Chapter five?! Hell yes, chapter five!
A man and a dragon strolling down the footpath is not a sight one would normally see of a Tuesday morning, but this was exactly the sight Bryn and Chalk treated their neighbours to on their way to Peachgrove Primary.
Venturing out into the world outside was something Chalk had given up on when he’d damaged his wing. These days, he was much happier to curl up in a sunbeam than chase a bird or a butterfly. This just meant he enjoyed the novelty even more when he had to leave the house. As they walked, he was cantering about, sticking his head into bushes and snapping at falling leaves. More than once he extended his quivering wings and beat them excitedly, as if hoping that he might magically take off and soar away. But anyone could tell you, looking at that wing, that he would never fly again.
“Chalk, catch up!” Bryn called sharply as the dragon started to fall behind, distracted by the sheen on a fresh puddle. There was a clatter of claws on concrete as Chalk rushed to match his human friend’s step once more.
Bryn was getting scratchy because the school they were going to was on the other side of town. In normal circumstances, he would have taken the bus. The problem there was most bus drivers don’t take kindly to dragons hopping onboard, so they were effectively forced to walk. Bryn found it very difficult to get angry with Chalk - after all, he was so happy and having such a wonderful time - but with all the times already that he’d had to stop and wait for him to catch up…
Despite all of Bryn’s fretting and worrying, they arrived at the school just on time, a little bit before nine o’clock.
Just before they entered the school building, Bryn reached into his pocket and withdrew a leash, a harness and a muzzle. Chalk watched this with a look of utter dismay on his face. Bryn sighed.
“I’m sorry mate, but if I let you wander about in there without at least trying to make it look like I have you under control, there’ll be trouble. Mark my words.”
Chalk snorted resignedly and shuffled over to allow Bryn to fasten him into the muzzle and harness, and clip on the leash. His eyes said, ‘You owe me. You owe me big,’ and Bryn knew he would when they got home. Chalk would have undeniable rights to the best sunny spot in the house for this.
“There, you look positively dashing,” said Bryn, taking the other end of the leash and straightening up. Chalk merely snorted again and let himself be led inside.
At the front desk there was a woman who looked about fifty, but would like to believe she looked about thirty. Her thin lips were slathered in crimson lipstick, her cheeks dusted in rouge, and her hair was meticulously dyed a rich, chocolatey brown. She looked up as they entered and gave them a stare that didn’t even pretend to be friendly.
“Yerss?” she said as they approached.
“Hi, we’re - I mean I’m - here to see Madeleine Parsley,” said Bryn. The woman said nothing and continued to fix him with her heavily mascaraed eyes.
“Um. I’m talking to her class about dragons,” he said, gesturing to Chalk. He was suddenly struck by an irrational thought. “She is a teacher at this school, isn’t she?”
“Yerss,” the woman said again, disdainfully. “I have told Miss Parsley a thousand times she must tell me when she is expecting guest speakers or visitors during school times, it really creates such a hassle when she does not.” The woman started to rustle papers in an overly pompous fashion, appearing to forget Bryn’s very existence. It was clear by her manner that whatever she was doing was far more important than telling Bryn where he was meant to be going, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what that could be. He sensed he was in the presence of a woman who had received an appetiser of power and was doing her best to turn that appetiser into a four-course banquet. The problem was, it wasn’t going to stretch that far no matter how you slice it. He coughed in irritation.
“Please, could you direct me to her classroom?” he asked, as politely as possible. She shot him a withering look.
“In a moment, sir. I need to fill out the necessary documentation first.”
Bryn rolled his eyes and bit back a snarkish remark. He hated people who made life difficult as a form of entertainment, which was exactly what this horrible woman was doing.
Whole minutes passed and finally she finished searching, scrawling and stamping. She looked up at him like a frog surveying a fly, wondering whether it was good enough to grace its belly.
“Name and occupation?”
“Bryn Finch, dragon control officer, Hamilton Department of Conservation.”
