Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace Page 12

  After a few seconds, Catherine roared—not as loudly or well as Ned—and pounded the ground.

  For a second nothing happened. The smoke dissipated. Jennifer was just about to ask what Catherine did wrong, when the pebbles suddenly began to shift, and out popped a tiny black and yellow box turtle. Without hesitation, it scurried to the cover of its mistress’s left wing.

  “Oh!” Catherine herself seemed surprised at the result. “He’s so cute! I love box turtles. Oh, Ned, will I always get him?”

  “Love at first sight,” chortled Jennifer. Catherine stuck out her forked tongue.

  “There are ways t’get th’ same ’un back.” Ned nodded. “Assumin’ you don’t get ’em killed.”

  “Killed?” Catherine gasped. “How would that happen?”

  “We use them in war,” Jennifer guessed.

  Ned nodded again. Catherine’s olive skin paled.

  “But you can’t . . . I won’t . . .”

  “Oh, Catherine, no one expects Boxy here to sail into battle. But Gila monsters could, right Ned?”

  “And snakes. Snakes’re best for fightin’. They’re fast. Poisonous. Take stuff personal. Your turtle there, Cat . . . heeza good-lookin’ fella . . . prob’ly a family man . . . we won’t draft ’im just yet.”

  His easygoing smile calmed Catherine a bit, and Jennifer stepped up to take her turn.

  She let the smoke flow from her nose and mouth. It built up quickly and covered the ground around her wing claws. She realized in a panic that her foreclaws were not anywhere as muscular as Catherine’s or Ned’s. I’ll have to make up for it in the vocals, she told herself. Her tail twitched nervously.

  A deep breath later, she let loose with the most ferocious roar she could manage. The noise blasted off the cavern walls and hurt her own ears. Ignoring the pain, she rolled up her tiny clawfingers and brought her fist down upon the cave floor.

  To her utter astonishment and dismay, a pygmy owl fluttered out of the scattering smoke. With a panicked hoot and flurry of feathers, it scrambled up to her shoulder and buried its small but exceedingly sharp talons into her collarbone.

  Jennifer tried not to wince in pain and embarrassment as she turned to Catherine, who looked ready to bust a gut laughing, and Ned, who seemed unimpressed.

  “Okay, see, I have no idea where that came from. . . .”

  The new moon came, and then another crescent quickly after that. About two and a half weeks would pass before the moon would shift again into its peculiar shape, and Jennifer into hers. As Thanksgiving approached, Jennifer found herself more and more accustomed to life on the farm, whether in the shape of dragon or girl.

  Most of the dragons would leave the farm before they changed back to their human form. Surprisingly, one didn’t leave—Joseph Skinner, the young creeper who took Mullery’s camouflage lessons with Jennifer. Without much explanation, he set up in one of Grandpa Crawford’s guest rooms, and his host did not argue at all, or ask questions.

  “You’ll find,” he explained to her privately, “that every once in a while, a young weredragon will show up with no roots. I’ve heard a bit about this boy’s background, Niffer, and I’m not surprised he’ll be staying with us. This isn’t just a refuge for our kind during crescent moons, you know. It’s a haven every day, of every week, for as long as I own this cabin. That’s my duty.”

  Jennifer thought of Skip, and his moving to Winoka with his father after his mother died. “What’s Joseph’s story? Doesn’t he have any family to go back to?”

  “That’s none of your business, or mine,” he chastised. “It’s enough that he wants to stay. There’s room enough at the Thanksgiving table for all, no worries about that!”

  That didn’t satisfy Jennifer completely, but Thanksgiving reminded her of something else. “Catherine told me before she left that her grandmother’s still hearing rumors from the dragonflies. Something’s supposed to happen sometime after Thanksgiving. But you didn’t seem to think much of her predictions a while ago.”

  Crawford slumped down onto a sitting room couch and rubbed at his fringe of white hair. “True, but I’ve heard a lot since. And I was more worried the first time than I let on, I suppose. Winona Brandfire’s no fool, and she doesn’t pass on news unless she thinks it’s for real. What else have you heard?”

