Cora and the Nurse Dragon Page 2

  “Not at all. Less so than birds or puppies. Would you like to hold him, Geoffrey?” The salesman reached for the cage door, and Cora’s stomach tightened in jealousy.

  She turned away. Maybe she would buy a kit. The six egg kits were only a nickel. Fishing in her pocket, she found four cents. A penny short.

  “If you need a little more, I have a dime.” Abry held up the shiny coin. “I was going to save up for a big kit, but if we raise a small kit together, it’ll be much more fun.”

  Cora shook her head. She couldn’t let Abry do that. “I have enough mayflies for now. That’s all they ever hatch into anyway.”

  She wandered down the back aisle to where the various dragon-care items were kept: large glass terrariums for mayflies, wire-cages for cat-sized ones, and even harnesses for those lucky kids whose parents could afford to buy them racers–like Xavian.

  Abry fingered a leather collar. “I don’t think Neptune likes collars. I used to walk him on a ribbon; he always twisted it and made a fuss.”

  Cora eyed the door. “Do you think we can slip out without Xavian noticing?”

  “He seems pretty wrapped up in whatever he’s buying … probably the whole store.” Abry sniffed. The girls started forward.

  “That’ll be all, Master Algernon?” the clerk asked, handing a white paper package to Xavian. Cora couldn’t help it, she paused to see what he’d bought.

  “Yes. Just the collar.” The boy tucked it under his arm and turned. His eyes met Cora’s, and her face burned.

  Great, he caught me looking. Next thing he’ll think I’m jealous of his stupid money.

  He smirked, taking a step towards her. She made for the door.

  “Wait!” the clerk called out.

  The girls froze and glanced back.

  The clerk stepped around the counter and held out a small box to Xavian. “Free with every purchase. A starter pack of dragon eggs.”

  Xavian crossed his arms and sneered. “I don’t need a silly starter pack.”

  The clerk cleared his throat then glanced up at the girls. “Well, it’s free. If you don’t want it, maybe the young ladies will.”

  Cora’s heart quickened. She tried not to look too eager, not to look at the tiny box in the clerk’s hand at all. How many eggs in a starter pack? Six? Probably all mayflies but always a chance, however small, at something more.

  Xavian snatched the pack from the clerk’s hand and pushed his way past the girls. The door clanged shut behind him.

  Abry huffed. “Didn’t the little beast’s mother teach him to hold the door for ladies?”

  “Who needs manners when you have money?” the clerk said. He returned to his place behind the counter.

  Abry sniffed. “Come on, Cor. Let’s get home.”

  Chapter Three

  Eggs

  Leaving the shop, they passed the library and the school, both old, sturdy brick buildings, and entered the residential neighborhood. Most of the families on this side of Farrington were well off: lawyers, bankers, doctors. Cora didn’t like to spend much time here. She just didn’t belong. A few times women with prams had zeroed in on her, asking if she were lost. Because of that, Abry always walked her home. Everyone knew Reverend Stevenson’s daughter. No one questioned her as she escorted her “odd little friend” down the wide streets with their gas lamps and green, manicured lawns. Many of the homes had fancy automobiles out front, polished to a black gleam, their silver hood ornaments like badges of honor.

  A long car with a driver in a chauffeur's cap drove past. In the back sat a tall man and a frail woman. Cora stopped and stared at them.

  “Isn't that Mr. and Mrs. Algernon?” Abry asked.

  Cora nodded. She never really saw them, except from a distance, though Mrs. Algernon did attend their church, sitting in the back in her family's pew.

  “She came by to see my dad and make a donation yesterday,” Abry said as the girls resumed walking. “I heard her asking for prayers for her health. Dad said she's leaving to spend the summer at a sanitarium.”

  “For crazy people?” Cora's eyes widened.

  “Oh no, the sort of place rich people go when they get ill, to sit in the sun and bathe in mineral springs. I guess she's not well.”

  Cora nodded. Maybe that was why Xavian was running around unsupervised, like a rabid, stray dog. Illness had taken Cora's mom years before. She wouldn't wish that on any kid, even Xavian.

