‘No, maybe not,’ Aura laughed. ‘This place smells amazing though, with all those flowers in full bloom.’

  ‘It’s weird that we can smell them way over here though,’ I said.

  ‘Actually, you know what?’ Aura replied. ‘I don’t think it’s the flowers. I think it’s Rosebud.’

  Unlike the Tyrannodragon Liam had unleashed, which emitted green gas rank enough it could shrivel living things, Rosebud’s green gas was so sweetly scented it made you giddy. So giddy in fact that we soon found ourselves giggling uncontrollably.

  ‘Did you see that woman’s face?’ Aura snorted. ‘When she had that mouse in her hair.’

  I howled, remembering. ‘Well, you should have seen the mother of that little girl. Her hair stuck up on end so much she looked like a cartoon character who’d been electrocuted.’

  I opened my rucksack and peered in at Zing who was now safely tucked into a section with no holes. Still chuckling, I reached down to scratch his horns, and quickly pulled my hand away with a yelp.

  ‘He bit me,’ I cried out, sucking on my finger but still laughing.

  Aura, who was trying to look concerned, but failing to smother her giggles, nearly fell over backwards when she looked at me again. She snorted so loudly it made me crack up too.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, tears streaming down my face.

  But Aura couldn’t speak she was laughing so much. Eventually she squeaked: ‘Your hair.’

  I stood up and looked in the window of the summerhouse. And I shrieked with laughter at the grinning face looking back, hair sticking up on end.

  Over the next couple of days we had a lot of fun with the dragons, especially thanks to Rosebud’s ability to reduce people to giggling wrecks with one tiny sweetly scented fart. I had a feeling she knew exactly when to use her skills for maximum effect. Not only that, but Aura also proved pretty helpful when it came to the dragon-fruit tree. The next crop had ripened much faster than I expected and as the week went on, we had more dragons hatching out in the garden.

  On Friday, as we sat on the bench watching Zing and Rosebud darting in and out of the leaves of the dragon-fruit tree, Aura said, ‘Do you want to come over to mine for tea? Papi’s making home-made tortillas with chicken pepián and his special guacamole. It’s delicious.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  I didn’t know what pepián was and I’d never tried guacamole, but Aura seemed pretty confident I’d like them. Besides, thanks to Mum’s attempts at puddings, I knew how to smile and chew. Even if swallowing sometimes took a leap of courage.

  ‘Great,’ she said. And she leaned closer. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  Aura’s house was bigger than ours, but it felt smaller. Probably because it was so full of stuff.

  ‘My parents like to collect things,’ Aura said, expertly rescuing me from falling flat on my face, as I nearly tripped over the elephant in the hallway. ‘She’s from India,’ she said, bending down to pat the elephant’s trunk. ‘There’s another one upstairs. In fact, there’s probably a whole herd somewhere in here.’

  She led me through the hall, where brightly coloured fabrics lined the walls, to the kitchen, where we found Aura’s dad sitting at the table, his head buried in a book, one hand absently squeezing limes.

  He had dark brown hair, like Aura’s. Except his was neater. Aura’s, I’d noticed, always seemed a bit preoccupied, like it was trying to find the best way off her head. A bit like mine, in fact.

  ‘Hey, Papi,’ Aura said picking up a slice of red pepper from the table and popping it into her mouth. ‘This is Tomas.’

  ‘Hola, Tomas, hola, Aurita,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid tea’ll be a bit late. You can blame Professor Diaz.’ He waved the book at us. ‘Oh, and Mamma’s got to teach this evening so it’s just us three.’

  He lifted a tea towel to reveal a tower of freshly made tortillas and handed us one each.

  ‘Have one of these to keep you going.’

  ‘Thanks,’ we chorused.

  ‘We’ll be upstairs,’ Aura said. Then she added, ‘By the way, if you hear any bangs or crashes, don’t worry. Tomas is a bit clumsy – he’s always falling over stuff.’

  I looked at her a bit shocked, but then she tipped her head very slightly towards the rucksack that I was cradling and I caught on. She was just thinking about Zing.