“Intended length of time at Peachgrove Primary?” she asked, writing slowly.
“Oh, I don’t know…an hour maybe, give or take?” said Bryn, starting to feel agitated. She was making him late.
At long last, the woman tore off a tab with ‘Visitor’ on it, the perforated line giving way underneath her scarlet talons.
“Enjoy your stay.” She smiled falsely and handed the tab over. It wasn’t a request; it was an order.
“Thanks, I will.” But not for you, you old trout. “Now, how do I get to Miss Parsley’s classroom?”
She pointed. “Down the hallway, straight to the end, turn left, then take the first left after that and it’s on your right. Classroom two.”
“Thank you very much,” said Bryn, glad to be free of the horrible woman’s presence.
Following her directions, he quickly found classroom two and was about to turn the handle when the door opened.
“Whoop, sorry-“
“-Oh bejeebus, sorry, I-“
There was an awkward little scuffle as Bryn fought to detangle himself from the being that had just run into him. He managed to step back and carry out a proper ID: “Madeleine, is it?”
The large eyes, magnified by some most impressive glasses, blinked in bewilderment then crinkled into a wide smile.
“Yes! Oh, you must be the dragon guy. Nice to meet you, although I’m sorry it had to be like this…I left half my class notes in the teacher lounge this morning when I was having my cup of tea, you see, so I’ve left the children doing a maths quiz and I was just dashing back to grab them. Say, could you just wait there a minute? I’ll be back soon.”
With that, she rattled down the hallway like a marble in a pipe. Bryn was left wondering what had just happened to him and did as instructed, standing slightly awkwardly in the hallway with Chalk’s lead dangling limply from his hand.
Barely a minute later, Madeleine was charging back at him down the corridor, her brown curls bouncing against her head with every step and creating the illusion that she grew and shrank slightly at each footfall.
“Right! Sorry about that. Don’t know where my brain is most days,” she said, rearranging the sheaf of papers in her arms. Somewhere from all of the mess, a hand shot out. “Anyhoozle, proper introductions! Hi, I’m Maddie Parsley, as you already know. And I already know you’re Bryn Finch, but I’ve never let silly things like that get in the way of a good introduction, have you?”
“Er-“ Bryn managed, as Madeleine pumped his hand furiously up and down a few times. Now that she’d stopped moving for half a second, he was able to get a proper look at her.
Her thick, curly hair might be described as mousy by some, but Bryn thought the term ‘freckled’ was more appropriate; it was flecked by several shades of brown. She didn’t have it tied back today and it hung around her shoulders in a smooth, coiling tangle. Her dark brown eyes looked like deep bowls of warm treacle, her gaze amplified by the enormous spectacles perched on her tiny face. Her clothes were sensible and plain, but Bryn figured that was probably only because she was at work and her normal dress would be a lot more…eclectic. She had the sort of frame which could make a freshly-pressed tailored suit with creases so crisp you could peel carrots on them look rumpled and ill-fitting. She seemed to vibrate with an endless nervous energy, moving even when she was standing still. Bryn was starting to feel tired just looking at her.
“Well, it’s good to meet you properly,” said Bryn, not sure what else he could really say. He felt a bit like he’d been hit by a bus.
“I’m glad you managed to get past Mrs Harper. She can be a bit of a dragon- oh, I didn’t mean to say that,” said Madeleine, a hand flying to her mouth.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it,” Bryn said, trying not to smile at her disproportionate embarrassment.
“That may be so, but is he?” She pointed down at Chalk, who was squinting suspiciously back at her.
Bryn laughed. “It’s just because he hasn’t met you before. Chalk’s not very good at new people.”
“Chalk? Oh, I get it. It’s irony.”
“Not very original irony, I admit. But it seems to fit him and I couldn’t bring myself to call him Shadow.”
Madeleine wrinkled her nose. “That would be a crime against humanity, I quite agree.” She paused slightly. “Draconity?”
