Gingersnap

By Daniel Swenson

Connor is your average eleven-year-old boy with one exception: he believes dragons are real, and that they love to eat redheaed children because they taste like gingersnap cookies. Despite everyone telling him, including the classroom bully, that dragon's aren't real, Connor finds clues that there's a dragon hunting him, and that it's close on his tail. Can Connor find proof that the dragon is real? Or will he end up as a dragon snack?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Swenson
• Release date: Feb 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215681893

Book preview

Chapter One

My grandpa taught me that there are two universal facts accepted by people who believe in dragons. One, the biggest, fiercest dragons live in Scotland, and two, their favorite food in the entire world is redheaded children.

Which is why I’m running right now.

I begged mom to let me skip the field trip to the Moors today. Everyone knows hungry dragons go to the Moors to snack on sheep. With my piles of curly red hair, mom says I look like a little sheep, which means I’d be doubly delicious to an enterprising dragon.

The rest of the class were all standing next to the bus and laughing at me as I ran for my life. Typical. Not one of them here today are gingers. No sir, the mothers of the other two gingers in my class were sensible and believed their children when they said they didn’t want to go on the field trip.

My teacher Ms. Granger on the other hand, stuck her bony hands on her bony hips, as if that would be enough to convince me to stop running, settle down, and stand nicely with the class as she droned on about ecosystems and sustainability.

Connor! Return to the class immediately! Her reedy voice cracked as she shouted. The class burst into laughter again.

Can’t! ... Dragon! I yelled back as I zig-zagged across the wide flat plain. If it works for escaping from alligators, it must work for larger reptiles. Except alligators don’t fly. Or live in Scotland.

Overhead, the dragon shrieked and its razor-sharp talons opened. Any second it would swoop down, pick me up like a dinner sausage, and carry me away to its lair in the seaside cliffs and caves. I needed a plan, and fast.

From here, the school bus looked like a giant yellow beetle and the class looked like a swarm of ants. The biggest problem with the moors? Nowhere to hide. It’s a flat treeless expanse of grass.

The dragon screamed again.

Why on earth is Ms. Granger not doing anything? I’m about to be eaten and she just stood there looking grumpier than usual, if that’s even possible. Is there some sort of rule in the teacher handbook saying, If a dragon comes for the redhead in your class, let him. It builds character and respect for nature in the other children.?

Fine. If it’s going to come to that, I’ll show them. I might be a dragon’s favorite snack, but if I’m hard to get, the dragon will have to eat a blond, or Ms. Granger. As long as he doesn’t eat my best friend Sean, I won’t complain too much.

My feet pounded on the spongy grass. I dodged around the low kilt-grabbing scrubby bushes. I hurdled over a broken fence post, past the class, and straight under the bus.

Ms. Granger crouched down. One of her knobby knees popped and her nest of grey hair poked into view. Connor McDonald, get out from under there this instant!

Is it gone? I asked when I finally caught my breath.

Is what gone?

The dragon.

What dragon? Her other knee popped as she bent down further, revealing a large forehead wrinkled with barely contained anger. One mascara-smeared eye lowered until it was staring at me. That was a common buzzard circling on the thermals. The other eye sank into view. It’s looking for its supper and heaven knows I’m ready for mine. Now, out with you!

Not a dragon. Not this time. But I’ve read they were indeed out here. I always say it’s better to be cautious than eaten. Why, grandpa told me of three redheads he knew that were eaten by dragons right here on an earlier field trip. Had I been right and not run away when I did, I could have been eaten for sure.

Connor, Connor, ginger snap! Runs and runs right off the map! A girl started in a sing-song voice. In seconds the whole class was singing it. Everyone except Sean.

He crawled under the bus and flopped on his back next to me. I’ll admit, that was one giant bird. I’d be scared of it too.

You’ll get in trouble being under here.

Don’t care. My best mate was under a bus. I didn’t want to miss out. He reached up and poked a bolt sticking out from one of the floor panels. Plus, I’ll never get an excuse to check out the underside of a bus like this again. Look at this. He said with wonder as he pointed to a series of tubes secured with metal strapping. That’s the air hoses for the heaters.

