Zachary rested his chin on the tabletop and counted the seconds as he resisted the lure of jellybeans in the jar in front of him.

“One-Dastardlygoody, two-Dastardlygoodies…twenty-Dastardlygoodies…eightynine-Dastardlygoodies…ninetyseven-Das—”

With a groan, he grabbed the jar and jammed his hand in for the sweet candies, then stuffed them in his mouth. These weren’t ordinary jellybeans. They were his family’s most treasured, most sought-after candy—the mainstay of their whole candy business. Dastardly Good Jellybeans were filled with juices from organic limes and lemons, oranges, blackberries, strawberries, and pineapples and tasted exactly like the fruit. Best. Jellybeans. Ever.

“How far did you get this time, Zach?” asked his mother.

Zachary swallowed enough of the beans to reply, “About a minute and a half.”

His mother stirred a pot of sugar and fruit, glancing at the thermometer clinging to the side like a mountain climber. When the sugar mixture reached the right temperature, his mother would pour the molten liquid into the jellybean molds waiting on the marble countertops. Zach’s father sat at another table, affixing their “Dastardly Good Goodies” sticker to mason jars.

“You’ll do better next time, Zach,” his father said. “Discipline.”

Zach heaved a great sigh. “I’ve got plenty of discipline. But I can’t resist our jellybeans no matter how hard I try.”

Practicing discipline, that’s what Zachary did now.

Since the accident, he had been training his arms to be stronger by lifting encyclopedias and holding them parallel to the floor without moving. Not for five minutes. Not for ten minutes. He purposely gave himself hand cramps just to see how long he could stand the pain. His record was seven minutes. Yesterday, he accidently jabbed his elbow on the doorframe so hard he could feel it pound up into his jaw. But he wouldn’t let himself yell. Over the summer, he even forced himself to read college textbooks—like Medieval Fantasy and Literature and The Feynman Lectures on Physics—to keep his brain and his discipline strong.

Without discipline, Zach would still be cursing his wheelchair and the fact that he couldn’t do everything he used to be able do.

Yes, Zachary was very good at discipline—except, of course, when it came to jellybeans.

As he wheeled himself to his room, a shadow blotted out the sun. His mother screamed.

“Mom? Are you okay?” he asked, turning back to the kitchen. “Did you burn yourself again?” Sugar burns were common in candy kitchens. Even when he accidently burned himself, he only lasted six seconds before hollering and streaming cool water on it.

“Not a burn!” said his mother, sounding as if she was on the verge of screaming again.

Zachary’s father hugged his mother while squinting out the window above the sink.

“I think it was that—” began his father.

“No. Don’t say it,” said his mother.

“Well, somebody say something intelligent,” said Zachary.

They turned to look at him. His father’s bushy eyebrows bobbled like mustaches over his eyes. A single tear rolled down his mother’s right cheek.

“Tell me!” Zach slapped his thigh.

“Manners,” said his mother, wiping her tear with the back of her hand.

“Please tell me.”

His father’s voice sounded thick and crackly, like sugar stuck to the bottom of a pot. “It was the dragon.”

“A dragon? Right. If you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me,” said Zachary.

His mother closed her eyes. “It’s true. And it’s not the first time we’ve seen—”

The phone rang.

“Dastardly Good Goodies,” answered his father when he picked up the receiver. “Yes, Clover. Yes, Mathilda saw it… The Ferris boy? Are you sure?”

Fire trucks sped past the kitchen window, sirens blaring. Zachary rolled to the back door and opened it. His front wheels balanced at the top of the ramp.

“Thank you, Clover,” said his father and hung up the phone. “Zachary, don’t go outside!”

But Zachary had already rolled down the ramp onto the sidewalk and across the street onto the grass divider down the middle of the road. It wasn’t unusual to see strange goings-on in their little town. Something weird about the trifecta of the Dastardly Good Goodies candy shop, the Ferris bakery across the street, and Wegman’s Shoe Store (“Shoes to Make You Magically Run Faster”) on the corner made this neighborhood…well…special. Birds in rainbow colors appeared regularly. Purple and red bumbly bees buzzed through daily. Musical notes actually floated on the air when the high-school band played. But a dragon! That was unusual. He couldn’t believe his parents never told him about it!

Three fire trucks were parked outside the Ferris bakery. Their ladders were unfurled as far as they could go, up, up, up into the sky. Firefighters ascended the wobbly ladders, holding what looked to Zach like large butterfly nets.

“That’s not going to end well,” he muttered.

