Being inconspicuous is difficult with a dragon in your pocket.
The text came while I was studying for biology, but when Kitty McDowell sends a cryptic message asking for help, am I going to say no? Of course not.
I stare up at Sterling Hall. Most of its windows are still lit,
My backpack is twitching.
I peer under my desk at the previously-inanimate object and try not to panic. Professor Delorey’s reptile lecture goes in and out of my ears.
Oh. Crap.
My bag moves again. I kick it, and Venus lets out a yelp—Venus being my tiny pet dragon, not the planet.
Of all the things to deal with right before a room check, of course I have to put out dragon fire.
“Venus, what did you do?” I gape at the flames eating my dorm room’s floor, then glare at the perpetrator.
Venus, the tiny dragon living under my bed, preens her golden
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