Lyla tucked the Mason jar under her arm and climbed the rickety ladder to the top of the treehouse. Inside, Kyle sat cross-legged behind an overturned cardboard box where he made tick marks in a ledger, “Dragon Hunter’s Society: Members in Training” meticulously written across the top. He looked over his thick-framed glasses as Lyla’s head popped through the hole in the floor. “You got it?”

“Yep! One baby dragon!” She plopped the glass jar on top of Kyle’s immaculate marks, smudging the graphite.

Kyle winced, pushed his glasses up, and squinted at the jar. “That’s not a dragon.”

“Of course it is. It has wings and spikes and menacing eyes, just like you said.

“I didn’t say menace--never mind. It doesn’t have scales or talons or teeth. It’s not a dragon.”

“It’s a baby dragon.”

He looked skeptical. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it’s a bug. I can’t give you full marks for a bug.”

“What about half-credit? I’m still learning.”

“HOLD ON! I GOT ONE!” A sandy-blond head popped up in the window, and a gecko crawled in beside it.

“That’s a liz--” A gout of flame swallowed Kyle’s words. He blinked over his glasses. Tendrils of smoke rose from his singed eyebrows. A scaly snout with razor-sharp teeth punched through the window, followed by menacing eyes. Kyle nodded and made a precise mark in the ledger. “Sorry, I should’ve looked closer.”

Lyla grinned, gesturing to the Mason jar.

“No, Lyla, that’s still a bug.”