Reading fun for kids from Canada’s public libraries

The Lost Dragon

By Marty Chan

Chapter 2

The dragon’s giant horse-like head swivelled left then right, its bright green eyes wide with wonder. Then the beautiful creature slithered to the edge of the sloped roof and looked down.

Kyle stammered. “M-m-monster!”

The dragon screeched, leapt off the China Gate, and floated to the ground as graceful as a butterfly. Kyle hid behind me. The wingless beast took one look at us and skittered away on its four giant rooster claws.

I grabbed my mountain bike which was leaning against the pedestal.

“Hailey! Where are you going?”

I had to catch up to this magnificent beast. The dragon snaked around the corner of a building as I rode after it.

“Wait for me!” Kyle cried after me.

I skidded around the corner and into the alley. The dragon was gone. A few cars were parked in the lot beside the lane. A dumpster sat beside a telephone pole. A large puddle of water pooled across the alley. The only place the dragon could have hidden was inside the trash bin. I hopped off my bike and crept toward the green box, avoiding the water.

I inched the lid up. The stench of garbage shot up my nose: a combination of dirty gym socks, rotten bananas, and scared skunk. I winced as I pushed the lid higher. Giant black garbage bags filled the dumpster almost to the rim. There was no room for another bag let alone a dragon.

Kyle skidded to a stop beside me.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” I asked. “Beautiful.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you see its teeth? It could have snapped you in half.”

“It looked more scared than angry.” I brushed my long black hair from my eyes and searched the sky for the jade creature.

“Let’s get out of here.” He stepped on his pedal and his bike lurched forward. He stopped and pointed down the alley. Two scruffy teens were picking up my bike.

“Hey!” Kyle hollered. “What are you doing?”

“That’s mine!” I shouted.

The long-haired teen climbed on my bike. Kyle wheeled over as I trotted to the boys.

“Get away from my bike.”

“Don’t see your name on it.” He sneered at his stocky friend in a dirty jean jacket.

“Finders keepers,” his grubby friend added, spitting on the pavement.

“Give her back the bike,” Kyle ordered.

The lanky teen straightened up and grinned at his friend. “You could use a bike, Zak.”

“Yeah. And this kid’s ride looks sweet.” Zak grabbed Kyle’s handlebar and yanked the bike toward him.

We were alone against the bullies about to steal our bikes.

Zak shoved Kyle off of his bike. The lanky teen laughed as my friend stumbled to the ground.

“You can’t take our bikes,” I scolded.

“Who’s going to stop us? You?” The tall boy glared at me.

“I’m going to call the police.”

Zak climbed onto Kyle’s bike. “We’ll be long gone by then.”

A growl filled the air. The teens looked behind us, and their mouths dropped open. 


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