A/N: This is probably one of the more interesting chapters in the story, as it contains a moral. The problem I elaborate on here is one that many people have faced at some point in their lives, so I decided to make it the foundation of this chapter.

If you are comfortable with it, tell me about a time when you ended up in a situation like Carla's, and how you dealt with it. I'm very interested in hearing what you have to say on the matter.

Lastly, I'm going on a week-long trip to Tennessee, so I won't be working on the next update. I'll try to come up with a sound plot and begin writing when I return.

Enjoy, everyone!

Chapter 4: A Challenging Conflict for Carla

When I woke up, the first thought that came to my mind was: Today is going to be another special day.

To be honest, every day was special in one way or another. As long as I had my iPod, my human friends, and most importantly, my family, I would always be happy.

It felt wonderful to stretch my wings and legs, and my neck popped satisfyingly as I twisted it gently. I finished my morning routine with a refreshing preen, my drowsiness taken care of.

I flew out of my room and plopped onto on the balcony, my eyes darting to the surrounding jungle. It glowed in the early morning light, the shades of green and pink and even brown as attractive as can be.

Oh, and I can't forget about the purple flowers – orchids, as Bia never failed to call them – that showed off their gorgeous blossoms. Purple was definitely my favorite color, so it's no surprise I loved orchids the most.

Blue was a very close second. I mean let's face it, how could I not admire the varying hues of my and my family's feathers?

As I turned around, I realized Mom and Dad's room was oddly quiet. I skipped across the platform and stuck my head into the entrance.

She was sleeping soundly by herself with her back to me, but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd left behind a single sapphire feather.

Hm, he probably got up early. I bet I know where he is, I told myself.

I quickly peeked into Tiago's and Bia's rooms and discovered that both of them were dreaming peacefully. I went airborne and aimed at the fancy building down below, sailing through an open window.

Dad was there on the counter, humming to himself as he poured batter onto the metal plate. He gazed at me as I landed and immediately smiled.

"Hey there, Carla. Good morning."

I hugged him around his waist, his soft plumage brushing against mine.

"Good morning, Dad."

"Sleep well?" he asked as he stopped pouring the batter from the bowl.

"Uh huh. And you?"

"Without a doubt."

He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully, and I could easily guess who he was thinking about.

He locked his rich chocolate eyes on me and declared, "This pancake is officially yours. It's first come, first serve in my kitchen."

I giggled at his comment, and his smile widened.

"I'll take it. I don't mind winning one of your tasty prizes."

"Thanks, Carla. You're just as sweet as the whipped cream you'll soon be eating."

He planted a kiss on my cheek, my skin tingling pleasantly. He then refocused his attention on the pancake, lifting it up with the spatula and checking the underside.

"Do you think you can flip it?"

"I don't know. I'm not as strong as you," I answered humorously.

"That's alright, I'll help you. Come here."

I positioned myself in front of him and gripped the handle with my right foot. He curled his own foot around mine, gluing my toes to the warm metal.

"Three, two, one, flip!"

The pancake was a bit on the heavy side, but we tossed it into the air effortlessly with one smooth flick of the spatula.

The disk executed a perfectly-timed half turn, its uncooked side hitting the skillet with a gooey splat. It started sizzling again, and he released his grasp.

"And that's all there is to it. I'll teach you to make your own one of these days."

"If Mom gives us permission, that is," I quipped with a chuckle.

He chuckled in return.

"Yeah. Let's hope she does. You won't get burned if you know what to do."

One minute later, he removed my pancake from the skillet and let it slide onto a plate. He sprinkled some blueberries on it, and I crowned it with a blob of the sugary white stuff from the can.

"That's what I call a culinary masterpiece. Isn't team work a valuable thing?" he inquired.

"Oh yeah."

We each balled up one of our feet and knocked them together, similar to the fist-bump he and Linda did. He began preparing a second pancake, and I eagerly chowed down on mine.

Every bite was a mouthful of fluffy, delicious heaven, and I couldn't resist taking another. I stained my beak with blueberry juice and smears of whipped cream, which I licked off with a few swipes of my tongue.

I gobbled down half of the pancake and called it quits. My plump belly was even plumper, as if I had gained one pound in a matter of minutes.

"Had enough?" Dad questioned as he transferred the fresh pancake to a waiting plate.

"If I eat one more tiny piece, I just might explode."

I plopped onto the counter and laid my wings on my swollen midsection, my insides churning away as they digested my breakfast.

