The dragon’s historic reveal in 1743 marked the first recorded Bond between a dragon and a Regular. That dragon had been a Scottish Golden Horn. Dozens of other Golden Horns were born that same year, along with Irish Spikes and British Fire Drakes. All had Bonded with Regulars just hours after their births. 1743 is considered the beginning of a blended society that allowed for magical and non-magical beings to coexist under the protection of the same laws. However, there are those who still wonder whether dragons are worth trusting.
—Excerpt from Carlos Torres’s Studying the Bond Between Dragons & Humans
CHAPTER TWO
THE INTERNATIONAL BLAZEWRATH FEDERATION HASN’T CANCELED my meeting.
I keep refreshing the email on my phone, careful not to flash the screen at Mom on the drive to Aunt Jenny’s house. No new messages. No posts on social media. I squeeze the back of my neck. Maybe I’m overreacting? The Sire can’t cancel the Cup. As long as the IBF is open to seeing me, my dream might still come true.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mom asks me from the driver’s seat of her Buick. “Do you need me to put those Monster X boys on the radio?”
“Oh God, not again,” Samira whines in the back. She’s clutching her broken Copper wand like a long-lost friend.
“It’s Monsta X, Mom. Not Monster X.” I’m not even cheering up at the prospect of K-pop. Who the hell have I become? “It’s okay if you want to listen to the radio. I can’t focus.”
She nods solemnly. “Neither can I, honey, but that beast isn’t going to ruin today for us. We need to stay positive for Todd. He won’t turn seventeen twice, after all.”
I stifle a groan. “Mm-hmm …”
Mom parks in Aunt Jenny’s driveway, which is as white as the people inside the two-story, ranch-style house. My boiled eggs and grilled-cheese sandwich breakfast makes its way up my throat. Time to pretend I’m enjoying Todd’s company while waiting to bail for my tryout. But pretending I’m enjoying Todd’s company while freaking out over Papi’s potential death at the hands of the Sire and the possibility that my Blazewrath career may end before it even starts?
That’s pushing it.
“Go on ahead and say hi to everybody,” I tell Mom. “Samira and I will bring the gifts.”
Mom nods. “Perfect. See you girls inside.”
Samira and I wait for her to disappear into the house. When she’s gone, I turn to Samira. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
She cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Tryouts are still on, right?”
“Well, yeah, but Papi hasn’t gotten back to me, and his sanctuary might be attacked next.”
“What can you do about your father not responding?”
“Um … nothing?”
“Exactly. Now tell me something you can do.”
My spirits are in free fall. Still, I guess I should find a way to make it through this infernal birthday party and get to that meeting at the Ritz-Carlton. Whether the Cup gets canceled or not, the meeting’s still on. Tryouts will push me one step closer to my dream. I’m doing this for myself, but I can’t forget this is for Papi, too. For our country. I can’t let any of us down.
“Go to tryouts,” I say firmly. “Do my best to make it onto the team.”
“And we’re back in the game!” Samira pumps a fist in the air.
I motion to her wand. “I’m getting you a new one.”
She gasps, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “You are?”
“Yeah. You’re lending me your car. The least I can do is get you the fifth and last Copper wand you’ll ever break.” I give her a stern look. “Swear to me it’ll be the last one, Samira.”
“But I’m telling you for real, I can get the Transport Charm under control.”
“Samira.”
She slouches with a sigh. “Fiiiiine. I swear.”
“Thank you. Now come on. Mom must be dying from boredom.”
We pile all six gifts one on top of another, agreeing that I should carry them inside. When Samira and I push past the front door, I regret my decision to leave the car. Gold streamers hang from the ceiling in intricate bows. The gold balloons are shaped like magic wands. The ridiculous things are littered all over the place. Even the carpet’s been decorated with a plaque-like banner that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TODD! in gold letters. I’m sure there’s a wand-shaped vanilla cake with gold frosting in the fridge. The candles are bound to be wand-shaped, too.
Todd Anderson, my oldest cousin on Mom’s side, is obsessed with magic. He’s not a wizard, though. None of my family members are. We’re just a bunch of non-magic users. Or Regulars, as the magical community calls us. Todd hasn’t gotten the memo yet. Nor does he understand he’s turning seventeen. This party looks fit for a toddler.
“Jeez. Todd really likes himself a theme, huh?” Samira’s tucking what’s left of her Copper wand into the back of her jeans, trailing behind me.
“You think?” I walk into the dining room, hoping Todd left in a space shuttle to Jupiter.
Nope. The Boy King is standing next to my mother.
“Samira! So great to see you!” Todd says with the biggest grin on his face. He rushes over to Samira, wrapping her in a tight hug. Todd’s gelled his nut-brown hair back today. He’s wearing newly ironed khakis, a royal-blue dress shirt, and a matching V-neck cardigan. His cardigan has the Aster Prep logo on it, which is a Silver wand resting inside an open book.
This brat is going to a wand shop in an outfit that screams, “I attend an expensive private school with super-rich wizards and Regulars.” Samira and I go to a school that’s open to both wizards and Regulars, too, but Red Crown High is a public school. And I don’t pretend I’m a witch because I hang out with one.
“Happy birthday, Todd!” Samira claps him on the back twice, but he won’t let go.
I clear my throat. “Ahem.”
Todd looks at me like he’s just noticed I’m here. “Good morning, Lana,” he says like he’s greeting the common folk of his kingdom. He unglues himself from Samira and points at the boxes. “Are those for me?”
Oh no. These are for the Obamas. I’m sure they’ll be super excited to get socks.
“Mm-hmm. Where should I leave them?”
“Don’t worry. I got it.” Todd scoops the boxes into his lanky arms. He power walks to the living room and dumps his presents in the same corner where Aunt Jenny always puts her white pine Christmas tree. Then Todd sidles up to Samira as I say a quick hello to my aunt and little cousins by the pool area, thanking her repeatedly for setting up the private tour.
“Oh, it’s not a problem,” says a flustered Samira. “It was actually Lana’s idea.”
Todd dismisses her with a wave. “Either way, thank you.” His gaze finds me again. “How’s that personal statement essay for Harvard coming along?”
“Great …” This isn’t the time to tell anyone I haven’t started writing that essay. What’s the point? I’m not going to college if I make it onto Team Puerto Rico. And if I don’t get picked, I’ll skip higher education for at least a year. There’s really nothing I want to study.