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Authors: Kate McMullan

97 Ways to Train a Dragon (5 page)

BOOK: 97 Ways to Train a Dragon
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Meanwhile, Angus swam quietly up behind the pipling and began treading water.
“Worm! Look at me!” Angus ordered.
Worm turned around.
Angus didn't reach for him. He stuck out his chin. He flared his nostrils. He did not blink as he stared at the little dragon.
Worm cocked his head as if trying to decide whether Angus meant business.
Angus kept his gaze on Worm as he slowly brought his arm out of the water. He had an eel in his hand. He held it to the pipling's nose.
Worm looked at it cross-eyed, but did not snap it up.
Slowly, Angus drew the eel treat toward his own eyes.
And there it was—eye contact!
“You may have the treat now, Worm,” said Angus. He gave it to the pipling, all the while staring into his yellow and red eyeballs. “But always remember: I AM IN CHARGE!”
“Srrrrrr,”
trilled Worm.
Angus grinned. “Did you hear that, Wiggie? He called me ‘Sir!'”
“I heard it.” Wiglaf smiled. “Now tell him to get out of the moat, Angus. Or we'll catch our death of cold!”
After that, Worm followed Angus back to the henhouse like a little duckling. The boys' uniforms were soaking wet and smelly from the moat. So they cut Scrub-a-Thon and hid out in the henhouse that afternoon. They kept busy with training Worm.
Even Daisy, who'd returned from the library with a big stack of books, was impressed with how fast the pipling learned. That very afternoon Angus taught Worm “Sit” and “Down.” Sir Sitstayheel recommended training with both hand signals and English commands.
Over the next few days, they worked with the pipling between Scrub-a-Thon chores, until he had nailed “Stay,” “Come,” and “Leave it,” “Give a paw,” “Speak” and “No speak!” He loved playing games, so Wiglaf taught him Fetch and Hide & Seek. But the Pipling's favorite game was one he made up himself. Wiglaf called it Make Me Laugh. Worm played it by making faces and doing silly things until the boys cracked up.
All this time, Worm was growing. Now the top of his little crested head came up to Wiglaf's shoulder.
That same night, just before torches out, Erica came over and sat on Wiglaf's cot. He had hardly seen her lately. She was either out on Dawn Patrol or doing extra-credit scrubbing.
“Dawn Patrol is over,” Erica said. “Bragwort and I have finished carting Frypot's garbage heap to the trash pit.”
“That whole mountain of garbage is gone?” said Angus.
Erica nodded proudly. “And how is that ‘something' doing? The 'something' I don't know anything about?”
“He's fine,” said Wiglaf. “Angus is very good at training the ‘something.'”
Angus grinned. “If you can make eye contact, you can get a dragon to do anything you want.”
“Eye contact?” Erica said. “I'll remember that.” Then she looked puzzled. “Wiggie, what happened to your blanket?”
“‘Something' needed a bed,” said Wiglaf.
Erica ran off. When she returned, she was carrying a nice thick blanket and a pillow.
“You know me,” she said. “I have extra everything.” She plopped them down on Wiglaf's cot.
That night, Wiglaf felt warm and happy. He had never slept on a pillow before, and he felt as if he were floating on a cloud. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, smiling.
Soon Wiglaf was dreaming about Worm, calling,
“Mmmmommy! Mmmmommy!”
Wiglaf rolled over in his sleep. He found himself pressed up against something hard and lumpy. Wiglaf opened one eye. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him.
“Mmmmmmommy!”
Worm cooed as he snuggled close to Wiglaf. He licked his face.
Wiglaf sat up. This was no dream. This was real! Worm had crawled into bed with him! Leaving Worm in the henhouse wasn't working. He couldn't stay in the dorm—he might be discovered. Was there anywhere outside? No. What if Worm decided to plunge into the moat again? Who knew what he'd think of next?
“Worm!” groaned Wiglaf. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Mmmmmmommy!”
Worm burbled sleepily.
“Mmmmm
.