He teased, "I know you can handle the rest. It's not nice to let top-notch food go to waste."

"No way, Dad. I've already... thrown in the towel."

"Suit yourself. I was planning on finishing it anyways," he stated amicably.

My siblings glided in while Dad was spraying the whipped cream, their eyes sparkling as they saw the scrumptious treat.

"Is that what I think it is?" my brother exclaimed.

He rocketed past Bia, the gust of wind unbalancing her flight for a few moments.

She squawked, "Hey! What's the rush?"

He ignored her, braking hard and perching on the rim of the plate.

"Is this for me? Awesome!"

"Actually, it's for-"

Dad couldn't even complete the sentence before Tiago tore into his food like, well, an animal.

"You and Bia," he tacked on dully.

"Mmm... this is the greatest! Om nom nom!"

"Share it with your sister, okay? And calm down while you're at it."

His beak stuffed, he said in a muffle tone, "Whatever you say Dad."

Bia fluttered over and hugged his neck, pecking him on the cheek for good measure.

"Morning, Dad," she greeted in her mellow voice.

"Morning, sweetie."

"Thank you in advance for providing me with such a nutritious serving of food."

He gazed at her endearingly and replied, "You're welcome, Bia."

She then drifted down to the plate and perched across from Tiago, who was finally exhibiting some self-control. She bent over and carved out a slice with her beak, her tail rising into the air.

Dad extinguished the flame with a spin of the knob and began eating the remaining half of my pancake. They feasted casually in relaxing silence, which was so not entertaining to me.

I walked to the far end of the counter and tapped the obvious red button on the remote. The television came to life rapidly, but had been tuned to the wrong channel by whoever watched it last.

I dug through news broadcasts, kids' cartoons, and documentaries to locate the sports channel.

Soccer was the dominant sport throughout Brazil, so it was to be expected that a match was always showing on this reliable channel. We Cariocas, as Mom referred to us from time to time, just had to observe at least one game per day.

Brazil was squaring off against Argentina – its number one rival – so the game was twice as thrilling.

Mom appeared around the ten minute mark, her claws making a clicking noise as the contacted the counter.

"Good morning kids," she said in her trademark warm voice.

I walked over to her and stood next to Tiago, at which point she enfolded all three of us with her wings.

"Hi Mom," Tiago said as she ended the hug.

"We're glad you've arrived on schedule," Bia remarked.

Mom cracked a pleased smile and replied, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than with my family."

She approached Dad and engaged in a beak-to-beak kiss that was five seconds long – four too many as far as I was concerned.

"And last but not least, good morning to you, Blu."

"Good morning, my beautiful Jewel."

"I see you've already fed them breakfast. Pancakes, I assume."

"I sure have, honey. I know you love it when I prove that I'm a responsible father."

She nodded and responded, "The only thing I love more than that is you."

Bia quipped, "That comment deserves a ten on the affection scale."

Dad gazed fondly at her and corrected, "I think it should be raised to an eleven."

She rubbed his neck with hers, causing his scruff of feathers to become erect.

"Ha ha, Dad's getting excited," Tiago remarked exuberantly.

I could tell Dad was blushing, which made me giggle.

"Ahem," I began, clearing my throat.

Bia and Tiago turned around, four pairs of eyes staring at me expectantly.

I pointed at the TV with my wing and asked enthusiastically, "So, who wants to watch some soccer?"

My brother chirped, "I do!"

"So do I," my sister continued.

"I wouldn't mind at all. What a great way to spend some quality time together."

"I agree," Mom concluded.

"That pretty much settles it then."

I hopped to the edge of the counter and motioned to them with my wing.

"Come on over, everyone."

Tiago seated himself to my left and Bia to my right, while our parents positioned themselves behind us. Soon after, the noise streaming from the TV grew more intense. Brazil was in possession of the ball and making steady progress down the field.

The crowd in the stadium cheered louder and louder as the Brazilian team closed in on the goal, boosting their morale.

The defenders clustered up as the ball was passed to the player at the head of the pack, a daunting shield that would be tough to penetrate. He fired the ball toward the left goalpost in an attempt to sneak it through a hole in the opposing team's formation, but it was deflected and knocked into the air.

However, the famous Ronaldinho hurried to the spot where the ball would hit and leaped, headbutting it heroically. It blasted over the opposing players' heads and the goalie jumped in desperation, his arms outstretched. I

t was too little, too late, as it grazed his gloved fingertips and slammed into the net.

