The weather turned cold. Snow fell, and the edges of the creek at the border froze, forming a crystalline skin that crept out over the running water. Kay went to their meeting spot bundled up in her parka, with scarf, hat, gloves, and thermals under her clothes.
Artegal didn’t seem bothered by the cold at all. His breath blew out through his nose in billowing clouds of fog.
“So I guess dragons are warm-blooded,” she said to him by way of greeting.
He tilted his head, curious. “Warm-blooded? Of course, blood is warm.”
“Well, yeah. But it means you’re not really reptiles.” She tried to remember all those science class notes and wished she’d paid more attention. “Reptiles are cold-blooded. They can’t keep warm by themselves, so they have to sit out in the sun. Warm-blooded animals maintain their own body temperature, so they can be out in the cold. People have always wondered about dragons. No one’s been able to get a blood sample or take their temperature or anything to find out.” Imagine getting a dragon to sit still for that.
“Reptiles. Small, scaled creatures. Snakes, lizards.”
“Yes.”
They sometimes still had trouble with vocabulary. But the more they talked, the more he learned. She could tell he was getting better. She wondered sometimes if she wasn’t the best person in the world to be helping him—plenty of people were smarter. He could be learning so much more from them. Then again, the really smart people didn’t do things like go climbing on the border of Dragon. Maybe she was exactly the right person to be here. She’d earned this chance.
“We are to them as you are to mice. Like them, but far removed. We have scales like them, but we have more.”
Like speech, for example, though only some dragons learned to speak human languages—like Artegal and his mentor. Kay was getting answers to questions her mother faced in her work monitoring the border, and the scientists would love this. As if she could tell anyone. She didn’t even dare make notes, in case someone found them.
She said, “We see a glow sometimes, to the north toward the mountains. Like something’s on fire. It was there last week. I could almost see dragons flying around it.”
He rested, his wings folded to his side, propped up on his elbows, back legs tucked under him, and tail curled around his body. He nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.
“Nobody knows what it is,” she said, hinting. “We know it has something to do with dragons, but we don’t know what.”
“We see a glow all the time from your town. Lit up, all night long.”
“Streetlights. We can’t see in the dark, like dragons can,” she said.
“Used to be humans didn’t go out at night at all.”
“Well, now we do. Now we can.”
Artegal resettled himself, flexing his tail and shifting his forelimbs. He seemed to be considering how to answer.
Kay sat on her usual rock nearby, so they could look at each other at almost the same level. His expression seemed uncertain, though she could have been wrong. He couldn’t think that she’d been sent to spy on him, any more than she thought he was sent to spy on her and learn more about people—right? They’d found each other by accident.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s a secret,” she said.
“It’s like singing,” he said finally. “Like a choir.”
She tried to imagine a dozen dragons like him, raising their necks, tilting back their heads, flames pouring from their open mouths along with music. Music that sounded like roaring. It was an odd image.
“Is it like a celebration? It must be special. It only happens a couple of times a year.”
“Yes. A ritual. Births. Deaths.”
“What was last week?”
Again, he hesitated. This was one of the questions the scientists—and the military—kept asking: How many of them were there? How often were they born—or hatched? How much did we have to worry about them building up numbers and overwhelming us?
“A birth,” he said after a long moment.
She felt an odd thrill that he trusted her with the information.
“Congratulations,” she said.
He tilted his head in the way that made her think of a smile. “Thank you.”
“Have you done it yet?” Tam asked.
It was the first day back at school after winter break. Kay was reacquainting herself with her locker, wincing because she’d forgotten to bring home a baggie of cookies that someone had given her for Christmas. They were probably stale. Tam was leaning on the locker next to her, making demands.
Kay and Jon had gone out a couple of times during the break. They went to a movie and grabbed dinner at the Alpine Diner. They’d gone cross-country skiing the day after a big snowfall on New Year’s. They hadn’t done anything they wouldn’t have done when they were “just friends.” The presents they’d given each other were the same kind of thing they’d always given each other. She gave him a CD; he gave her a box of chemical hand-warmers, perfect for days of winter hiking or cross-country skiing. She hadn’t expected anything like flowers or jewelry—she wouldn’t have wanted anything like that, not from Jon.
It didn’t really feel different. They hadn’t done any more than kiss good night.
Kay decided to pretend that she didn’t know what Tam was talking about. “Done what?”
Tam rolled her eyes in disgust. “Come on, you know. You’ve been going out with Jon for like a month. Have you slept with him yet?”
“Oh, I thought maybe you were talking about math homework,” Kay said, grinning because she knew that would infuriate Tam.
Tam huffed and stomped her foot. “I’ve been dying to talk to you about it.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been so anxious for me to get a boyfriend.”
“Kay, come on. It’s not normal. You’re supposed to, you know…want to.”
Was she? She supposed so. “Can’t you find someone else to talk to about sex?”