He scoured the sky looking for something resembling a dragon. Then he saw a red speck over Wegman’s Shoe Store. The red speck got bigger and bigger, scalier and scalier, looking more and more like a dragon. But worse, clutched in its talons was his best friend, Kyle Ferris, with his favorite red plaid shirt untucked so Zach could see the boy’s round belly hanging over the waistband of his jeans. But at least he was alive, and he was shouting.

“Help me, Zachary! This dragon’s got a stronger hold on me than Principal Bobbitt!”

Zachary laughed. That was a funny story. Then he shook his head. Not the time!

“Don’t worry, Kyle!” shouted Zachary. “I’ll think of something. Do you have anything in your pockets you could give him to eat instead of you?”

“I think she’s a girl, and I already tossed her a Famous Ferris Fig bar, but she spit it out.”

Zachary couldn’t believe his ears. No one spits out Ferris Fig Bars.

“Mrs. Ferris!” shouted Zachary to Kyle’s mom who was standing near the firetrucks.

She looked his way. “Oh, Zachary, these firefighters aren’t helping my boy.”

One of the firefighters had already fallen off the ladder. They excelled at saving people from fires, putting out fires, and pulling people from fiery car wrecks on the highway, but they were proving useless at saving boys from fiery dragons.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Ferris. I’m going to save him,” Zachary announced.

“You?” said Mrs. Ferris, rubbing her hands through her hair. “But how?”

“Could you bring me something from your bakery?” he asked. “Something heavy, like cake or bread or pie.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Zachary?” His mother ran towards him from the candy kitchen, his father at her heels.

“I’m helping Kyle, of course.” What did she think he’d be doing?

He was going to do what the firefighters could not. He watched as they scratched their heads and waved their arms, pacing and kicking the ground, and frowning at the sky.

The dragon buzzed low, low enough for Zach to smell the fear in his friend…or perhaps it was coming from his stinky gym shoes, waggling above Zach’s head. Kyle was wearing his Wegman’s shoes, which had to be why the dragon hadn’t already gobbled him up. The shoes might not have made Kyle fast enough to outrun the dragon, but they must have offered some sort of magical protection.

“Keep your shoes on, buddy. I’ve got you,” Zach called.

The dragon soared away, making clouds to hide behind with her breath of fire and smoke.

Mrs. Ferris jogged to Zach with a wagon full of baked goods. “I hope you have a plan.”

“How about the bread?” Zach pointed to two loaves which were leaving melted butter stains on the brown paper wrappers. If the dragon wouldn’t rather have these heavenly scented loaves than Kyle—who, Zachary knew, only took a bath once a week—it might just be game-over for his friend.

“Good choice,” Mrs. Ferris said as if Zachary were a customer in her bakery. “The pumpernickel and rye bread. Our heaviest and most-dense loaves.”

Zach held out his arms and told Mrs. Ferris to plop a loaf on each of his palms.

“These weigh a ton,” he said. “They’re perfect! That dragon will have to drop Kyle to pick up the bread. Stand back!”

“I don’t like this one bit, Zachary Flanders Dastardly,” scolded his mother.

Despite his mother using all three of his names, Zachary wasn’t going to give up.

The dragon swooped out of the clouds, dangling Kyle like a bag of laundry.

“Hey,” Kyle shouted. “Those loaves of bread are perfect! The dragon will have to drop me so she can use both claws to grab them.”

“Exactly what I thought!” That’s just one of the reasons why he and Kyle were such good friends.

Then Zachary counted off the seconds. “One-Dastardlygoody, two-Dastardlygoodies…thirtyfiveDastardlygoodiesonehundredtwenty-Dastardlygoodies.” Two minutes. And he kept going.

The dragon fluttered almost daintily towards Zach’s hands and the bread. She inhaled deeply. Zach wanted to clap. The dragon was going to take the bait! He’d be a hero.

“Talons only, Dragon! Drop my friend, and you can have the bread.”

But the dragon only exhaled, setting fire to a patch of grass, and swung into the clouds.

Zachary’s arms shook. “Discipline,” he told himself. “I can do this for Kyle.”

The dragon circled back. Kyle’s feet emerged from the clouds. Only one shoe!

“Kyle, what happened to your other shoe?”

He held up his shoeless foot, as if noticing it for the first time. “I lost it, I guess,” he said.

Zachary hoped one shoe was as magical as two, at least for a bit longer. This bread better work. He feared time was running out for Kyle.

The dragon sniffed the air before rearing back and lifting her tail over Zach’s hand. Her body shimmied.

“What’s she doing?” Kyle and Zach asked at the same time.

“Oh no,” said Zach and tried to pull his arms away.

