Voices of Dragons

“Oh, I thought maybe you were talking about math homework,” Kay said, gri

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 a

“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.

7

On clear days in January, Kay continued hiking out to see Artegal. It didn’t occur to her not to. Snow and cold were tiny obstacles, when she could bundle up. Because of the cold, she couldn’t stay long, but the dragon would have lingered all day, nestled in the snow, his tail sweeping back and forth through drifts.

The creek was frozen now. Kay could walk across it if she was careful. Instead of sitting while she waited for him, she paced to keep warm. This day was one of the su

The distant peaks in the interior of Dragon never had snow on them. Warmed from the fires of dragon lairs within, the snow melted.

She hadn’t been waiting long when he arrived. She recognized the sound of trees creaking, as if in a wind. Especially today, when no breeze blew. He came into view, gunmetal gray against the snowy world, and settled on his forelimbs, bringing himself closer to her. The light in his onyx eyes blazed.

“Hi,” she said.

His lip curled. “Wanted to show you this,” he said, and opened a foreclaw, offering her an object. She hadn’t noticed that he’d held his claws tightly shut. “Belonged to my mentor. It’s human.” He sounded excited.

It was a book, and for a moment she was horrified. It looked ancient, bound in brown leather, worn and stained, with tarnished metal fixtures on the spine and corners, and here it was in the outdoors, in cold and snow. It was maybe the size of one of her schoolbooks, and she wondered how a large dragon could handle something so small. Artegal’s claws worked like pincers, setting it in her hands. Once she had it, he tucked his arm back to his side. She hardly noticed how comfortable she’d become around him; she hardly noticed his size and no longer thought of his claws and teeth as weapons that could tear into her. He was just Artegal, who liked to talk about books.