The Dragon's Descent (8 page)

“I'm sorry,” Vero cried.

His parents pulled him into them and hugged him tightly. All three sat on the steps in a tangled ball of arms.

“I'm sorry,” Vero said between sobs. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's just a gallon of milk,” Nora said. “It's no big deal. I'll send Clover next door to the Atwoods to get a cup.”

Dennis placed his hands around Vero's ears, and looked him head on. “Vero, listen to me. I've told you a hundred times before . . . there's no point in crying over spilled milk.” He chuckled, worry lines creasing his forehead.

Vero couldn't help but to laugh through his tears. One day, he would miss even his dad's bad jokes.

Tack and Vero sat in the school cafeteria eating lunch with Nate Hollingsworth. Each had a tray of food on the table
in front of them. Tack stuck his beefy index finger into Nate's mashed potatoes.

“Are you gonna eat those?” Tack asked while poking his finger around.

“Not after your disgusting finger's been in 'em . . . I saw you pick your nose earlier.” Nate's prominent Adam's apple bounced up and down in annoyance.

Nate had always had huge feet, and it was only now that he had grown into them. He was even taller than Tack, and at times Vero had mistaken Nate for a teacher from behind.

“Great, I'll take 'em.” Tack pulled out his finger and licked it.

As Tack grabbed his spoon and scooped the buttery potatoes from Nate's tray onto his own, Davina walked over with Missy Baker, whose white-blonde hair was unmistakable.

“Can we sit with you guys?” Missy asked the boys. “Danny's being a real jerk to Davina.”

Vero looked across the cafeteria and watched as Danny angrily sulked to a table and sat with a group of jocks.

“Yeah, sure,” Vero said.

“Davina went to sit with him, like she does every day, but get this . . . He said he was sitting with those other jerks.” Missy nodded to the group of jocks.

“He was being rude to you the other day when we got off the bus,” Tack said through a mouthful of Nate's mashed potatoes.

“Did you two have a fight?” Vero asked Davina as she scooted in with Missy.

Davina shook her head.

“Please . . . Davina doesn't fight with anyone,” Missy said admiringly. “It's like she's a saint.”

It was true. Vero had never seen Davina have any cross words with anyone. For that matter, she never had a bone to pick with anyone. She was a nice person to the core.

“You gonna eat that?” Tack asked Missy as he stuck his finger into her dinner roll.

“You jerk! Actually, I
was
going to ask if anyone wanted it,” she yelled, slapping his hand away. Missy picked up her roll, dropped it to the floor, smashed it with her shoe, then handed it to Tack. “Here you go. You can have it.” Her hazel eyes narrowed.

Tack eyed the flattened roll, then looked at the floor, and back to the roll; Vero couldn't believe he was actually considering it. Davina handed Tack her dinner roll.

“Just take mine,” Davina said.

“Thanks,” Tack replied as he shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

Nate flashed him a disgusted look.

“What do you think is up with Danny?” Vero asked Davina.

After all, Vero was Danny's guardian angel, so he had to be interested in what was going on with his future charge.

“Don't know.” Davina shrugged. “I asked him and he won't tell me.”

It didn't make any sense to Vero. He knew that Danny was crazy about Davina. She had such a positive influence on him. It would be a shame if Danny cut her out of his life.

“I could ask him,” Vero said to Davina.

“Dude, if he won't tell Davina, he's definitely not about to tell you,” Tack said, chunks of bread stuck between his teeth.

Tack was probably right. Danny had hated Vero since way back in the sixth grade, when Davina had been new to the school. Back then, Vero had the biggest crush on her. Problem was, so had Danny. But last year, Vero felt that he had made some inroads. A rumor had been going around that Danny was the one who'd destroyed the gym. Vero had refused to believe the rumors. Even though he was confused by it, Danny had really appreciated Vero's support, so maybe he would now confide in Vero.

“Thanks, but just let it go for now,” Davina told Vero.

Vero nodded.

“How's your volunteering going?” Missy asked the boys.

“Great,” Nate said. “It's a lot of fun.”

“You are not volunteering!” Tack said.

“Of course I am!” Nate yelled.

“You're working at a place called Puppy Love,” Tack said. “Your job is to play with puppies all day!”

“I also have to pick up their poop! And puppies eat a lot, so they poop a lot.”

“Get real. You're not dealing with life-and-death situations like Vero and me down at the hospital.”

“What life and death? You hand out magazines and coloring books.” Nate rolled his eyes.

“Oh, really? You think that's all we do?” Tack asked.

“No, they probably let you wash the dirty bedpans.” Nate now full-out laugh-snorted.

“Yeah.” Missy laughed along.

“Very funny. For your information, Vero here properly diagnosed some baby as being tongue-tied, and he knew when a man was about to flatline even before the doctors did,” Tack said proudly, puffing out his chest. “He ran and got the man's son, and he was right there when it happened.”

“Is that true?” Davina turned to Vero.

