Cora and the Nurse Dragon Read online

  “At … at least it’s just the one.” Cora avoided her friend’s eyes.

  “Yeah … what was he trying to do? Cook it?” Abry cradled the egg in her hand.

  “I better get going.” Cora ran out of the room before Abry could speak. “What did you do that for, you stupid dragon?”

  Cricket gave a mournful chirp.

  How can I ever pay Abry back? What kind of defective dragon did I end up with?

  Chapter Seven

  Business

  Cora sat in her work space, staring at her terrariums. Cricket perched on a shelf behind her, occasionally chirping. While she’d kept feeding the strange, mud-brown dragon, she hadn’t felt like doing much else with him.

  The dragon had ruined everything. Even if Abry had said the loss of the egg didn’t matter, Cora knew better. It would take Cora weeks to save enough to even buy a small egg set. What an awful start to the summer.

  The door swung open, and Dad strode in, wearing his gardening gloves and with dirt smudged on his face.

  “You’re still inside? Don’t you think you’ve moped about for long enough? It’s been three days since you played with Abry.”

  Cora shrugged.

  He sat on an overturned bucket beside her. “I know Abry’s forgiven you. I still think you should get her a new egg when you can, but it’s no reason to avoid her. She was here looking for you yesterday. Seemed so sad when I told her you were out walking.” He slipped off his gloves.

  Cricket fluttered down onto Cora’s shoulder. She pushed him off.

  Dad scooped up the now crow-sized dragon. “He’s just an animal. They don’t do things to be malicious. Remember when Scraggles ate your mayflies? He didn’t know that was any different from catching a rat or a sparrow.”

  “What sort of dragon toasts eggs?” Cora sniffed.

  Dad stood, placed Cricket back on his perch, and stroked the dragon’s neck. “From what I understand, you don’t know what sort of dragon Cricket is. You can’t really know 'why' if you don’t know 'what.'” Sticking his gloves in his back pocket, he sighed. “I have to prune the west hedges. If you want to talk, I’ll be there. Also, I saw Xavian and some of his friends roaming the gardens. They might come this way.”

  “Xavian has friends?” Cora raised her eyebrows.

  “Is that so hard to believe?” Dad laughed. “Be nice to him if he stops by.” He turned to go.

  “Dad …” Cora concentrated on the dirt beneath her fingernails.

  “Yes?”

  “When Xavian … he said if I hit him, he’d tell his dad to fire you.”

  Dad’s posture straightened. “You shouldn’t be hitting anyone.”

  “Is it true, though? Can he really tell his dad to fire you and have him do it?”

  Dad touched her shoulder. “Cor, Mr. Algernon hardly talks to Xavian.”

  Her brow furrowed. “So he can’t have you fired?”

  “Probably not, but that’s not my point. My point is that just like with Cricket, you don’t know why Xavian does what he does. Holding a grudge won’t do you any good.” He glanced at Cricket. “Speaking of which, if you don’t want Cricket, you should set him free. It’s more natural, and he’d probably be happier in the long run.”

  “How many wild dragons have you seen roaming the streets of Farrington?” Cora rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t sass, young lady.” Dad’s tone grew hard. “For your information, when I was a boy, dragons still roamed the wilderness. It’s only in the last few decades that they’ve gone extinct in the wild.”

  Cora didn’t watch him go. She didn’t like mouthing off to Dad. He worked so hard and mostly let her do what she wanted. Still, sometimes he could be so backward, not understanding how the modern world worked or how awful Xavian was.

  Feeling like the sun couldn’t reach her, she went through the motions of feeding her dragons. Cricket only ate a few spoonfuls of fruit and jerky this time. His wings drooped when he settled back on his perch.

  Someone tapped on the door. Not Xavian. Xavian wouldn’t knock.

  Cora went to open it and saw Abry grinning through the glass. Though her friend’s expression seemed sincere, Cora’s heart still sank. Abry may have forgiven her, but Cora hadn’t forgiven herself … or Cricket.

  Abry entered, clutching a closed picnic basket.

  “Where’s Cricket?” she asked.

  Cora motioned towards the back of the greenhouse.