The crowd went wild, Ronaldinho was pounded on the back by his teammates, and the announcer yelled, "Gol! Gol! Gol!"

"Score!" I burst out, jumping into the air.

"Man, that was sick!"

"That was an inspiring display of coordination and calculation."

"I believe Brazil is the best soccer team in the world."

"So do I, Jewel."

"What do you think, kids?" she questioned.

My brother and I fired back,"Totally!"

"They possess a superior level of skill, so I concur."

Brazil changed their tactics to strict defense in the wake of their goal, and the game was basically over. There were a few tense moments when Argentina was poised to tie the game, but Brazil ruined every attempt and maintained their lead.

Brazil had no reason to dominate their foes, devoting their energy to shutting them down instead. It was a clever, effective strategy that frustrated Argentina and its fans.

A one to zero victory is still a victory. Too bad for them!

At the ninety minute mark the final whistle was blown, and the fans of Brazil celebrated their team's decisive win with more emphatic applause and chanting. We celebrated too, cheering and high-fiving each other.

Tiago stole the spotlight with a crazy dance, spinning on his head like a top.

"It'd be a groundbreaking development if you could learn to be a miniature Ronaldinho, little guy. You have the athletic talent and the energy for it," Dad stated cordially.

"I'd be the slickest bird on the field, the player who can't be beat! Oh man that would be amazing."

Mom replied, "When you're older and your bones aren't so fragile, we'll look into it."

"Sweet! I'm counting on you, Mom."

"I'm gonna retire to my room, if that's okay with everyone."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and watch another game with us... or... something?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Dad. My iPod is getting lonely, and I'm in the mood to listen to some tunes."

"Fair enough. I'll drop by in an hour or so and see how you're doing."

"You really don't have to, Dad. Nothing's going to happen to me."

"Sorry, but I am. It's one of my duties as your father."

I can take care of myself. Why does he have to be so stubborn?

Annoyed, I retorted, "Yeah, an overprotective one."

"Carla," Mom said in a warning tone, her icy stare pressing down on me. I sighed and admitted defeat.

"Thank you for wanting to check up on me. Tell Linda, Tulio, and Fernando I said hi."

"I can do that," he answered calmly.

He was either not bothered by my attitude or didn't want to scold me thanks to his kindhearted nature.

"See you all later."

"See ya, sis," my brother said.

My sister hugged me tenderly, and I almost didn't want to leave.

"Bye, Mom and Dad."

"Bye, sweetie," they answered in unison.

I waved to my family and departed, propelling myself up to our treetop abode. I cruised into my room and sealed the opening with the "no entry" sign, a sense of calm washing over me.

I plugged my headphones in and carried my iPod with me to my nest. I reclined belly-up on the moss-padded leaves and sighed in delight.

Ahhh... it's good to be back in my warm room... and my comfortable bed...

I turned my iPod on, tapped the "Songs" icon, and then tapped "Shuffle" at the top of the list. A medium tempo track with a steady beat began playing.

I crossed my legs and let the funky vibe take over. Soon I closed my eyes and drifted away into my own little world, my thought processes coming to a halt.

In my mind's artistic eye, the variety of tones transformed into distinct colors.

The drums were flashes of yellow and orange, the melody was a winding river of blue and green, and the singer's voice was a collection of purple swirls and tiny starbursts.

The hues faded into the blackness as the song dwindled into silence, but were reborn when the next tune commenced.

I snapped out of my trance in the middle of the eleventh song, detecting an urge that needed to be addressed. Pausing the track and setting my headphones on the floor, I stepped outside and used the restroom.

I saw a bright red blur of color dive into the jungle on the far side of the clearing, but I didn't think anything of it. I ventured back into my cozy shelter and hopped into my nest.

As I reached for my earbuds, I heard a thump and watched as the sign that blocked the entrance was pushed aside. A ray of light beamed in, and a young scarlet macaw perched on the rim of the circular hole.

"Hello," he began, his voice bearing a mild accent.

"Hey there. My name's Carla. What's yours?"

"It's a secret," he countered, grinning.

"Your name is 'a secret?' "

"No, it's a secret, so I'm not telling you."

I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine by me. So, what do you need?"

"Oh, I don't need anything. I've been waiting for the right moment to strike, and guess what, this is it."

Genuinely confused, I responded, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to show you."

He stabbed his wing at me and sneered, "Look at how fat you are. How can you even fly?!"

His rude comments struck me like a bolt of lightning and shocked me.

"I'm not fat, I'm plump, like a mango!"

