The Badlings

Chapter 11. Giant Birds and Giant Diamonds

Every book has characters—as without them there would be no books—but not all characters like to stay put. It gets lonesome and boring, particularly if the book hasn't been read for a while. Tired of waiting, those best equipped for travel give in to wanderlust and visit other pages.

One such restless individual was returning from precisely such an excursion. Bells clung to its feathery back, half-dead from fright. She hadn't dared open her eyes since slamming into its moving body.

I'm not dead, she thought. I'm okay. I might catch a cold, but I'm alive. She sneezed. Her thoughts switched to her friends, and her stomach twisted from worry. I wonder what happened to Grand. I hope he didn't just fall to his death. And what about Peacock? And Rusty? How will I find them?

She gripped the feathers harder. I hope this monster bird doesn't eat me once it discovers me. That would be a great end to my story.

The steady whistle of the wind acquired a new sound. Bells' heart sped up. She heard a thin whining noise. It came from behind her. It sounded like Peacock screaming.

It was Peacock screaming.

"Peacock!" Bells opened her eyes. Rushing air hit them, producing tears. She blinked, astounded. She was clinging to the back of a giant bird, its plumage brown and glossy, its wingspan as wide as their backyard where Sofia liked to prance around in her gaudy dresses. Everywhere she looked there was clear blue sky.

Another noise broke through the drone—a desperate pitiful trumpet, followed by a shrill screech.

That was an elephant, thought Bells. Poor thing. I'm sure this stupid bird is planning to eat it. She considered kicking it, but thought it unwise in her position. Behind her erupted a volley of upset exclamations.

"And that is definitely Peacock," she said, smiling.

Two quivering hands clasped her back.

Bells flinched at the touch of damp clothes on her skin. Still, she grinned. It was the most welcome change of events.

Peacock pulled closer. "We're going to fall!" he screamed. "We're going to fall and die!"

Strangely, his panicky outburst gave Bells a surge of confidence. Somehow things would turn out all right. She rolled her eyes, which made her feel even better, wiped her dripping nose on her shoulder, and twisted back as far as she could.

"Can you stop freaking out?" she shouted. "I'm glad you're with me, but please don't spoil it!"

"What did you say?" yelled Peacock.

"Stop screaming, the bird will hear you!"

"What?"

"Shut up, you ninny!"

It finally produced the desired effect, and Bells exhaled in relief. "Boys," she said to herself, putting all kinds of meanings into a single word.

Peacock promptly pinched her.

"Oww!" she yelped. "What was that for? I thought you said you couldn't hear me!"

"Stop calling me names! Or I'll pinch you again!"

"Since when is that an issue?" shouted Bells with indignation. "I've always called you names, and you never had a problem with that! If you don't like ninny, how about sissy?"

Peacock pinched her again, but Bells was ready. Holding onto feathers with one hand, she seized Peacock's arm with another and dug in her nails.

Among other battles between Bells and her mother, the nail-cutting battles were the worst. Catarina insisted that her daughters take care of their nails, which meant trimming them regularly, filing them to a fine oval shape, and scrubbing away the dirt with a special brush. Bells considered it a pointless waste of time. As a result her nails were long and jagged, with a layer of grime underneath. And now they came in handy.