  We made our way upstairs, squeezing past some boxes that had been left halfway up. I noticed the walls were full of photos of seascapes and cityscapes, mountains, forests and long sandy beaches. There was even one of her parents standing somewhere that looked very like the landscape of Jurassic World.

  ‘So do you travel a lot?’

  Aura glanced up at the pictures. ‘Me? Nah. But my parents have. Mamma grew up here but she’s been all over the world. She spent a lot of time in Mexico, because that’s where my abuelo – my grandfather – came from. That’s where she met Papi too. He’s from Guatemala but Mamma bumped into him when he was travelling around Mexico. I mean, she actually bumped into him, running around a corner. After that they taught and travelled – China, Japan, Thailand, lots of places in between, and then New Zealand. That’s where I was born.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘The furthest I’ve ever been is Cornwall.’

  ‘I don’t remember it,’ she said with a shrug. ‘We left when I was really little. But Mamma and Papi have been saving up ever since we moved back to England, so we can all go on our “grand adventure” – they’re going to take me out of school for a year and teach me themselves while we travel the whole world.’

  She was suddenly buzzing again, her eyes bright and twinkling. I wasn’t sure if this was one of Aura’s slight exaggerations, like when she said she knew everything about dragons. But somehow I didn’t think so.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘I want to show you Rosebud’s garden.’

  Aura definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when it came to how much she loved dragons. I stared around at the themed bedspread and the books littering the floor, the paper dragon lampshade flying above our heads and the posters of dragons pinned between the bright wall hangings. There were dozens of her own sketches too and I peered at a few. They were mostly pictures of the same dragon – a huge rose-pink one, with four wings like a dragonfly, unleashing a burst of rainbow flames. Aura saw where I was looking and her hand shot out and tore the picture down, nearly bringing the wall hanging next to it down too.

  ‘Don’t look at those,’ she said. ‘That was before I met you and found out dragons weren’t just dreamed up in my head. Now, thanks to you, I know dragons don’t have four wings.’

  ‘Just because I’ve never seen a dragon with four wings, doesn’t mean there couldn’t be one,’ I said quickly, not wanting her to rip down any more of her drawings. ‘Every one I’ve seen has been different.’

  She looked at the picture. ‘I don’t need to dream about dragons now. I’ve got one right here.’

  Walking into Aura’s room was also a bit like venturing into one of the glasshouses at the botanic garden. Everywhere I looked there were plants in pots, all shapes from wide glossy leaves, to frilled, spiky and even palms.

  ‘I’m guessing Rosebud feels right at home,’ I said.

  Aura was at the window now. She’d pulled it open, and was dangling one leg over the sill. She beckoned me over. A little railed balcony stuck out from the wall, just big enough to stand on. Although there was hardly room to stand as it was covered in even more plants.

  ‘My amma loved gardening,’ she replied. ‘That’s my granny,’ she explained. She smiled, but it was a bit of a wobbly one. ‘I think she’d have liked your grandad.’

  I smiled too and leaned in to smell one of the flowers.

  ‘I guess I got my green fingers from her,’ she went on. ‘Which is why all the plants are in my room – I’m like the rescue centre for neglected greenery.’ She laughed.

  I had an idea. ‘Maybe you can help me with something,’ I said. And I quickly explained about the dragon-fruit seedlings and how I was struggling to keep them alive, let alone get them to thrive.

  ‘I’d be happy to take a look,’ she said eagerly. ‘How about I come round tomorrow?’

  I grinned. ‘You’re on.’

  Suddenly a leaf unfurled and Rosebud detached herself from one of the plants and fluttered onto Aura’s outstretched hand. She stared down at the little dragon, her head tilting from side to side in time with the dragon’s.

  ‘Perhaps you should let Zing out for a fly,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised you’ve managed to get him to stay in your bag this long.’

  She had a point.

  ‘He’s been sleepy all day,’ I said, as I opened the bag and peered in, finding him still lying curled up at the bottom.

  ‘Maybe he’s just worn out,’ Aura said. ‘Or hungry.’