“Something along those lines,” Bryn said, grinning. “Anyway, I was thinking I’d bring Chalk in as a sort of grand finale so the kids could see him and touch him and get a better idea of what dragons are like. You know. So ideally, I’d like to keep him out here somewhere to stop him distracting them while I’m talking.”
“Classroom three is empty until this afternoon, we could keep him in there?” Madeleine suggested immediately.
Bryn realised he was waiting for something. He was waiting for her to say, ‘As long as he doesn’t destroy anything,’ which was a natural part of introducing Chalk to a stranger. It would then lead to him giving a mini-lecture on how Chalk was better-behaved than your average domestic cat and dragons are nowhere near as destructive as the Blogosphere would lead you to believe.
But she didn’t say it, which seemed to Bryn like skipping a step on the way down a staircase; it jarred him for a second, taking him by surprise, and then he forgot it a moment later.
“Classroom three sounds perfect,” he said.
She nodded and pulled a jangling keyring out of her pocket, leading him to the next door along and unlocking it.
Chalk followed obediently, his tail drooping only ever so slightly.
“Do you mind if I leave him untied?” Bryn asked. “He doesn’t like being tied up; it’s demeaning.”
“Fine, fine,” Madeleine said vaguely, waving a hand. “Just get a move on, will you? The kids will be finishing up their quizzes soon.”
Bryn straightened up. “Be good,” he said to Chalk, whose eyes replied ‘Always’.
The noise in the classroom died out the second Madeleine walked into the room, clapping her hands briskly and shouting “Alright, alright, alright!” at the top of her voice. Bryn - shuffling into the room after her much slower and quieter - noticed her manner changed in that split second. Although she still had a bounce in her step and a ring in her voice, she was now a figure of authority: the teacher, to be respected. And it was clear to see, these kids did. They snapped up in their seats immediately, ceasing their whispered conversations. Bryn had never seen anything like it, especially not in a primary level class.
“Macey, can I get you to gather up the quizzes and put them on my desk for me, please?” A tiny little girl in the second row jumped up in a flurry of legs and started practically running around the room, collecting the papers off each desk in turn.
When she deposited the quizzes on the desk, Madeleine gave her a double-barrel thumbs up, arms fully extended.
“Cheers, Mace. You’re awesome. You can go sit down now,” she said with a cheeky wink. The little girl’s face lit up and she returned to her desk, grinning broadly.
“Al-mighty-righty, everyone. As you’ll notice, we have a special guest coming to talk to us today. This is Mr Bryn Finch, and he’s a dragon control officer from the Department of Conservation. He’s going to tell us a little bit about the wonderful creatures he works with, so I want you all to be really good and quiet and listen closely to him, okay?” At this, she drew her fingers across her lips as if pulling a zip. This motion was mirrored by every child in the room; it was a super secret promise between a teacher and her pupils that they would shut up for a bit and listen to what was told to them. That was the good thing about kids of that age - they wouldn’t dare break a sacred pact like that.
Bryn walked to the middle of the room to a spattering of polite and hesitant applause. He swallowed a lump the size of an onion in his throat and did his best to smile. Bryn wasn’t good at people. He wasn’t good at parties; he wasn’t even good at meeting an old friend for coffee. He certainly wasn’t good at public speaking, even if only to a room of six-year-olds. But he took any and all opportunities to educate his community, and six-year-old minds were pliable and stretchy, and far more likely to take on board what he was saying. Bryn had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that the remainder of his generation was a write-off; they were too set in their ways. The next generation, though, he had hopes.
He tried to speak and no words came out. He wet his lips and tried again.
“H-hi, guys. As your teacher so rightly said, my name’s Bryn and I work with dragons here at the Hamilton DoC office.
“Now, hands up who’s seen a dragon before?” This got a huge response; twenty-one eager hands stabbed the air, every child there,
“Good, good. Who knows where dragons came from?” One by one, the hands wilted back down like sunflowers hit by a frost.
