Jack Pepper. Sarah Lean

the ball, rolled it under his foot, thought hard, kicked it up and caught it.

      “We could play your game?” he said.

      “Which game?” Ruby said. Nothing was fun right now.

      But Sid knew Ruby was the queen of disguising herself in her imagination.

      “The adventure game, the one where we can be whoever we want to be,” Sid said. “Then you won’t have to think at all.”

      Ruby leaned her head back, squinted at the cloud above her collapsing and blooming from a ship with sails, to a giant face, into the shape of something yet to be. She allowed herself a smile.

      Sid dropped his football again and pushed the swing to sway Ruby sideways.

      “How do we start?” Sid said.

      “There are no rules in this game, Sid. Start in the middle if you want.”

      He hauled one of the swing’s chains and let it go again. Ruby swirled in an unpredictable arc.

      Sid searched his mind for something that had nothing to do with Ruby’s baby brother. They both stared at the cloud morphing. Saw the creature that roared to be set free.

      “Dragon trainers,” Sid said, rolling the magic words in his mouth. “The dragons are wild and fierce, but… well, they only like us and we’ve made them ours, but now we need to teach them things.”

      Ruby dragged her shoes through the sand. She liked the sound, soft and gravelly. Like the slow, lingering breath of a dragon. She pulled her feet back and heard scales shuffle, like scorched leaves, as the dragon emerged from her mind.

      “Let’s train them to fly,” Ruby said, swinging again.

      She kicked off from the ground, shivering because of the huge dragon she imagined taking her up towards the clouds.

      Sid jumped on the other swing. Ruby was already high, soaring on the magnificent creature. Free from the rules that tethered people to the ground.

      “Do dragons have claws or paws?” Sid called from the other swing.

      “There are no rules, Sid! It can have whatever you want!”

      Ruby pushed harder, towards the deepest blue of the sky.

      “I want claws for fighting!” Sid said.

      They pitched and rocked.

      Creak. Click. Creak. Click.

      The seat of Ruby’s swing lurched, as if it wanted to go further than the chains that anchored it to the frame. Ruby felt the weight of her body lift, as if she might keep going if she didn’t hold on so tightly.

      “And I want a whole heap of treasure,” Sid called. “There’s always treasure where there’s dragons! And it’s been stolen and we’re going to get it back.”

      But for some reason the thought of treasure drew Ruby back to thinking about what had happened that morning.

      Scales ruffled as Ruby imagined that her dragon dived towards the ground. Claws clattered, the dragon landed, lay down, coiled around the treasure.

      The chain creaked.

      The fixing clicked.

      Ruby jumped from the swing.

      

      “I’m all right,” Ruby said, before Sid could ask.

      Sid dug his toes in to stop, leaped from his swing and ran over. Ruby rolled on to her back in the deep sand.

      “Dragon stalled,” she said.

      She brushed the grains from her palms, wiped down her clothes and shook out her hair.

      Sid collected his football. He watched Ruby as he punched his ball to the ground, bounce-bouncing it.

      Ruby squinted, pointing at the cloud, liking the way her raised arm felt wobbly and giddy. Her smile faded as the dragon cloud bloomed, collapsed, dispersed and began to look like a baby in a cot, which reminded her of what had happened that morning.

      “What would you do if you met a dragon?” Sid asked.

      “Train it to fly, like we said.”

      “But that’s in the game. I mean for real.”

      Ruby closed her eyes. Her imagination stretched, widened, began to eat her up. There was a dragon at home. A newborn dragon. Hatched, wrinkled, fierce and foul-smelling. Shrieking and demanding, cluttering up the arms of the mother dragon, making his sister feel left out. But she kept this to herself.

      “It feels real,” Ruby said, opening her eyes.

      Sid squinted at her. Ruby was in her own world. He liked to go there with her though.

      “You need to learn to balance,” he said, “so when the dragon turns, you turn with it.”

      He helped her up off the ground and pulled her over to the see-saw. They climbed on, shuffled until the plank hovered, balanced in mid-air, their weight equal. Sid waited for Ruby to push the game further, like she usually did. But Ruby was quiet.

      “If you really had a dragon, everyone would want to see it,” Sid said.

      Ruby pictured the dragon in a cage. She imagined everyone looking at it. In awe. In amazement. Their pride. Their joy. But how it roared and rattled the bars at her.

      She wanted to say something to the baby dragon. But she couldn’t find words it would understand. She didn’t even know what those words were. She imagined the unspoken sounds in her chest, like dragon’s breath. A swirling, hurtling ball of furious green flame. She let it out.

      “Aaargh!” she yelled.

      The searing sound hurtled across the park. It singed the football goalposts and stirred the trees over at the far side of the park, scorching everything the flames touched.

      Sid clamped his hands over his ears. But the image of the baby dragon wouldn’t leave Ruby. The creature ignored her yell and curled its retractable claws tighter. Ruby swung her leg over the see-saw handle, ready to jump again.

      Sid let go of his ears to hold on to the see-saw because it tipped now that Ruby had moved. Ruby jumped. The end thumped down on the rubber tarmac and jolted Sid.

      “Why were you shouting?” he asked.

      “To see if the dragon could hear me.”