Mia had a strange bird. But what attracted me to her was the smile, which lit up her face and the golden shine of her blonde braids.
Many of my classmates, boys and girls in the seventh grade, seemed to feel the same way. Mia was popular, and after school, we all met behind her parents’ house to hang out with her.
The property bordered a forest that we were all forbidden to enter since we were little, as our parents were worried we’d get lost in the dense, dark woods. But we were older now, so this, of course, made it the preferred destination for our “expeditions.”
We always went as a group, looking for interesting roots whose shapes sparked our imaginations, or listened for the sounds of “dangerous” animals to track down.
It was on one of those trips that Mia found the bird. Roughly the size of my fist, with black feathers and unable to fly due to some injury, it was the ugliest creature I had ever seen. Its head was not black but bone-colored and looked like a skull.
As she reached out her hands to pick up the animal, a murmur went through the group, and Abby, a girl who was always dressed up like a doll, exclaimed loudly, “Eww, don’t touch that!”
But Mia wouldn’t have been Mia if she’d been deterred. She not only gently picked up the bird but also held it protectively against her chest the entire way back.
Needless to say, Mia’s parents didn’t allow her to bring this oddity into the house. But with the help of some rags and branches from the garden, Mia built a nest-like structure in the shed. Here, she fed and cared for the bird until it could fly again. During this time, the animal became accustomed not only to Mia but also to those in our group, who, despite its appearance, were undaunted from visiting it every afternoon. Mia named the creature Skully, but I think she was the only one in our group to use this name.
My interest was solely in Mia. But being around her meant not showing the discomfort the bird caused me. I tried, however, to avoid touching it as much as possible.
Even when the animal had recovered and there was nothing stopping it from flying away, the bird stayed with Mia. When we played in the afternoons, it circled around, flew from bush to tree, and always came back to perch on Mia’s shoulder. Our group got smaller now. Some of the kids who had hoped the scary creature would leave no longer joined us when it became clear the bird was staying.
Mia always had a little stale bread with her, and when we gathered around the old sawed-off tree stump, our makeshift table, she would break off small crumbs and place them on the wooden surface for the creature to peck at. The bird strutted around on the wooden surface, picked up individual crumbs with its bill, then stretched its head up and cracked open its beak to let the morsels fall into its throat. It was a strangely fascinating spectacle to watch the bread disappear piece by piece into the bone-colored skull.
One afternoon, as the bird landed on Mia’s shoulder, it brushed the hair of Abby, who was sitting next to her, causing her to jump up and flail. She screamed that someone should chase the horrible beast away from her. Mia laughed and soothingly stroked the bird with the back of her hand. Abby calmed down again once it was clear the animal had only touched her briefly.
A little later, my thoughts still occupied with Mia’s laughter, the bird jumped from its perch on her shoulder to the tree stump. There, it stood motionless for several minutes, its gaze fixed directly on Abby. The girl shifted uncomfortably, visibly growing more uneasy as the creature’s stare lingered.
“What’s its problem?”
Then, the bird picked up a crumb of bread, but instead of swallowing it, it walked towards Abby with it. She recoiled, but the bird simply placed the crumb in front of her spot, then stared at her again.
“Oh, how sweet! I think Skully wants to apologize to you.”
Mia’s voice was so bright and melodic, I could have listened to her for hours.
“Eww, does it want me to eat that? It held it in its bill. And anyway, I have to go home now.”
When she left, I had the feeling she was struggling not to run.
Abby was absent from school for the next two days. When she returned, she told everyone that when she got home that afternoon, she found her cat’s corpse in her parents’ garden. The animal’s belly was slit open, and it was covered in maggots. She was convinced that Mia’s bird was to blame, without being able to explain why.
This led to a further shrinking of our group. All the girls, and, of course, those boys who mainly came for Abby, stayed away from then on. Thus, our gang now consisted only of Mia, Bob, G, and me.
The reason Bob stayed was obvious. He followed G on every step. On the other hand, G’s motivation was also no secret. It was the same as mine. But while I was happy to be in Mia’s presence, G wanted to be seen by her. Therefore, he took every opportunity to show off and be the center of attention. He loved to climb trees at the edge of the forest, as high as possible. Only when Mia repeatedly called out in an increasingly agitated voice that he shouldn’t climb any higher because it was too dangerous did he come back down.
I cannot speak for Mia, but I found his behavior quite annoying.
On one such occasion, when G had climbed into a treetop again, we heard the loud cracking of wood followed by a startled exclamation. G clung to something in the tree, preventing a fall, but a large branch crashed to the ground and almost hit Mia, who jumped aside at the last moment.
This even caused Bob, who normally never said anything against G, to give G a piece of his mind. But the bird seemed to be the most enraged. For minutes, it stood still, fixing its gaze on G, just as it had done with Abby. Then, once again, it picked up a crumb of bread and placed it, almost ceremoniously, in front of G.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Does that ugly creature mean to threaten me?” G’s voice, however, didn’t sound as confident as the words would suggest.
Mia, clearly not happy with how G was talking about her bird, stepped forward. “I think you’d better leave now. Only come back when you can behave reasonably again.”
G left, not without giving the animal one last hateful glare. Bob followed him, as was to be expected.
The next day at school, Bob told us that G’s older brother had been involved in an accident. He was apparently in terrible shape, which is why G and his parents were staying with him at the hospital.
I felt very sorry for G, but on the other hand, I was now alone with Mia for the rest of the summer, and I couldn’t have been happier. Of course, I made sure not to upset the bird. I kept my distance, didn’t speak badly of it, and generally kept to myself when Mia was playing with it. And every smile from Mia, every word she addressed to me, made my heart leap.
Summer was coming to an end, and Mia and I lay in the grass, watching the clouds together. As if by chance, our hands touched. Normally, we would have both immediately pulled them back in surprise, but this time, it was different. Our fingers found each other’s and our hands intertwined. I turned to Mia, she to me, and we gazed into each other’s eyes for a long time, while our fingers gently played together. My throat felt dry. Should I say something? And if so, what? Finally, Mia released her hand from mine and gently stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, just as she often did with her bird. I felt like I was in seventh heaven.
But as we sat up, my world shattered. The bird stood on the tree stump, staring at me intently.
An icy chill immediately ran down my spine. I didn’t need to wait a minute to realize it was fixing its gaze on me in the same way it had on Abby and G. My eyes went to Mia, and I saw the horror on her face.
As the bird picked up a crumb of bread, I jumped to my feet and ran to my bike. I had neither a pet nor siblings, but my parents… My mind raced with terrible possibilities as I pedaled faster than I ever had before.
I covered the way home in record time, my lungs burning. Even before I turned onto our street, I saw the flashing lights, police cars, and an ambulance. My heart sank as I approached our house. Two officers stood at the door, speaking in hushed tones. Through the open doorway, I could see shapes covered with sheets.
The police brought in a social worker who explained what happened in words too gentle to match the horror. That night, I was placed in an orphanage, too numb to even cry. After that, I was moved between various group homes and foster families, some of them far away.
I never saw Mia again.