  Abry hurried over to him. “Wowza. He’s gotten big. I need to get a better book and find out what he is. Why haven’t you brought him over again?”

  Cora joined Abry. “He’s too dangerous. Have you forgotten what he did to your egg?”

  “Not at all. In fact, that’s why I’m here.” She spun around, beaming. “My eggs hatched.”

  Relief swept over Cora. “All of them? Even…”

  “Yep, even the scorched one.”

  Cora leaned against the wall. “That’s … I still feel bad.”

  “No, no, you shouldn’t. Look.” Abry placed her basket on the workbench and opened the top. Inside, nestled in a blanket nest, slept a small, crimson dragon.

  Cora’s jaw dropped. “Is that … a striker?”

  Abry nodded, dancing from foot to foot.

  “Your egg hatched a striker.” Cora resisted the urge to rub her eyes. “They’re like one in a thousand eggs.”

  “I know, but Cora, guess which egg hatched the striker.”

  “Which egg?” Cora swallowed. “You don’t mean …”

  “The scorched egg!” Abry clapped her hands. “The egg Cricket toasted hatched the striker. I think he made it happen somehow.”

  Cora shook her head. “But how?”

  “I don’t know, but what are the chances that the first rare dragon I ever find, that anyone I know has ever found, was in that egg? The rest were all plain old mayflies.”

  Cricket swooped down and alighted on the basket’s handle. He gave a gentle coo.

  “Ah, look, he likes her … she’s a she. I already have Neptune, so I thought…”

  Realization hit Cora. “Oh, I couldn’t. He’s yours, Abry.”

  A striker would cost almost $10, more money than Cora had seen in her lifetime, more than the steamer Abry’s parents had saved months to buy for her.

  “Hey, Egg-Face!” a voice called out.

  Abry slammed the basket shut, and Cricket shot to the rafters. Anger flared in Cora's chest. How dare he come down here like he owned the place … even if he sort of did.

  Both girls turned to glare at Xavian. He was flanked by two other boys, a red-head in a tweed-suit and a dark haired, tan-faced boy, smaller than Xavian, in a white shirt and knee pants.

  Xavian grinned. “What’s in the basket?”

  “None of your beeswax.” Abry crossed her arms. “My dad told me not to speak to murderers.”

  Xavian snorted. “So much fuss over stupid eggs. If I wanted, my dad could buy me the whole Emporium’s worth and scramble them for my breakfast. They only hatch worthless mayflies, anyway. My dad says the whole thing’s a scam.”

  Cora and Abry exchanged a glance. Cora bit back a smile.

  “That’s a lot of mayflies.” The dark haired boy stepped past Xavian towards Cora’s terrariums. “Wow, this set up’s swell.” He had a different way of talking, less refined than Xavian or Abry.

  “They’re just silly mayflies, Parker.” Xavian rolled his eyes. “Let’s go see my racer.”

  Parker peered at the girls. “Do you have more dragons in the basket?”

  Abry opened it and held it out. Parker’s eyes widened, then gleamed. “Oh man, that’s swell. It’s so tiny. Did you hatch it?”

  “Yep.” Abry nodded.

  “Guess you don’t know everything, X.” Parker chuckled. “These dolls have a striker.”

  Xavian’s faced reddened. “No way. They must’ve stole it.”

  Parker leaned over the basket. “He’s sure pretty.”

  “She,” corrected C
ora.

  “My dad gives me a quarter every time he wins a race. I’m saving up for a striker or a sparker, but I’ve only got four dollars so far.”

  Cora’s tongue tied itself in a knot, and she barely got out her words. “Your … your dad’s a jockey?”

  Parker nodded. “Billy Malloy. Races for X’s dad. Man, I wish I had a striker.”

  “You can have this one for four dollars!” Abry burst out.

  Cora stared at her.

  Abry tugged her into the corner and lowered her voice. “Think about how many eggs we can buy with four dollars!”

  “Eggs? You’d rather have eggs than a striker? A striker is worth much more than four dollars.”

  “Yeah, but Parker’s only got four.” Abry’s fingers tightened on Cora’s arm. Her voice dropped to a hiss. “I have a feeling that if we get more eggs, Cricket can do it again. If he can make more strikers … or sparkers or steamers … just imagine! This can be our business, our destiny!”

