A Dragon's Guide to Making Perfect Wishes Read online

  “Would I know any of them?” Winnie asked.

  “Probably not.” I was used to having the famous people of one generation become unknown to the next—and in Winnie’s case, it was several generations later. “But you might recognize who she is wearing.”

  Miss Normand strutted past, wearing a jaunty hat and what looked like a white fox stole draped around her neck. Just then the fox snapped at a pesky fly circling his tail.

  Winnie squinted. “Is that Reynard?”

  “That’s what Reynard looks like when he’s smitten,” I chuckled. “He took quite a fancy to Miss Normand and would turn himself into whatever color she needed to match her outfits. She wore him everywhere.”

  “Oh, how funny he looks,” said Winnie.

  “Foolish is more like it,” I sniffed. “It nearly broke his heart when she cast him aside for a family of minks, so don’t mention her to him.”

  A plump, dignified gentleman gazed at Miss Normand, then pulled a large watch out of his vest pocket. I peeked over his shoulder so I could set my dainty gold wristwatch to 1915 time.

  I clicked my tongue in disappointment. “Too bad. We’ve missed the mine explosion in the Palace of Mines and Metallurgy. Caleb always enjoyed watching the rescue, but there’s something else you might like.”

  A major goal of the fair had been to show off the latest technologies, but what had been new and unique in 1915 had become old and commonplace by Winnie’s time. Many of the things that had fascinated Caleb like baby incubators and the transcontinental telephone calls would make his great-granddaughter yawn. So I’d narrowed down my choices to just a few.

  “Let’s start at the Palace of Transportation,” I said.

  “Will they have flying carpets there?” Winnie asked eagerly as we left the Zone.

  “No, you’ll stay firmly on the ground.” I led her to Henry Ford’s automobile Assembly Line. “Normals created it, but even magicals used to think it was incredible.”

  Once inside, Winnie pushed her way through the crowd to the front ropes. A skeletal car chassis, like the metal frame of a bed with tires, began to move along a track. When it passed through different stations, workers added parts like the engine, the black sides, the doors, headlights, and windshield. Soon a complete Model T Ford rolled out the doorway ready to be shipped to a car dealer to be sold.

  As we strolled away from the palace, Winnie admitted, “Well, that was cool. A car in…?”

  I checked my watch. “Ten minutes. Caleb thought it was ‘cool’ too.” Though the word he had used was jim-dandy. “He never grew tired of watching cars being assembled, and when he grew up, he always bought Fords. He even gave Amelia a red Mustang for her thirtieth birthday. We made a lot of happy memories scooting around in her Jezebel.”

  Just then I saw Willamar’s flags advancing slowly toward us. I’d made an error when I’d anticipated his itinerary.

  “Come along.” Seizing Winnie’s hand, I tugged her into a small enclosed courtyard.

  “Phew,” said Winnie. “It stinks here.” I looked around and saw we shared the courtyard with a dozen men in suits and bowler hats, smoking cigars.

  I wrinkled my nose in agreement, but a hundred years ago, tobacco was quite popular among normals because they didn’t know how poisonous it was. I’ve always believed that if normals were meant to produce smoke, they would have been born with two stomachs and able to breathe fire on their own, like us dragons.

  Still, as unhealthy as the cigar smoke was, I smiled recalling my smoke-shaping contests with Sebastian, Caleb’s father and Winnie’s great-great-grandfather. Of course, the wispy circles he blew were no match for my triangles, squares—and even once a pentagon. He didn’t mind losing, though, grinning like a small boy while my hazy creations floated around his head.

  But the smoky stench was making my pet gasp. “We need to stay out of the war in Europe,” a man with a white mustache said.

  As the others nodded sagely, Winnie asked, “What war are they talking about?”

  “World War One,” I said. Feeling sad, I suddenly wanted to get away from remembering the war and the sorrow it caused for all sides.

  So I peeked around the entrance and saw the last flag of Willamar’s club moving away, and by mutual agreement, we broke into a run in the opposite direction to breathe the fresh air from the bay again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Humans create their magic with their hearts rather than with wands, and trouble with their mouths rather than their minds.