  “Something plans to attack Crescent Valley. Something that doesn’t belong.”

  He looked thoughtful. “And does that bother you?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t even know what Crescent Valley is. And no one will tell me for fifty freaking morphs!”

  “Forty-seven, now. Crescent Valley doesn’t open itself up to just anyone, Niffer. You have to earn your way in. And there’s no sense in telling you what it’s about until you’re ready to go there. The venerables wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Okay, see, that’s the sort of thing that drives me nuts about you. I ask about one thing, and you bring up something else I’ve never heard of. What’s a venerable?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, Niffer. It’s just going to take some time. In any case, those rumors sound like the same thing I’m hearing. Something plans to come, maybe to Crescent Valley and maybe not. Maybe it plans to come here. In any case, we’ve all got to keep our eyes open, in all phases of the moon.”

  “Beaststalkers?” she said breathily.

  “Could be. Ned and some of the others, they’ve sent lizard scouts out around the ruins of Eveningstar, and other places. Something’s gathering again. Hard to say who or what. Not friendly, though. Some of the elders think it may be looking for the Ancient Furnace again.”

  “The Ancient Furnace? But that was lost long ago—and it’s just a story anyway. Why would anyone think it’s here, or in Crescent Valley? Wouldn’t we have found it by now if it was?”

  “They don’t care if we’ve found it or not. Wherever our enemies think it is, they’ll go. A few elders also believe now that it was rumor of the Ancient Furnace years ago that attracted the werachnids to Eveningstar.” He sighed. “How’re your skills coming along?”

  She welcomed the change of subject. “I can do tree bark and nest mix pretty well. And Alex says he’s never seen a new dragon tailshock so well. I can flick a beetle off a leaf as I fly by!”

  “Great! And how about lizard-calling?”

  Jennifer’s smile disappeared. “Oh. That’s going all right. Catherine’s been getting blue-tongued skinks pretty regular, now. And she even managed a hinge-back tortoise before she left.”

  “And you?”

  She brushed her hair to one side and poked at the couch cushion. “Well, at least the owls stopped coming. But I can’t get much more than a Jaragua, no matter how much smoke I make, or how hard I pound my fist.”

  “A jaguar?!?”

  She sighed. “Jaragua. They’re these lizards so small that they can fit on a quarter. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of them—only someone who sucks as much as I do can summon one.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Niffer. Most dragons can’t cross skills at all. You’ve got two and a half so far. Plus your fire-breathing is solid, your flying is second nature, and I’ve seen you turf-whomping and fishing. You’re really catching on.”

  “I guess.” She gave him a look. “You’ve watched me turf-whomp? What’re you doing spying on me, anyway? Did Dad put you up to it?”

  He diplomatically ignored the question. “You hear from your dad yet this week?”

  “Not yet.” Her father had called every couple of days to check in. The conversations were always brief, but friendly enough. What Catherine had told Jennifer about wanting to see her own parents made more sense as time went on. “I kinda miss him, and Mom.”

  “Hang in there. Thanksgiving’s only a couple days away. They’ll be proud of your progress. Maybe you’ll decide go back home with them for a while.”

  “Maybe. I bet they’ll drive me nuts in ten minutes.”

  It was actually more like three and
a half, Jennifer mused Thanksgiving morning as she slumped in the cabin’s dining room, back in dragon form. After hugs and kisses from both parents, and a satisfying slobber from Phoebe, her father asked how she was doing. When she made the colossal mistake of telling him, he wouldn’t rest until he gave her an array of pointers on how to make better smoke, and pound harder, and a bunch of other stuff she felt was pointless since her father wasn’t a trampler and had never summoned a lizard in his life.

  True, the father who had left her on the cabin porch weeks ago had been uncharacteristically curt that day. But at least she had gotten in a word edgewise!

