Story 25: The Bird Boy

Genre (s): Fantasy/Mystery

Written When? Sophomore Year of College

Prologue

My father died when I was just five years old. Strangely, I remember that day perfectly. He got an emergency call from work. On his way there, a tractor-trailer crushed his truck and took my daddy with it. The news was heart-wrenching. Mamma and I, instead of opening Christmas presents, mourned my daddy. It was Christmas Eve when it happened. I would never find another daddy as beloved as my first, but then Mamma met Bailey. A hardworking individual, he worked for a factory company known as the Foster Co. The company had been in his family tree since the Industrial Revolution, so Bailey had a lot of ka-ching, ka-ching in his pocket.

Mamma and I met him in the city. We crashed head-on with each other in the subway. I was seven, but even at such a young age, I knew the look Mamma and Bailey shared. It was love at first sight.

They dated for a year, and then on my eighth birthday, they walked the aisle, with wedding bells ringing.

"Well, that escalated quickly," was what I remember telling myself.

I wasn't sure about Bailey at first. When he wasn't working for Foster Co., he was a cop, and cops scared me. He looked like the typical cop: a strong body build, bald head, and a mustache. While cops usually did make me uncomfortable, Bailey was the rare exception. He grew used to my mother's personality quickly. Before I knew it, both he and she bought me anything I wanted. With so much money on their hands, they spent about 75% of it on me, their little girl.

Now, that was both a positive and negative thing. Positive because I could finally get that $1,000 dress I saw at the store, but negative because since Mamma and Bailey were so busy with work and were constantly buying me things, they rarely spent time with me. For 90% of the day, they were on their phones, talking about work. They only listened to me when I asked for something.

It's always: "Maise, tell us what you want, and we'll get it for you," or "Oh, Maise, do you want that $3,000 dollhouse? No problem." I sometimes felt like Mamma and Bailey forgot they even had a child.

When Daddy first died, Mamma and I were in a financial crisis, so Mamma worked two full-time jobs. She was a business person, a teacher, and a part-time librarian. She got home every day around 3:30, fixed me dinner, and left an hour later for the library. When she got off from the library, around 9:00, she went straight to the office. She did not get home until 5:00 every morning. I do not know how people can handle that much stress. I call them "insane".

Because Mamma was so busy with her three jobs, she could not take me to school, so I ended up entering the homeschooling business. Things did not get much better when she married Bailey. Sure, she quit her teaching and library job, but now she worked for Bailey's company. I had to struggle through school myself. They did not have time to help me with homework, study for a quiz or test, or write an essay.

I was excessively independent for a twelve-year-old. Never in my life had I had a true friend. My only friend was our dog, Cooper, a four-year-old Golden Retriever. The main reason why Mamma and Bailey got him was so there was at least one living thing to keep me company throughout the day. We got Cooper when Mamma married Bailey. As the years progressed, we grew close to each other, but I still wanted a human friend. Would I ever get one, though? I never thought I would,–there was too much chaos in my life–but all that changed when we moved to the United States Midwest. As soon as we did, my life was never the same again.

Chapter 1

Maise Claire Foster

Before moving to the farm, Mamma, Bailey, and I lived in the suburbs of a city. Our house was one of the most expensive in the neighborhood. With me being the only child, it felt too big. My room was the size of a football field. The morning I learned we were moving again was the day I tried asking Bailey for help with a math problem.

Math is not my strong suit. I had to work extremely hard each year to pass my classes, but it's kind of difficult when you're homeschooled and your parents had no time to help you.

I hoped that for the first time in one week, Mamma and Bailey were off the phones. I was a twelve-year-old girl who had medium-length, honey-blonde hair and cyan blue eyes. For never having the time to go outside and play, my skin was pale, and sunlight blinded me. In fact, it was so blinding that I had to close my curtains.

With my math notebook and Pre-Algebra textbook tucked under my arm, I sauntered over to my enormous mirror in the corner of my room and brushed my hair. I wore a short, pink dress with a white collar that had a blue ribbon tied at the end of it, over-the-knee black socks, a long, red vest over my dress, and brown boots. I also had a hat, but I almost never wore it. I mean, what's the point of a hat when your protective stepfather never lets you out of the house? That's who Bailey was.

Sure, Daddy was protective of me, too, but he was nothing like Bailey. Bailey hired a servant to walk with me everywhere I went. Do you see what I mean when I say 75% of my parents' allowance went to me? I could not have breakfast or slip into the bathroom without Big Bertha hovering over me like a vulture.