  Algernon Manor loomed over the neighborhood like a preacher on a pulpit, the other houses the congregation in their pews. It had turrets and balconies and stained glass windows, almost like a cathedral. When she was little, Cora had thought it a castle, only to have Xavian laugh at her and tell her about the real castles he’d seen in his travels abroad. Even at six, he’d been annoying.

  “So, only one more week of school,” Abry said as they crossed the street.

  “Yeah, thank heavens.”

  “What are you going to do this summer?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, help Dad around the gardens. Maybe do some odd jobs for pocket money. Catch some races.”

  An old man walking a gray terrier came down the path towards them. Cora pressed herself up against the fence and tried to be invisible.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Elliot,” Abry said brightly.

  The old man smiled, nodded, and walked past.

  “People aren’t all out to get you, you know.” Abry frowned as Mr. Elliot disappeared around the corner.

  Cora shrugged. “He probably thought I was your servant or something.”

  Abry laughed. “We don’t have servants. My dad says being a preacher makes him a servant, so it wouldn’t look right hiring one. He even does the dishes so Mom doesn’t complain about not having a cook.”

  Cora mulled over this. She’d always thought Reverend Stevenson was a little odd. Mrs. Stevenson, too, though she wouldn’t have said anything, for fear of hurting Abry’s feelings. If Cora had the money for servants, she’d definitely have them.

  “What are you doing this summer?” She changed the subject.

  “Mom wants me to broaden my horizon. She says my book learning is all well and good, but worries I’m not getting exposure to the arts or music or ‘life outside the pages’ as she puts it. She wants me to find something ‘new’ to try. She says I can pick what I want: piano, painting, even drama.”

  They reached the Avenue, what they called the narrow pathway leading to the back gardens of Algernon Manor, where Cora and her father lived and worked. Ivy-covered brick walls rose on either side of the path, and even on a warm afternoon, it had a cool, otherworldly feel to it–like a portal to another world, Abry often said.

  Old leaves littered the ground, so the girls shuffled their feet as they went, enjoying the rustling and the crunch.

  Splat! Something hit Cora in the chest. She put her hand up, and a slimy and sticky substance met her finger tips. She blinked.

  A peal of laughter made her flinch.

  Xavian swung down from the wall. He held an opened box in his hand, and inside, each nestled safely into one of six compartments, lay five precious dragon eggs. Cora’s breath left her.

  “Did you just …” She touched the damp spot on her clothes again, staring at the yellow goo on her fingers. Her stomach twisted. Xavian smirked and reached for a second egg. “No!” Cora rushed him. The egg broke against her forehead, oozing into her eyes. She fell back in horror.

  “Uh-oh!” Xavian said. “Garden-girl’s got egg on her face.”

  “Stop it!” she gasped. “You’re killing them.” She reached for the box, but he held it over his head, just out of reach. Two more eggs fell out and hit the ground with a wet squish.

  “Xavian Algernon, you stop it, you bully!” Abry shouted.

  “They’re just eggs.” He snorted. “Silly, worthless eggs.” He tossed the whole box onto the ground and kicked it.

  Cora dove for it. Only yellow goo and crushed white shells remained. She spun around, fists up.

&nb
sp; Xavian’s jaw went slack, and he backed up a step. Then he smiled. Drawing himself up again, he wagged a finger at her. “You can’t hit me. My dad pays your dad. You hit me, he’ll fire him. He’ll fire him, and you’ll be out on the street, licking up my dragon eggs because you’re so hungry.”

  Red hot coals burned behind Cora’s eyes, but she hesitated. Was that true? Would Mr. Algernon fire Dad? Did awful Xavian really have that much power?

  Abry stepped forward. “Your dad might pay Cora’s dad, but my dad’s only boss is God. Do you think you can get him fired, too?” Abry was an inch taller than Xavian. For a moment she towered over him, her fist right below his chin and her blue eyes flashing. Xavian’s lower lip quivered, and he bolted.