Too late. The dragon let loose a smoldering pile of steaming, wet dragon doo. It bobbled on top of the loaves of bread like his grandma’s gross rice pudding before oozing over the sides and down Zachary’s hands and into his lap.

The dragon reeled into the sky, scorching the clouds like marshmallows at a campfire.

Zach was sure he could hear her laughing. He hated to be laughed at. She was playing with him, at the expense of his best friend. That was not right. Zach looked at the mess on his hands and noticed a scrap of red plaid poking out of the slime. Kyle’s shirt! The one he wore practically every day because he said it was soft and loose, just the way he liked it. That dragon had dared to nibble on his best friend’s favorite shirt? NO!

Zachary was so angry that, if he could have, he would have breathed fire through his own nose and incinerated the dragon once and for all.

“You don’t get to hurt Kyle! Not on my watch!” he roared at the red dragon. “You don’t like fig bars? Fine! You don’t like pumpernickel bread or rye? That’s fine too! But now it’s time for the big guns!”

Zachary might be in a wheelchair, but he could still save his best friend. He shook his fist at the Medieval menace, flinging dragon poo into his own eyes.

“Mom!” he shouted. “I have another plan. Get the firefighters. Please!”

Zachary wheeled himself into his pure white kitchen, spinning lumps of wet dragon mess on the pristine floor. He rinsed his hands and wiped them on the white towel, leaving gray-brown smears. His mother would be angry, but he’d deal with her wrath later.

Zach maneuvered himself to the cupboard along one entire wall of the kitchen. When he slid open the doors, the last rays of sunlight sparkled on jar after jar after jar of jellybeans.

The perfect dragon bait! He should have thought of this before. No one can resist a Dastardly Good Jellybean.

“What can we do?” asked the firefighters, standing at the doorway.

“Come over here, please.” Zachary waved them into the kitchen. He straightened up in his chair and popped a wheelie on the shiny floor—just because he could. “Form a line here to the grass and pass down these jars. I’ll be at the other end.”

“Doing what?” asked the fire chief.

“Saving my friend!” Zachary rolled outside to the grass.

Firefighters lined up like they were in a water brigade.

“Mom! Dad!” Zachary hollered. “Stand on either side of me and keep pouring jellybeans into my hands until they overflow…and then add more! Keep ‘em flowing. I’m going to make that dragon drop Kyle if it’s the last thing I do!”

“But sweetheart, how long can you stop from eating them yourself?” asked his mother.

“Two minutes, I think. But it shouldn’t even take that long. Let’s go!” Zach held his arms out parallel to the
ground.

The firefighters passed down the jars of jellybeans. Zach’s mom opened the first one. The scent of fresh berries danced out of the jar and floated up, up, up. She poured the jellybeans into Zach’s hand.

“Let me do this, Zachary,” said his father.

Zach gave his head a quick shake. “No. I’ve been practicing for something just like this! Jellybean me! Please.”

His father poured jellybeans into Zach’s other hand. The scent of tart lemon zizzled and mingled with the berries and fluttered into the clouds, seeking the dragon.

“More! Please,” shouted Zach. The beans were feathers compared to the bread. He could do this all day…if he didn’t eat them. Zach began to time himself.

The dragon poked her alligator-like snout out of the clouds. Her absurdly long tongue lolled to one side, nearly touching Kyle’s head. Kyle hummed a little song, as if he had given up.

“Come on, Dragon. You’ve never tasted anything as good as these beans,” hollered Zach.

Kyle lifted his head. “Aww, she’s not going to fall for that. I don’t think she likes sweets. She spit out my fig bar, remember? Besides, there’s no way you can stop yourself from gobbling up those jellybeans before the dragon anyhow. That’s just what you do.”

Ouch. Zachary couldn’t believe what his best friend was saying. Kyle didn’t believe in him! After everything they’d been through together. This hurt more than hand cramps, more than a sugar burn.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get over this.

The dragon performed a graceful nosedive toward Zach and the jellybeans. She stopped about twenty feet up, as high as the roof of his two-story house. If she dropped Kyle now, it would be the end of him.

Sweat dribbled down Zach’s face and into the collar of his shirt.

“You’re up to one minute fifty-eight seconds,” said his mother.

“Discipline, son,” said his father.

Discipline might not be enough this time. His arms ached. But worse, his heart ached. He was going to have to call it quits and just hope the firefighters could help Kyle.

He was about to admit defeat when the dragon flew ever closer.

Kyle squirmed.