“Ah. Then we’ll start there. We don’t know where in the world dragons came from originally, but we do know exactly where every dragon alive today comes from. No one? They were found about fifty years ago in a mountain, very close to Hamilton. You can see it on a clear day,” he prompted gently.
A little boy three rows back put his hand up. “Um. P’ronga Mountain?”
“Bang on. Now, we don’t know how they got there or how long they were lying dormant inside the mountain waiting to hatch, but dragons faded out of western folklore in the Middle Ages, so we think it must be a really, really long time. Who knows where else in the world you might find a dragon?” He paused, but there were no takers. “The answer is nowhere. There have been one or two sightings in Australia - you know Australia? Good - in the last twenty years, but we think those were just individuals blown over on windy days.
“Anyway, on to my job and what that involves. I’m a dragon control officer, and mostly what I do is take dragons that have got lost in cities, or turned up unwanted at peoples’ houses, somewhere they won’t hurt themselves or people around them. I take their measurements and send them to research centres around New Zealand. Sometimes, we find sick dragons and we have to look after them, and for that we have a special room out the back of the DoC office. Very briefly, that’s what I do. Now, who here thinks dragons are quite scary?” The little forest of hands quavered back up. “Why?”
There was a long silence as the question was considered, and then a boy in the second row said, “They’re big, and flappy, and scaly, and they growl and set fire to things.” The words all came out in a rush as though he wanted to get through saying them as quickly as humanly possible.
“It’s funny you should mention the fire, and it’s amazing how many people believe that. But the truth is, there has never been a record of a fire-breathing dragon since they were found fifty years ago. It’s the stuff of myth and legend; we’ve been watching dragons closely all that time and there’s never been a suggestion of fire breath.” Until now, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking, then plunged on.
“The dragon you described just then is what we call a great dragon, or maxie because of its Latin name, draco maximus. And I agree with you in that they’re a bit scary, because they’re big and strong and have been known to carry off sheep and cows. But there are lots of different kinds of dragons, and most of them aren’t any bigger than a pet cat or dog; swamp dragons are so small most people mistake them for lizards until they see their wings.
“The two dragon types you see mostly around here are water dragons and rockhopper dragons. Both come in a variety of colours and shapes to match their habitats. Water dragons are usually blue or green, while rockhoppers can be anything from grey, to red, to brown, to black.
“And now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to go get something out of the other room.” He couldn’t conceal a grin as he left the class. They seemed to be responding very well, and he hoped seeing Chalk would cement their conviction that dragons were perfectly safe and friendly if you treated them with respect.
He found Chalk curled up under one of the desks having a nap, and quickly ushered him back into the classroom.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Chalk,” Bryn said, amidst mad squealing and ecstatic shouts. “He’s a rockhopper dragon I found about six months ago, and he’s lived with me at my house ever since. You can see his wing is broken so he can’t fly, but he’s one of my best friends,” Bryn said, being careful to add the ‘one of’ in there so as not to appear too strange.
Twenty-two sets of eyes were focused intently on Chalk - Madeleine was watching from the corner of the room - who didn’t seem overly phased by the attention. He trusted Bryn not to get him into any dangerous situations, and this didn’t seem dangerous to him at any rate. The room was merely full of tiny wide-eyed humans, who appeared less than threatening.
“Who wants to come and say hello?” asked Bryn, crouching by Chalk’s head to rub his ears.
Again, there was a delay in the reaction. But then one child, then another, then another got up and made their way to the front of the class to let Chalk sniff their fingers and run their hands over his soft, shiny scales. Soon, Chalk was surrounded on all sides by a shrubbery of children, stroking him; feeling the tear in his wing; the hard, chitinous material of his tail. Throughout this trying ordeal, Chalk kept his front right flank pressed close to Bryn, who remained sitting to allow him to do so. It helped keep the little dragon calm and comforted as he was surrounded by strangers.