For the first two years of Mamma and Bailey's marriage, they did not hire a servant to watch over me. However, by the time I reached double digits, Bailey went crazy. Can you guess what my major birthday present was? You got it. A maid. Bailey pushed a maid through my door and put a bow on her head.

Pointing at her, he announced, "Happy Birthday, Maise!"

The first thing Big Bertha asked me was, "Where's your laundry?"

I called her "Big Bertha" because she was literally seven feet tall and weighed 270 lbs. She beat a pro wrestler in arm wrestling three times straight, so that should say something. While I stared at this new member of the household, Bailey went right back to talking on his phone.

That morning, I hoped I could make it downstairs without Big Bertha catching me. Therefore, I stayed as quiet as a little mouse scurrying across a neatly polished wooden floor and gently opened my bedroom door. I searched the hallway. Okay. No one there and no one there. I hoped Big Bertha was still sleeping. I could not ask her for help with my math homework, because her math skills were even worse. I had to ask my parents. Heck, they ran a business for Pete's Sake! They were very smart. One last time, I searched the hallway, and then I slipped out of the room.

Unfortunately, the first thing I heard was, "Maise Claire Foster!" Big Bertha appeared from the shadows of a corner. She was a middle-aged woman who wore a black dress with a white apron over it. She always carried her mop and bucket around. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked while she approached me.

I groaned and answered, "Just to breakfast."

Big Bertha shook her head. "Not alone you aren't." She defensively held her mop up to my chest. "I'm coming with you."

"Big Bertha, please," I begged. "What can hurt me in this house? Bailey literally has cameras and traps set up everywhere." Which he did. Also part of his protecting me technique, he set up cameras in every room of the mansion, as well as traps. You cannot imagine how many times I accidentally stepped into one of those traps.

Even worse, whenever a trap went off, the whole mansion exploded into a Code Red. Robotic voices yelled, "Intruder! Intruder! Maise Claire is in trouble!" when I was just trying to fall asleep in my bed.

I guess you could say I suffered from extreme insomnia. My point is, there was nothing in the house that could hurt me, so there was no point in covering the whole darn thing with cameras and traps.

To my annoyance, Big Bertha escorted me downstairs and into the kitchen. The whole journey there, she continued to hold her mop up to my chest. She rapidly searched the area, like a soldier who accidentally stumbled into enemy territory. Ay me. It's going to be a long day. The second we entered the kitchen, Big Bertha removed her mop and announced, "Maise Claire Foster is up and about!"

I rolled my eyes and hid behind my hands.

I dropped them when I heard, "Maise!"

My mother. She stepped out from behind the kitchen bar, on her phone, and came within reach of me.

Bailey was there, too, and he, too, was on his phone. Well, so much for my dream.

Mamma gave me a quick kiss and a wimpy hug, as did Bailey, and pointed at the bar. "Eat up! We made your favorite breakfast. You need your energy for the fun-filled day ahead of you."

I wondered what she meant by that.

Big Bertha stepped off to the side and stood like a statue while she waited for her next orders.

My feet took me to the plate of eggs, grits, and bacon and sat me down in a chair behind the bar. Before eating, I pushed the plate aside and set my math supplies down in front of me. "Bailey," I started, "before I eat, could you help me with something?"

He totally misunderstood my question, "Sure," and rubbed his free fingertips on his bald head. "What do you want, sweetie? A new phone?"

I kept on trekking forward, "Not exactly," and pushed my textbook towards him. "You see, there's a problem in the textbook I'm stuck on."

This was Bailey's response: "You want a new book? Got it. We'll send a servant to the store to pick it up."

Oh goodness. I shook my head. "Not exactly. I mean, this problem involves fractions and decimals, and they are not my strong suit." I pointed to the problem I needed help with and stared desperately into his dark eyes.

Bailey merely glimpsed at it, and then he asked, "Do you want a book about domino magic tricks?"

"No!" I frustratingly announced, shoving my book into his face. "I need help with Number 3! It involves fractions and decimals!"

"Oh, honey," Bailey said, backing away from me, "your mother and I really need to take this call." He gave me a quick kiss. "Tell us what you want later, and we'll go get it for you." Just like that, he joined Mamma, and they each went into their offices. They left me all alone in the kitchen.

Sighing, I closed my book and pushed everything off to the side.

