Chapter 4: “The Whisper in the Leaves”

  Raindrops plinked against the oak leaves like tiny piano keys. Liam clung to the branch, mud-streaked and trembling, as Dad’s fshlight beam cut through the storm.

  “Liam! What in the–get down!”

  “I can’t! The kite’s dying!”

  Dad climbed, cursing under his breath (“Fudgecicles…”), and hoisted Liam onto his back. The kite hung limp, its comic-book scales peeling, one googly eye dangling by a thread.

  “...Took you long enough,” it wheezed.

  Dad froze. “Did… did it just…?”

  “YES, I TALK. YOU DROPPED THE SPATULA. MOVE ON.”

  Liam held his breath. Dad stared at the kite, then burst out ughing.

  “Alright, chatterbox. Let’s get you down.”

  ***

  Back home, Dad spread the kite on the kitchen table like a patient in surgery. Liam hovered, clutching tape and glitter glue.

  “Will it fly again?”

  “Sure,” Dad said, stitching a torn wing with dental floss. “Kites are like people, bud. A little broken, a little fixed–still them.”

  The kite’s remaining eye flickered. “SAP ALERT. BUT… THANKS, DAD-BOT.”

  Dad snorted. “Anytime, Windbag.”

  ***

  At dawn, they returned to the hilltop. The storm had scrubbed the sky clean, leaving it pink and new. Liam clutched the kite’s handle, its patched tail fluttering shyly.

  “Ready?” Dad knelt beside him.

  The kite rose in silence, its voice now a soft hum.

  “Hey, Captain.”

  “You okay?” Liam whispered.

  “BETTER. THE TREASURE… WANNA KNOW?”

  Liam nodded.

  “IT’S THIS.” The kite swept over the hill, where sunlight gilded the dandelions and Dad’s hair. “THE WIND’S TREASURE IS STUPID STUFF. LAUGHING. MUD STAINS. DADS WHO CLIMB TREES.”

  “But you said it was sparkles!”

  “SPARKLES ARE EVERYWHERE. YOU JUST GOTTA FLY.” The kite sighed, content. “AND CAPTAIN? MAGIC… IT’S JUST LOVE WITH FRILLY BITS.”

  Dad’s hand tightened on Liam’s shoulder. “You hear that, buddy?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  ***

  They flew until the sun pooled like melted butter on the horizon. The kite looped and dipped, quieter now but glowing in the golden light.

  “LAST STOP, CAPTAIN,” it said, nudging Liam’s cheek with its tail. “TIME TO LAND.”

  “Will you… still talk?”

  “WHEN YOU NEED ME. WHEN YOU FORGET. WHEN DADS SNEEZE TOO HARD.” Its grin widened. “AND TELL DAD HIS HAIR LOOKS LIKE A DANDELION.”

  Dad mock-gasped. “Rude!”

  “TRUE THOUGH.”

  Liam reeled the kite in, hugging its crumpled frame. The googly eye winked.

  “GOOD JOB, CREW. NOW GO EAT TACOS.”

  ***

  That night, Liam taped the kite above his bed. Dad paused in the doorway, smiling at the scribbled sign: “Liam & Kite’s Sky HQ. NO BROCCOLI ALLOWED.”

  “Still talking?” Dad asked.

  Liam listened to the breeze through the window. Somewhere, far off, a familiar voice rasped:

  “TELL HIM TO BRUSH HIS HAIR. IT’S SCARING THE CLOUDS.”

  “Nope,” Liam lied, grinning into his pillow. “Totally quiet.”

  Dad flicked off the light. “Smart kite.”