  MISS DRAKE

  All the pathways linking the palaces and courtyards were covered in pink sand. As she jogged alongside me, Winnie stooped and scooped up some, but of course, her hand passed right through the sand.

  “Rats,” she said. “This colored stuff would be great in an art project.”

  “The sand isn’t dyed,” I told her. “It comes from Monterey about a hundred and twenty miles away. It was toasted to bring out the color. The pink sand sets off the cream-colored buildings perfectly,” I added. “If I had known I’d have such an artistic friend in the future, I’d have saved the piles of sand that always stowed away in my shoes.”

  Keeping a watchful eye for our friends from the twenty-first century, we dipped into some of the other palaces that I hoped might interest her. But I’d guessed wrong, and she walked through them, bored.

  When my failures mounted, I headed to the Palace of Liberal Arts to something that I was sure would tickle her fancy. But when Winnie saw the giant candlestick-shaped telephone with the sofa at its base, she simply said, “Weird.”

  I studied it, deciding that it would seem like a bizarre piece of furniture to a girl used to cell phones. I was beginning to think we should return to the Zone, but when I looked down to ask her, Winnie was gone.

  “Winnie!” I called over and over as I hunted frantically up and down the aisles. Much to my surprise, I found her standing in front of an enormous fourteen-ton typewriter that was thrice as tall as anyone in the room.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. The huge keys struck a sheet of paper nine feet wide, printing the news of the day in huge letters.

  The rhythmic drumming had drawn Winnie, and I laughed to see my friend of the computer age captivated by the workings of such an old-fashioned machine.

  “I’ve only seen typewriters in photos,” she told me when I joined her.

  Winnie was used to tapping effortlessly on keyboards, not this noisy, clumsy device. “It’s like meeting a dinosaur,” I said with a grin.

  She smiled back at me. “Or a dragon.”

  —

  I led Winnie outside the Palace of Liberal Arts, through the door that faced the Tower of Jewels.

  “Look up,” I commanded Winnie, and she gasped. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still making a dazzling display on the cut glass gems above us.

  Hanging on the sides of the tallest building in the fair, over four hundred feet high, were more than a hundred thousand cut-glass gems—dangling, dancing, and sparkling white, pink, yellow, purple, and red in the sunlight. Each round jewel a miniature living star and collectively a galaxy that took my breath away with their glory and beauty as they seemed to flash in time to a spritely march a nearby band was playing.

  “Yikes,” she said. “Look at all the Novagems. Bet Willamar would love to be able to take those home.”

  I chuckled, knowing he had probably wished the same thing today.

  We were near the main entrance to the fair, and everywhere there were things to see. Crowds were pouring through the Scott Street turnstiles, looking happy and ready for a good time. Small children were splashing the water in a large round pool, and Winnie ran up captivated by the statues of sea creatures in the center of the fountain—the lithe mermaids and stately sea horses—walking happily around it so she could see them all.

  The delightful concert stopped, and audience and uniformed musicians began to pass by. Winnie’s attention, though, was all on the creatures in the fountain. “They’re like figu
res on a carousel,” she said. “I’d like to ride a sea horse.”

  “Perhaps one day,” I told her, imagining an outing to the South Seas, where one of my acquaintances might oblige a smaller-size rider.

  Winnie twisted her head around to look at me. “When is ‘one day’?”

  I waved for her to step to the side. “Winnie! Get out of the way!”

  Too late. A dignified bearded man in his sixties wearing a dashing military cap and ornate red jacket walked through her. Neither was in any danger of broken bones, but it seemed, well, disrespectful to tickle such a great man and make him burst into a loud laugh that trailed behind him as he continued striding.

  I gave a deep, mortified sigh. “Well, I don’t think any of our companions can brag they literally bumped into John Philip Sousa.”

  “Who?” she asked as she stared at the retreating composer and conductor.

  “You may not know the name, but you’ll recognize his music.” I hummed “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”

  She nodded in time to the song. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. So he wrote it, huh?”

