Talker 25 Read Free Page A

me away from the hill.
    “Dad, let go. You’re hurting me.”
    “I can’t believe you did this.”
    I shake free. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Really? This came into our system a few minutes ago. I expected more from you, Melissa Anne,” he says through clenched teeth, a dark hue spreading up his neck into his cheeks. He thrusts his tablet at my face.
    Two dozen headless action figures—some standing wedged into the ground with arms akimbo, the rest kneeling with hands in prayer—are arranged in a semicircle facing Old Man Blue. Toy dragons of various colors loom behind each miniature soldier. I’ve seen some sold at Walmart, but except for the Green with its neck arched in attack mode, I don’t remember any coming with crimson driblets painted around their mouths.
    To make matters worse, I’m on top of Old Man Blue. Arms crossed, sunglasses on, lips pursed, I appear quite menacing, like a judge who found the soldiers guilty and ordered their decapitation via dragon. My two farmboy sidekicks have been removed.
    Konrad can be a jerk sometimes, but I can’t see him doing something like this. That leaves Preston, a recent transfer to MK High who I’d never really hung out with until last night. He must have gone back to the rez to play some stupid joke on me. Set up some toys, take a picture, blend it with the earlier one, put the doctored version on the net. Now themilitary’s found it, and I look like some hardcore sympathizer or even an insurgent.
    No wonder Dad’s pissed.
    “Preston must have set me up, Dad. Honestly, I didn’t know.”
    “You need to find new friends, Melissa.” He shakes his head. “You know what? You’re going to clean it up. Wait here while I get a trash bag.”
    “Whatever. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I start toward the hill, but he grabs me before I’ve gone two feet.
    “Where do you think you’re going, missy? You don’t go near the old man without me.”
    “You wanna put me on a leash?”
    The redness reaches his temples. He’s beginning to resemble a beret-wearing lollipop. “Don’t push it,” he says in that deathly quiet voice he normally reserves for Sam. “Wait here.”
    When he’s past the fire pit, I give him the finger, turn around, and march right up Dragon Hill.
    The scene at the summit is identical to the one on Dad’s tablet, minus me and one headless toy soldier. Old Man Blue appears to be asleep.
    “Hello,” I whisper. No response. I step around the decapitated soldiers. “Old Man?”
    The Blue remains silent. I try a few more times. Nothing.Maybe it was just another prank. Preston had one of his buddies hiding behind a boulder or something, eager to mess with the girl afraid of dragons. How come Trish and Konrad didn’t hear anything then? How did they open its eyes?
    How did they read my mind?
    I’m kicking the toys into a pile when a shift in the shadows alerts me I’m no longer alone.
    Not Dad. I cover my eyes against the sun but still can’t make out more than an outline of the figure beside Old Man Blue. The trench coat makes me thinks it’s Preston or one of his farmboy friends.
    “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” I say.
    “One of them?” There’s amusement in the question. The voice is unfamiliar.
    “Better scat before Colonel Callahan comes back and rips you a new one.”
    “Will he now, Melissa?”
    I squint at him. “Do I know you?”
    “No, Melissa.”
    “You know my name. Good for you. And you are?” I look over my shoulder. Dad’s at the edge of the fire pit. A minute ago I never wanted to see him again. Now he can’t get here soon enough.
    “James.” The voice pulls my attention back to the farmboy.
    He emerges from the shadows. The farmboy in front of me looks like no farmboy I’ve ever seen.
    Bronzed skin. Sweeping black hair. A slightly crooked nose, probably broken a couple of times. A strong jawline. And to top it all off, blue eyes that burn with