Work Text:
The classroom smells like antiseptic and peanut butter sandwiches. Ms. Hanson’s voice is tired as she counts heads—again. Only three small bodies sit cross-legged on the alphabet rug: Dougie with his perpetually grass-stained knees, Judy clutching her pink plastic pony, and H.T., who’s drawing a dragon in the margin of his worksheet.
“Alright, explorers,” Ms. Hanson sighs, adjusting her cat-eye glasses. “Since it’s just you three—”
The door creaks open. Tommy barrels in, face red beneath a mop of blond curls, tiny fists balled. “No!” he shrieks, kicking the leg of the projector stand. “Dragons! Promised!”
Ms. Hanson hoists him onto her hip with practiced ease, though his sneakers leave dusty prints on her paisley dress. “Tommy, sweetheart, the theater’s closed. But look—” She threads a film reel with fingers still smudged from grading papers. “Davey and his dog!”
H.T. abandons his dragon to peer at the flickering image. “That’s not a dog,” he informs Judy solemnly. “That’s a failed dragon.”
Judy reaches over and pats Tommy’s foot. “Davey’s nice! He shares his ice cream.”
Tommy responds by hurling a crayon at the screen. It bounces off Goliath’s pixelated face. Dougie snorts.
Ms. Hanson doesn’t flinch. “Tommy James Hanson,” she says, too weary for real heat.
H.T. suddenly gasps. “Wait.” He digs in his pocket and produces a crumpled candy wrapper—shiny silver, with winged shadows. “Dragon gummy. Last piece.”
Tommy stops mid-scream. Eyes wide. Silence. Then, with the gravitas of a knight offering a sword, H.T. holds it out. Tommy snatches it and carefully unfolds the wrapper. As he licks the last flecks of sugar, he settles.
“...Okay,” he mutters, and plops down between Dougie and Judy as Davey preaches about sharing.
Ms. Hanson exhales. The projector whirs. Somewhere, a dragon—real or imagined—unfurls its wings.