As I sheepishly ate my breakfast, Big Bertha hovered over me and constantly asked, "Are you finished yet, Mistress Maise?"

One can imagine that got on my nerves. Eventually, I chucked my fork down on my plate and yelled, "Yes! Happy?"

"Then come on," Big Bertha continued. She helped me down from the counter. "Let's return to your room. Cooper should be back from his walk soon."

I didn't argue. I just wanted to be alone. Luckily, Big Bertha always left me alone when I went into my room. Bailey believed my room was the safest place in the entire house. The second we reached it, I broke free from Big Bertha and slammed the door shut behind me. Cooper had his own dog door, so whenever he returned, he would crawl through it to join me. At least the dog had a walk every day, and he's a dog. So why could I not go outside?

Until Cooper returned, I merely tossed my school supplies on my bed and flopped down on my back. I hugged my favorite stuffed animal to my chest. Do not laugh! She is a little bird who I call "Flappy". I am not ashamed to admit I still loved stuffed animals at age twelve. Besides, the bird is my favorite animal species, but I am so jealous of them. There I was, trapped in my own house, while they soared through the lovely winter air and bounced on clouds. I wished I could pop wings and join them.

As I lay on my bed and cuddled Flappy close, I heard shuffling. Cooper. He just returned from his walk. He slipped through his dog door, just as I predicted. Before long, the Golden Retriever put his front paws on my bed and licked my face. His tail wagged like crazy.

I smelled his breath. His breath never smelled like dog breath. Big Bertha, every morning before he went for his walk, brushed his teeth and fur.

Cooper was a beautiful dog. He had deep brown eyes, light golden fur, a fuzzy tail, and a medium body build. He always brightened my day. I kept a bowl of water in the corner of my room, and he usually drank from it the second he returned from his walk, so both drool and the water he drank soaked my face.

"Cooper!" I shouted, pushing him off. "Aw, man! Look what you did to my dress!" Landing on the floor, I rubbed myself down and glanced at him.

Cooper seemed to laugh.

Cracking a small smile, I sprayed some of the water in his face. As soon as I did, I fell to my knees and cuddled with him. I scratched him behind the ears and bopped his forehead. "How was your walk, boy?" I questioned. "Did you make any new friends?"

Another thing that didn't make sense was that Cooper was technically my dog, so why was I not allowed to walk him? Why did a servant have to do it? Whatever. I think I've ranted about my life long enough. "Do you want to play fetch?" I asked Cooper, picking up one of the tennis balls he snuck under my bed.

Instantly, he grew excited and bent down in his fetching position. He pointed his backside towards the ceiling.

"Is this what you want, boy?" I asked him. I waved the ball in his face.

Cooper nodded rapidly and spun in circles. "Then go get it!" I announced, and I chucked the ball out on my balcony.

Cooper immediately chased after it and disappeared outside.

The balcony was my only way of connecting with the rest of the world. Chuckling, I hurried after Cooper and found myself looking at the city skyline, as well as a park where young children played on the playground.

Cooper dropped the tennis ball.

We played for a good while, until a robin landed on the balcony railing.

At the sight of the bird, I gave Cooper the signal to halt, and he did. However, he still held the tennis ball in his mouth.

The robin chirped and turned to face me. The two of us met eyes, and we stared at each other. I wondered if I was a Bird Whisperer.

I offered my finger to the bird, and it glanced at it. Flapping its wings, it lifted off the railing and landed on it. It was incredible. The bird didn't even hesitate to land on my finger.

With Cooper at my heels, I lifted my free hand and stroked the bird's feathery head.

It chirped the whole time I did.

Leaning in close, I bumped heads with the animal and told it in a small voice, "Go, little bird. Enjoy your freedom, but make sure you don't approach any cats."

As if it understood me, the bird bobbed its head up and down.

I gave it a weak smile and let it go.

Flapping its wings, the bird lifted off my finger and soared into the atmosphere, away from my prison and to the outside world.

The only thing Cooper and I could do was stare. As I watched the bird fly away, I asked myself, "Am I ever going to find a friend, or am I just going to be a victim of neglect for the rest of my life?"

Chapter 2

Is Maise Being Put Up for Adoption?

I could not help myself. I had to sneak out and go to the city. It made no sense that Cooper could go there but not me. Therefore, I did not go to bed that night. Instead, I slipped on my boots and packed a small bag. As quiet as a mouse, I slid past Cooper, who was asleep on his dog bed, dreaming about bones dancing the hula. He snuffed and kicked the air.