  “Yes, and many other stirring marches bands will still play a hundred years from now,” I said as we entered a broad courtyard where tall columns encircled us.

  For a moment, I felt as if I were once again strolling through St. Peter’s piazza in Rome—except there, the pillars hadn’t been topped by twinkling star maidens.

  The Exposition often reminded me of my travels because so many of its structures were inspired by ancient ones—the Oregon State Building was even modeled on Athens’s Parthenon but used towering redwoods instead of marble. Sometimes the fair seemed like my enormous charm bracelet, full of souvenirs from my journeys.

  Fourteen flags waved a hundred feet above our heads, and at the base of each flagpole, gentle-faced elephants stood on watch. Winnie stood on tiptoes, trying to stroke the trunk of one.

  “I feel like I’ve seen him before,” she said.

  “You have,” I told her, pleased she had recalled it. “Remember when we took the ferry to Sausalito to get your school materials? The pole bearer here became a whimsical lamppost by the boat pier!”

  “Whaddya know?” Winnie said, and as she smiled at the elephant above her, a musician in black tie and tails waddled by with a bass in a canvas covering. If the orchestra was gathering, Lady Gravelston’s ball was about to start soon. “Come. I want to show you my favorite place before dark.”

  Among the fairgoers on the long east-west avenues, we began to see men in top hats and women in gowns and glittering with jewelry. Other formally attired men and women rode in rented wicker carts powered by electric batteries. These well-dressed folk would have been the guests invited to meet Lady Gravelston.

  Her grandfather had looted the Heart of Kubera from the Summer Palace fifty-five years ago when the British invaded China. And the Manchus, who ruled China then, had taken it in turn as part of their spoils when they conquered Tibet 140 years before the British attack. Some might call them victors, others plunderers.

  Tonight Lady Gravelston would wear this much-sought-after prize. The local newspapers had covered the plans for the ball for days and printed elaborate drawings of Lady Gravelston’s jewelry. An army of police had surrounded the California Building, where the ball was being held—which had made the gem’s disappearance all the more remarkable.

  We left the road when we reached a lagoon. Beyond it lay the gracefully shaped Palace of Fine Arts. Inside the long windowless building were modern paintings and drawings, and breathtaking sculpture from all over the world. But to me and many others, the true treasure was outside—a beautiful domed structure, a giant rotunda, and a line of tall colonnades that curved around it, facing the lagoon that welcomed all to stop and rest in a place of serenity.

  Winnie put a hand on her stomach. “All this walking is making me hungry again.”

  “Ah, great minds think alike,” I said, stopping near a sweet grouping of statues, a circle of children dancing merrily around a tall spray of water. We could see the palace’s elegant dome in the background and a pair of curious swans rippling their path toward us. I sat daintily on the grass and motioned to Winnie, who plopped beside me.

  “I always make sure my jackets have deep pockets,” I told her as I unloaded a pile of scones and rose cakes and laid them between us on a large linen handkerchief.

  Winnie was impressed, taking off her gloves and reaching for a rose cake.

  “You swiped all of this?” she asked. “No one stopped you?”

  “And no one was turned into a toad or dung beetle either,” I said firmly, ending the conversation so we could enjoy our tasty repast by the water.

  I smiled, remembering how Caleb would bring me scones from a palace displaying food just across the way, the “Palace of Nibbling Arts” as some folk named it. We’d eat them here too, tossing our leftover bits and crumbs to the waiting birds on the lagoon.

  After Winnie finished her third pastry, I tried to sound casual as I asked, “So what do you think of the Exposition?”

  “Well,” she said, pausing to lick her fingers. “It’s kind of like the biggest toy box ever.”

  I was speechless with disappointment. It was like saying my beautiful scales were the same as the sequins on a doll dress. Was my pet blind to charm, beauty, and wonder? Had her modern world come to this? Comparing everything to a toy box!

  But I could see she was working something out in her head, so I held my tongue while her mind sorted her thoughts.

  “I mean, you gotta dig around, but there’s fun stuff,” she finally said.

  “Yes, I suppose we could return to the Zone,” I said resignedly.