Wiglaf couldn't help smiling. He closed his eyes and pulled Erica's thick warm blanket up to his chin. He'd figure it out tomorrow.
Chapter 7
BANG! BONG! BANG! BONG! BANG!
“Up and at ‘em, Class I lads!” Frypot called. He banged on a skillet with his soup ladle.
Wiglaf's eyes popped open. He started to jump out of bed. Then he caught sight of the pointy green head sharing his pillow.
Worm's eyes lit up when he saw that Wiglaf was awake. He let out a joyful,
“Mmmmommy!”
Wiglaf clapped a hand over the dragon's snout. He pulled the blanket over both their heads. Now what?
“Wiggie?” said Angus. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” said Wiglaf from under the covers. “But—I think—I will stay in bed for a while.”
“Why? Are you sick?” said Angus.
“Sort of,” said Wiglaf. He dared not say what the real trouble was.
“I bet you're faking it,” said Bragwort. “To get out of scrubbing.”
“Do you have a fever?” asked Angus.
“No,” said Wiglaf. “I—I have a worm.”
“Oh, no!” called Erica. “Have you eaten any uncooked eel, Wiggie?”
“No ...” said Wiglaf.
“But why do you think you have a ...” Angus drew in a sharp breath. “A—a worm?”
Wiglaf smiled. Angus got it now. He could tell.
“I'll get the de-worming tonic from Frypot,” said Erica.
“I'm coming with you!” Bragwort called. “You're not getting a First Aid Badge unless I get one, too.”
Wiglaf heard their footsteps as they raced out the door.
“My cousin had a worm in his stomach once,” Angus said. Wiglaf wondered why he was speaking so loudly. “One night the worm crawled out through his nose. It was six feet long!”
“Ewwwww!” cried several of the Class I boys.
Now Baldrick spoke up. “Can you catch worms?”
“Oh, yes,” said Angus. “Worms are very contagious.”
Wiglaf heard feet stampeding out of the dorm. Good old Angus!
When it was quiet, Angus drew back Wiglaf's blanket.
“Srrrrrrr!”
Worm said happily.
“How in the world did he get up here?” asked Angus.
“Search me,” said Wiglaf.
Worm hopped out of bed.
“Wrrrrrrm! Wrrrrrrrm!”
The pipling had grown bigger yet. Wiglaf saw that he was as tall as Angus!
“We have to get him out of here,” Angus said. “Now!”
Just then the door opened.
Angus threw the blanket over the pipling to hide him. “Freeze!” he commanded.
Erica ran in.
Wiglaf breathed a sigh of relief.
“Here's the de-wormer,” she said, holding up a bottle of dark brown syrup. When she saw the figure covered in her blanket, she stopped. “Don't tell me!” she said.
“We won‘t,” said Angus.
“I don't see anything,” said Erica. She squeezed her eyes shut. “But if I did, I'd think something has grown! And it's something that Bragwort—who's going to be back here in a minute—can't miss.”
“Go head him off, Erica!” said Angus.
“Wait!” said Wiglaf. “Erica, if you have extra everything, does that include uniforms?”
Erica nodded. She kept her eyes shut. “Help yourself. They're in my trunk. Just don't step on my Sir Lancelot carpet, okay? I'm out of here.” She turned and ran out the door.
In Erica's trunk, right on top, Wiglaf found a helmet, a freshly washed tunic and pair of leggings. “Angus,” he said, “hold Worm still while I get him dressed.”
Tucking Worm's tail into the leggings was a challenge, but ten minutes later, two DSA students holding one odd-looking creature in a DSA uniform between them left the Class I dorm room. They went right past Bragwort. Luckily, Erica had gotten him involved in counting his badges and he never looked up. As the three passed the headmaster's office, they heard the familiar
Clink! Clink!
Wiglaf breathed a sigh of relief. Mordred was busy counting his gold.
But to Wiglaf's horror, just as they had passed the suit of armor that stood guard out side the office, Mordred stuck his head out the door.