  Cora knelt and picked up the now empty box. She counted in her head. Two eggs hitting her, two falling from the box … had both the remaining eggs broken when he kicked it?

  “How can anybody be so awful?” Abry stomped her foot. “Are you all right, Cor?” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to her friend.

  Cora wiped the yolk from her forehead. Her throat closed in on itself. “I can’t believe he just … he killed them … Like they were nothing.”

  “I know.” Abry slipped her arm around Cora. “Let’s get you home.”

  Cora pulled away, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose into the handkerchief. She offered it back to Abry.

  Abry wrinkled her nose. “No, go ahead and keep it. At least ‘til after wash day.”

  Cora gave a wavering laugh. She concentrated on the ground, trying not to cry.

  Something white glistened among the green of the ivy leaves. Her breath hitched. Could it be? She ran and picked it up. It was! A perfect white dragon egg. “He missed one!” She grinned.

  Abry frowned and counted on her fingers. “How?”

  “I don’t know. It must’ve been in the box when he kicked it but landed softly, in the leaves.”

  “Do you think it'll hatch? It’s been out of its wrapper, and it’s so shadowy here. I think eggs need to be warmed up to hatch.”

  Cora swallowed. Her heart fluttered between broken and relieved. “I don’t know. I have to get it home fast. I’ll see you at school!”

  Clutching the fragile egg to her chest, Cora sprinted the rest of the way home.

  Chapter Four

  Growing Things

  The greenhouse’s panels shone like gold in the late afternoon sun. Though she and Dad had a small cottage at the edge of the garden, it never felt like home the way the greenhouse did. Pots and seedlings and fragrances of earth and leaves filled the glass-walled building. The Manor-Folk, as she thought of everyone who lived and worked within the mansion itself, rarely came down to this corner of the garden, which made it feel like hers–well, as much hers as anything could be under the Algernons' shadows.

  She strode up the uneven stones of the path, clutching her precious cargo. Perhaps her hands would offer the egg some heat. When she pushed open the door, warmth embraced her. But would it be enough for the egg?

  Towards the back of the greenhouse stood a planting table. Several boxes of seedlings rested under the luxury of electric lights, a new method Dad was using to grow plants indoors. The bulbs gave off constant heat, providing energy for a dozen or so tiny plants. Cora scooped a small hole in the warm soil and settled her egg into it.

  “I hope you hatch,” she whispered. Bending down, she kissed the egg. Best not to watch it. Eggs take days to hatch … if it still even can hatch after everything that stupid Xavian put it through.

  Dad had given her a back corner of the greenhouse for her own work space, even constructing walls of old pallets to make it feel less like a “corner” and more like a room. She had a couple of old buckets for chairs, a shelf with her tools and some books on dragon rearing, and of course her terrariums, currently six of them. They blocked out one glass wall of the greenhouse, and the tiny mayfly dragons within cast constant, flitting shadows into the room.

  There were roughly ten dragons per terrarium. She’d kept as many as fifty in the larger tanks at one time, but with her experiments, it was easier to deal with small numbers. She kept track of their identity with tiny paper labels, taped to their tails. That had been Abry's idea, and though Cora swore she could tell the dragons apart based on slight differences in coloring, it did help a good deal.

  Notepad in hand, she counted. None had died today, still 58 dragons flitting about, though subject A12 looked a little lethargic. She checked her notes. Yes, that dragon had been alive for nearly three months. Not quite a record–she’d once managed four months and two days–but she would have to prepare herself for the inevitable.

  “I wish you lasted a little longer.” She got down on her knees next to the dragon tank.

  A12 perched on a twig. Its black eyes glinted at her. Dark green veins ran through pale green wings, and tiny lungs pushed its sides in and out. Its mouth opened, and it belched a puff of smoke.

  “I’ll make sure you get plenty to eat.”

  Knowing if she left it in the tank, the more energetic dragons would steal its share, she reached in and scooped it out. The dragon's wings fluttered against her hands, like leaves stirred by a breeze, and its claws gripped her skin, not hurting, but pinching. She placed it on the workbench and fetched the old tackle box she kept her supplies in. Each tank received a different sort of food, and she constantly tweaked the recipes and amounts. The “A” tank was vegetarian, mostly mushed up fruit. She took out a jar of mashed peaches and spooned a fingernail-sized portion in front of A12.

