boyfriends that Johnny could remember. But Carlo was special. He brought Johnny presents, like playing cards and matchbox cars. And when Carlo left, Mom would smile a special smile and ask Johnny what he thought of him. Even though she already knew the answer.
“He’s not going to come see us anymore,” she said.
“Wh-why not?” Johnny asked.
“It’s grown-up stuff, honey,” she said. “But you and I will be just fine, we don’t need anyone else.”
Why was it always grown-up stuff when it was something bad? It had been grown-up stuff when they couldn’t have a Christmas tree year before last. And it was grown-up stuff when the cable TV was turned off during that winter break.
Things had gotten better when Carlo was around.
“Why isn’t he coming back?” he asked, more insistently.
“It has nothing to do with you, Johnny. Carlo likes you very much and I know he’ll miss you,” she said in her most reassuring tone. Johnny was no dummy though. How could he be reassured when what she said didn’t make sense?
He felt something move in his chest.
“It does have to do with me if I don’t get to see him anymore! Why won’t he come back? ” Johnny demanded.
The feeling in his chest grew stronger. It was like something was stuck in there, fluttering, trying to come out.
His mom sat up, pulling the covers off them.
“Let’s get a snack and something nice to drink, then we’ll feel better,” she announced, hopping up and heading for the kitchen.
But Johnny wasn’t going to feel better. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his back ached and his stomach cramped horribly. He couldn’t even call to his mother to tell her something was wrong.
When the pain was so terrible he was sure he was going to die, something ripped through his back. Though it should have hurt, he felt better instantly. He was still wondering over it as his legs burst out of his body, and his arms disappeared, and his face was punched out long until his nose brushed the dresser on the opposite side of the room and shattered the mirror just after he caught sight of the huge shape reflected in it.
His mother peeked back into the room to see what all the noise was about.
He would never forget the horrified look on her face, or the way she screamed.
Johnny screamed too. But it came out with a hissing sound, followed by plumes of fire and billowing smoke.
Oh no.
Mom’s hair was on fire, and her nightgown.
She threw herself to the ground and rolled herself around, screaming.
When the fire was out, she got to her feet unsteadily.
Her face was covered in blisters and black marks. Johnny could smell her cooked flesh, like hot dogs on the grill. It made him want to throw up, but he was terrified of what might come out if he opened his mouth again.
The walls were burning, and the curtains, and the ceiling…
“Hush, baby,” Mom said to him in a quavering voice. “Don’t be scared. Your daddy said this ran in his family and I didn’t believe him, I’m so sorry, baby. The fire can’t harm you because you’re a dragon. But the whole building’s going up. I need to go and get help so no one gets hurt, but you cannot leave this room until you turn back into a little boy. Do you understand?” she asked him.
He cocked his massive head, unable to speak.
“Okay, when you turn back into a boy come out,” she told him. “If anybody asks, you were playing with matches and that’s how this happened.”
Then she ran. And there was nothing for Johnny to do but watch everything burn. The paint peeled off the walls, the bedding went up in flames, the picture of Mom and Johnny and Carlo by the bed crackled as their faces melted into each other.
Johnny was too scared to look anymore. He curled his snout under his wings and squeezed his eyes shut tight.
He must have fallen asleep or maybe the smoke overwhelmed him. When he woke up he was a boy again, and the paramedics were loading him onto a gurney. A policeman was telling him that
“He’s not going to come see us anymore,” she said.
“Wh-why not?” Johnny asked.
“It’s grown-up stuff, honey,” she said. “But you and I will be just fine, we don’t need anyone else.”
Why was it always grown-up stuff when it was something bad? It had been grown-up stuff when they couldn’t have a Christmas tree year before last. And it was grown-up stuff when the cable TV was turned off during that winter break.
Things had gotten better when Carlo was around.
“Why isn’t he coming back?” he asked, more insistently.
“It has nothing to do with you, Johnny. Carlo likes you very much and I know he’ll miss you,” she said in her most reassuring tone. Johnny was no dummy though. How could he be reassured when what she said didn’t make sense?
He felt something move in his chest.
“It does have to do with me if I don’t get to see him anymore! Why won’t he come back? ” Johnny demanded.
The feeling in his chest grew stronger. It was like something was stuck in there, fluttering, trying to come out.
His mom sat up, pulling the covers off them.
“Let’s get a snack and something nice to drink, then we’ll feel better,” she announced, hopping up and heading for the kitchen.
But Johnny wasn’t going to feel better. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his back ached and his stomach cramped horribly. He couldn’t even call to his mother to tell her something was wrong.
When the pain was so terrible he was sure he was going to die, something ripped through his back. Though it should have hurt, he felt better instantly. He was still wondering over it as his legs burst out of his body, and his arms disappeared, and his face was punched out long until his nose brushed the dresser on the opposite side of the room and shattered the mirror just after he caught sight of the huge shape reflected in it.
His mother peeked back into the room to see what all the noise was about.
He would never forget the horrified look on her face, or the way she screamed.
Johnny screamed too. But it came out with a hissing sound, followed by plumes of fire and billowing smoke.
Oh no.
Mom’s hair was on fire, and her nightgown.
She threw herself to the ground and rolled herself around, screaming.
When the fire was out, she got to her feet unsteadily.
Her face was covered in blisters and black marks. Johnny could smell her cooked flesh, like hot dogs on the grill. It made him want to throw up, but he was terrified of what might come out if he opened his mouth again.
The walls were burning, and the curtains, and the ceiling…
“Hush, baby,” Mom said to him in a quavering voice. “Don’t be scared. Your daddy said this ran in his family and I didn’t believe him, I’m so sorry, baby. The fire can’t harm you because you’re a dragon. But the whole building’s going up. I need to go and get help so no one gets hurt, but you cannot leave this room until you turn back into a little boy. Do you understand?” she asked him.
He cocked his massive head, unable to speak.
“Okay, when you turn back into a boy come out,” she told him. “If anybody asks, you were playing with matches and that’s how this happened.”
Then she ran. And there was nothing for Johnny to do but watch everything burn. The paint peeled off the walls, the bedding went up in flames, the picture of Mom and Johnny and Carlo by the bed crackled as their faces melted into each other.
Johnny was too scared to look anymore. He curled his snout under his wings and squeezed his eyes shut tight.
He must have fallen asleep or maybe the smoke overwhelmed him. When he woke up he was a boy again, and the paramedics were loading him onto a gurney. A policeman was telling him that
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