  I lifted him out and laid him carefully on Aura’s bed. ‘I just wish I knew what he likes to eat,’ I said. ‘I hate not being able to look after him properly.’

  Zing stretched his wings slowly and hopped half-heartedly along the bed and up onto the headboard. He turned his head, as if he was scanning the room for something. Then suddenly he launched forward, tumbling rather than flying, and landed in a basket by the door that was overflowing with clothes.

  He started burrowing into the clothes, until all we could see was the zigzag tip of his tail. Aura ran forward and hastily grabbed a pair of pants that Zing had flung out when he landed.

  ‘What on earth’s he doing?’ she said.

  Zing was thrashing about now in the laundry basket, sending socks and another pair of pants flying. Every so often his head or one wing would appear before vanishing again. The basket started to rock as the clothes were tossed and churned. Finally the rocking stopped and Zing hopped onto the rim of the basket. His sapphire eye was sparkling and the silver threads on his wings flared brightly.

  If I’d been a cartoon character, at that moment a light bulb would have flared just as brightly above my head.

  ‘Zapow!’ I shrieked, making Aura jump in alarm. ‘I think I finally understand why Zing doesn’t like jam kippers.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone likes jam kippers,’ Aura replied. ‘And anyway, isn’t it “Eureka”, not “Zapow”?’

  I laughed. ‘Lolli had the answer all the time. Remember when I thought Zing had bitten me. All my hair stood on end, didn’t it? What if it wasn’t a bite? What if it was like a little electric shock? Like when you walk on a carpet and then touch something and get a zap.’ I suddenly pictured the woman at the garden centre and also Mum, Dad and Lolli with their hair on end.

  ‘You mean static electricity?’

  ‘Exactly! What if he doesn’t eat like the other dragons? What if he’s actually charging up like a battery?’

  Aura looked back at the laundry basket.

  ‘You do get static from rubbing material,’ she said.

  ‘I’d always thought he was just having trouble sorting out his massive wings, but maybe he was actually charging himself up on the carpet. And he’s always wriggling about in that pile of jumpers and socks under my bed.’

  ‘Hang on, let’s see if you’re right,’ she said excitedly. ‘Woolly jumpers are the best things for static, aren’t they?’

  She rummaged in her cupboard and flung various things in my direction. I made a cosy nest for Zing and lowered him into it. He wriggled down into the material, and then wriggled some more. With every movement, the silver threads on his back and wings flared a little brighter. And then brighter. His wriggling sped up. Then suddenly he launched up into the air like a miniature rocket.

  He started zipping around the room and in and out of the window over the little balcony of flowers. Then he circled back around and landed on the table next to Aura’s bed. He hopped onto the radio alarm clock, which buzzed and blared out a few bars of a pop song before suddenly cutting out.

  As Zing sped over to Aura’s hairdryer, I let out another ‘Zapow!’.

  ‘That’s why at the garden centre he raced right over to all those remote-control toys. He must have been draining their charge, sucking on them like we suck on a sweet.’

  The hairdryer Zing was perching on blasted out hot air and then with a fizzle abruptly stopped working.

  ‘And that must be why the TV blew and Dad’s been having problems with the food mixer and the other electrics in the house. It’s all been Zing!’

  ‘I guess this is his equivalent of being let loose in a sweet shop!’ Aura laughed as Zing spotted a remote-controlled helicopter on her toy shelf.

  Zing’s scales shone electric blue and the silver threads along his body pulsed. The air began to crackle around him. And then, without warning, what looked like a mini lightning bolt shot out of his open mouth.

  The bolt made a fair-sized scorch mark on a patch of Aura’s carpet.

  ‘Wow! Did he just belch lightning?!’

  ‘I think so!’ I cried. ‘He’s never done that before.’

  ‘Maybe he just needed to let one out, like a burp,’ Aura giggled.

  Zing launched up into the air and started zipping back and forth above us. Let’s just say it was a good job Aura had told her dad not to worry about bangs and crashes. There was a lot of stuff to avoid in Aura’s room, and Zing wasn’t missing anything!