  They walked back to Parker, hand in hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “I can get you the rest tomorrow. This is about half.”

  “You’ve got a deal!” It took Cora a moment to realize the voice was her own. She couldn’t stop staring at the shining quarters.

  “This is stupid. Come on, Richie. Let’s go see my racer.” Xavian stomped out.

  Parker reached reverently into the basket and scooped up the striker. “I’m gonna call her Firecracker. This is swell, just swell.”

  “Nifty,” Abry agreed.

  “If you ever get lucky again, with your eggs, you know, I gotta lot of friends saving for dragons.”

  “We’ll let you know. Refer your friends to C & A, LLC.” Abry grinned.

  Chapter Eight

  Abry’s Plan

  The amount of eggs Cora could buy with four whole dollars was overwhelming. It took all her willpower not to rush to the Emporium and spend it all–well, her willpower and Abry’s insistence.

  Cricket curled up in Cora’s lap as they sat on the braided rug in Abry’s room. The space was so narrow that Cora could put her back against the daybed and, even with her legs crossed, still touch the desk under the window with her toes.

  From his cage, Neptune eyed Cricket.

  “Do you think they can be friends?” Abry asked. “Supposedly wild dragons were social animals, living in large colonies.”

  “Wild dogs live in packs, and Mr. Holland’s mastiff still chewed up Mrs. Anable’s yorkie that one time. Remember?”

  Abry shuddered. “You could hear the snarling across the park. Yeah, let’s not risk it.” She tickled Neptune’s chest through the cage wires. He let out a cloud of steam and tucked his head back under one wing.

  Abry opened up a leather bound notebook. “When I told Mom I was interested in starting a business, she gave me this. It looks so official.”

  Official and used. The page Abry had opened it to was at least a quarter way in and already covered in notes. Careful not to disturb Cricket, Cora leaned forward. The handwriting was Abry’s.

  “How have you written so much already? We just came up with this idea yesterday.”

  “I want to be ready.” Abry shrugged and took out a stubby pencil. “I’ll catch you up. See, what we got from Parker is our ‘capital.’ We can put it back in the business, but what we make over expenses is our profit. We’re lucky to have started out in the black, but from now on, we’ll have to count on some overhead.”

  I’m going to have to hire a translator if this keeps up. “Eggs aren’t that expensive.” Cora scratched Cricket between the wings. He twisted onto his back, showing her his soft belly. She rubbed him there, too. I’m sorry for how I treated you over the last few days, buddy. I’ll make it up to you.

  “Eggs won’t be our only expense. We’ll need food for our dragons. The larger ones eat a lot more than the mayflies … and cages. We can’t keep them in Terrariums.” Abry scratched out another note. “We were lucky to sell Firecracker right away, but that won’t always happen. We may have to keep some of them for a while, feeding and caring for them. How many dragons do you think you could care for at once?”

  Cora shrugged. “I don’t know … aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves, though? I mean, we don’t know that he can do it again. It may just have been a coincidence. What if we spend all our money on eggs and supplies and just get more mayflies?”

  Abry stuck the end of her pencil in her mouth. “You have a point, I guess. I really think he did it somehow, though. It’s good to start small, anyway. Mom says when you introduce a new product, you need to test the market, see if the demand is there and whatnot.”

  “Did you tell her what our product was?” Cora swallowed. She hadn’t told her father about selling the striker or their plans for a business yet. With his odd beliefs about dragons in general, she wasn’t sure how he’d take it.

  “No, not yet. We were just kind of speaking generally about business. She thinks it's wonderful that we want to start one, called us entrepreneurs … she even had some suggestions for businesses we could start, more dragon walking and cookie baking. I’ll tell her when things get going more and we’re sure about what Cricket can do.” Abry wrote a few more notes. “I’m using what it takes to feed Neptune as a rough estimate … plus we have to consider space. We’ll have to raise them at your greenhouse … even once we get going, I don’t think we should try to have more than five or six at one time. We won’t be able to charge as much if we have too many. My mom says scarcity increases value because it keeps the supply lower than the demand. If we have two-hundred strikers, we won’t be able to charge as much as we would if we had only two. That’s how the Emporium keeps the prices so high, by only having a few on hand at a time.”