Sorry, Cooper, but I had to get out of the house.

My feet took me to my door. Lifting my hand, I rested it on the doorknob.

When the door opened, I heard Mom and Bailey talking on their phones from the workshop.

First, I checked to make sure Big Bertha wasn't around. When I concluded she wasn't, I stepped into the hallway.

Unfortunately, I did not get far. The second my foot touched the floor, boom! The whole hallway exploded into the familiar Code Red crisis. "Code Red! Code Red! Maise Claire is in trouble!" What the heck? Since when did Bailey install a new trap?

From out of nowhere, Big Bertha leaped out from behind a wall. What the–? Had she been spying on me the whole time? She rushed to me and held her mop up to my chest. "Stand back, Maise, for it is my duty to protect you!"

"Big Bertha?" I shouted. "Where did you come from?"

Big Bertha shushed me. With her mop, she knocked me back into my room and pushed me onto my bed.

From where he rested, Cooper snapped awake and leaped to his feet. He barked, as the alarm continued to sound.

Big Bertha hopped in front of me and thrusted her mop forward, like a sword, when two figures appeared in my doorway.

"Maise!" Bailey shouted. For once, he was not on his phone. "Just what do you think you're doing, lass?" he asked. Before I could answer, guess what? His phone rang, and he instantly picked it up. "Yes, yes," he said. "We're leaving tomorrow."

Leaving? What was he mumbling about?

"Bailey!" I shouted, leaping to my feet. Stomping my left foot, I clenched my fists and told him, "I'm going to the city."

Bailey started to have a double conversation. He talked to whoever was on the phone and then to me. "Sure, dear. Go ahead." Sure, dear? Wait a minute, did he actually say that I, his twelve-year-old stepdaughter, could go to the city all alone late at night? I assumed that was his message.

Mom, who also talked on her phone, came within reach of me. Weakly ruffling my hair, she told me, "Big Bertha is going to go with you."

"Sam heck, I am!" Big Bertha shouted from where she stood.

What? Aw man, seriously? I did not want to have a seven-foot-tall woman following me around in the city. Did Mom and Bailey even know what they were doing with me at that moment? I've spent my whole life trying to escape the mansion, and now all of a sudden, they're letting me go? What was going on? Why did I suddenly have a bad feeling? What if... Mom and Bailey were getting rid of me, and they were sending me to an orphanage? Was that what Bailey meant when he said, "'We're leaving tomorrow'?" What if, before I was put up for adoption, Mom and Dad wanted me to see the city one last time? Oh no, just thinking about that gave me goosebumps.

Before I could get too wound up in my negative thoughts, Big Bertha grabbed me. She tossed me up onto her shoulder. "Let's go, Maise."

"Big Bertha!" I shouted. "Put me down!" Yelling, I kicked my legs and slapped her shoulder, but she didn't flinch.

As we left the room, I heard Bailey calling to me. "Make sure you pack your bag when you get back." Pack my bag? Oh, gosh! Now I knew he and Mom were putting me up for adoption. I was petrified. I didn't want to go to an orphanage. All my parents needed to do was show me a little more attention; they did not have to go as far as getting rid of me.

Many troubled thoughts haunted me, even when Big Bertha carried me outside and dropped me like a ragdoll in the front yard. Right when she did, she pulled out her own phone. Hers was a disgusting flip phone. She told me, "All right, Maise, I'm going to request an Uber."

An Uber? Why? The city was just a short bus ride away from my house–or, well, my former house. I tried to protest, but Big Bertha merely shushed me, and she typed into her phone. Okay, how on Earth could she type with those huge, meaty fingers? All the reason to take the bus instead.

I knew we were going to be there for a while. Now, how did I know that? Well, Big Bertha constantly cursed to herself and frustratingly bumped her phone against her free hand, because she kept messing up when she tried typing in the location of the mansion. And this, people, was why you never gave Big Bertha a flip phone.

As she kept on trying to type into the Uber app, I roamed around the front garden and thought about what Bailey told me: "'Pack your bag. We're leaving tomorrow'." I didn't want to leave. I just didn't want to live my whole life in neglect. I wanted to be a bird. Spread my wings and fly. I didn't want a seven-foot-tall woman, who beat a pro wrestler in arm wrestling three rounds straight, constantly watching me. I wanted to have a friend–a real friend. Not a dog.

