Dylan

Breaking the News

"Did you know," Dylan Brooke says slowly, eyes widening at a spot just above my forehead, "that there is a bird on your head?"

I reflexively reach up to stroke the smooth feathers of my yellow canary. Flit, my bird, makes a little thrilling sound at my pampering touch. "Yes, Dylan. I think I would know if there was a bird on my head."

"Right," he mutters dubiously, and I don't blame him. I have honestly forgotten that Flit has followed me out of the house this morning. Flit flaps her pretty wings and lands on my left shoulder, snuggling against the warmth of my neck. The air conditioning at Starbucks must be disagreeable with her. 

"I have something to tell you," I say brightly, pretending the past few minutes never happened. 

Dylan shoves his long, orange-brown hair out of his eyes as he huffs and leans back into his chair. He knows I am changing the subject without subtlety but nods at me to continue anyway. I open my mouth to do so, but am cut off by a noisy bunch of girls streaming in through the door. Dylan's face tightens as he recognizes some of them, and sinks further into his chair.

I purse my lips as a million taunts rush through my head. Things flow in my favour when three of the girls from the group branch out from their little tree and saunter over to Dylan, completely bypassing me.

"Hi, Dylan," a blonde one says in this giggly, perky voice. His eyes flit over to me and back to the girls as the discomfort in him grows more palpable by the second. I smother a laugh. 

"Hey." Dylan's tone is flat and cold, as if he is a celebrity meeting a particularly pesky fan.

"Who's your friend here?" Another blonde. The tone of voice that she uses feels a little evil, somehow, and I wonder if Dylan has to put up with bullying from his school. 

"A friend."

Amazingly, Dylan's tone is sharper and colder than before. I shiver. I have never seen this side of him before in all my years of knowing him, which is literally since birth. Our mothers were put together in the same room when they gave birth to us because it had been a particularly accident-prone night, and the nearest hospital kind of ran out of space.

The third girl is a strawberry blonde, and her vicious smile allows me to come to the conclusion that she is the ring leader. She reaches out to me, offering her hand to shake. "Hi there, I'm Jennifer Laine."

I look at her hand, unsure what to do with it. On the one hand, I know all about basic manners. On the other, Dylan seems to be burning holes into that girl's hand. I look at Jennifer Laine but before anything can happen, Flit flaps her dainty wings against my neck and flies out. The girls scream and squeal in horror as Flit takes a go at them.

I see one of the girls bring up a brochure to hit Flit with, and I am on my feet, running and whistling for all I am worth. Flit hears her whistle and turns back in time for the girl to miss. I pluck Flit out of the air and scowl at the quaking girls.

"She's just a bird," I roll my eyes. "She just wanted to say hi--"

Dylan clamps his hand over my blabbering mouth and yanks me out the door before more havoc can be created. Once we are out, I shove his hand away angrily to see that he is practically earth-quaking with laughter.

"Why are you laughing at me?" I storm and start back in the direction of my house. 

"Come on, Mer!" Dylan runs up to me and puts an apologizing arm around my shoulder. "It was hilarious! You have to admit that."

I pout to the max and let Flit perch comfortably on my head again. This makes Dylan inch away a little bit. I smile a little. "It was not. Flit could have been hit! She would be so sad if her wings broke."