Breaking Flight: Dinky Wings

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Actually, that’s not quite right. There were always dragons in the Valley until there weren’t. Then, after sixteen hundred years, they mysteriously returned. And it was all Sabre’s fault.

“Cheater!”

Sabrina was livid. “That’s not fair, and you know it, Bartolomeo Augusto Reyes!”

“I should have known you’d be a sore loser,” Barto shot back. “That’s just like a girl.”

“You take that back, Barto!” Constance quickly rose to Sabrina’s defense. “Everyone knows you can’t sneak attack during recess.”

“Oh, but I didn’t surprise attack anyone! I can’t help it if your girl here got spooked during our game. It’s not my fault she can’t focus!”

“Everyone knows you and Reggie are thick as thieves,” Constance shot back. “You were in cahoots!”

“I didn’t break any rules. I won, fair and square. I don’t control Reggie, and what he did is none of my concern.’

Reggie looked away in an attempt to appear innocent.

Just then, Mrs. Whipplesniff’s bell ended recess and their debate.

“Come on, Sabrina,” said Constance. “You’ll get him next time.”

“Maybe,” said Barto. “But one thing’s certain. You’re no longer undefeated. And you can’t ever get that back!”

“There are rules about jumping out of trees during recess, Barto,” said Sabrina. But she wasn’t convinced the rules would matter.

When everyone regrouped at the park school for their last lesson of the day, there was someone new and quite unexpected standing next to their Language Arts teacher. The stranger was greyed, ancient, and brittle, and she seemed to suffer from a perpetual frown.

“Children, let me introduce Ms. Butterbottoms.” Barto snickered at the stranger’s name. Mrs. Whipplesniff gave him a severe look that made him straighten up.

“Ms. Butterbottoms has traveled all the way from Mount Krasset with some important—and dare I say exciting—news.”

“Children, attend!” began Ms. Butterbottoms, slowly scanning the children with a stern face. “As you know, the Autumnal Festival is scheduled to be held next week in Port Lapulliana.”

Constance excitedly whispered to Sabrina, “She’s from the Council!”

“That is, I should say that the Festival was scheduled to be held next week in Port Lapulliana. Due to the severe flooding after their torrential rains, the Council has decided to move this year’s festival to Meridion.”

“But that’s here!” exclaimed Reginald, a bit too loudly. The class twittered in excitement.

“I am quite aware of where I am at the moment, thank you.” Ms. Butterbottoms stared fiercely at Reginald over her spectacles. Reggie slouched beneath her withering glare. Ms. Butterbottoms was apparently no one to be trifled with.

“I am here today to inform Meridion of this spectacular, and in my opinion, completely unwarranted, honor. Sadly, the Council decided it had no other recourse on such short notice.”

Sabrina leaned over to Constance and whispered, “Does that mean…?”

“Children! Attend!” Ms. Butterbottoms’ hearing was still sharp in spite of her apparent age. Sabrina gulped.

“Your parents and the town leaders are being notified by other Council members and through the regular channels. It was my great misfortune to be tasked with telling you school children the news.”

The children began to fidget. Sabrina raised her hand to be called on.

“Allow me to finish, if you please.”

Sabrina retracted her hand and bit her lip.

“As you may know, the Council provides a special dispensation for the festival’s host village that permits younger participants to compete at the Quinton Astoria Competition. And that is, sadly, why I am addressing you today.”

The children exploded into cheers, Ms. Butterbottoms’ frown notwithstanding.

Sabrina decided that now was as good a time as any to brave raising her hand once more.

“And before anyone need ask…” Ms. Butterbottoms glared at Sabrina who once again sheepishly pulled down her hand. “Yes, everyone who competes will be eligible for the Grand Prize, regardless of age.”

Sabrina gasped and pulled on Constance’s arm. “The Wishes Cup!”

All the children cheered and clapped their approval while Ms. Butterbottoms’ continued to scowl.

____________

“Can you believe it?” Sabrina was so excited, the words just tumbled out of her in a rush.

“The festival is coming here, to Meridion! And not only that, this means that I—I mean, we—can compete! For the first time ever! And I—er, I mean, one of us—could win the Wishes Cup!”

Barto and Reggie had joined Constance to accompany Sabrina home after school even though Constance was still furious with both of them. Sabre was too excited to care.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Barto. “Don’t get so excited. Just because you can compete doesn’t automatically mean you’re going to win.”