“Nephew!” he called, catching sight of Angus. “Tell me, what comes after 9,999?”
“Ten thousand, Uncle,” answered Angus.
“Ah, I knew that! The inspectors. They've got me rattled, that's all.” Mordred drew his head back in and slammed the door.
“Wrrrrrrrm!”
Worm trilled. He bounced down the steps ahead of them. On the third bounce, Worm's wings ripped through Erica's tunic. The pipling began flapping, and bouncing higher and higher. And on a very high bounce, he kept flapping and stayed in the air.
“He's flying!” cried Angus.
“Sort of,” said Wiglaf. “Good thing we put that helmet on him.”
They watched as Worm took a nose dive onto the ground; then up he went again. This time he flew to Old Blodgett. He made a wobbly landing on the tree above the practice dragon's head.
“Mmmmmmmmommy!
Srrrrrrr!” Worm cried happily.
“Nice going!” called Angus, sounding like a proud parent. “Now
come!”
“Srrrrrrrr!”
Worm cried. Then he took off from the tree and flapped toward Angus. He bounced a few times then skidded right to him.
“Good, Worm,” said Angus, tossing him an eel.
Angus and Wiglaf took the pipling to the henhouse door. Worm bounced inside.
“Orry-say!
” Daisy cried. She told Wiglaf that she woke up that morning to find Worm gone and that he was too much for her to handle.
“Come on Daisy,” said Angus. “No one ever comes to the henhouse.”
“But Worm doesn't stay in the henhouse,” Wiglaf pointed out. “Bragwort is suspicious. If he sees Worm, he'll tattle on us to Mordred. You don't want that to happen.”
“I'll show Uncle Mordred how well trained Worm is,” said Angus. “He'll let me keep him as a pet.”
“Dream on!” said Wiglaf. “We have to come up with a better plan than that!”
“Let's go get some breakfast,” said Angus. “I can't think on an empty stomach.”
No sooner had the boys sat down at the Class I table with their breakfast trays than Wiglaf caught sight of a huge rat peering in the dining-hall door. He had never known rats could reach such a size. Mordred looked up from where he sat at the teachers' table.
“Egad!” the headmaster cried. He jumped up from his chair and began waving the rat away. “Begone! Begone, I say! If the inspectors come and find a rat here, they'll close me down for sure!”
“No, lord,” cried the rat “It's I, your scout, Yorick.” He pulled off his rubbery rat's face.
“I knew that.” Mordred mopped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his velvet cape. “These inspections have me on edge, that's all. Well, what news, Yorick?”
“My lord, the inspectors have just left Knights Noble Conservatory,” said Yorick. “The school passed inspection with flying colors. Seems they got extra points for giving their students free time to work on their own projects.”
“Free time?” muttered Mordred. “Never heard of it.”
“The inspectors will go to Knights R Us tomorrow,” said Yorick. “Then they are coming to Dragon Slayers' Academy.” Yorick scratched his head. “Or is it the other way around?”
Mordred rolled his violet eyes. “In any case, we must be ready!” he boomed. “You boys have scrubbed well.”
The boys broke into cheers.
“Uh-oh,” said Angus. “Uncle Mordred never gives compliments.”
Wiglaf feared what was coming next.
“But from now until the inspectors come,” Mordred went on, “you shall scrub as you have never scrubbed before!”
Now the boys groaned.
“So! I've got new badges!” Mordred held up a bright red patch. It was decorated with feathers. “Who wants to earn this handsome badge?”
“The fancier the badge ...” said Wiglaf.
“The nastier the job,” Angus finished.
As Mordred swung the fancy badge back and forth, Wiglaf glanced out the window and nearly choked on his eel. There was Worm! The pipling was flapping his wings, treading air. When he saw that Wiglaf had seen him, he wiggled his ears.
“Angus!” Wiglaf elbowed him and nodded toward the window.
“Lancelot's liver!” Angus swore. He frowned at the pipling, nodding at him to go away.
BOOK: 97 Ways to Train a Dragon
11.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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