  Cora chewed her bottom lip. “But do we want to charge that much? I mean, if kids can afford to pay what they cost at the Emporium, won’t they just buy them at the Emporium? I liked that we could give Parker a dragon even though he didn’t have ten dollars saved up yet. It felt good.”

  Abry tilted her head to one side. “Oh, I liked that too, but think of it this way: if we sell strikers at mayfly prices, how will people like Xavian treat them? Remember what he did when he got those free eggs?”

  The hairs on Cora’s neck stood on end, and she lifted Cricket to rest against her cheek for a moment. His hard beak, warmed by his dragon breath, felt like a sun-baked stone against her skin. He cooed.

  Abry sucked on her pencil again. “So, we need to settle on a price that is lower than the Emporium's but that still allows us to make back our expenses, plus a profit, and is high enough that people don’t come to see our dragons as disposable.”

  “Four dollars seemed to work pretty well.” Cora was getting bored. “If we don’t hurry, the Emporium will close before we get there.” She wanted to go buy those eggs and see if this would even work. Writing out a business plan on paper was all well and good, but if Cricket couldn’t make the eggs hatch rare dragons, or if no one bought them once they did hatch, it would all be wasted time.

  “Oh, we have hours.” Abry waved at her as if brushing away a mayfly. “I guess four dollars works. It seems a random way to set prices, just whatever happens to be in your first customer’s pocket. So how many eggs, then? The smallest pack is six, the largest one hundred, right?”

  “We can decide that as we walk. Come on.” Cora stood and grabbed her cardigan. Cricket fluttered to rest on her head.

  “Do you really want to bring Cricket?” Abry’s blue eyes clouded.

  “Why not?” Cora disentangled him from her hair and held him in the crook of her arm. He squirmed, his claws scratching at her but not drawing blood.

  “Well, for one thing, we didn’t buy him. All eggs are imprinted at the factory. They shine a special light through the shells that leaves a mark on the dragons. See.” She pulled Neptune’s wing away from his body. The sun filtered through the thin membrane of his wing, revealing a line of tiny print. “It’s a nin
e digit serial number. It matches the number on the receipt when I got him. That’s one thing we need to be careful about. We need to save all our receipts. Remember how Xavian accused us of stealing the striker? Well, if he’d tried to get us in trouble for that, I know my dad has the receipt for the batch of eggs he bought, and we can prove that we paid for Firecracker’s egg, not stole it. We need to do the same with all our eggs from here on out.”

  Cora’s stomach twisted. “And we don’t have a receipt for Cricket.” She picked him up and stretched out his wing. Nothing. She squinted and looked under the other wing. “Abry, he doesn’t have one.”

  “That’s impossible. All factory dragons do.” Abry took Cricket from Cora. She turned him this way, then that, until the dragon struggled out of her hands and settled beneath the collar of Cora’s cardigan. “Well, I’ll be … he doesn’t. Does that mean he didn’t come from Xavian’s pack after all?”

  “I don’t know. Where else could he have come from?”

  Cricket arched his neck and rubbed the top of his head on Cora’s ear. The atmosphere in the room seemed to tingle.

  What exactly are you? You had to come from the box. They must’ve missed your egg at the factory somehow.

  “Without the serial number, we can still take him, right? No one can say we didn’t buy him if his number isn’t on record.” She tried to ignore the strange feeling in the back of her head, the feeling that something different was happening. Something she couldn’t explain and therefore didn’t want to think about.

  “Well, he’s also our secret ingredient, so to speak. Successful businesses have something proprietary, something their competitors don’t have. They keep it secret so that other people can’t do what they do and steal their customers.” Abry stood, still eyeing Cricket as if he might sprout a second head.

  “No one is going to steal Cricket.” Cora sniffed.

  “I just think we need to be careful and not tell anyone what we think he does. I just … I have a feeling it's the sort of thing you shouldn’t tell people, you know? At least until we really understand how he works and where he came from.”