  The dragon breathed on the food, caramelizing the portion, before throwing back its head and swallowing a big gulp.

  Cora went through her evening routine, feeding each cage in turn: fruit for A tank, cheese for B, jerky for C, and different combinations of all three for D through F. The dragons swarmed her offerings. The room buzzed with the strumming of the wings and the belch of flames, for no matter what she fed them, they seemed to like giving it a “toast” prior to consumption. She sat and watched, stroking A12’s spine with her fingertips.

  I’ve almost tripled their lifespans just by diet. I wonder what else I could do. Perhaps more exercise? Different temperature for the cages?

  She marked the feedings in her notebook.

  The greenhouse door creaked open. She slipped A12 back into his tank and secured the lid.

  “Cor?” her father’s deep voice called.

  She knew that tone. His disappointed tone.

  Uh-oh.

  “I’m feeding my dragons!” she shouted. “Just a minute.”

  Bracing herself for a lecture, she strode out to meet him.

  Her father was a stocky man with close-cropped dark hair and bushy, graying eyebrows. His eyes always looked tired, wrinkled around the edges, and heavy lidded, though he had an ever-ready smile. Dad opened his arms to her, and she hugged him. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted off him. He pulled out his chair and sat beside the potting bench, his eyes boring into her.

  “I received a note from your teacher today.”

  She shuffled her feet and concentrated on his huge, rough hands.

  “She says you missed school last week and wanted to know if you’d been ill. I didn’t know what to tell her.” He shook his head. “Cor, you know they are doing us a favor letting you attend there.”

  “I know. I’m a charity student.” The words grated against her soul.

  “If it weren’t for that, you’d have to walk across town to the free school.”

  “Why do I have to go to school at all anymore?” she burst out. “They aren’t teaching me anything I need to know. I can read and do sums–”

  “You are going to school.” His expression hardened, and she clamped her mouth shut. “I never had the chance to go to school. My momma taught me to read and do basic math, but by the time I was your age, I was at work with my papa in the gardens, serving Mr. Algernon’s father. That’s not what I want for you. I want you to be able
to do anything you want, go anywhere you want. Do you really want to be a gardener when you grow up? To have that be your only option?”

  “No, sir,” she mumbled.

  “Good. This year is almost over, but in the fall, I promised your teacher no more skipping, no more late assignments. You’re going to give it your all.” He stood.

  She drew in a deep breath. Just tell him. Just say something. “I want to be a dragon jockey.”

  Her father grimaced, then sat back down. “You’ve been going to the track again, haven’t you?”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Cor, you know how I feel about that.”

  “I don’t see why it’s so bad. It’s not like I’m placing bets. I’m just watching.” It gushed out of her. “They’re so fast and so beautiful, and when I’m around them, even the little ones, I feel like I’m doing what I should be doing. I feel alive. When I’m in class or mowing the lawn or whatever, I feel sleepy, like I just want to close my eyes and dream about dragons. Being with them is what I’m made for.”

  “All of creation inspires awe, dragons included, but what you see at the track is a shiny shell over a rotten core. Do you think those dragons want to live their lives in stables and cages? Is that what they were made for?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Caged creatures can never be happy. You’ll realize that someday, I hope.”

  “And if I still want to be a dragon jockey when I grow up?” She tilted her head, meeting his gaze.

  “Then you can do what you feel is right. I won’t force my conscience on you, little bird. I have let you keep your tank dragons, haven’t I? But dropping out of school is not a choice you are old enough to make. You don’t understand what the consequences would be. I love you too much to let you make a mistake like that.”

  She avoided his eyes. Sometimes I wish you loved me just a little less.

  “I found a dragon egg today. Is it all right if I keep that?” she mumbled.

  “Of course. I’ve never said you couldn’t keep your pets … but how did you find a dragon egg?”