Constance frowned. “Of course Sabrina knows that, Barto. Sheesh! No one ever said that she was a shoe-in. No one even knew she’d be able to compete until today!”

“But still, Barto, there’s a reason everyone calls her Sabre,” added Reggie. “No one has ever been as good as her! Not even the older kids!”

Barto grunted his reluctant assent. Sabre was good—maybe even the best Meridion had ever seen if his parents were to be believed. He was curious to see Sabre’s special Stealth Mode for himself. He didn’t really believe that Sabrina could do what his parents had claimed.

When they arrived at the towering tree that was Sabre’s home, all four were met by the smell of fresh cookies wafting down from the kitchen above.

“You go first,” said Constance to Barto, interrupting his thoughts of fresh snickerdoodles. “Show us this big move that you’re so proud of.”

Bartolomeo crouched down to the ground and sprang up, unfolding his wings as he jumped. With two great flaps, he was high above the ground and softly settled down onto a big branch near the middle of the Abernathy’s great tree, nicely nestled among the leaves and completely hidden from view in spite of his vivid purple scales.

“Okay! I’m ready!” He shouted down at the other kids. “Take a few steps back and walk up like you don’t know I’m up here.”

“What good will that do?” asked Constance. “We already know you’re there! It’s not like we’re going to forget! You’re not going to surprise us or anything when you come down!”

“It’s no good if you just stand there,” roared Barto. “How else can I get the timing right?”

“He has a point,” said Reginald, cleaning his glasses with a special cloth he kept in his backpack just for that purpose. Reggie was known as one of the smarter dragons in their grade, and it wasn’t just because he wore spectacles.

“Okay, okay,” said Constance, shaking her head as the three dragons walked away from the tree to make her approach. “Boys!” she muttered.

“I heard that!” yelled Barto from his hidden spot in the tree above.

“Boys think they are so smart,” the golden-yellow dragon said to Sabrina in a louder-than-necessary voice. “Not only do they think they’re smart, they think they’re the best at everything.”

“I know what you mean,” replied Sabre in the same, loud-ish voice. “To hear them tell it, you’d think we couldn’t do anything better than them.”

“Why are you two talking like that?” asked Reggie, completely puzzled. Reggie was smart, but sometimes he could be clueless.

“Lovely day for a walk, don’t you think?” Constance said, talking as if she were carrying on a conversation with someone a good distance away.

“Oh, yes!” replied Sabre, even louder. “I can’t imagine a better day for a nice stroll.”

“Me either,” said Constance, almost shouting now as they neared the sneak-attack spot. “It would be just awful if someone tried to ruin it by sneak attacking us.”

“But that’s exactly what Barto’s about to do, isn’t it?” asked Reggie, even more confused than ever. “Or are we going in for cookies first?”

It was at that moment when Bartolomeo dropped from his branch.

Barto’s plan was to do a magnificent Magnum Special with a Twist. This was a classic, advanced move that involved a double forward somersault with arms outspread combined with a classic “boogity! boogity! boogity!” yell. The “twist” was the special addition of spinning around and using googly eyes as he hit the ground. It is terribly impressive when done correctly, especially by a sixth grader.

But he miffed it.

Barto landed in a pile of leaves on his stomach, and the only sound that came out of him was “ooof!” as he hit the ground hard and had the wind knocked out of him.

After the huge to-do Barto had made about his “big move,” the girls couldn’t help themselves and began to giggle. When they saw the horrified look on Barto’s face, that only made it worse.

“Did you see that?” laughed Constance. “That was a surprise all right! That poor pile of leaves didn’t expect a thing!”

Sabrina was laughing so hard, she was gasping for breath.

“It’s not funny!” yelled Barto, spitting out a few leaves that had found their way into his mouth when he was trying to yell his first “boogity!”

“Well, actually,” said Reggie, who kept himself from laughing at his best friend but was still smiling wide. “It is a little funny.”

“Oh, Barto. Don’t take yourself so seriously!” added Constance. “I’ve had so many bad landings, I’m sure I have permanent bruises.”

The purple dragon stood up and dusted himself off with a huff.

“That was a Magnum Special with a Twist, wasn’t it?” asked Sabre.

“It was supposed to be a Magnum Special,” added Constance, her golden-yellow scales glistening as she laughed. “I’m not sure you could call that a special anything!”

