Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

had short stories published in various anthologies and journals. Her short story “An Ordinary Boy” appeared in the anthology The Tangled Bank: Love, Wonder and Evolution. She also has stories in the anthologies Bewere the Night and Dead Red Heart.

Keeping a baby dinosaur safe and secret from prying TV people and scientists is no easy task for a kid. But when your family have been keeping their sacred traditions secret from those same people for generations, it might make things just a little easier.

MY OWN SECRET DINOSAUR

by Jo Antareau

“The sore is from when Addy scratched me. He’s only a little dinosaur. Didn’t mean to hurt me. He’s just bored from hiding in my room all the time. He’s a plantivore, so he’s not gonna eat me.”

Em stares at me as if listening will make her brain explode. “Get a band-aid on it and shut up. I’m Skyping.” She turns back to the screen. “Yeah, I’m stuck home babysitting the Piglet.”

I get on with caring for my toe. The sore isn’t deep, but Addy — and his claws — are getting bigger. He doesn’t look like nothing I’ve ever seen, except in a picture. His legs don’t stick out to the side like a gecko’s. Got big back legs and short front legs, like a T-Rex. First, I thought he was one of those chicken-sized dinosaurs, but now I reckon he might grow taller than the house. Already bigger than the cat. I’ve tried to teach him to catch a Frisbee in his mouth, but he’s as keen about that as the cat was.

He still needs his breakfast. He’s woke up properly now that the day’s getting warm, but I hardly let him out in the backyard no more. Plants starting to look sick coz Addy’s been chewing them.

“Hide, boy,” I tell him, stomping my feet. I chuck a dandelion under the bed, and he has to wriggle to get under. Soon be too big to fit. I hear him snap his mouth, then he sticks his head out again, looking hopeful. I’m still stomping. “No, boy, stay hidden till the footsteps have stopped.” We do it again and again till I’ve run out of dandelions, and he sticks his snout in my hand for more.

I been getting his food from the park. Fallen twigs and bits of grass aren’t a good feed no more. Now I gotta take a hacksaw and drag some branches home, and get rid of them once he’s eaten the green bits. People give me funny looks.

I tell Addy he won’t need to wait long, he’ll get food soon — yummy leaves. When Em’s on Skype, which is most of the time, she wouldn’t hear a bomb. So she won’t notice if I go out and come home with half a forest on my back. Addy tries to follow me, but I shut the door just in time. He’s getting faster.

Em calls out, saying she’s off to the beach soon. She’s meeting her friends, and I’d better hurry and get my gear if I know what’s good for me. I ignore her. She’d be dead meat if Dad finds out she’s left me alone. Dad’s paying her to stay home with me, which is a pain, coz I haven’t had a seizure for ages. So I tell her I’ll be ready in my own good time, and sprint to the park. It doesn’t take long to get some thin, new branches. I sling them on each shoulder.

On the way back, Len calls out “Hi.” He’s an old guy with grizzled white hair and beard. He says something about Birnam Wood going to Dunsinane, which makes no sense, but I figure it’s about the branches.

“To feed my dinosaur,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

“Just like yer Grandfather, you are. ‘E always liked a good laugh.”

Len knows that Dad and me like hearing stories about Dad’s dad, coz we never knew him. But I really gotta hurry; Em might hear Addy scratching. Len starts telling me about how the Blackfellas use these branches. The smoke’s sweet and good to heat rocks and cook fish, but already I’m walking away.

“Ah,” Len calls out after me, disappointed. “This one won’t never make a Blackfella. Likes ‘is food from a supermarket.”

I tell him I wanna hear about how Blackfellas live, but later. When I get to my room, Addy gets all excited. I figure he’s a type of Iguanadon, coz he’s got a spiky sort of thumb that sticks up. Been googling when Em’s not hogging the computer. Not sure what type of Iguanadon, coz there’s heaps of them. He grips his branch with his spike when he sits on his back legs and tears the leaves and green bits. Leaves the tough bits behind. His huge mouth works hard, like a person with a heap of gum. Gets a dreamy look to him when he’s eating.

But he shat when I was out, so I get to work quick on the mess. When Addy shits, he don’t muck around. Lots of runny green stuff, sorta like a cow pat. Heaps for a little guy, but I’m used to it. So I scrub with an old towel. Once used Em’s towel by mistake. So funny when she found it; wanted to know who spilt the spinach curry over it.

Em’s stomping down the hall, asking if I want her to kill me. So I tell Addy to hide, and shove him in the wardrobe with his breakfast. Just in time, coz Em sticks her nose in. I’m leaning on the wardrobe door. If she saw what was in there, she’d upload pictures on Facebook and YouTube fast as you could blink, then tweet everyone about it.

“What’s with the leaves?” she says, scowling at the bits left on the floor. “You making a pretty flower arrangement?”

“To feed my dinosaur.”

“They’ve got a special ward for people like you.”

“Your friends are so boring,” I tell her. “Why bother with the beach? You know it’s crap with tourists