Zachary focused. Then clear as a spring day, Zach realized that Kyle not believing in him was just another test of his discipline. He’d never felt a pain like this before, but he could forge ahead and do what he needed to do. He’d save Kyle, whether Kyle believed in him or not.

“Kyle,” he said, “Reach down and grab some of these beans for the dragon. She just needs to taste them.”

Kyle s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d his arm, twiddling his fingers, but came up short. Zach tried to lift his palms closer to his friend, but he had no strength left for such extra-curricular activities.

Zach’s father grabbed a handful of beans and tossed them to Kyle.

The dragon screeched and swooped away.

“I think you scared her,” called Kyle as they whooshed into the sky.

Zach’s shaking arms dislodged jellybeans into the grass around him. They glistened like jewels, edible jewels—sweet, tart, juicy, sugary jewels. Zach gulped, trying to forget how much he wanted to eat them.

“Dragon, if you let my friend go,” shouted Zachary, “you can have all the beans you want for as long as you live.”

The dragon made a sound and bent her head toward Zach, as if listening for the rules to this new game.

“You heard me right, Dragon. The jellybeans for Kyle.” My friend who doesn’t believe in me, he said to himself. But no matter. He’d still save him.

The dragon tilted her head, flicked her long tongue, and fluttered forward.

Zach gazed into her eyes. “Please?”

“Four minutes and twenty-five seconds, Zachary,” said his mother.

The jellybeans were slick with sweat in his hands, all the colors mixing to form a sickly green glob. It was the most glorious sight ever. Everyone knows jellybeans are better when they’re all mixed together.

“Five minutes,” said his father.

Zach had never wished so much for a long dragon tongue as he did now. He bent his arm ever-so-slightly closer to his mouth. He could almost taste the pineapple jellybeans mixing with the blackberry mixing with the lime. They’d be just the thing to make his heart feel better. Oh my. Focus. Discipline.

“Hey!” called Kyle. “Look, you haven’t eaten any of the jellybeans!”

Zach gulped the air. He hadn’t and he wouldn’t. From deep within, he found a tiny bit more strength, and he lifted his arms higher. Then, in one motion, the dragon swooped down, dropped Kyle, reached out her tongue, and slurped up the sticky mass on Zachary’s hand.

Kyle bounced up and rubbed his head. “I’m free!” He pranced on the grass like a puppy.

“Hang on,” said Zachary. “Come back here. You said you didn’t believe in me.”

“I believe in you!” said Kyle.

“Yeah, now that you’re safe. But you thought I’d eat all the jellybeans.”

Kyle scratched his chin. He nodded. “You’re right. I did. I’m sorry. But you’ve never been able to resist jellybeans. Why would today be any different?”

“Because of you, you goofball. I’ve never had to save my best friend before.”

Kyle dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m really sorry. I should have known.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Zach gave him a playful punch on his leg. “Don’t forget again. I can do anything when the stakes are high enough. You’re worth any amount of jellybeans.”

Zachary and Kyle gazed at the beans scattered around them.

“Bet you wouldn’t turn any away now, would you?” Kyle asked.

Zachary was about to answer, but Mrs. Ferris swooped over like the very dragon that had captured Kyle and ran with him back to the bakery. “Thank you for saving my boy!” she called.

The dragon continued to hover.

“Get the nets, boys,” the fire chief yelled to her crew.

The dragon’s mouth opened. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes blinked as fast as hummingbird wings, and she stared at Zach as if she were a penniless kid in a candy store.

“STOP!” Zachary straightened up in his chair and popped a wheelie. “I made a promise to the dragon. She let Kyle go, and now I owe her a lifetime supply of jellybeans!”

“Zach,” said his father. “This dragon could incinerate our entire village quicker than wet jellybeans turn to sugary goo.”

“But she won’t.” Zachary looked deep into the dragon’s eyes. “You won’t, will you?”

The dragon gave a shrug that worked its way up from her tail to her scorched nose.

“But son, fire is what dragons do,” said his mother. “It’s against their nature to hold it in. How will she stop herself?”

The dragon looked at Zach as if wondering the very same thing.

Zachary rubbed the arms of his chair and looked down at his legs which couldn’t move anymore. Once upon a time, he would have thought sitting in a wheelchair was against his nature. He could never have imagined such a thing. But slowly, with discipline and hard work, he had found strength in other ways, forcing himself to go beyond his limits, strengthening his arms, his resolve. Forcing himself to go against his nature and create a different life for himself.

How will the dragon stop herself? Well, that was easy.

“Discipline,” Zach said.

~The End~

Before you go, don’t forget to sign up for my mailing list, below: