A Boy And His Dragon

Part 1: A BOY'S LIFE

Chapter 3
A Boy and His Dragon

When he finally awakened, Bradley Wallace found himself in his pajamas lying under the covers of his own bed. He hadn't the faintest idea how he got there. But then, so many weird things had been happening to him lately, what was one more? He'd actually found a living, breathing dragon that had eaten Mrs. Noble's cat! No one would believe him even if he tried to tell the truth.

His mother's voice, calling down the hall for him to "Get up and at 'em!" (which always made him think of Atom Ant), forced him to shelve such musings and set about getting dressed for school. Unfortunately, he'd have to wait till this afternoon to return to the Gully, and hoped Whilly wouldn't get into trouble in the meantime. As he pulled on his salt and pepper corduroy school pants, the dragon touched his mind reassuringly and he relaxed a bit.

His father had already left for the office—he was a successful businessman—and had taken Katie to drop her off at her school. So Bradley Wallace contentedly ate his Lucky Charms alone while his mother busied herself getting dressed for her hair appointment. He toyed with his cereal, thoughts drifting inevitably back to the dragon who called himself Whilly. For as long as he could remember, Bradley Wallace had wished for a friend with whom he could share his innermost thoughts and feelings, and now he'd found one who would know those thoughts and feelings before he could even verbalize them. Maybe Mr. O'Conner's crystal was magic after all.

There was still the almost insurmountable task of procuring food for his perpetually starving friend. Perhaps the wise old ice cream man would have some suggestions. Of course, he couldn't tell everything, not even to Mr. O'Conner who was, above all else, a grownup.

His mother's call from the back of the house reminded Bradley Wallace that it was time to catch the bus. Shoveling in a last spoonful of cereal and swigging the remainder of his orange juice, he scooped up his bowl and glass and dumped them carelessly into the kitchen sink. Then he ran to collect the book bag and navy blue sweater he'd left on one of the living room chairs.

***

School that day was relatively uneventful, which was good because Bradley Wallace found it impossible to concentrate on his classes and would have missed something important. As it was, he was called to task by several teachers for "wool-gathering" (a word he'd picked up from Sister Margaret Raphael that means daydreaming). Wagner seemed strangely aloof all morning, mostly just glaring at him from across any classroom they happened to share. Though Raley and Smith egged Wagner on, the bully didn't start any trouble, a development that aroused Bradley Wallace's ever-present curiosity. Even at recess, Wagner didn't harass him. Very strange, indeed.

The only real incident occurred that afternoon in the gym during boy's P.E. Mr. Baldoni (an appropriate name considering his sparseness of hair) was a science teacher, eight-grade boys homeroom moderator, and boy's P.E. instructor. He was an older man, early sixties probably (though no one knew for sure) whose balding pate did sprout a few gray hairs above his large monkey ears, and whose skin was dry and leathery. He always wore rumpled brown suits and disheveled ties to school, and quite often interrupted science class to reminisce about his own high school and college days. The boys in P.E. had affectionately dubbed him "Old Skin Head."

Today's sport was sock ball, which was essentially baseball without the ball and bat. Mr. Baldoni would pitch a volleyball to the "batter", who would try to sock it with the flat side of his fist. The infielders and outfielders would attempt to catch the ball, or if they failed that, throw the runner out. Naturally, the strongest boys in the class could knock the ball the farthest, and though he really didn't think of himself in such terms, Bradley Wallace was very strong. And he was improving at this game, which relied more on physical strength than athletic coordination. Mr. Baldoni never helped matters by pitching the ball so low the boys might as well have been playing golf.