“I’ve seen him do it. Really, I have!” Said Reggie, the orange dragon coming to Barto’s defense. “It’s really quite splendid—magnificent, even.”

“I’m sure you have,” added Sabre. “I’m just not sure you can master it in time for the competition!”

“Well, if you’re so smart, let’s see what you can do,” said Barto. “I heard your parents bragging to my mom and dad that you have some special trick. They went on and on about it, but I’ve never seen your sneak attack on recess.”

“It’s against the rules to sneak attack during recess, Barto,” said Constance, “Everyone knows that.”

“Well, we’re not on recess now, are we?” challenged the purple dragon. “I bet you just capitalized on your advantage because you’re green.”

It was true. Green dragons did have a slight advantage when it came to sneak attacks. In fact, the main reason green dragons live in trees is because of the camouflage provided by the leaves. The green foliage makes it much easier for them to lay in wait before jumping out suddenly to scare their unsuspecting and otherwise preoccupied friends.

“Let’s see what you got,” demanded Barto.

“She doesn’t have to prove anything to you!” Constance said, a bit loudly and feeling somewhat defensive for her friend.

“That’s okay, Constance. I don’t mind. Even if I goof up, I love to practice!”

Sabrina turned to face the open window to the kitchen above and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Mom! I’m home!”

Mrs. Abernathy appeared at the kitchen door from up in the tree house and looked down at the four children on the ground.

“Are you heading to Constance’s house... or is it the park today?”

“We’re practicing our sneak attacks here.” replied Sabre. “Can you help me up?”

Mrs. Abernathy dropped down to the ground with one gentle flap of her large wings to ease her landing.

“Of course, Sabrina, but I can’t do this all afternoon. I have dinner to get on the table.”

“Once will be enough.”

Sabre’s mother grasped her under both arms, hunched down, and jumped into the air. It only took one flap of her wings to get up to a strong branch before she quickly left to take the last batch of cookies out of the oven.

“What?! Are you kidding me?” Barto turned to Constance.

“Oh just stop it, Barto. It’s not a big deal!”

“Not a big deal? I mean...”

“Are you ready?” shouted Sabrina from her hidden spot.

“Ready!” replied Constance, shouting back up at her.

“You want us to go away and come walking up like we did for Barto?” asked Reggie.

“That won’t be necessary,” whispered Sabrina into his right ear.

“AAAAAAAAH!” yelled Reginald, jumping a foot into the air and landing with a great thump on his behind.

Barto’s eyes went wide in amazement. “H-h-h-how did you do that?!” he stuttered.

“That, my friends, is Stealth Mode,” declared Constance matter-of-factly. She was extremely proud.

“That’s just not possible!” protested Barto.

“Oh, it’s possible,” said Reggie, regaining his composure. “I can testify to that.”

Sabre gave them all a wide, satisfied grin.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself,” continued Reggie.

“No one else can do it like Sabrina,” said Constance. “Not even a boy.”

This last comment caught Bartolomeo off guard, and after his failed attempt, his ego was a bit bruised.

“Well, at least I don’t have to have my mommy carry me up into a tree!”

Sabrina’s smile quickly evaporated.

“Bartolomeo Augusto Reyes! You take that back!” Constance was furious.

“It’s true isn’t it?! I mean, what good is it to have Stealth Mode if you can’t even fly up into a tree to get into position? What are you good for, one sneak attack a day?”

Sabrina was mortified. As much as she hated to admit it, what Barto said was true. And maybe the truth of what he said, along with the fact that she had always been frustrated by it, is what opened the spigots in Sabrina’s eyes and made the tears start flowing.

“I mean, I always knew you had small wings--everyone can see that! But I had no idea they didn’t work!” taunted Barto.

“I think they’re nice wings,” said Reggie, offering Sabrina a mostly unused tissue from his backpack. “I mean, even if they are diminutive.”

“Thanks, Reggie,” said Sabre, taking the tissue and blowing her nose.

“Diminutive? No; they’re tiny,” said Barto. “Dinky.”

Constance just glared at him.

“Well, this has been a laugh and a half,” said Bartolomeo. “So how about those cookies?”

____________

The first day of the festival finally arrived, and dragons from all across the Aerie were descending on Meridion. The park in the middle of town where the young dragons typically had their lessons was now a hub of excited activity filled with dragons of every color. There were booths set up with games and prizes to win along with all sorts of unusual and fun foods to try. Strings of colored lanterns were hung between the trees and flags flew overhead representing the colors and crests of all the major dragon families.