I felt like I was nothing but a mere machine that forever stayed on the shelf of the store. I hated my life. Like any other child, I wanted someone to love me. The thoughts swarmed in my head like a smoothie blender, but then something happened.

I heard something–a small chirp. It came from one of the front yard's gardens.

Instantly when I heard it, I stopped. "Who's there?" I asked, but I received no answer. My imagination had to be at play. Yet, when I started walking again, the chirp returned.

"Chirp, chirp."

By then, I had to check out the garden. Falling to my knees, I pushed leaves aside and squinted my eyes.

"Chirp, chirp."

My eyes roamed as I rapidly searched the area. It was like I was a cat searching for its prey. I kept that up for a good ten minutes, and then I saw it.

Resting on its front, with one of its wings bent weirdly and staring pleadingly into my eyes, was a bird.

Chapter 3

The Stranger in the City

The bird was a beautiful ovenbird. A small creature, it had a white belly with black spots on it, pink feet, and golden-brown feathers. Now what an ovenbird was doing there, I did not know. Those birds were not native to my area, or the city in any way. And what was wrong with its wing? Why was it bent in a weird way? My first guess was that a cat attacked it.

I met the bird's deep brown eyes, and it returned my stare. Cupping my hands, I moved them towards it.

When I did that, the bird let out a round of frightened chirps.

Poor thing. It was in pain. What was with me when it came to birds? Why was I so good around them? "It's okay," I told the animal. "I won't hurt you."

Nevertheless, just before I could pick it up, Big Bertha ruined everything. "Maise! What are you doing?"

"Big Bertha!" I shouted. Just before I could shoo her away, the bird bit my finger. "Ow!" I yelled, and I quickly pulled it away. "What was that for?"

Chirping again, the bird rose to its little feet and ducked under a pile of leaves further in the bush. It dragged its wing behind it.

I wasn't mad. Oh no. I was furious!

Big Bertha called me again. "Maise, I need your help. Maise. Maise. Maise!"

"What?" I finally shouted, whirling around to face her. "What's so important that you had to disturb me?" However, the answer I got was literally the worst answer ever.

Big Bertha held her phone out to me and asked, "Can you help me request an Uber?"

***

Before I knew it, Big Bertha and I sat in the back of an Uber. I held my bag over my lap.

Big Bertha messed with her nails, with her mop stretched across her lap.

I knew the Uber driver was staring at her. A short man with black hair, brown eyes, and glasses, he stared at the seven-foot-tall woman through his rearview mirror.

Yes, man, I know a huge woman is sitting in the car with us.

No longer did I want to go to the city. I wanted to find the ovenbird again. If it was injured, then I needed to help it. However, Big Bertha strangely refused to take me back to the house. Why? I already knew the answer. I was being put up for adoption. I was sure she was going to drop me off at the orphanage when we got to the city.

Despite it was only 2019, the city was high-tech. It had moving walkways, robotic trash cans, and tall, glass buildings with numerous Maglev train tracks. Its name was Highland City, and it was just a fancier version of New York City.

The Uber dropped Big Bertha and me off at the subway. I think Big Bertha scared the driver. The second she stepped out of the car, he punched the accelerator and hurried away from us. He almost caused an accident at an intersection; he moved so fast.

It wasn't long until Big Bertha adjusted her collar and told me, "Well, Maise, let's go, shall we?"

I gulped, "Where are we going?" but I said nothing more because Big Bertha once again tossed me onto her shoulders.

People stared as she carried me down the sidewalk.

"I don't want to be here," I argued. "I want to go home. I have to see the ovenbird again."

"Ovenbird? What are you talking about?" Big Bertha did not let me answer, because she took me off her shoulders and set me down on the sidewalk.

A tall, friendly-looking man passed us, and he lifted his hand to wave. "Hey!" he spoke in a friendly voice.

Unfortunately, Big Bertha did not see that as a greeting. Gasping, she leaped in front of me and bumped the man's chest with the butt of her mop. "How dare you! You're going to wipe this child off the face of this earth!" She pulled me behind her arm and almost knocked the man off the edge of the sidewalk.

I grabbed her huge, meaty arm with both hands and yelled, "Big Bertha!" but Big Bertha continued to threaten the man.

Before long, he turned on his heel and ran away from us.

Big Bertha called after him. "Yeah, and stay away!" With that, she set the butt of her mop down next to her and peered over her shoulder. "Are you okay, Maise Waise?"

