Sweet 16 Slay

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Drug dealers and gangbangers, for sure. Like, pimps, porn stars and homeless people, totally. But, you’d come to expect that in San Fernando.

What folks didn’t expect was that an earthquake would tear a hole in the ground, revealing a giant portal to another world. Soon after, they just waltzed right in. Orcs, fairies, dwarves, giants, trolls, and yeah...I guess dragons, too. Totally tubular.

I mean, that’s what I’ve been told, at least. The whole “Middle Earth-opening-up" thing happened long before I was born; now it’s just necessary learning material in school. Kinda like how all those kids in Texas have to learn about the Alamo or something. Super grody.

I was trying to get over my super-depressive funk. I was turning 16 in a few weeks, and my parents decided to surprise me by giving me my birthday present early.

They blindfolded me and led me to the front of the house. When they removed my blindfold to reveal a hot pink Corvette, fully decked out, needless to say, I was less than impressed.

“But Honey, I thought you liked pink!” I heard my totally clueless Daddy say as I ran to my room in tears.

I thought you liked pink...I DO like pink. That totally wasn’t the point.

Every run-of-the-mill teenage girl in the Valley got their wheels when they turned 16 (the less fortunate merely got Invisalign).

“It’s not fair!” I cried from my bedroom, my voice muffled by my face buried in my pillow. “Erica Williams got exactly what she wanted!”

Erica Williams turned 16 last month, and HER parents surprised her with her very own dragon. Fully-grown, too, so she could get a group together, hop on its back, and sail above the I-405 to get to the Galleria.

Meanwhile, us regular, wingless plebes had to drive around like a bunch of nobodies. Gag me with a spoon.

I wanted to be left alone with my misery, but I was forced to attend a soiree at my Daddy's country club that same evening. I sulked as I did up my blonde hair and slapped together an outfit for the event.

What a snoozefest! It was mostly just Daddy's golf buddies yucking it up over drinks.

“You know...” my mother said, as I stood in the corner feeling miserable and nibbling on crudites. “Your father just wants to make you happy. He really thought you would like the car.”

I rolled my eyes, and that’s when my mom put her hands on my shoulder. “Listen...I know you wanted a dragon,” she said, softly so the rest of the guests couldn’t hear. “It’s just...they’re really expensive. Rare, too. It just wasn't in the cards to procure one for your birthday. Try to make the most of the situation, okay dear?”

“Sure,” I muttered, then walked away.

There were only two reasons I didn’t actively hate being at the event. I spotted my friend Skye from across the room and together we commiserated beside the punch table.

“It’s just like...super lame, ya know?” I said, as I leaned against the table. “I mean, is one little dragon so much to ask for your pride and joy? I thought I was supposed to be their princess!”

“Uh-huh..” remarked Skye. She wasn’t looking at me, she seemed preoccupied by the punch table’s centerpiece: an elaborate ice sculpture of a topless mermaid.

I continued ranting. “I just know that skank Erica’s gonna try to rub it in my face...”

“Just ignore it,” said Skye. “Even with a dragon, she’ll never be as cool as you. She’s just trying to buy her popularity, as usual. Try to look on the bright side of things...”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re starting to sound like my mom, Skye. Barf me out...”

As Skye tried to make me feel better, I spotted the second reason why this night wasn’t a total wash.

A man and a teenage boy entered the event and my heart literally stopped.

The man was handsome in his own right – well-groomed in a tuxedo with styled, jet-black hair.

But his son. OH. MY. GOD.

His son was an angel sent from heaven. He was taller than his old man, and instead of black hair, he sported naturally silver locks. In both his hair and fashion sense, he was styled impeccably to the nines.

“Skye,” I gasped. “Claren had just entered the building.”

“Huh?” Skye stopped talking and looked where I was looking. “Oh.”

“It should be a sin to look that good...” I said, nibbling fervently on a nearby celery stick.

“Please...like that’s so hard when you’re half-Elvish?” quipped Skye. “I still think their segregation laws are messed up.”

When the Elves arrived in our world, they kept to themselves, refusing to integrate into society. That’s when all the Elven society clubs and schools began to pop up in the Valley.

But only the full-blooded Elves were accepted; though they permitted interspecies relationships, they didn’t accept the offspring into their world due to their half-breed status. Not even gorgeous Claren could shirk that ancient class structure.

But I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was getting to talk to Claren. Our eyes met briefly as he walked by, and I lost myself in his honey amber eyes.

“One day I’m going to marry him,” I declared.

“You and half the student population,” quipped Skye. “Keep dreaming, girl...”

“We live in a world where people can bet on unicorns at the racetrack. By all accounts, I think my dream is pretty reasonable...”

--

A few nights later, I was home alone while my folks were out of town for a business conference.

I was watching TV when suddenly the power in the house went out. I heard a loud noise come from upstairs.

I groped in the darkness blindly until I located the flashlight, then I followed the noise, concerned that we were infested with gremlins again and would have to call in the exterminator.

I crept up the steps as the noise persisted. It sounded louder than the pitter-patter of tiny mythical feet, and I began to suspect that the intruder may be more adult and aggressive than I initially thought.

I texted Skye. She didn’t immediately reply back so I decided to call her; it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey...” I said in my message. “I don’t know where you go off to in the evenings now, I feel like a barely see you anymore....Anyway, please let me know that you got this message. If you don’t hear from me in the next 30 minutes, assume that I’ve been brutally murdered and call 9-1-1. Reminder: absolutely no black clothing at my funeral. ‘Kay...later.”

I hung up as a approached the door to the attic. As I opened it, the door creaked loudly, making the mystery presence aware of my arrival.

I brandished my baton-sized flashlight as a weapon, fully prepared to bludgeon the intruder.

As I went deeper into the attic, I felt a woosh as the attic door closed behind me. I tried to turn the knob but was horrified to discover I was locked inside.

A loud THUD occurred just a few feet away from me.

In a panic, I dropped the flashlight.

“The combination to the safe is 36-45-24. Take what you want, just please...leave me and my Louboutins out of it!”

The flashlight rolled a bit on the floor, literally illuminating the situation.

There was no scary burglar man on the other side of the light. Instead, I saw a tiny woman, no bigger than 7 inches, standing in front of much larger, round object. She positioned her body as though she was using herself as a shield.

“Aye...ye neh come closer there, lassie!” she said in her tiny voice.

Slowly I knelt down to retrieve the flashlight so I could get a better visual.

The woman was most definitely a pixie, but behind her I recognized the familiar iridescent color of the object from the numerous pictures I had seen in school history books.

I gasped. It was a bona fide dragon egg.

Totally. Tubular.