Dork. Gravel from the parking lot dug into my elbows and the back of my head. We best get out from under here. Ms. Granger might just have the bus drive off and squish us both.

Nah, the back axle rides high. We’d fit under easy, he explained.

Double dork. I rolled my eyes at him.

He wriggled and crawled back out. You’re right. I’d rather not walk home from here.

Chapter Two

The bus bumped down another line of potholes making all the students bounce in their seats like sweets in a basket being carried by a toddler. My head banged against Sean’s and we both groaned.

As if the ride itself wasn’t bad enough, Mason James, the world's biggest bully had taken it upon himself to entertain the back half of the bus by singing the ballad of the field trip crybaby. To no one’s surprise, it told the tale of a redhead running away from a giant ginger-eating bird and hiding under a bus. With each new verse the class laughed louder and louder until I wanted to go hide under the bus again.

Little did they know, that bird was really an honest to gosh real live dragon. No buzzard in his right mind would follow a single boy running across the moors, let alone want to eat one. Buzzards only ate dead things or those things close to death. I certainly wasn’t any of those things.

Don’t you find it weird buses don’t have seatbelts? Sean asked.

Not really. I responded, scanning the landscape as it zipped by. If I could spot the dragon again then maybe I could get someone to believe me.

My mom is always telling me to buckle up because it’s the law.

Yeah, mine does too. I squint, trying to see if a black speck flying above us was a goose or perhaps something else.

So, why then are buses exempt? Sean asked. Especially considering school buses are always packed full with kids.

Before I could answer Sean’s question, a soccer ball sailed in from out of nowhere and slammed into the back of my head. My forehead bounced off the bus window like a bouncy ball. The back end of the bus erupted in laughter as I nursed the knot beginning to form.

I turned in the direction the ball came from and found my nemesis, Mason James, leering at me. I did the only thing I could. I leered back.

Did you see that? I exclaimed.

See what? Sean asked as he dug through his overstuffed backpack.

Mason! He threw that football at me. I whispered harshly.

Are you sure it was Mason? Sean asked. It honestly could have been half a dozen other people. Plus, he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.

Are you kidding me, Sean!

Mr. McDonald, do I need to remind you to be quiet? Ms. Granger roared over the tumult of voices.

Of course. Out of all the voices chirping loudly about in the bus, Ms. Granger somehow only hears mine. I swear that old sea hag had it out for me. I bet it has something to do with the color of my hair. Being a ginger is like having a giant sticky note on your back saying, ‘Hey you! Kick me or throw a football at my head’ in giant bold letters.

No Ms. Granger. I replied as I sat back in my seat with my arms crossed in irritation.

Ms. Granger continued to eye me something fierce for a time. When she decided I was no longer going to be a problem, she turned around and continued her chat with Mr. Angus the bus driver. It was rather disgusting how the two carried on. Who in their right mind would want to talk to a girl, especially one as mean and nasty as Ms. Granger. Yuck!

Didn’t Mr. Angus know girls had cooties? I mean seriously, that’s something you learn the first day of primary school. Girls have this rare infectious disease that doesn’t affect them, but if you get too close or they touch you, the disease transfers to you and its deadly!

Just then, a dark shadow zipped over the bus, momentarily blotting out the sun. I craned my neck to see if it was the dragon following us.

What most people don’t know is that dragons find gingers like me as sweet and delectable as a gingersnap cookie. At least that’s what my grandpa told me. And honestly, why would he lie? He had been a ginger too. However, that was before my mom was born and I'm pretty sure when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

The bus squealed to a stop when we arrived at the school, throwing everyone forward against the seatbacks.

Sean rubbed his forehead. You know Connor, someone seriously needs to talk to the Headmaster about this flagrant disregard for our safety.

And would that person, be you? I asked.

Mason slung his pack over his shoulder and scooped up his soccer ball. He then made an exaggerated display of the ball smacking him in the head and then stuck his tongue out at me before laughing. I grumbled