At the south edge of the park stood the tall sassafras tree (affectionately nicknamed Big Sass) that would be used for the competition later that day. Near its trunk was a display case guarded by two severe-looking red dragons with furrowed brows and arms crossed. Inside the case sparkled the Wishes Cup in all its glory.

Constance found Sabrina with her parents at the registration table near Big Sass where she was filling out the official forms required to compete. Ms. Butterbottoms was scowling and sternly reminding the younger dragons that “Incomplete forms will result in disqualification. Parental permission for participation is required” as she took a submitted form and tore it in two in front of the young blue dragon. A whimper escaped his throat.

“Begin again,” was Ms. Butterbottoms’ unsympathetic response.

Shaken, Sabrina took care to review her forms three times. There was no way she was going to be disqualified, and she was intent on winning the Wishes Cup. That would be the answer to all her problems.

When she was satisfied that her registration was in order and that she was officially checked in, Sabre left her parents to join Constance in touring the festival grounds.

“Don’t go too far,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “The competition will be starting soon!”

“As if there’s any chance you’d be late for that,” laughed Constance to her friend as they stopped by a booth to get some cotton candy.

Youthful representatives from the seven oldest and most revered dragon families were now flying over the park grounds in a great circle to announce that the time had come for all to assemble near Big Sass. The crowd gathered quickly as the seven dragons swooped in formation.

A table had been set up a short distance from the trunk of Big Sass, and the seven judges took their places as the dragon color guard landed with a flourish in front of the great tree.

Ms. Butterbottoms stood up with some difficulty and faced the assembled crowd: “Children, attend! Welcome to the 1,587th Annual Quinton Astoria Competition.”

The dragons cheered and waved their family pennants in the air.

“As you know, this competition is held in honor of the first Sneak Attacker, Quinton the Green, who successfully initiated the first sneak attack nearly sixteen centuries ago.”

“Go Team Astoria!” came a loud shout from somewhere in the crowd. Ms. Butterbottoms furrowed her brow in consternation.

“In honor of that tradition, all competitors will sneak attack from this tree, um…” she leaned down to the judge seated to her right who whispered in her ear. “…from Big Sassafras.”

“Although some consider sneak attacks from a tree gives green dragons an advantage due to the natural leaf camouflage, the Council will not show any such bias here today.”

“Yeah, right!” came a derisive shout from the back of the field. “Tell that to Pendleton Bumpkins! He was robbed!” Some dragons booed at that, whether in agreement for the slight or in opposition to the claim was unclear.

Ms. Butterbottoms decidedly ignored the interruption but still gave a withering look to the assembled dragons. Apparently, withering looks were one of Ms. Butterbottoms’ specialties.

“The competition will be held in three eliminations where the top scoring dragons advance to the next round culminating in the Grand Finale. The best dragons in each age group will receive ribbons. The best dragon overall, regardless of age, will receive the Wishes Cup.”

The grey dragon now lifted a large, thick book from the table and held it aloft.

“The Council will strictly follow all the rules contained here in the Official Sneak Attack Rules and Regulations, Fifth Edition. The seven judges seated here will rule on any questionable actions, and our decision is final.” Ms. Butterbottoms glared piercingly around the throng to emphasize her last point.

“Entries are now officially closed. All duly registered and qualified youth from any family, color, or creed are hereby welcomed to participate. Let the competition begin!”

The trumpets sounded a grand fanfare, and the crowd roared and cheered.

One of the judges, a blue water dragon of the Family Lapulliana, turned the handle on a large cylindrical wire cage filled with white numbered balls. He let the balls settle and opened a small door in the top. Another judge, a green, reached in and pulled out one of the balls. The crowd hushed.

“Number 73!” declared the green dragon. The orange judge sitting next to him perused the official registration, drawing his finger down the list until it landed on number 73. She turned and whispered to Ms. Butterbottoms who then stood to make the announcement.

“Our first contestant is a green dragon… from the Family Astoria…” An eruption of applause and cheers came from a small pocket of green dragons in the field.

“It’s rigged!” Came a shout from the other side of the crowd. The shouter had a point. Even with the random nature of the selection, it always seemed that an Astoria family member was one of the first selected to compete every year.

“Pendleton Astoria! Attend!” commanded Ms. Butterbottoms over the noise of the crowd.

A teenage dragon trotted up to Big Sassafras and positioned himself under one side of the mammoth tree.

