Head of the Dragon

The girl loves the plastic wrapped packages of jelly dragon heads in a fishbowl at the drugstore checkout for the same reason she loves to dress up as a witch. She wants to be scared, but only a little. On the way to the store, her mother warned her not to ask for treats. They only need milk, and then they’re going straight home. While her mother digs in her purse for her wallet, the girl snatches a dragon head from the fishbowl and clutches it in her fist. The cash register dings open and the pretty clerk counts out change. The clerk takes forever to bag the milk. The girl tries not to move even a single inch so the plastic won’t crinkle. Of course her mother wants a receipt and the clerk has to change the register tape to print one. Her palms grow slick with sweat, and the plastic sticks to her hand.
“Don’t you want to carry the milk?” her mother asks.
Usually she likes to carry the milk to prove how strong she is, but where will she put the dragon head while she reaches for the gallon? If she drops the dragon head, she might be sent to a special jail for bad kids who steal. She sticks the dragon way up her sleeve and reaches for the milk.
Outside, two cars whoosh past so fast the ground vibrates. She looks right, left, right again. What if a car comes just as she reaches the middle of the road?
“Wait.” Her mother places a hand on her shoulder.
She holds her bulging sleeve against her rattling heart. The girl steps into the street, looks both ways. There’s a car just far enough in the distance that she’ll make it.