Drake the Dragonboy. Rebecca Schultz
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to one side. Her face was soft and gentle, without the harsh jutting jawline of many dragonfolk. She seemed to be unaware of how attractive she was, though, and if you peeked in the staffroom she mostly had her head stuck in a book, more interested in knowledge than finding a husband. That was unusual for a young dragonfolk woman.
Barry Reed was the class clown and bully, rolled into one big, puffy package. He was chubby, but definitely not fat, with fine hair cut so short he almost looked bald. He was tall and of solid build. He looked indestructible to Drake. Barry had a round face and very small lips, which was also unusual for a dragonfolk given the number of large teeth they had to fit into their mouths. His face around his mouth was swollen as if he permanently had his mouth full of food. But all in all, Barry wasn’t someone you’d look twice at in the street, which is partly why he made so much noise.
“You make me want to puke, Barry,” said Juniper, and Drake’s heart thumped as he turned to look at her. She really is wonderful, he thought, and nothing at all like all the other girls, even if she sometimes did stupid things like they did just to fit in. Juniper had fluffy brown hair down to her waist, which curled upwards on the ends. She was small for her age and skinny, like Drake. She always looked a little bit different — sometimes her socks didn‘t match, or she’d wear ribbons in her hair when all the other girls were wearing their hair loose. Her latest fashion-item was a pair of purple glasses where each lens was made to look like a dragon wing. She had found them in her grandmother’s bottom drawer.
“Go on then, fire breath … puke. I dare you,” taunted Barry. Juniper had a problem called Tourette Syndrome where, when she got nervous and at random other times she would breathe fire. Only some dragonfolk were left with the ability to breathe fire and it was considered extremely rude and barbaric to breathe fire in public. Anything that reminded dragonfolk that they were descended from animals was considered impolite. People didn’t know a lot about Tourette, and it was pretty rare, so many people just thought she was a very naughty little girl.
Before any more could come of this, the siren rang to announce that class had ended. Chairs, tables and feet screeched as the students picked up their belongings and moved out of the room. Drake sighed. Now he had to go to Geography, his least favourite class with his least favourite teacher, Mr Roche. The only good thing was that Juniper was also in his Geography class and Barry Reed wasn’t.
Drake waited back, casually packing up his books, until everyone had rushed out of the room and stormed into the hallway. Waiting a few minutes now meant that he could walk down the corridor without being squashed. He wandered down the hallway watching kids darting into rooms for their next class. He was going to be a bit late for Geography but he didn’t really care. Mr Roche would spend the first part of class revising what they did last week, anyway. That’s after he talked about himself for a while and what he and his wife had done on the weekend. As if anybody cared.
Drake opened his locker using his six digit code and then a thumbprint. He’d added the thumbprint scanner himself just for fun and not because there was anything at all secret in his locker. His locker couldn’t have been more boring: books, his lunchbox, sports clothes (which he often claimed he’d forgotten) and his computer (which he wasn’t allowed to take to class). On the back of the door, he had a picture of Dragonboy wearing a striking red cape and thigh-high rocket boots. Most other boys had sports heroes or movie stars but he couldn’t think of either that he liked enough to look at every day, so cartoon star Dragonboy it was.
Swapping his science books for his Geography books, Drake slammed the door shut and headed in the direction of the Geography room. He stopped off at the toilets on the way, forgetting that these were the tough kids’ toilets. As he walked in, he cursed himself for not remembering. There was Barry Reed and his gang smoking in the corner. The cigarette hanging out the side of his puffy mouth made him look like a serious thug. Where were teachers when you needed them? He sighed and tried to look indifferent as he sidled into the cubicle.
Just when Drake had relaxed a little thinking Barry hadn’t noticed him there was a loud thump on the door that made him jump at a very unfortunate time, leaving a wet patch on his thermal suit. He zipped up his suit, took a gulp of air and opened the cubicle door, trying to look his tallest.
“Hi doof, nice clothes,” Barry jeered. Drake hoped he wouldn’t look down and see the wet patch.
“Thanks, Barry. They’re very comfortable.” And then Barry looked him up and down, immediately seeing the dark wet circle.
“Look, doof wet himself,” Barry said to his two friends, Grollo and Hark, who looked like smaller imitations of Barry, with the same short spiked-up hair and black t-shirts with pictures of bands they had probably never heard of but sounded tough. Drake tried to look brave but his bottom lip quivered. He was upset that he’d have to walk in to Geography really late with a wet circle on his suit.
“Ohhhh, poor wittle Drake. Don’t worry; we can help you with that.” And before Drake had time to react Barry had pulled a knife out of his pocket, grabbed Drake and, pulling the suit material away from Drake’s skin, he sliced out the circle, leaving a big hole right under his crutch. Barry, Grollo and Hark laughed madly, doubling over, while Drake, after a moment’s shock, ran as fast as he could out of the toilets and back to his locker.
With tears in his eyes, Drake took his sports jumper and tied it around his middle, covering up the hole. Hopefully, no-one would notice, so long as Barry didn’t point it out to them. It was turning out to be a really bad day. If only he wasn’t so much of a wimp. So much for survival of the smartest — Miss Tess was wrong about that! The big tough dumb animal had won this round.
Drake felt heavy all over as he trudged to his Geography room. He peeked into the room and saw everyone was in their seats, listening to Roche the Cockroach, except for two people, Ronan and him. And Ronan was always wagging, so he didn’t count. He took a deep breath and slid open the door as quietly as he could. It wasn’t quietly enough because everybody turned around and looked at him. He sidled into his chair.
“Nice of you to join us, Drake,” said Roche. “You’ll be staying after class.” Roche grimaced at the end of his sentence as he realised that he would now have to spend extra time with Drake, whom he really didn’t like. Drake made him uncomfortable.
“Yes, Mr Roche,” said Drake, his head down as he got his books out onto the desk.
“Today we’re talking about the world being flat. There have been some ridiculous theories recently that the world is not flat. That it is in fact, round! How stupid. Can anyone tell me what would make someone think something so ridiculous?”
Everybody sat silently, looking toward the ground so that Mr Roche didn’t catch their eye. Drake was still shuffling with his books.
“Drake, you can tell me … since you’ve only just decided to grace us with your presence.” Drake hesitated for a moment but then not knowing how to get out of answering, told what he thought was the truth.
“Well, sir, there are some pretty notable scientists who believe that the world is round … and that beyond the wasteland, there is more land … and there may even be other types of life out there.”
“Cool,” said a chorus of voices. Mr Roche’s fist slammed down on the desk in front of Drake.
“For that smart response you will be staying in for detention after school and not at lunch time … only it will have to be tomorrow as I am getting my haircut tonight.”
Mr Roche continued talking and writing on the board, barely managing to turn his head to look at the class, let alone involve them in the lesson.
“As I was saying, our world is flat. What you can see is all there is. You look out in each direction and you see the edge of the world … either wasteland or ocean reaching out to the end, depending on which way you look. Beyond that there is nothingness … scary, horrible, terrifying nothingness. The opposite, my friends, to life.” He said the word life slowly while staring at Drake.
Drake started to drift off to sleep. Roche’s voice sounded like a dog with a sore throat and it was warm in the room. He awoke to a loud