The Bad Boy Stole My Bird

Happy Birthday

Their are two things you need to know about me. One being, i hate birds. Two, i hate birthdays.

And that's why, when my little fantasy of Hagrid waving a cage with a snow owl inside became real, i wanted nothing more then to shrivel up inside my coat and pretend to not be Harry - i mean Fawn.

"Honey, you could even call him Hedwig." My sister had a big smile plastered on her face, a splitting image to my mum. They both stood gawking at me - taking my reaction as happiness over load - it wasn't a happiness overload.

The thing is, i don't like being not grateful. I'm not spoilt and i love even the tinest things my family does for me. But this was just cruel. where they trying to test my patients?

"Hedwigs an owl." I stated.

"Well unfortuantely, they bite. I wouldn't want any of us getting sick." My mum beamed brightly, tugging at her dyed pink piggie tails (Don't ask.)

"Birds can make you sick." My mouth fell open in horror. Both my parents and my sister blinked at me.

"Honey, i could make you sick bu just spitting on you." She pretened to spit on me just in case i didn't understand the word SPIT. I subconsiously rubbed my arms. "Besides, we got the bird becasue it looks just like that one you made friends with in the zoo."

what one? The big black one that attacked me and left a faint scar running down the hollow of my throat. Or the one that bit me so hard my ful nail bed turned a deep purple and eventually fell off. "Right." I mumbled.

"I mean, we could trade him in for an owl if you want." A panicked look struck her face. what, was i Dudley now, complaining becasue i only got 36 presents rather then 37. Honestly, i didn't want mum to go out and buy me two more presents. I want to smile and except my birthday present with a happy grin. I just wish i was excepting a book or a CD. 

What was wrong with normal presents?

"No, i love him." I pulled a sugar sweet smile preying my watering eyes didn't give away my dissapointment. Even a book about the bird would be better. In fact i think i'd prefer scabbers a rat over a bird. The sharp talons and still eyes that watched me with a cocked head.

"Well, go on. Pick him up." My father clapped me on the back. I jumped slightly, afraid that his force might make me inch closer towards the bird.

"W-What?" I stared with wide eyes.

"It's not an ornament. It's a pet, now give him some love." My mum pinched my cheek.

"Um. I don't know. He looks pretty cozzy on that stick. I don't want to disturb him. Look, i think he might go to sleep soon." Oh, i wish.

The bird titled it's head, watcging me intently. His nails that wrapped around the stick were making scracthes in the wood, small shavings tumbling towards the ground.

"You're not afraid, are ya?" My father squinted his eyes at me, his very Australian accent taking on a edge of pirate slang.

I wanted to pull down my collar and show them the scar that had tormented me of the feathered talon beast. Instead i grinned. "As if. Fear is for girls." I pointingly shot a look at my sister who had grown bored and was no scracthing dirt out from beneath her nails with the end of the keys. 

She shot me a venomous stare. "Prove it then." A small smile curled on her lips. 

Oh that bitch. She knew i was terrfied of them. Onehundred percent certain she was the one who recomended a bird for my birthday. Oh i was so getting back at her for that.

"Sure." I hissed between my teeth.

I inched closer to the metal cage, it's swirling bars seemed too far apart, like the bird could easily push his head between them. That should be a safety hazard. I lifted the leaver of the cage and after sucking a deep breath of air into my lungs, stuck my hand into the cage. The thing is, i didn't really know what to do. So my hand dangled in the middle of the cage, looking more like a predator then a perch - well in this case - aparently prey. His small wings fluttered like my heart, and he leaned back in the air. His legs left the stick and ran two scratches down the flawless skin on my palm. I Shrieked.