The three fairies shoot up like firecrackers. As they zoom into the night, I watch their lights grow smaller and smaller, blue and green and red, as tiny as the points of lasers.
For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, suddenly, we hear a crash. A hail of jagged black letters rains down around us, slicing the rungs of the ladder and ripping the mainsail of Captain Crabbe’s ship. Jules narrowly misses being impaled by aK,which pins the hem of her dress to the wooden deck.
“Watch out!” I cry, grabbing her and pushing her beneath the doorway of the hatch that leads belowdecks.
A moment later, a fireball rips out of the sky, smacking hard against the wood. Ember lies there, her arms and legs splayed, the light in her body flickering. One of her wings is torn, and black splinters jut from her shoulder, her leg, and her belly. Captain Crabbe immediately scoops her into his hand as Glint and Sparks zip close.
“It was the letters,” Glint gasps. “We couldn’t see them in the dark, and with the book closed, they form a barricade.”
The captain takes a bandana from around his neck and fashions a tiny hammock. He gently places Ember on it and gives the corners to her sisters. “Get ’er to Orville straightaway,” he instructs. “He’ll ken what to do.”
I turn to Jules, who is staring at the spot on the deck where Ember fell. “We almost killed a fairy,” she says woodenly. “I’m pretty sure you go straight to hell for that.”
“I think,” Captain Crabbe says, “ye may be out of luck, laddie.”
I glance up at the night sky, at the letters I can’t see that are scrawled on the paper of this book. “What beats paper?” I ask Jules.
“Scissors?” she replies.
“No,” I say, grim. “Fire.”
As we sprint through the pages to Pyro’s cave, I explain my plan to Jules. Fairies may be the strongest creatures in this story, but they couldn’t break through the letters with brute force. That means there’s no way we can break through with strength either. But letters are printed on paper, and paper burns. So all we need is a little bit of portable fire.
Jules looks impressed. “Wow. I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”
“What can I say: I’m the whole package.” We edge around the cliff toward Pyro’s cave, Jules’s hand firmly clasped in mine.
“Is that fairy going to be all right?” Jules asks.
I stop walking and look at her. “Don’t worry. Ember can’t die in here. At the very worst, the minute Oliver opens the book again, she’ll pop right back to her old self.”
“She just seemed so . . . hurt.” Jules shudders. “What if that happens to us? Will we pop right back too?”
I remember what Orville said: you play by the rules of the world you’re in. “Yes,” I tell her. “In here, you and I are invincible.”
A smile spreads across Jules’s face. “Okay. Then after we do this thing, we’re totally starting a fight club.”
A few minutes later, we reach the entrance to Pyro’s cave. The part that fell down—the book making its displeasure known—has been restored, probably with the same stubborn magic that’s got me decked out in tights. The dragon is snoring on his back, puffing smoke rings.
Jules digs her feet into the dusty ground. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“You’ve met him. He’s like a giant golden retriever.”
“It just seems like an unspoken rule: never wake a sleeping dragon.”
I glance at her. “You’re thinking of babies.” I walk up to Pyro’s colossal head to whisper in his ear. “Pyro,” I call. “Rise and shine!” My voice is drowned out by his vibrating snores. “PYRO!” I yell, louder, and he startles awake, his massive wings flying open like an umbrella. His red eye focuses on me slowly, and he bares his teeth in a terrifying grin.
“I need your help,” I explain. “Can you fly us to the top of the last page in the story?”
The giant beast nods and lowers a wing so that I can climb on. To my surprise, Jules scrambles into place behind me. “Really?” I ask.
“Oh please. How many times in my life am I gonna get to ride a dragon?”
I feel her arms tighten around my waist. Through my thin hose, I feel Pyro’s scales scratch and shift as he gets to his feet and crawls like a lizard from his cave onto the ledge.
“Hang on,” I say over my shoulder as Pyro shoots a blast of fire from his jaws, illuminating the valley below for a moment before it falls into darkness again. He leans back on his haunches and springs forward, his wings catching the wind and luffing like a sail as we lurch into the sky.
Here I am—a guy who basically lived in his room and whose friends were avatars, who was afraid of everything from gym class to social interaction—riding adragonwith a hot girl holding on to me for dear life. Finally I’m the hero.If only my mother could see me,I think.
