The Boy and the Crows//A Bench Trio Novel

Chapter 1

3rd person POV:

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"Scram!" the boy shouted as he swatted some crows from the porch. "Damn birds, always gettin' in my way when I'm sweeping..."

The boy swept vigorously, pushing birds out of the way as he went.

"Why does Phil make me stay up here while Techno and Wilbur get to go and train! It's not fair," the boy complained as a dove flew onto the porch's handrail.

The dove had a green necktie and a letter in its claw. 

Tommy snatched up the letter and rested the broom on the side of the wall. He walked in and tossed the letter on the table without reading it. He knew he would be in trouble if anyone had found out he had read it or even touched it.

The boy stomped up the stairs to his room, undoing the bandages from his wings as he went. 

He knew he wasn't supposed to be flying after what happened to Wilbur, but he always did it before and never got caught since Phil would announce to the whole flock of crows that he was back. And to be honest, he was lucky Phil hadn't clipped his wings yet.

He stretched his wings as far as they could go in his small room and climbed out of his window. Getting in and out through the window was the hardest part since it was so small and his wings were so large.

The boy slid down the roof a bit before taking off. He twirled and dove through the air as he flew, sometimes swooping down to collect a twig or two for tossing them like spears towards the ground. He was starting to get the hang of hitting things while moving.

But he was interrupted when he heard a door slam and a shout. The boy flew back to the window and closed it as soon as he got in.

"Tommy!" someone shouted from downstairs.

"What?!" the boy shouted back.

"Is there any mail?!"

"It's on the counter, prick!"

The boy slammed the door and walked to his desk, grabbing a pencil and a notepad. He tapped on the desk with the pencil, thinking of something to draw. 

There was a knock at the door and his father walked in.

"What is it, dadza," Tommy murmured, annoyed.

"I just wanted to check on you, is that so bad?" the man replied.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"You don't mean that."

"Well, whenever you come in it's to tell me that I've done something wrong. And I just want to be like Wil and Techno. How come I can't be like them?"

"Because they would kill you if I let you train with them. I'm looking out for you."

"I would honestly rather be torn apart than sit and sweep all day."

"Well, my answer is no. Wilbur or Techno are going to become the next kings and you are going to be a prince, so just wait for that," Tommy's father said as he rubbed his son's hair. 

"I still don't believe that."

"You don't need to." The older man got up but before leaving said, "Techno's making dinner, so be downstairs soon." 

Tommy just decided to go downstairs instead of coming up with some stupid doodle on one of the only notebooks he had ever gotten his hands on.

As soon as he had gotten downstairs, Wil and Techno were fighting over how to cook something but Tommy turned them out as he picked up the Sunday paper from a year ago. He had read it a million times and knew the comics by heart, but he always got a kick out of it.