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CHAPTERELEVEN
Next morning,I woke up to Fancypants sitting at the end of the bed, staring at me.
“What?” I asked, squinting at him. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Time for breakfast,” he said. “I can open the refrigerator, but I can’t cook.”
Grumbling, I sat up, pulling my hair out of my face. I glanced at the clock. “It’s sixa.m.”
“Yes, time to be up and onto your day.” He suddenly hiccupped and I heard a rumble.
“What’s that?”
“My stomach,” he said. “I need food…” He let out a gratuitous moan and gave me such a pathetic look that I sighed and threw back the covers, swinging my feet to the floor.
“You know how to work it, don’t you?” I said, yawning. “All right, let me get my robe on and I’ll make your breakfast.” I went to the bathroom, washed my face and hands, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Then, with Fancypants chattering nonstop about some game show he watched while I was asleep, I trudged into the kitchen.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only had ground meat.”
“How about trying some scrambled eggs and toast?” I reached for a pan and then popped bread into the toaster. I could make one big pan of eggs and have my own breakfast, as well.
“I’ll try it,” he said, perching on the top of the paper towel roll. He paused, then added, “You aren’t going to always call me ‘Fancypants,’ are you? The name’s set now—there’s no going back—”
“You mean I can’t change it? I was reconsidering,” I asked.
“Like the bonding, once a dragonette’s been given a name, it’s permanent. But you can call me whatever nicknames you like.” He sniffed. “That smells good. Tell me, were the creatures that would have been born out of those eggs humanely killed?”
“They didn’t evenform. These are unfertilized chicken eggs. People eat unfertilized eggs.”
Fancypants watched my every movement as I scrambled the eggs. I took them off the heat, then buttered the toast and divided the eggs onto two plates, cutting his toast into small chunks so he could pick them up. I carried breakfast over to the table, then made myself a latte.
“Me too?” Fancypants asked, sniffing the latte.
I stared at him. “You want caffeine? I don’t know if it’s good for you.”
“No time like the present to find out,” he said, staring at me with his glittering eyes. He’d never pull off the puppy dog look, but he was hard to resist.
“Look, this just…” I stopped, deciding that, since I was going to cave one way or another, I might as well save us both some time. “I’ll make you a latte but if you get sick, you have yourself to blame. You understand?”
“I understand,” he said as I pulled one shot and poured milk and some sugar into it. I set the wide-mouthed mug down in front of the dragonette and stood back to watch. He sniffed it, cautiously stuck his tongue in it, then drained it like a thirsty frat boy at a kegger.
Within ten minutes, I knew we weren’t going to repeat the experiment.
“Will you get down from there?” I yelled, staring up at the ceiling where Fancypants was riding one of the ceiling fan blades. “You’re going to get dizzy and then you’re going to—”
Before I could finish the thought, Fancypants leaned over the side of the blade and threw up, right onto the coffee table next to me. I jumped back to avoid the splash factor and walked over to the controls on the wall, where I turned off the ceiling fan. As it slowed, Fancypants lurched and fell off the blade. He was unable to take wing and I managed to catch him, though the effort knocked me back.
“For fuck’s sake, what did I say?”
“That it wasn’t a good idea,” Fancypants said, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“And was I right?” I set him down on the sofa. “If you’re going to throw up again, please notify me in advance.”
“You were right, but what a ride!” He groaned and fell over on his side.
I was beginning to get worried about him now, so I pulled out my phone and called May. “Hey, is caffeine poisonous to dragonettes?”