"Am I okay?" I shoved Big Bertha away from me and kicked her mop out of her hand. "What exactly did that man do to me? He was just saying hello!"

Big Bertha ignored me. "You know what?" She turned her body in the direction of a winery further down the sidewalk. "I think I am going to get a glass of wine."

"A glass of wine?" I asked in an angry voice. "What is wrong with you?"

Again, Big Bertha ignored me. She turned on her heel and stepped into the winery, leaving me all alone on the streets of Highland City.

It was official. Big Bertha was the worst bodyguard ever.

I waited for a full hour, but she did not leave the winery. That told me she was probably drinking herself stupid. Since I was underage, I couldn't go into the winery to get her, so I just sat on a bench next to a homeless, old man. He stared at me, and I stared back. "'Sup?" I asked, giving him a quick flick of my wrist.

"What is a beautiful, young girl like you doing roaming the streets in the middle of the night?" the man asked me. He hugged his cardboard blanket to his chest and continued to stare into my soul. However, he didn't make me uncomfortable. I felt just fine around the man. I knew he wasn't going to hurt me.

When I answered his question, I noticed there was a touch of sadness in my voice. "I'm an orphan."

That was when I saw him. The boy. A random boy appeared from out of nowhere. He stood in front of an alleyway between two buildings. Just like the old man, he stared at me.

I couldn't see him very well, but I knew he was young.

He held his left arm behind his back. He did not move his right arm a lot. I wondered why.

Something about the boy intrigued me. Was it his long, brown locks, his perfectly tan skin, or his blueberry blue eyes? Whatever it was, I felt a connection with him. It was like the connection I felt with the ovenbird earlier. He looked like he was waiting for me. Did he want me to follow him?

Next to me, the old man chuckled and said, "Ah, young love. The boy is waiting for you, lass."

Young love? What was he talking about? I was only twelve years old. I tried to shoo the boy away, but he refused to move. He just continued to stand and stare at me. He almost looked like a robot.

Finally, he lifted his left hand and waved for me to follow him.

"Go to him," said the man. "Don't be shy. He's just a boy."

"But who is he?" I asked.

"Well, there's only one way to find out, eh?" said the man.

True. If I followed the boy, would I learn why I had a weird connection with him like I did the ovenbird? I had to know. Before I got sent off to the orphanage, I decided that I might as well have one last adventure. Most likely, Big Bertha was going to drink herself to sleep, so I technically had the whole night to do whatever I wanted. That was the first time I was outside without a bodyguard standing next to me, so I had to make it count. With that in mind, I rose off the bench and made my way toward the boy–the stranger in the city.

He ran through the alleyways, with me following him. We passed a few dumpsters, as well as some gangs playing Poker.

They did not look at us. Strange, because I thought it was obvious two random kids just appeared from out of nowhere.

The boy continued to run. He slid under a gate and appeared on the other side of it, in the shadows.

I had no idea what he did to slide under the gate, so I merely climbed it... and landed in a puddle of mud on the other side.

When he saw me coming, the boy took off again.

That time, we ran by a hippie playing the drums. Like what happened with the gangs, he acted as if he did not see the two children in his practice zone, even when the boy accidentally crashed into one of his cymbals and knocked it off its rack. The hippie banged his drumstick on the concrete ground.

The entire time the boy took me on that weird journey, I noticed he rarely moved his right arm. Was he injured? Was that why he sought me out? I had no idea. All I knew was that something very weird was happening to me.

The stranger took me to Highland City's Harbor. We stood in a huge park that overlooked it.

The stranger stopped next to a mermaid statue. He ducked behind it when he saw me coming toward him. However, it was the strangest thing.

When I circled the fountain, I did not see the boy at all. It was like he disappeared in midair. Four more times I ran around the fountain, and sure enough, the boy just disappeared. Then, I saw him.

He appeared back on the park's walkway and sprinted towards the Highland City Marina.

"Hey, wait!" I yelled, but the boy did not stop. I lost him in a group of people.

Like the gangs and hippies before, they acted as if they did not see me at all.

When I finally pushed my way past them, there I was. I was at the Marina. However, once again, the boy was nowhere in sight. Many questions swarmed through my brain, as I tried to figure out who the heck he was. That was when I heard two small chirps. When I turned my body in the direction they came from, there it was. The ovenbird.

It stood on its tiptoes, on a railing behind the Marina, and held its left wing out to its side. With one last chirp, the bird unhooked its claws from the railing and dropped.