The Dragon on the Desk
Luke had always loved Chinese dragons, and so when he opened the bright orange box on his birthday, he was not disappointed. "Wow! A real dragon figurine!" he cried as he pulled out a brightly painted dragon about the length of a pencil. It had shimmery sea-blue scales and an opened red mouth with gleaming white teeth. Its claws were golden, and it had a purple mane and fanned tail. Grinning at his parents, Luke hugged the dragon close. "I know what I'll call him: Streak." Then he hugged his parents gratefully.
That night, as Luke lay in bed, his dragon seemed to move toward him. Frozen, Luke clutched his sheets and watched as Streak leapt agilely onto his bed and stretched. Then it went racing around his bed, slipping under the sheets. Frantically, Luke tried to catch it, but the slippery dragon wriggled out of his grasp. Finally, exhausted, Luke lay back in defeat. Immediately, the dragon cuddled up to him and licked his ear with its red, raspy tongue. Luke giggled. Turning over, he fell asleep as Streak curled up close to him.
The next morning, when Luke woke up, he scanned his bed. The dragon was gone. Looking at his desk, he spotted the dragon. His heart beating wildly, he waited for it to move, but it stayed perfectly still. Luke hopped out of bed and sadly stroked the silent figure.
"Luuuuuke, time for breakfast," his mom called.
Stealing one last glance at Streak, Luke bounded downstairs, eager for scrambled eggs. That Saturday afternoon, his mother asked if he would like his friend, Carlos, over for a sleepover. Luke quickly agreed.
After playing soccer in the backyard, the boys admired Luke's dragon. "At night he can come alive," Luke blurted out.
Carlos's brown eyes widened, but then he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and so do my action figures."
"No, really!" Luke insisted, but Carlos couldn't be persuaded.
That night, Luke crept over to his dragon. Streak stretched himself and leapt onto Carlos's bed. Carlos hesitantly stroked the dragon, and Streak spoke. "I can come alive."
