Ashes, glass, and Dragon Eggs

The sound of me making my own life harder was pretty quiet, just a little, tink!  and then a slightly louder crash! And just like that, my Grandma's urn was gone.

Maybe this wouldn't have been much of a problem, but my mom was weirdly obsessed with it, and my older cousin Hazel was there. And she saw everything. She saw me throw the tennis ball against the wall, watched it bounce off, ricochet off the lamp, and bump the urn off the mantel. I stood wide eyed, staring at the pile of my grandma and the urn, and turned to Hazel who wore a similar expression.

"Evan, you're in troooouubleeee!" 

"No! Please don't tell!" I begged. 

"What will you give me?" She pried, in that annoying way teenagers do. At fifteen, Hazel had three years on me, and the respect and admiration of a god amongst the younger cousins. But not me. I knew all her tricks.  

"Anything, just help me." I begged.

"$200, and it's done. But I promise you, if you don't deliver, I'll make you regret it."

"Done." I promised, and on cue, my mother walked into the room.

"Wh-wha-wha-whathappenedhere!?" Her words blurred into one as she rushed to the urn. 

"The cat." I said, kicking the tennis ball under couch.

"The cat." Hazel confirmed as she sashayed out of the room with me in tow.

"You have until next Friday, or you're dead." Hazel told me as she closed the door.

It was Tuesday, which gave me ten days. I rushed to my room and pulled out my piggy bank, I counted up my cash. I had a staggering $21.47. I was officially screwed.

That night in my nightmares, I relived the accident, except, I was a fire-breathing turtle. Which was cool, and in the morning I knew exactly what I'd do. I pulled out my rock collection, and stuffed all of the rocks into my bag. I'd sell them to the younger kids in South Beach Elementary. 

My original plan was to sell them for $5 a piece, but as a second grader and his friends huddled around my rocks, one picked up a rounded piece of amethyst and asked, "Is this a dragon egg?" I quickly capitalized on the idea and said yes, jacking up the price to $10. Pretty soon, I had created an empire. Was it founded on lies? Sorta... But the 2nd and 3rd graders respected and revered me as Evan The Mighty And Powerful Dragon Lord, and I had made more than enough money to pay Hazel for her silence. So as far as I was concerned, it was a good empire. 

Hazel came for family dinner on the agreed Friday, and I pulled her into the pantry when no one was looking, quietly handing her $200. She blinked in surprise. "Dude, I was just kidding." My jaw dropped, but before I could grab the cash, she walked out of the pantry. "Thanks though!" She called back to me.