  “No, it’s not just the Zone that’s fun. The fair has a lot of stuff to look at and a lot of stuff that makes you think,” she said quickly, her tongue trying to keep up with her thoughts. “And it’s not just the exhibits that do that. It’s the buildings themselves and all the people. And it’s the dancing and the music. And…and it’s the ideas. There’s so many of ’em here!” She stopped to gasp for air and then started again but now with awe in her voice. “The world’s such a big place, isn’t it? And it’s stuffed with so many fabulous things!”

  I was beginning to understand and this time with pleasure. “Ah, so that’s what you mean by your toy box.”

  She put her hands on her knees, and her voice rose with excitement. “And we normals may not look or dress or talk like one another, but we’re all the same inside. It’s like when we went up in the Aeroscope, and all the different buildings became part of something bigger and more wonderful. We normals can be part of something bigger and better as well.”

  Caleb’s encounters here had made him realize the same things as Winnie, and he’d blossomed into a kinder, more thoughtful and appreciative man. Who knew what she’d become with a little encouragement from me? Training humans isn’t about making them obedient and spiritless; it’s about developing the best in them.

  A lump caught in my throat. I was glad we had come. “Yes, that’s the real fair.”

  When she didn’t respond right away, I glanced at her and saw her wistful expression.

  “Oh, I wish my dad could be here.” Her hand brushed the air. “He would have loved what the sun does to the palaces right now. It sort of dances on the windows and the walls. He’d never want to leave the fair. I can just picture him running from one building to another, wanting to see everything and wanting me to see it with him. It’s our Jewel City.”

  “Sparkling by the bay,” I agreed.

  Then she was silent, and so was I. In the growing twilight, we watched the swans sail off, floating across the lagoon. I was flabbergasted…and delighted. Whenever Winnie spoke of her father, it was with love, and I could see how the fair sparked her memory of him…just as it did my affection for Caleb. My pet had more understanding and more heart than I had given her credit.

  —

  As dusk drifted into night, the globed streetlights
came on, their reflections glimmering on the water. Winnie roused from her thoughts. “Is it time to see Great-Grandad Caleb yet?”

  From a distance came the faint strains of a waltz. The ball for Lady Gravelston had begun, and the club would be there watching.

  “Not quite,” I said, getting up and brushing bits of grass from my skirt. “So we have time to see the light show first. Let’s find a good spot.”

  When Winnie joined me, I noticed she had stuffed her gloves into the pocket of her jacket. Good thing no one could see us. We walked to the Tower of Jewels and turned toward the North Gardens.

  “Ooh,” said Winnie. “Look at the Tower now. It’s glowing.”

  No lights were visible anywhere, but hidden lamps flooded the pale-colored walls and tower. In this light, the jewels lost their sparkle but framed the Tower with a ghostly shimmer. The Exposition at night had an enchantment all its own.

  “I bet you magicals helped light up the fair,” said Winnie.

  “Not at all,” I corrected her. “All this was done by human minds with human hands.”

  “Really?” Winnie spread her arms out like she wanted to hug everything and then twirled in a circle. “So we made all this?”

  It’s what I loved about normals. “Sometimes all you need is enough ingenuity—and some money as well—to make a brilliant and amazing place.”

  We found a spot among the crowds gathering on the long green lawns of the North Gardens. Before us spread the inky waters of the bay.

  Even though the air was brisk, all the warm bodies close kept us snug. Winnie even unbuttoned her jacket.

  Boom!

  As if the gun had woken them up, pipes as tall as flagpoles began hissing like nests of snakes, spraying vapor into the air from nozzles all along their lengths. A stationary pastel-painted locomotive chugged into life, adding jets of steam to the fine mist that began to stretch like a giant fan across the bay and high into the heavens.

  Then, from an artificial castle offshore, two banks of forty-eight large spotlights splashed their colored beams across the cloud as if it were an ever-changing canvas. The hues danced like an aurora borealis over the bay, blending at times and then drifting apart again only to spread outward in rainbow plumes, the colored light painting flags of nations or a parade of marching monsters. They called it a fireless fireworks show of steam and spotlights.