  Elizabeth was more reserved than usual. Perhaps it was the presence of a virtual stranger the entire day—Joseph was polite to his hosts, though not much of a conversationalist. Or maybe it was because she was the only one not in dragon form. But it was plain to Jennifer that her mother had missed her. The older woman remarked occasionally about the crescent moon, and how it wouldn’t wane enough for a few days for everyone to change back. Then she would look at Jennifer with obvious longing for her daughter’s human face.

  Thanksgiving night she lay in bed. The thought of changing back to her boring bipedal form raised mixed feelings. She both dreaded it and yearned for it, sort of the way she felt about carrying on with high school this year.

  Then she remembered that for her, the change was even worse: School was probably over forever. What on earth would come next?

  With that unanswered thought, she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  Geddy

  “Home at last!” she crooned, stepping dramatically through the front door to her own house back in Winoka. They had waited out the next crescent moon up at the farm, and it was a good week into December. So many things seemed so long ago. She almost felt newly born again—her human limbs weren’t as weak or clumsy as they had been after her first morph, now over two months ago.

  “Hey, where’s the sullen teenager we’ve grown to love?” her mother teased softly.

  “I’ve eaten her, because I’m starved. When’s dinner?”

  “As soon as your father can get it on the table.”

  Jonathan started for the kitchen. Jennifer went to the office computer to check emails. There were over a hundred for her.

  They missed me! she thought with a warm glow, recognizing several of her school friends’ addresses. She settled in for a comfortable hour of writing back.

  It didn’t take long for her good mood to evaporate. What on earth would she tell these guys? That she could summon an owl by slapping her wing on dirt? That skin camouflage was best mastered first thing in the morning, when she was freshest? They wanted details on her “hospital stay,” but Jennifer had never been to a hospital as a patient—only to see her mother at work.

  She discussed the problem with her mother, who looked thoughtful. “Tell them you’re glad to be back, the food sucked, and the doctor was really cute but talks too much.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a lot to say.”

  “Honey, that’s all they want to know.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. But isn’t this lying?”

  Elizabeth kept an even expression. “You are glad to be back; you said it yourself. The food does suck at the hospital—I can vouch for that. And there’s this cute new surgical intern there who likes to flirt over head traumas—”

  “All right, all right, it’s all true, just please don’t say anymore.”

  Returning to school the next day brought two bits of good news to Jennifer: First, the animal shapes were gone. There were no more Canada geese drifting through the school hallways, or horses galloping through the gymnasium. Her eyes let her see everyone as their normal self.

  The second bit of good news was that her mother had been right: Vague statements were enough for her friends. Eddie and Skip had warm greetings for her, accepted her fumbling explanations without a blink, then instantly dived back into the complicated morasses of their own lives. They had missed Jennifer, but her peers were just as self-absorbed as she was. Probably just as well, she thought.

  She wondered if she would have noticed that sort of thing before that first crescent moon.

  Susan also seemed ready to be friends again. Jennifer knew this when Susan announced, “Okay, so, I’m ready to be friends again.”

  “Huh?” They were in study hall, ten minutes before the bell would ring and free them. Jennifer had been half-asleep, shading in sketches of the pigs and sheep she hoped she’d never see again. Suddenly, she came to full attention. “Hey, did you just say we’re friends again?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Just don’t blow me off again . . . and try to stay off the drugs, okay?”

  “Hilarious. Your future is in comedy.”

  “I mean it, Jenny. Just—keep it together, okay?”

  Jennifer ignored the nickname. “You don’t react well to change,” she observed, not unkindly.

  Susan wiped her eyes. “I just want things back to normal.”

  Jennifer looked at her friend sadly. Things had changed, and Susan’s clinging to the past was only part of what bothered her. She realized with a start that in some ways she felt closer to Catherine, a high school junior who thrilled at every new lizard she called, than to Susan, who hadn’t really changed since they were six.

  Later, on the school’s front steps, Skip bounded up to them with his usual alarming energy, flirted outrageously, and had her and Susan talked into a trip to the local fudge shop when Eddie wandered up.

  “Fudge run, Eddie? C’mon, I’m buying. How ’bout a half pound of peanut butter marble chip marshmallow swirl?”

  “Ugh, have another ingredient!” Susan spat.

