Page 16 of Serving my Dragon
“We could set up a profile.”
“Because she’ll totally accept messages from a brand-new user.” I was surprisingly well-versed in online scams. Cousin Sophia’s husband worked in a cybercrimes department for the government.
“What do you suggest we do then?” Surprisingly enough, Kayleigh sounded sincere and not sarcastic like my cousins would have in the same situation.
“I don’t know.” I tapped my fingers on the desk, trying to brainstorm our next move. “Most likely your friend is trying to reach out to you as we speak. When she can’t get ahold of you, what will she do?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Quite honestly, I would have expected Sally to be on this trip with me as I can’t see myself travelling alone. But if she knows I’m in trouble, and she’s not already in Peru, then most likely she will hop on a plane to come find me.” Kayleigh’s lips curved enticingly. “She’s the type of friend who’d bring a shovel if asked and never ask why.”
“Unless she’s already here,” I mused aloud. “Could it be you both went missing at the same time and that’s why no one noticed?”
Once more I killed Kayleigh’s genial expression. “Oh no. Do you think she might be in the canyon?”
“Doubtful, seeing how someone replied to the email.” I drummed my fingers. “The good news is, the embassy has my message from yesterday, so if Sally gets worried and contacts them, they’ll know how to reach me. I should also try the police again and file another report. That way if your friend does start looking, she can find you.”
Only the latter failed to accomplish anything because, apparently, I couldn’t report a missing person if that person lived with me. When I tried mentioning Kayleigh’s injury and memory loss, I was told her case sounded like a medical issue and to speak with a doctor. Another call to the embassy went right to voicemail again.
Annoying. Just in case, we did try emailing Sally again, this time attaching a picture of Kayleigh holding a sign saying: It really is me. I lost my phone.
Despite the cost, we also placed a call to the school she worked for only to get a recorded message indicating they were shut down for the American Thanksgiving.
“This is way more complicated than it should be,” I grumbled, apparently more bothered than Kayleigh, who chattered with Pollita. As promised, she’d begun teaching the supposed dragon how to read letters.
Mid-morning, Kayleigh showered and dressed. When I saw her about to head out the door, I frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Did you forget? Your mom promised to show me how to make those yummy tamales we had last night.”
“You’re leaving?” It emerged a tad more plaintive than expected.
“Only for a few hours. I’m sure you could use a break from my problems. Your mom told me you’re a hardworking man who will need to catch up on work emails and stuff and that you’ve made it clear you prefer to be unbothered when dealing with administrative tasks.”
I had claimed that, but that had been to stop my mother from constantly dropping by. “You can stick around if you want.”
“And miss out on learning your mother’s secrets? No way. I’ll be back around dinner.” She blew me a kiss—and I almost childishly grabbed it from the air.
As soon as the door closed, Pollita climbed the couch and flopped on my lap. “At last, we are alone. The female can cook, but she never stops talking.”
I glanced down. “Neither do you.”
“But at least I am interesting.”
True, if insane to admit. “Why do you think you’re a dragon?”
“Because I am.”
“But how could you know that?”
“Because we hatch with that knowledge. Unlike humans, who emerge from their fleshy wombs dumb and useless, we inherit the wisdom of our maternal progenitor.”
“Your what?”
“What you call your mother. Whatever languages our progenitor spoke, we can too. We also know the facts of our biology. History. Topography, although that tends to be useless the more time that passes between the creation of our egg and the hatching.”
“So you’re basically a clone of your mother.”
“No.” Pollita shook her head. “We are individuals with immediate consciousness and comprehension, but no personal memories.”
“Did you hatch in the canyon?”
