Summer Birdie

C for...

A week had gone by so quickly and you still couldn't show Birdie, the boy, your bird form. You didn't understand how your brother did it. He made it look so easy.

That evening when you arrive home with sweat dripping down your back, small nicks on your legs and arms and dirt on your clothes from practising with Birdie. You pretend that everything was normal, that you were at one of your friends house from school playing in their back garden and things went a little too far.

You had the whole scenario planned in your head to talk about what to do with your reassigned English homework and that you wished you could've gotten the quirk assignment over the summer like everybody else. You knew you were not the greatest of liars, especially if your quirk gave you away with its flashy nion hair show, but with your mother you felt more at ease. She believes you and listens to what you have to say and doesn't dismiss it so quickly like your father. That evening, you came home looking like a freshly picked carrot from the field, she listened to your tall tales and helped you clean up.

"Who's house did you say you went to?" She asks you.

"I didn't say." You state, hissing as the nicks and cuts sting as your mother applies ointment to them after your well needed bath. "I just went to one of my friend's place, they all live up on the hill."

"I know that," she says slapping the last plaster onto your knee. "I just need to know which friend." You can feel your hands starting to shake, does she know?

"A-are they going to get into trouble?"

"Oh- God, no, honey!" You mother gasps at the thought, cradelling you head in her hands as she kisses your forehead. "No one's in trouble, I just thought...maybe you can bring your friend over sometime, for lunch, you barely talk about any of them during school, and I've not seen you so adventurous." She squishes your cheeks with the thenar part of her hand and wiggles you head, cooing how cute you are. Kissing the tip of your nose, she releases you, getting up she starts to set the table for dinner.

"You're normally in your room all day." She says, "I was getting worried that you'd stay shut in all summer."

You lean back on the chair scanning the tiles of the ceiling. "The air conditioner is broken in my room, and the fan isn't cool enough. It's too hot this summer."

"I see..." You mother says in response, setting up the table for two. "Too hot..." You look at her as though she had made a mistake. That's when you notice the look in her eyes, she blinks at you inhaling sharply before saying. "I was cutting onions before, don't worry, it just stings a little."

"Ok..." You go over to help her, at least with the things you can reach. "Is dad not eating?"

There was a long pause. "Your dad has work late tonight," she shuffles from one cabinet for a glass and another for a bottle. She pops the cork and fills the glass almost to the top. Taking a sip she continues, "he'll be staying at a friend's house tonight."

You glance at the bottle, the fancy font reading out 'Cabernet, Grace Wine' and the smell was vile, like rotten fruit. "Want some grape juice?" She says releasing your gaze was fixed on the bottle. "I can get you some from the fridge."

"I'll get it." You say, grabbing your favourite cup and filling it with the blackcurrent from the fridge. It didn't smell the same.

For the past week, in the middle of the night, when the cicada's were loudly shrilling and your mother was fast asleep, you practised. You've seen your brother change into animals all the time, it can't be that difficult, you lie to yourself as you stare long and hard into the mirror possibly for the hundredth time, crossing your legs you concentrate. You think of a bird, any bird; a robin, a pigeon, chickens, and even going beyond to eagles and hawks.