By David Barr Kirtley.
Read by Stephen Eley.
Other dragons cavorted on the airy currents. Those dragons were cherry red or lime green or creamy brown. Their riders steered them up the beach, or inland toward the mall, or back to campus.
A slender girl on a pink dragon passed us going the opposite way, her blond hair billowing. Matt waved to her. He said over his shoulder, “I met that girl last night. Hold on, I want to say hi.” He yanked the reins and we banked sharply. My stomach lurched. We swept around in an arc and came up alongside the girl. Her dragon had the guileless beady eyes and scrunched up cheeks of a lap dog. Matt said, “Hi. Dora, right?”
“Deirdre,” she corrected. “And you’re … Matt?” He grinned, and she said, “I like your dragon.”
Rated R. Contains sexual themes, third-world exploitation, and awkward freshmen.