Experiment Scarecrow

To Befriend A Crow

A boy and his younger brother hiked their way to school along a narrow, gravel path through the woods. Golden leaves fluttered down from the branches above, innocent laughter escaping them as they grasped at the leaves, wanting to see how many they could catch.

"I caught five!" the older brother exclaimed, holding up the golden leaves pinched between his fingers.

His younger brother frowned. "I only caught three..."

The boy frowned, glancing to the collection before handing one of the leaves to him. "There, now we both have four," he said with a smile.

The younger boy giggled before tossing them into the air to watch them rain back down. His older brother joined in, sending his flying in the air too--their similar almond colored eyes fixated on the leaves'  aerial dance.

"These can be gifts to my friends," the boy said, eyes flicking toward the nearly bare branches.

An expression of confusion crossed his younger brother's face, before he followed his gaze up to the canopy above, spotting a single dark feathered bird perched on a branch. "You mean the crows?" he asked.

"Mhm. I think they make better friends than people. They're very smart, like people, but are very kind-hearted. They always bring me gifts, so these are my gifts to them."

"C-Can I meet them?" his younger brother asked, now beaming at the thought--practically bouncing along from the growing excitement.

The trees began to fade, forced aside from the small town's development--the gravel path leading into pavement at an intersection ahead. Forced to cross the road, the two boys turned their heads from left to right before sprinting to the sidewalk on the other side.

Finally, the boy nodded, an excited grin crossing his face--happy his younger brother at least shared the same excitement he always felt seeing his 'friends.' 

"Of course! But you'll have to follow me after-"

Before he could finish, the familiar pounding footsteps, of a group of three older boys, sprinted up from behind to interrupt his thoughts; the slapping of their sneakers against the concrete far too loud to ignore.

"There's the freak. Man, why do you hang out with such a freak?" the taller boy, with black hair, asked; a malicious smirk pulling at his lips.

"I feel sorry that he's your brother, Grayson. He talks to birds," the shorter boy teased.

"Yeah, I don't think he's all there!"

The trio snickered at one another's teasing remarks, nudging each other with their elbows, and slapping each other's backs, urging the other to continue.

These were the same, second-grade boys who always raced to meet him at the intersection each day--originating from the suburb on the outskirts of the small town. For some reason, they specifically targeted him on the way to school; teasing and shoving him along the way.

The boy looked down, the blood rushing to his cheeks in a warm embarrassment--eyes flicking up from the ground to spot the school up ahead. Leaving his young brother behind, he sprinted toward the safety of the front doors, only for them to cackle once more.

"Oh, there he goes! Run, little baby, run!" the ebony haired boy shouted at the top of his lungs; students nearby turning their heads before training their eyes on the boy, beginning to snicker as well.

A frown crossed Grayson's young face, tugging at the grey straps of his backpack in discomfort. A quiet huff escaped him, as he finally spun on his heel, his small chest puffed out, while his expression crumbled into a scowl. "You leave him alone! He's never mean to you! Why are you all mean to him?!"

The group stopped, nearly crashing into the small boy; the smirk now wiped from each of their faces, instead returning the scowl as they glared down at him.

"Because, he's weird and has no friends, that's why," the shorter boy sneered.

"Yeah, and don't forget, he talks to the birds."

"Oh right, I guess he does have friends," he teased, the fiendish grin returning.

Grayson shook his head. "None of you have real  friends, and you never will!" he cried, before turning to run straight toward the school; the large backpack bumping against his back as his small legs struggled to carry the extra weight. 

Shortly, he reached up, pulling open the metal door to slip inside, wanting to find his older brother, who now hid in the cramped stall of a bathroom on the verge of tears.