  He seemed to be getting faster and faster at flying too. We only had to turn our backs for a second, usually to check one of the mini lightning bolts hadn’t actually burned a hole in anything, to find he’d disappeared and was perching on a shelf at the other side of the room.

  Rosebud’s little puffs of green fart didn’t help. In fact they seemed to send Zing into even more dizzying aerial acrobatics.

  When Aura’s dad called up the stairs that tea was ready, I was mid-dive, an arm outstretched to catch a photo Zing had just knocked off Aura’s wall.

  ‘Good save,’ Aura said with obvious relief. ‘I’d hate that to get zapped by lightning. It’s too precious.’

  I glanced at the picture before handing it to her.

  ‘That’s my abuelo, Miguel, outside his family’s house in Mexico. He died when Mamma was about my age so I never met him. We don’t have many pictures of him.’

  Putting the photo safely out of harm’s way, we quickly tidied up anything Zing might use to charge himself up.

  ‘Do you think he’ll be OK while we go and have tea?’ she asked, looking nervously at the chaos he’d already unleashed on her room.

  ‘How fast can you eat?’ I said.

  As it turned out we could both eat super-fast. Probably because her dad was a really good cook and she had been absolutely right about the food being delicious.

  When we got back to Aura’s room, Zing had thankfully settled down. Rosebud was perched on the headboard, peering at him, while he lay curled on Aura’s pillow.

  We sat cross-legged on the floor, drinking steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and started leafing through the many books Aura had collected. As I downed the last mouthful, a little dragon stared back at me. It was curled around the bottom of the inside of the mug, like the dragon in the pot in Grandad’s shed, the one he kept his gardening bits in.

  ‘You really do like dragons,’ I said, waving the mug at her.

  She grinned back, wiping the chocolate from her lips.

  Rosebud fluttered over and landed on her leg. The little dragon stretched herself out, and wrapped her wings around Aura’s knee, clinging to her. After a minute Zing lifted his head and, seeing us, flew over and landed – with a slightly undignified bump – in my lap. He turned in little circles for a while, but couldn’t seem to get himself, or his massive wings, comfy. And his claws were treading painfully into my legs, making me wriggle too.

  I thought he’d given up when he launched back into the air, but then he flew round behind me and landed on my back. My jumper pulled as he clawed himself higher. Eventually he stretched out his wings so that they lay across the top of my shoulders and his head, tipped to one side, rested over my neck. And that’s where he stayed, quite happily. Moving gently up and down as I breathed.

  On the way home, Zing flitted from street lamp to street lamp above me. He flew ahead and paused on each one, timing it just right so that as I reached it, the lamp flared brightly. It was as if I was walking out onto a stage and he was there waiting to shine a spotIight on me.

  When I lay in bed that night, Zing making the air around me crackle, I dreamed of playing with him in Grandad’s garden, among the other hatching dragons; running between the fruit trees, bare feet on grass, warm under the sun; laughing as he darted between branches, disappearing and then reappearing to ambush me.

  When I woke from the dream in the morning and discovered Zing had wriggled in next to my feet, I couldn’t help smiling.

  After a good sleep and with renewed hope that Aura would be able to offer some advice when she came over later, I jumped out of bed to shower the seedlings with worm poo. As my hand reached for the bag though, I felt my stomach drop.

  ‘Oh no,’ I whispered.

  I grabbed the first little pot and desperately tried to prop up the withered seedling it contained. My eyes raced to the next one. It was also lying forlorn and shrivelled. One by one I took them all in, desperation rising through me in a great whoosh that threatened to blast all the hair off my head. Eleven pots. Eleven shrivelled dragon-fruit plants. They were all dead. Not one single seedling had survived.

  I needed Aura. Maybe they just looked dead, and she – or even Rosebud – could do something to revive them?

  I charged down the hall and barrelled into Lolli’s room. ‘Lolli, I need to go and get Aura right now. Can you keep an eye on Zing for me?’

  She nodded fiercely and then stood to attention, giving me a salute that nearly poked her eye out. ‘I make him some bekkiefast if he wakes up.’

  I quickly explained about Zing’s unusual eating habits and the way he was charging himself up.

 

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