"Yeah right. Don't try to hide from the truth. You should be named Carla the coward. Ha ha ha!"

I narrowed my eyes in anger and yelled, "Stop insulting me and get out of here!"

"What are you gonna do if I don't? Sit on me?"

"Why are you being so mean? I don't even know you! Just go away!"

"I think I should, or I might go deaf. I have to be back home soon anyways. Oh well, my mission is a success!"

He cackled evilly and finished, "You better watch out, because I might strike again when you least expect it."

He sped off in a flash, the draft sucking one of his feathers out right before the sign swung into place.

I was in disbelief, my heart aching as if I had been kicked in the chest. I hung my head, the insults taking their grim toll on me.

Maybe I am fat and unhealthy... maybe there is something wrong with me...

I trudged past my nest and curled up in the corner, sluggishly inserting the earbuds into my ears. I hit the play button and wrapped my wings around myself, the music failing to lift my wounded spirits.

I spiraled into a pit of depression, hating the way I looked and how much I weighed. I let out a sad sigh, wishing I'd developed differently.

I stared listlessly at the opposite wall, a storm of self-conscious thoughts raging in my head. A short while later, Tiago poked his head in.

"Whatcha doin, sis?"

"Nothing..." I answered, trying to conceal my ruined mood.

He wasn't fooled, and his smile was replaced by a concerned frown.

"Are you alright?"

"No... I'm not."

"Why don't you tell me-"

"I just... want to be by myself," I muttered, interrupting him.

"Okay," he replied gloomily, vanishing in an instant.

I knew what he was going to do and braced for the inevitable. Less than a minute had ticked by when a large navy macaw squeezed himself into my room.

Dad propped the sign open and the room lit up.

"What's the matter, Carla?"

I lacked the willpower to make eye contact as I mumbled my response.

"I don't want to talk about it..."

He crouched down next to me and rested his wing on my back.

"You can tell me anything, sweetie. What's bothering you?"

My mind wanted me to stay quiet and not confess, but my soul couldn't bear the burden. I leaned against him and recited the recent chain of events that had upset me.

He slapped on a troubled expression and breathed out heavily.

"Well... he's long gone and we don't know his name, so there's no way I can track him down and tell his parents. There's not much I can do about that."

I teared up as I recalled his harsh words and sniffled.

"Why are Tiago and Bia... normal... and I'm not? I weigh more... than both of them... combined. I don't want to be... this way... for the rest of my life..."

I clutched him tightly as two beady tears scurried down my cheeks.

"Please don't cry, Carla. If you calm down, I'll tell you a story that will help you feel better."

I inhaled a deep breath and wiped my eyes, trying to stifle my tears.

"P-promise?"

He tucked a primary under my chin and tilted my head up, his brown eyes meeting mine.

"I promise."

He withdrew the feather and I snuggled into him like I did when I was a hatchling.

"When I lived in Moose Lake, I was visited multiple times a week by two geese named Alice and Chloe. They called me names like 'house pet' and 'flightless loser' and told jokes at my expense."

I sniffled and replied, "R-really?"

"Yes. Bullies, like them and that scarlet macaw, enjoy hurting the feelings of others because they're hurting too. Their mission is to drag you down to their level."

Everything he said made perfect sense and explained why that macaw had acted in such a way. I stopped crying and wipe my eyes one final time.

"You see, bullies want you to lose your cool, and if you do, they know they've won. But, if you ignore them and don't trust anything they say, then they automatically lose. That's the first lesson I want you to learn."

I nodded twice in a row and loosened my grip, but didn't release him completely.

"There's another lesson that's even more important, so listen close."

He grasped me with his wings and lifted me up, his eyes level with mine. They glistened and sparkled, and I was captivated by them.

"You are a one-of-a-kind daughter, Carla. Be proud of who you are today, and who you'll be in the future. Your mother and I don't want you to change, so never believe anyone who claims you should."

A fountain of hope and relief welled up inside me, healing my wounds and washing away the bad memories. My vision blurred as tears of joy pooled in my eyes, and I buried my face in his neck feathers.

He patted my back soothingly and I whimpered, "I-I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Carla, with all my heart. Everything's going to be okay."

It wasn't my intention to stain his feathers, but I wanted to prove to him how happy I felt.

Smothered in his fatherly warmth and kindness, my beak curved into a wonderful smile. He would always be there for me, and with his guidance, I could overcome any problem that I stumbled upon.

In that moment, with his love coursing through me, I knew he was absolutely right.