Wings of Fire as Humans: Jade Preparatory Academy

Chapter Three: Qibli Roadrunner

Qibli Roadrunner knew something was off. He was doing his best to pay attention to Sunny and Starflight's conversation, but it was hard. He kept glancing over to where his adoptive mother, Thorn Roadrunner, stood with Grandeur Paradise, discussing plans to take Glory and Kinkajou to Wasp City with them. (Jade Preparatory Academy started in just less than a week, and it took at least a day to get there. The beginning of the year assessments took place at various local middle schools around the continent, including the one he'd just graduated from in Cicada City).

Qibli's Weapon, an earring that allowed him to sense weaknesses and danger, was alerting him to something. It was narrowing in on a spec of grass a mere foot away from where his mother stood, but his vision wasn't good enough to see why.

"Qibli?"

Qibli blinked. "Oh, uh . . ."

"I asked you whether we should meet on the tenth grade floor or the ninth grade floor for the Winglet sessions," Sunny said.

"Um . . . well, didn't you say Dune lent you his classroom last year?" Qibli realized Starflight had gone across the yard and was now deep in a conversation with Cricket Tick about the history of salt in the Roman Empire, so he and Sunny were alone in discussing their band.

"Yes, but he won't do it this year. Apparently, we made too much noise, and it was disturbing the other ninth graders during their study time."

"But it's the only place in the school with a drum set! And I can't exactly bring mine halfway across the continent." Qibli was not thrilled with this. How was he supposed to be part of the band without a drum set? He played electric guitar too, but that just didn't have the same thrill.

But just then, Qibli's eye caught on that spec of grass again. It looked just like any other spec of grass, but now it seemed a bit more . . . shadowed. And if his Weapon kept drawing his attention to it . . . it meant that spec of grass was a danger to someone.

His eyes traveled to Thorn again. Her usual sunny smile, her wiry frame, her banged-up neon yellow tennis shoes. His earring was drawing his attention to her, too.

This was not good.

"Qibli?" Sunny said again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Qibli lied. He knew that wasn't nearly good enough to fool Sunny, though. "I'm hungry," he added, then strolled away toward the table in the corner of Kinkajou's yard, toward the table of cookies.

"Cookies aren't going to help," Sunny said, following him. "And you're not okay. You're worried about something. You're forgetting about my Weapon." She subconsciously touched the silver charm bracelet on her wrist, the object that gave her her power to sense when people were upset.

"Oh . . ."

"See, you're always talking when you're in a good mood," Sunny said. "I can usually never get you to shut up, normally."

Qibli groaned. He should have realized Sunny would sense something. She always did, and she could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.

"See that patch of grass over there?" he asked her, pointing in the general direction of the spot his earring kept telling him to be aware of.

"What?"

"That spec of grass." He pointed again.

"What about it?"

"I don't know."

Qibli's eyes traveled to Thorn again, then back to the spec of grass. He felt more urgent now than he had a minute ago. Meaning that whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.

Qibli cautiously approached the spec of grass and reached toward it.

"Qibli?" Sunny asked. "What in Pyrrhia are you doing?"

"Oh no," he breathed, ignoring her completely.

The spec of grass wasn't a spec of grass.

It was a small bomb.

And the countdown to the explosion read sixty seconds.