“On your mark…” Pendleton stood tall. “Get set…” He crouched. “Ascend!”

And with that, the green dragon launched himself into the air to disappear among the foliage. In the quiet, the loud ticking of the official clock on the judge’s desk could be heard. The rules dictated that a contestant had no more than 90 seconds to complete their maneuver once they launched, or they would be disqualified.

As the clock ticked 71 seconds, there was a gentle whoosh as Pendleton Astoria descended. For his first attempt, he was planning a Shatzky Double Roll with a Forward Flip and Death Drop. The maneuver was augmented with an impressive cry of “Wooga-pa-ZOW!”

Not only did Pendleton execute the forward flip at the last possible moment, he stuck the landing without the slightest wobble with only two seconds to go.

“Wow,” said Sabrina, terribly impressed. “That was a Modified Fendlebump! He’s not messing around.”

Indeed, that was a strong start for the competition and showed a great deal of confidence. Six of the seven judges scored it a 10 with the purple judge (who was notoriously difficult to impress) giving the attempt a 9. With a difficulty rating of 23, Pendleton Astoria took the first spot on the leader board with a respectable 92 points.

The competition continued in that fashion for the better part of an hour with over 20 dragons completing their first jumps. Then, the judges pulled ball number 92: “Tokiyoshi Yamada!” called Ms. Butterbottoms. “Attend!”

Sabrina and Constance looked at one another in surprise. “I didn’t know Tokio was competing!” said Constance.

“I didn’t even know Tokio practiced any moves!” said Sabre.

Tokio appeared and stood calmly beneath Big Sass awaiting the countdown.

“On your mark… Get set… Ascend!”

The blue dragon launched skyward as Sabrina’s eyes remained glued to the landing circle to see what Tokio might do. The timer ticked down its seconds as the crowd sat transfixed and silent. Then, the crowd heard the familiar Whoosh! as the blue dragon suddenly appeared beneath the lowest branch of Big Sass.

Tokio completed a Vertical Quadruple Spin, the blue dragon’s wings tucked in tight to their long, slender body to make the spin dizzyingly fast. They stuck the landing upside down on their hands, body vertical, tail stretched perfectly straight into the air.

Sabrina gasped.

Even the judges were stunned. Although scores were typically posted immediately after a landing, the judges looked at one another, completely flummoxed.

“Have you ever seen that before?” asked Constance. “I mean, that was a quadruple spin—and it was vertical! No one’s ever successfully completed even a vertical triple before. But a quadruple?!”

Sabre just stared in disbelief, unable to speak.

“Dragons, attend!” Ms. Butterbottoms had stood to address the crowd. “The Council will take a brief recess.” The gathering of dragons was abuzz. Murmurs of “unprecedented” and “radical” could be heard.

The judges gathered in a tight circle to confer, and even those not close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation could see that it was quite animated.

After what seemed like an inordinate delay, the judges returned to their seats, and the crowd immediately went silent. Tokio still waited patiently in the landing circle to receive their scores, apparently nonplussed, although they had righted themselves for the determination as it seemed sort of silly to remain upside down on their hands.

One by one, the judges raised their cards… and each one revealed a 10. Even the purple judge was apparently unable to find any fault in the attempt. The crowd still held its breath, though, awaiting the score for difficulty. That would make all the difference.

Ms. Butterbottoms raised her hand with a card to reveal the determination: 29! The crowd erupted in exuberant approval. No maneuver had ever been given that high a level of difficulty before in the competition’s history.

Sabrina gulped.

“How can I compete against that?” she whispered.

Sabrina didn’t have long to wait to find out, for once the crowd settled down and Tokio returned to their family, Ms. Butterbottoms called out, “Sabrina Abernathy!”

Sabrina groaned.

“You have this! Don’t be rattled by Tokio!” encouraged Constance. “It was just their first jump, and there are three rounds to go.”

Still, Sabre seemed visibly shaken as she walked up to the landing circle to begin her first sneak attack. She had planned on ending with her Stealth Mode, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she needed to do that move now to place herself in contention given how well Tokio had surprised them all with their quadruple spin and handstand.

I’m sure they’ll even name it after them, Sabrina thought to herself. The Tokio Twirl or something like that.

She was startled by Ms. Butterbottoms calling out, “On your mark…”

“Wait!” called Sabrina, looking out into the crowd, a bit frantic.