“Sure. Like, everybody. Everybody except you.”
It was true. Out of the corner of her eye Kay spotted three couples walking hand in hand. One of those stopped to kiss. She never knew whether to believe all the rumors about how far who had gotten with whom. Tam was right, though. Sometimes it seemed like it was everyone but her.
“You’re a junior in high school. You’re way too old to be a virgin,” Tam said.
Kay stared. “Seventeen is not too old to be a virgin.”
“Whatever.”
“We’re taking it slow,” Kay said. Tam just huffed in irritation again. That made Kay frustrated. This was supposed to be about her, not what Tam or anyone else thought. “What’s the big deal? Why do you even care whether or not we’ve slept together? It’s none of your business.”
Tam looked hurt, and Kay realized she’d spoken more harshly than she’d meant to. But she didn’t apologize. She bit her lip and wouldn’t look at Tam.
“Don’t get angry,” Tam said, shrugging, brushing it off. “You can do whatever you want to.”
“Then why do you keep asking me about it?” Kay said under her breath.
“Because I’m worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be,” Kay said. “I’m normal. I’m perfectly normal.” She didn’t sound all that convinced.
“Are you sure about that?” Tam shot back.
Kay wasn’t sure—because she wasn’t normal. Normal people weren’t friends with dragons—and were she and Artegal really friends?
“I’m a little stressed out right now,” Kay said, sighing. “That’s all.”
“Why? What’s up?”
The whole story ran to the tip of her tongue. She’d say, Can you keep a secret? Then everything would come out. Tam had never blown a secret Kay had told her. And Tam must have known something was up, the way Kay looked at her, her lips parted, her gaze pleading. Kay almost told her everything.
Then she shook her head and looked away, because this was way too big. Kay breaking the law by crossing the border was one thing, but asking Tam to break the law by keeping a secret? She’d keep the secret, Kay believed. But Kay didn’t want to get her in that much trouble. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
Tam lowered her voice to a sly whisper. “You’re stressed out because you’re not sleeping with Jon. That’ll clear it right up, I bet.”
“Jeez, Tam, give it a rest!” Kay slammed shut her locker door.
“I’m just trying to help!”
Thankfully, the bell rang, and they couldn’t argue anymore. They walked side by side to first-period chemistry and pretended the conversation never happened.
As usual, Kay sat at lunch with Tam, Carson, and Jon. As usual, Tam and Carson greeted each other with a long, enthusiastic kiss. These moments, which had been merely annoying before, had become uncomfortable with Jon sitting next her, and she and Jon sort of being together. She could only glance surreptitiously at Jon and wonder if he wanted her to kiss him like that, out here in front of everyone. She felt his warmth next to her. She’d have to move only half an inch to be touching him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him glance at her, then look away, blushing.
“Hey, get a room,” he finally said, turning a lopsided grin. Tam and Carson gave each other one of those sly looks that suggested they were way ahead of Jon and thinking hard about that room. Or maybe they’d already been there. Kay had heard stories about the janitor’s closet.
After lunch, Kay and Jon left the cafeteria together.
“You okay?” Jon said. “You’re kind of quiet.”
She shrugged, not sure how much she wanted to say. Here she was, not able to talk to Tam or Jon. “Tam and I kind of had an argument. She seems to think that two people who are going out should carry on just like them. She can’t understand why we don’t.”
“I guess you guys talk about everything,” he said.
She thought of everything they didn’t talk about. They never talked about Tam’s mother’s boyfriends. Tam would just give her trademark huff and shake her head whenever Kay asked. Until last year, when Tam starting dating Carson, they’d talked about boys all the time—who liked who and what they were going to do about it. But now, they never really talked. Once, she’d asked Tam what sex was like, really. Tam had said, with a sly grin, “You’ll just have to find out.”
She said to Jon, “Not really.”
They slowly walked a few more steps down the hall, putting off when they’d have to arrive at class.
“Sometimes I wonder if they get tired of it. Seems like all they ever do is make out,” Jon said.
“According to Tam it’s the best thing in the world and everybody should do it. All the time.”
“I think I’d rather go out with someone who likes to ski every now and then.”
“Really?”
Maybe, Kay thought, there is something to this relationship stuff. On a whim—no, not really on a whim, because she wanted to try it, to see what it was like—she let her arm brush his and let their hands meet, then close together. Just like that, they were walking hand in hand down the hall at school. His hand was warm, dry. He didn’t squeeze. Just let their fingers lace together. She didn’t want to cling to him, and maybe he felt the same way. He was a few inches taller, but she had to bend her elbow only a little. They’d held hands before, helping each other up a rock face or across a creek on a hike. But nothing like this. Kay found herself worried that she was doing it wrong.
But Jon smiled a kind of thin, distracted smile. He glanced at her for a second and didn’t say anything. Just kept walking with his hand in hers. And it felt good.