“Well, sort of . . .” Vero stammered.

“That's pretty awesome,” Missy said.

“I think Vero's on his way to becoming the most famous doctor since Dr. J.” Tack slapped Vero's back.

“Dr. J was a basketball player in the seventies, you idiot,” Nate said, shaking his head.

Tack held up a card to a curly redheaded little boy wearing Spiderman pajamas. He and Vero were playing with several kids in the children's playroom at the hospital. The room was decorated with bright, colorful wallpaper of circus scenes. The boys and kids sat on a red rug with a yellow circle pattern on its edges.

“Is this your card?” Tack asked the boy.

The boy shook his head.

Tack pulled out another one and held it up.

“Is this one your card?”

“No,” the boy said with a laugh.

“How about this one?” Tack flashed another card.

The boy shook his head. Tack flashed card after card.

“This?”

“No.”

“This?”

“No.”

“It's gotta be this one, right?” Tack asked, holding up the Jack of Hearts.

The boy's baby-blue eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

“Yes! Tack the Magnificent strikes again!” Tack said to his audience.

“But you went through half of the deck,” a seven-year-old girl in a pink bathrobe protested.

“That's called ‘creating suspense.' ” Tack smirked.

“You're crazy,” the girl said through a chortle.

“I'm crazy? You think I'm the crazy one?” Tack asked as he leaned over her.

“Yeah.” She giggled.

“You're the crazy one, storing quarters in your ear . . .” Tack proceeded to pull a quarter from the back of her ear. Then a second, then a third.

The girl, along with the rest of the kids, smiled, astonished.

“Tack the Magnificent.” Vero chuckled under his breath.

“Can you do any tricks?” a girl hooked up to an oxygen tank asked Vero, her breathing labored.

“Not really.”

“Me either.” She sighed. “But if I could, I wish I could fly.”

“Really?” Vero asked, his curiosity piqued.
Was she a fledgling?

“I always felt like I could,” the girl said. “If it weren't for this oxygen tank . . .”

“Then you could sail through the endless blue skies, breathing in the pure white clouds that billow past your face,” Vero said dreamily. “Over rivers so crystal clear, that from half a mile up you can make out every single stone in the riverbed, and over fields of wildflowers so brightly colored, you'd need to squint your eyes. Feeling weightless . . .”

Vero then realized that he'd gotten carried away. He abruptly stopped speaking. Tack gave him a curious look and said, “Wow, guys . . . looks like we found who the real crazy one is in here!”

Vero blushed. Nora walked in the room, interrupting them.

“Boys, back to your rounds,” she told Vero and Tack.

“Okay, Mom,” Vero replied as he stood.

“No, stay,” the kids protested.

The girl approached Nora, dragging her oxygen tank. “You're Vero's mom?”

“Yes.”

“Vero was telling us about flying. Did he ever fly?”

Nora began to shift uncomfortably. “Of course not.”

“He tried once.” Tack chuckled. “He jumped off the roof of his house . . .”

“Tack, get to work!” Nora's eyes insistently darted toward the door.

“Really?” the girl asked, wide-eyed.

“He fell, and nearly broke both his legs,” Nora adamantly stated. “He did not
fly
.”

Nora locked eyes with Vero. He knew his mother was upset. Anything that reminded her that he was different troubled her greatly. She did not know that he was a guardian angel, but she had always known there was something otherworldly about her son, and Vero knew it scared her. So he quickly crossed over to Tack and pulled him by the arm and led him out, waving good-bye to the kids.

“Now it's time for Tack the Magnificent to make himself disappear!”

The hospitality cart was waiting up against the wall in the hallway. Tack stepped behind it and began to push it while Vero walked alongside it. As they wheeled forward they came past a petite woman standing next to a stretcher. Vero recognized his next-door neighbor.

“Mrs. Atwood,” he said, with a curious tone.

He looked down at the stretcher. He saw Mr. Atwood asleep.

“Hello, Vero,” Mrs. Atwood said, then glanced over to Tack. “Hello, Thaddeus.”

“Hi.”

“Is Mr. Atwood okay?” Vero asked, as worry lines formed across his forehead.

“He's fine. He's just coming out of surgery. We're waiting for a room.”

Mrs. Atwood saw the look of concern on Vero's face. She leaned into the boys.

“Hemorrhoids. He'll be fine,” she whispered.

Tack chuckled. Vero elbowed him.

“We're going home later today.”

“Would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?” Vero asked.

“No, thanks, but that chocolate bar looks good.”

Tack handed Mrs. Atwood the candy bar. Mr. Atwood groaned.

“He's in and out of it,” she said.

Mr. Atwood's eyes fluttered. Vero stepped over to him.

“He's waking up!” Vero said.

Mr. Atwood's eyes opened. As his head turned to Vero, his eyes went wide and his heart monitor began to spike.

“Hi, Mr. Atwood.” Vero smiled.

Tack also leaned over his head and smiled at him.