Chapter 3: “The Snap Heard Round the World”

  The hilltop buzzed with the kind of quiet that comes before big things happen–like when the TV freezes right before the superhero punches the volcano. Liam clutched the kite’s handle, his backpack stuffed with “anti-thunder-shark gear”: a butterfly net, Dad’s old welding goggles, and a juice box for “emergency bravery.”

  “Eyes on the prize, Captain!” The kite strained against the string, its voice crackling like static. Above them, a storm cloud loomed, fat and grumbling.

  “That’s the treasure cloud?” Liam whispered. “It looks… mad.”

  “TREASURE GUARDIANS ARE ALWAYS MAD. IT’S IN THE HANDBOOK.” The kite surged forward. “STICK CLOSE. AND DON’T LET GO OF MY STRING, OR–”

  SNAP.

  The sound was small, like a carrot breaking. The string whipped through Liam’s fingers, and the kite shot into the storm like a rogue firework.

  “OOPS.”

  “OOPS?!” Liam screeched.

  “DON’T PANIC! I’VE GOT A PLAN!” The kite zigzagged wildly. “STEP ONE: PANIC!”

  ***

  Liam sprinted, goggles smeared with rain, net fpping like a wounded seagull. The kite ricocheted off trees, yelling instructions:

  “LEFT! LEFT! WRONG LEFT–THAT’S A PUDDLE!”

  SPLOSH. Liam skidded knee-deep into muck.

  “THINK OF IT AS SWAMP TRAINING!” the kite called. “NOW JUMP THAT FENCE!”

  “I’m eight!”

  “SO? I’M A KITE! WE’RE BOTH UNDERQUALIFIED!”

  The storm roared. Thunder-sharks (or maybe just thunder) CRASHED overhead. The kite looped around a telephone pole, its tail snagging on a power line.

  ZAP.

  “HOT HOT HOT! NEW PLAN: UNPLUG THE SKY!”

  ***

  They crashed through Farmer Jess’s cornfield, stalks whipping Liam’s cheeks. The kite spiraled, comic-book scales peeling, googly eyes singed.

  “CAPTAIN! INCOMING MOO-COW AT 12 O’CLOCK!”

  “MOO-COW?!”

  “COW! COW! COW!”

  A bck-and-white blob munched zily ahead. Liam dove under its belly, rolling into a mud puddle as the kite swooped overhead, cackling.

  “NICE TUCK-AND-ROLL! YOU’RE A NATURAL!”

  “This isn’t funny!” Liam swiped mud from his goggles. “You’re breaking!”

  The kite faltered, its voice softening. “BREAKING’S PART OF THE JOB, KID. BUT FIRST–” It lunged upward. “TREASURE’S RIGHT THERE! SEE?”

  Liam squinted. Inside the storm cloud, a flicker of gold pulsed–like a firefly in a jar.

  “GRAB THE NET! TIME TO–”

  CRACK.

  A branch speared the kite’s wing, pinning it to an oak tree. The googly eyes drooped.

  “WELL. THIS IS EMBARRASSING.”

  ***

  Liam scrambled up the trunk, bark biting his palms. The kite dangled like a shot-down UFO, its string tangled in ivy.

  “Hold on! I’ll fix you!”

  “DON’T BOTHER.” The kite sighed. “TELL THE WIND I… I NEVER LIKED ITS TACOS.”

  “Stop it!” Tears blurred Liam’s vision. “You’re not dying!”

  “DYING? PLEASE. I’M… TAKING A NAP.” The kite’s voice frayed. “JUST… TELL DAD HIS CAKE HIDING SPOTS STINK.”

  “Tell him yourself!”

  “CAPTAIN.” The kite’s final whisper brushed Liam’s ear. “THE TREASURE… IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. IT’S…”

  A twig snapped.

  “Liam?!” Dad’s voice cut through the rain.

  The kite’s eyes dimmed. “...TOO LATE. PLAY DEAD.”