  “Well, he wasn’t offering it to you,” Eddie said. He turned back to Skip. “I’m ready for that mission!”

  “Well, come on, ladies—you, too, Susan. If we don’t get there quick, those rat bastards from the basketball team will have hogged it all.”

  “You just call them that because they lose, lose, lose. They need Jennifer on their team,” Susan suggested. It was an obvious ploy at flattery, which Jennifer didn’t mind at all.

  They trooped down the steps, and Jennifer blushed when Skip threw his arm around her waist. Since he was flirting with Susan and tormenting Eddie at the same time, she decided it was just a friendly gesture and made no move to throw him off.

  Besides, it was nice. And he smelled great.

  A squeal of brakes interrupted her internal musing, and she looked up in time to see Eddie’s father pull up beside the curb in the familiar brown pickup. He leaned over and bawled through the open window, “Ed! Shake a leg, boy. Training!”

  They all stopped and stared at the stern face, which was redder and bulgier than ever. When Mr. Blacktooth caught sight of Jennifer, and then Skip’s arm around her waist, his head quietly shifted from red to purple, and his cheeks looked like they might burst.

  Uh-oh, Jennifer thought wryly, I’ve tainted Skip.

  “Aw, geez, Dad, we were just gonna make for the—”

  “Edward James Blacktooth! NOW!”

  “Bye.” With that sullen word, Eddie broke away from their little group, trotted to the car, and climbed in without looking back. As the car roared off, Skip spoke first. “Yeouch! Wonder what ‘training’ means?”

  Susan sniffed. “Probably some anal-retentive lawn-mowing exercise. Mr. Blacktooth freaks out over everything. You know him, he’s a total jerk. If my father acted like that, I’d ditch and go to my grandparents’.”

  “My father gets upset sometimes,” Skip offered quietly. “But he knows not to push me too far. Not since Mom . . .”

  Jennifer, who caught Skip’s discomfort at the mention of family again, brought them back on track. “Come on, guys. The fudge won’t come to us.”

  More subdued now, the three of them left the school grounds. Skip’s arm slipped from Jennifer’s waist. But before she could feel bad about that, she felt his fingers poke at her palm. She grasped his hand back.
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  The new kid had been there for her in Mr. Blacktooth’s truck. And outside Mr. Pool’s office. And drawing sketches in her room. And now, he was there for her more than anyone else was. Even Eddie. It made her happy, and also a little sad somehow.

  “You should come over for dinner sometime with me and my dad.” It was the next day. Jennifer and Skip were coming out of Ms. Graf’s class after a deadening slide show on the anatomy of crabs, lobsters, and scorpions.

  “Huh?”

  “Dinner. You know. What you eat at night.”

  “Yeah, I know dinner. I mean, why?”

  “Because if you wait long enough after lunch, you get hungry. You wanna come over tonight or what?” To Jennifer, he appeared nervous and annoyed.

  “Is this, like, a date?”

  “I dunno. I guess.” Skip was sweating, his cocky expression replaced by something Jennifer had never seen before in him—fear. “You don’t have to come to our house, if you don’t want. We could all go out somewhere, like the food court at the mall.”

  “Your dad wants to meet me at the mall?” Part of Jennifer knew it was cruel to do this to Skip, but she had to admit she was enjoying it. She just had to be careful he wouldn’t withdraw the offer completely—she did want to go.

  “I’ve told him about you, and he wants to meet you. He’s still a bit weird about me dating, since my mom . . . um . . .”

  “Sure, I’ll go.” Jennifer was embarrassed at the mention of Skip’s late mother. She hadn’t meant to press him that far. “The mall sounds fine. I need to check with my parents when I get home. I’ll call you tonight.”

  Both Mother and Father approved and, in fact, seemed relieved at her request.

  “It’s good to see you going out with friends again,” Jonathan explained. “Do you want one of us to go with you? I wouldn’t mind meeting this boy—”

  “This is going to be stressful enough,” Jennifer interrupted. “Another parent there would kill me.”

  “I’m just not sure you should do this alone—”