every day at dawn, usually returning only after the sun had risen well into the sky.

This morning, like most mornings, he sat with his legs straddling the big rock proboscis, staring at the horizon. Price Island was home to a volcano, Mount Forge, which regularly belched smoke into the air and blanketed the island with a hazy layer of vog (volcanic smog). The volcano had been especially active lately. As a result, it was difficult for Clay to see very much.

Still, every so often, something would catch his eye—a dark cloud, a large seabird, a shadow on the ocean—and he would get to his feet, an expectant expression on his face, only to sit down again a moment later, evidently disappointed.

Nearby, a llama sat with his legs tucked underneath his body so that he looked almost like a second, smaller rock formation. The llama never moved from this position, but whenever Clay stood, the llama would shake his head, as if disgusted by the behavior of his human companion.

“I know, Como, you think I’m totally loco,” said Clay, after the llama had shaken his head especially vigorously. “But I swear, Ariella’s coming back. El dragon viene aqui.”

The llama, whose full name was Como C. Llama and whose first language was Spanish, regarded Clay with undisguised skepticism.

“So what if it’s been over a year—that’s just like uno minuto for a dragon,” continued Clay in his broken middle-school Spanish.

The llama snorted dismissively.

“Es verdad,” Clay insisted. “They have this whole other idea of time.”

The llama yawned and nibbled on a stray wildflower.

“Admit it: You don’t want Ariella to come back.” Clay looked at Como, daring the llama to contradict him.

The llama looked back meaningfully.

“What?! Dragons don’t eat llamas,” Clay protested. “And, uh, okay, even if they do, Ariella knows you’re mi amigo. Ariella would never eat you.”

Como sniffed and turned away.

“Come on, bro. You know that’s not what I meant. You probably taste awesome.… Oh, whatever. I’m not hablo-ing with you anymore.”

An old book lay beside Clay, weighed down by a small rock. Covered with a tough, scaly hide that had yellowed with age, the book was called Secrets of the Occulta Draco; or, The Memoirs of a Dragon Tamer.

Sighing, Clay removed the rock; immediately, the book opened, then closed, then opened again, pages fluttering noisily. Before the book could fly away, Clay gripped it firmly, and the pages settled into place.

He’d read the whole book three times already, but there was one passage in particular that he kept going back to:

Let not a dragon leap when you’re astride, lest you lose your mind on the other side.

What kind of leap? Just a jump, or something else? And what “other side”—the other side of what? The counselors at Earth Ranch spoke often of some mysterious and powerful Other Side—an Other Side with capital letters—by which, as far as Clay could make out, they meant the magical side of the world. A fourth, magical dimension. But it seemed doubtful that a guy who was writing more than four hundred years ago would be swallowing the same mystical hogwash as the counselors at Clay’s hippie summer camp. And even if the two Other Sides were one and the same, what did it have to do with dragons?

Clay’s reflections were interrupted by a loud spitting sound; Como was trying to get his attention. Standing, and not looking particularly happy about it, the llama nodded toward the horizon.

Clay squinted. The wind had changed direction, blowing most of the vog away from this side of the island, and now the morning sun reflected dazzlingly on the water. The view was almost impossibly bright, but in the middle, directly below the sun, was a small dark spot. It was not much more than a dot, but the shape of wings was unmistakable. Far out over the ocean, something—something big—was flying toward them.

“No way!” Clay’s heart thumped with excitement. “I mean, do you really think…?”

Not responding, the llama sat down again, duty done.

With his hand to his forehead, Clay strained his eyes, waiting to see if the unknown flying object really was Ariella.

A moment later, he looked down, shoulders slumped. It wasn’t a dragon; it was an airplane.

Figures, Clay thought bitterly.

The truth was, Clay had no real confidence he would ever see Ariella again, only a desperate hope. Sure, he’d rescued Ariella the previous summer when the dragon was chained inside a storage container and about to be shipped away like a circus animal. But the proud creature had made it clear that this brief episode did not mean they were friends in any sense that a mere human would understand. Afterward, Ariella had barely said good-bye, let alone anything about returning to Price Island. And yet, for a few precious minutes, Clay had been allowed to fly on the dragon’s back—by far the best, most electrifying (and also most terrifying) experience of his life. Joined with the dragon, he’d felt at one with himself for the first time. He couldn’t bear the thought of never having that experience again.

“Boo.”

Clay looked over his shoulder. His friend Leira, who had an annoying talent for treading softly, had crept up behind him.

“Do you always have to do that?” Clay griped.

“Hmm. Let me see.…” Leira took off her cap and scratched her short red hair, pretending to ponder the question. “Yes.”

She looked up at the sky. The airplane—a seaplane—was circling the island, getting ready to land in the shallow water. They could hear the whir of propellers in the distance.

“So I guess you figured out that Owen’s on his way.”

Clay nodded grumpily. “I thought he wasn’t back for another three days.”

Owen, the seaplane’s pilot, ferried campers to and from the mainland, and he made biweekly trips to deliver supplies.

“I know, it’s weird. You’re supposed to go meet him.”

“Me? Why?” said Clay, surprised.

Leira shrugged. “No idea. Buzz sent me to get you.… Well, not me, exactly. I just tagged along for fun.”

She gestured behind her, where a small hive’s worth of bees were hovering in the air. They spelled out these words:

As Clay watched, the bees flew out of formation, making one big, buzzy, blurry cloud. Then they divided once more, forming three very emphatic exclamation marks:

“Okay, okay, I’m coming—chill!” Clay shouted at them.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said to Leira as they started walking down the hill.

Leira smirked. “No, I won’t be your girlfriend.”

“Seriously…”

“What?”

“Do you think Ariella will ever come back?” He nodded toward Como, who was plodding along the trail ahead of them. “That guy thinks I’m crazy.”

“I don’t know, Mowgli. Some people might say it’s crazy to talk to a llama.”*

“Don’t call me that. And you’re not answering the question.”

“What question? That reminds me. Missing anything?”

“Why, what did you take this time?” Clay asked suspiciously.

Leira, who was an incredibly skilled pickpocket and thief, frequently stole things from Clay—for sport. She smiled innocently. And held up the Occulta Draco.

“That book is, like, four hundred years old and maybe the only one in the world!” Clay complained, irate. “Do you know what Mr. B would do to me if anything happened to it?”

“If it’s so priceless, why’d you leave it on that rock?” said Leira, handing it over.

“Oh, I did?” said Clay, grimacing. “Sorry—”

“Or maybe I lifted it from your backpack.” Leira grinned. “Can’t remember.”

Clay laughed. “Why am I friends with you…?”

Ahead of them, two old garbage-pail lids with rope handles had been left leaning against a rock. Wordlessly, they placed the garbage-pail lids side by side and sat down on them.

“Ready?” asked Leira.

“You know it,” said Clay. “Eat my volcanic dust.”

Together, they pushed off and started sledding down the scree-covered slope, spinning and bouncing as they went, the llama trotting behind.