Free Under a Painted Sky by Stacey Lee

say?”
    â€œEach sign has its strengths and weaknesses,” I say under my breath.
    She tilts back her head, causing her hat to fall forward. “Tell me the bad news first.”
    â€œDragons are sharp-tongued, stubborn, and overconfident—”
    She cuts me off. “Move on to the good stuff.”
    â€œThey’re also creative and independent. And when they put their minds to something, they always succeed, which is why they’re so powerful. Mother was a Dragon. She made Father speak only English to her so she could learn the language. Took her three months.”
    â€œI already figured you’s mama was bright as a sunbeam,” says Andy. “But she ever try riding a horse?”
    â€œIf Princesa starts fussing at you, just remember dragons eat horses for dinner.”
    She wrinkles her nose. “Doesn’t strike me as Christian to be a dragon. The ones in the Bible were always up to no good. Now go do your business while I say my last prayers.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Princesa belts out a high-pitched squeal, almost like a human scream, as Andy approaches her.
    â€œPrincesa,” says Peety in a stern voice, pointing his finger at the horse’s nose.
    The screaming dies down, and Peety helps Andy into the seat. Immediately, she grabs the saddle horn.
    â€œNo holding apple!” says Peety, gesturing at the saddle horn. “Trust your legs.”
    â€œI trust my legs, just not what’s under them.”
    Princesa jerks her head back. Andy wobbles but instead of grabbing the apple, she grabs Princesa’s mane, causing her ride to rock in irritation. She’ll fall off for sure, maybe break her leg. Then what?
    As Peety pries Andy’s fingers out of Princesa’s mane, I clear my throat. “Maybe I should ride Princesa today, and Andy can go with—”
    â€œCome on,” grumbles West from behind me. “Don’t keep Franny waiting.” He forms his hands into a sling and boosts me up onto his sorrel. Her back is cushioned only with a blanket since Peety moved her saddle to Princesa. Then West climbs on in back of me, while I scoot as far forward as possible. Franny accepts the arrangement with a snort and a sigh, and I swear West does, too. His tongue clicks and away we go.
    When Peety and Andy catch up with us, she’s still holding on to the apple, sitting straight as a bottle on a rocking barrel. Her face is frozen in concentration. I curl my pinkie at her in our secret sign. Even if she disapproves of dragons, she will hopefully still consent to being a rattlesnake. She barely lifts her eyes to me.
    West lets Franny drift behind the others. The horses kick up clouds of dust, which hang in the air for us to pass through. I pull my handkerchief up to my eyes.
    The land changes underneath our feet as we travel, first pebble and sand, now grass tall enough for me to graze my hand over. Every now and then, some animal, probably a prairie dog, disturbs the rhythm of the waving blades with a rattling sound.
    If the authorities dispatched men to come for us, they will catch up soon. How big was the bounty? The sweeter the prize, the faster the flies will find it. My stomach bunches like overworked
bao,
the little white buns we fill with sweet beans. If you knead the dough too long, the
bao
shrivel around the filling and become paperweights.
    My back cramps, so I unbend it, placing my heels on the fat pads of Franny’s shoulders. West tries to keep his distance from me, aiding my efforts to keep my waist away from him. We might as well be trying to run up opposite hills of polished jade in our socks. When we bump in the middle for the third time, he mutters, “Dang it.”
    Ears burning, I scoot forward again. Why do I offend him so much? Is it because he doesn’t want to sit so close to a boy—or because he doesn’t want to be too near a Chinese boy? He does not act jumpy and irritable around Andy, or glare