“Coming!” said Mrs. Abernathy, pushing her way through the crowd to stand next to her daughter.

“This is highly unusual,” declared Ms. Butterbottoms, looking perplexed as she looked to the other judges.

Mrs. Abernathy turned to her daughter and put her hands on her waist. “Ready?”

Sabrina nodded.

“Objection!” came a shout from behind the judges’ table. “Hold everything! Objection!” It was Barto, and he was running to the judges’ table in a panic.

“This is unprecedented,” said Ms. Butterbottoms. “Have this child removed!”

“Wait!” yelled Barto. “Rule 7, Section D, Subsection 2!” Barto was gesturing madly at the big book on the judges’ table. “You need to check the rules!”

“Well, I’ve never…” started Ms. Butterbottoms. “This is hardly your place, child.”

“Rule 7, Section D, Subsection 2!” Barto repeated. “It’s important!”

The red dragon judge at the table flipped open the official rulebook to the rule in question. The old dragon sighed and stood to face the crowd and her fellow judges, book in hand, and read aloud:

Registered competitors will compete in the Quinton Astoria Competition unaided. Once a dragon has been officially registered, any assistance provided to a competitor that is discovered by the judging panel during or after the competition will result in immediate disqualification up to and including forfeiture of the Grand Prize.

Ms. Butterbottoms looked up from the book to Mrs. Abernathy and her daughter standing in front of the competition tree.

“Mrs. Abernathy, I presume?” asked Ms. Butterbottoms.

“Yes?”

“What, precisely, is your intention at this moment? Why are you in the landing circle with your daughter?”

“Well, I, um…”

“She’s going to take me up into the tree,” said Sabre with a slight tremor in her voice.

“Any why, pray tell, is she going to do that?” asked Ms. Butterbottoms, lips pursed.

Sabrina turned to her side to show the diminutive wings on her back.

“I can’t get up into the tree by myself. I need help.”

A shout came from a young voice in the crowd: “Dinky Wings!”

Sabre shuddered.

“Do you mean to say,” said Ms. Butterbottoms, “that you are unable to fly?”

Sabrina slowly nodded her head, a tear forming in her left eye.

“She’s a freak!” shouted another young voice from the back of the spectators.

“Silence!” Ms. Butterbottoms surveyed the crowd with one of her withering looks.

“This is quite unprecedented. Unprecedented indeed!” Ms. Butterbottoms shook her head as the six other judges gathered close for the second time that morning to discuss something unexpected. This time, however, the discussion was quick and much less animated.

“There is no question,” said Ms. Butterbottoms to the throng. “The rules are clear. Any contestant must participate unaided in the competition. Being lifted into the tree is unquestionably a form of aid.”

Constance had rushed to the judges’ table as soon as she had heard the direction this was heading. “But she’s not being helped on her sneak attack. She’s just being lifted into position.”

The dragons in the crowd began murmuring in the background, debating the rules and the merits of the yellow dragon’s defense of her friend. A few more heckles of “Freak!” and “Dinky Wings!” could be heard above the din.

“Being transported into the tree is definitely assistance or aid,” Ms. Butterbottoms declared in her prim way. “The rules are clear. Sabrina Abernathy, you are hereby disqualified.” The grey dragon pounded her judge’s mallet on the table decisively.

Sabrina began to shake uncontrollably, her upset quickly turning to anger at the news. Her hopes had been utterly dashed.

Bartolomeo stood smiling next to the judges’ table, inexplicably feeling quite proud of himself. Constance kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!”

“Sabre is our friend, Barto! This is cruel even for you. It’s not like you were going to win after what Tokio just did!”

“Rules are rules,” said Barto matter-of-factly. “She shouldn’t be allowed to cheat.”

A loud wail turned everyone’s attention from their arguments to the base of the tree where Sabre stood expressing a mix of humiliation, despair, and fury.

“I curse you, Bartolomeo Augusto Reyes!” Barto looked toward Sabre and swallowed hard. “I hate you! I hate you forever! You stole my dream.” Sabrina began to shake uncontrollably. “Why, Barto, why? I thought you were my friend.”

Sabre’s rage spilled over as the tears flowed from her eyes and she clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides.

”I curse you for what you have done to me! I hope some day you can’t fly, so you know what it’s like. I hope you have broken wings just like me.” The crowd gasped.

“I don’t want to see any of you ever again!”

And with that, Sabre was gone.