* Author : Kelly Robson * Narrator : Kae Mills * Host : Sofía Barker * Audio Producer : Devin Martin * Discuss on Forums Previously published by “The Book of Dragons” edited by Jonathan Strahan Content Warnings for children in peril and references to sexual assault Rated PG-13 La Vitesse By Kelly Robson   March 2, 1983, 30 kilometers southwest of Hinton, Alberta “Rosie,” Bea said under her breath, but the old school bus’s wheels were rumbling over gravel, and her daughter didn’t hear. Rosie was slumped in the shotgun seat, eyes closed. She hadn’t moved since Bea had herded her onto La Vitesse at six-fifteen that morning. She wasn’t asleep though. A mother could always tell. Bea raised her voice to a stage whisper. “Rosie, we got a problem.” Still no reaction. “Rosie. Rosie. Rosie.” Bea snatched one of her gloves off the bus’s dashboard and tossed it. Not at her kid — never at her kid; it bounced off the window and landed in Rosie’s lap. “Mom. I’m sleeping.” Big scary scowl. Bea hadn’t seen her kid smile since she’d turned fourteen. “There’s a dragon right behind us,” she said silently, mouthing the words. None of the other kids had noticed, and Bea wanted to keep it that way. Rosie rolled her eyes. “I don’t read lips.” “A dragon,” she whispered. “Following us.” “No way.” Rosie bolted upright. She twisted in her seat and looked back through the central aisle, past the kids in their snowsuits and toques. “I can’t see it.” The rear window was brown with dirty, frozen slush. Thank god. If the kids saw the dragon, they’d be screaming. “Come here and look.” Rosie crawled out of her seat and leaned over her mother, hanging tight to the grab bar behind Bea’s head. Her too-tight black parka carried a whiff of cigarettes. Bea flipped open her window and adjusted the side-view mirror for Rosie. Behind the bus, a long, matte-black wing beat the air in a furious rhythm. The pale winter sun glinted on the silver scales that marked the wing’s fore-edge. “Wow,” Rosie said, her voice so low it was almost a growl. Bea stepped on the gas. La Vitesse surged ahead, revealing the dragon’s broad chest, rippling with flexed muscles. It lifted its taloned forelegs as if reaching for the bus, and showed them the barest glimpse of a lissome neck and triangular, snake-like head before it caught up to the bus and disappeared into the mirror’s blind spot. Rosie pushed her ragged bangs out of her eyes and leaned closer to the mirror. “No fire. Why isn’t it trying to roast us?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s breathing too hard,” Bea said. “But honey, you got to help me. Herd the kids into the front seats. Pack them in tight.” Rosie wasn’t listening, though. She stared at the mirror, transfixed, watching the dragon’s wing flexing from hooked tip to thick shoulder. “Rose, please.” Bea slapped the wheel with both hands. “Get the kids up front.” “Yeah, okay.” Rosie straightened, then leaned over her mother again for one last look. Even Bea had to admit her kid looked scary, especially lately, with her death metal T-shirts and her angry slouch. Not yet sixteen, but so big and tall she looked twenty. Add all that to the black eyeliner Rosie melted with a match and applied smoldering, and the spiky haircut she’d given herself in grade ten and kept short with Bea’s only pair of good scissors,