Chapter 3: Birds of A Feather
Meanwhile, on the other side of the school grounds, an early Recess period was taking place amongst the lower grades. The early morning sun was met with hordes of young students under its rays, swarming the blacktop and the nearby playground equipment with a particularly invigored zeal. Not every student was necessarily a part of this swarm; the fringes of Elementary school society decided against conforming to the crowd, and went their separate ways.
Through the doorway, the young and gloomy Lucy sighed as she stepped outside with her old-fashioned umbrella in hand. Pushing it open, she continued out of the shade, looking around for her fellow goths.
"Hm. Where are they?" She muttered to herself, eyeing the grounds with unseen irises to no avail. Lucy and her friends would typically stick out like blackened, bruised thumbs, but even the obvious darkness amongst the sea of vibrance and happiness eluded her. The pale poet brought out an old timepiece from her pocket, and flipped it open. "Nine o'clock. Hm. Half an hour early…" Lucy mumbled, closing it shut before looking up to eye a lonesome apple tree.
It stood past the playground on a grassy knoll, precisely where the blacktop ended and nature began. While there were other beings of its ilk around the school, it was the only one accessible within school grounds, for the rest had been blocked off by chain link fences.
"Hmm…" She looked to the tree, before turning her head to the football field parallel to the cafeteria she had emerged from. To her disappointment, the older grades had been participating in their PE classes alongside the local football team, each group occupying one half of the field. Bench-warmers sat alongside their excess equipment and personal belongings, which occupied the mostly-empty stands. "Sigh." Lucy lamented. "Guess the meeting is postponed to lunch."
As she turned towards the chaotic playground and the green grass behind it, a large crow flew from around the building, perching itself on top of the apple tree, squawking loudly among the noise-making children. Its ebony plumage helped it to stand out amongst the vibrant flora, stretching its wings before flying downwards, disappearing from her sight as it found its way behind the tree.
'Why don't I try passing no-man's-land? It's not every day I get to meet a bird of prey so…ominous...' She thought to herself, proceeding into the chaos of the playground unfazed. To her, it was an all-too familiar experience; amidst a sea of disarray and disorder, Lucy was the mighty vessel riding the waves, unyielding to the distractions around her. Balls of varying shapes and sizes flew in all directions, and her peers danced and dashed past her in a childish frenzy as she approached the tree.
As Lucy walked into the shade produced by the rustling leaves, she retracted her umbrella, switching her grip to clutch it like a walking cane. She gently stepped around the tree, peeking around the corner to see an unexpected sight; a boy slightly taller than her handling the crow that had caught her eye. Bearing skin nearly as pale as the white t-shirt he wore, he faced away from the goth girl, and the omen of misfortune had perched itself atop his shoulder, ruffling its feathers as it received a few scratches underneath its beak.
Lucy squinted her eyes. 'He looks familiar…' She stepped forward, and the rustling of the grass below her made the boy turn his head. "Oh, hey there." He uttered, still facing away.
"Um…hi. Your bird–" She was cut off by the boy, who turned to face her. The bird-handler looked to the stoic girl with large, black-irised eyes surrounded by long lashes, which was set below a pair of slanted, thick eyebrows. His hair reminded Lucy of her great-grandfather, for he, too, had styled his black follicles into a thick, shiny pompadour. "-What about her?" He asked, and the bird let out a soft caw in response, looking to Lucy with a tilted head.
"Oh–she's beautiful." She smiled. "I wouldn't know much about crows, but…you seem to take good care of her."
The boy grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "Heh. Well, I try my best. I'm Mike, by the way. He extended a hand, and Lucy shook it. "I'm Lucy, pleased to meet you. Does she have a name?" She pointed to the crow, who seemed to be occupied by pecking at her plumage.
"Oh, not yet. I can't really think of one…I'm not the best with names. You got any ideas?" He shrugged as the crow hopped off his shoulder and flew upwards onto a branch.
"Hmm…how does Dahlia sound?" She put a thumb and index finger around her chin, and Mike's face lit up with surprise. "Like…the Black Dahlia? That actress who got killed way back when?"
Even though they were obscured, Lucy's eyes widened, and a grin emerged from her usually-morose face. "You know about that, too?" To which Mike shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. It's kinda…interesting. I guess it's–uh…what's the word–"
"Morbid curiosity?"
"Yeah! That's the word." He bent over and walked to the other side of the tree momentarily, grabbing something from the grassy ground.
'He's perfect for the Mortician's Club! But…why does he seem so familiar?'
He emerged with a black leather jacket, and slung it over his shoulder. Lucy's eyes widened once more, recalling the events that occurred earlier that morning. 'It's him! The kid that gave us the death stare!' She thought, gulping inaudibly.
"Hey, Mike…why haven't we met each other before? There aren't many kids like…us, after all." The boy paused, staring at the ground momentarily before putting his jacket back on.
"I'm…new in town. We actually just moved in this morning…it's a long story." His voice seemed more morose; his words flattened, as if the excitement they previously shared fizzled out like the last spark of an incense stick. He looked up to the crow perched on an apple branch, and she flew down to his forearm, landing gently.
"Then…why are you here? No one told me about any new students…"
"Lucy…it was nice talking to you. I gotta go." He faced away from her, and walked around the apple tree. "Wait–" She turned the corner, and he was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was met with the sight of Dahlia soaring above the playground, seemingly flying towards the football field. As she watched the corvid flapping her wings, she planted her umbrella's point on the ground, leaning on it as she pondered.
'Who are you, Mike?'