Eventually, the kids grew tired of petting Chalk and returned to their desks.
Bryn rubbed his hands together. “Who still thinks dragons are scary?” He was most satisfied with the result: not a single child put up his or her hand. “That’s what I think, too. Well, that’s about all I wanted to say to you all, but in parting I will ask you all to go home today and tell your mum and dad what you’ve learned. Can you do that for me?” Nod, nod, nod. “Cool.”
Madeleine stepped back to the front of the class, drawing attention to herself by clapping her hands. “Wow, that was awesome! What do we say to Mr Finch, guys?”
“Thank you, Mr Finch,” the class chorused. Bryn inclined his head.
“It’s about time for morning tea, so you may all take a short break and if you like, you can come up and talk to Mr Finch - er, Bryn? - Finch? What do you prefer?” Madeleine asked, turning to him.
“Hah? Oh, Bryn is fine.”
“Right. You can come up and talk to Bryn and ask him any questions you may have about dragons.” Madeleine drew herself up like a drill sergeant and saluted with two fingers. “Diiismissed!” she barked. The class laughingly followed suit before breaking up, some to retrieve their lunchboxes, some to pet Chalk and shyly ask questions of Bryn.
The flow of children petered out when the lure of milk and bikkies grew too strong and that was when Madeleine came forward to say hello to Chalk herself.
“Wow,” she breathed, as she felt the scales under her fingertips. “They’re so soft. I always imagined dragon scales would be hard…it almost feels like leather. But…in scale form. Or something.”
“Yeah, most people think of scale mail armour. They have this idea of a dragon’s skin being impenetrable except for in one weak spot.”
“’Every worm has his weak spot’,” Madeleine quoted.
“The Hobbit?” Bryn guessed.
“Correctamundo, mon capitan,” Madeleine said with a laugh.
“I’m impressed; not many people have read it these days,” said Bryn.
Madeleine shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not a big reader. But I loved The Hobbit when I was a kid.”
“No, I don’t read a lot, either. I just make it my job to read any story that has dragons in it, even the gross misrepresentations.”
Madeleine laughed again. “True, that.”
The conversation ebbed out. Bryn realised he was staring at Madeleine as she crouched beside Chalk, slowly rubbing his neck and causing the dragon to close his eyes and make happy little wheezing noises.
She’s quite good-looking, you know, if you can get past the abysmal glasses. A bit eccentric perhaps, but that’s alright. Good sense of humour. Smart. Likes dragons. All pluses. The internal babble came to an abrupt halt as he realised a harsh reality. I haven’t asked a girl out in years. I don’t remember how to do it.
Don’t be ridiculous, said another part of his brain. All you need to do is ask if she’d like to catch up on the weekend sometime and tell her more about dragons over coffee. It’s that easy.
But what if she doesn’t drink coffee? What if she doesn’t come? What if she just turns me down straight out?
Don’t think that way. Just do it. On three, ready? One, two, three…
“Madeleine-“
The door burst open and one of the girls in Madeleine’s class came in, covered in mud and dripping water on the floor. The little girl hiccuped, fat tears rolling down her face.
“Miss Maddie, Gerald pushed me and I fell in a puddle,” she sobbed.
Madeleine stood quickly, eyes trained on the little girl. “Aw, Tracey honey, don’t cry. Let’s go get you cleaned up, then we’ll go find Gerald, okay?” She walked over to the girl and took her hand, then she remembered Bryn and turned around.
“Sorry, can you see yourself out? I’d better take care of this.”
“Yes, yes, fine. That’s fine,” Bryn said stupidly, his brain going numb.
“I’ll see you another time, maybe? Come on, Tracey.” Then she was gone.
“Yeah…definitely…” Bryn replied, but she was already out of earshot. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Damn. But had that been hopefulness in her voice before she steered the crying child away?
***
Screw you, wonky formatting. Screw you with a sodding melon. DX
Off to write more. I so got this thang. *flips collar*