Carrion
My best friend is a crow. I met him – well, I don’t know if he’s a boy or a girl, but I’ve decided to…
Author: Hal Hutton
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My best friend is a crow. I met him – well, I don’t know if he’s a boy or a girl, but I’ve decided to…
My best friend is a crow. I met him – well, I don’t know if he’s a boy or a girl, but I’ve decided to call him ‘him’ arbitrarily – one day in autumn on my walk to school. It was late enough in the season that most of the leaves were on the ground already, and by now they’d lost their color and their crunch, leaving bare branches to reach like black skeleton hands up into a sky the color of wet cement.
He was perched on a trash can, his head buried in the top layer of discarded bottles, cans, and plastic wrappers, flicking periodically to toss aside some unwanted scrap of garbage, probably in search of something to eat. His tail feathers stuck up above him, shaking this way and that in his search. I remembered hearing stories about crows- how intelligent they are, how they remember faces. I was curious, so I dug in my pocket for the half a granola bar I had left over from my breakfast and gave a whistle.
He looked up from his scavenger hunt and turned one beady eye on me, head twitching one way, then the other. His feathers were black and glossy, shining almost navy in the watery grey light of the morning. Slowly, I broke off a piece and crumbled it in my hand, then dropped the grainy handful of oats, nuts, and little cranberry pieces onto the sidewalk. I rubbed my hands together to shake off the last of the crumbs and stood, taking a dozen steps back.
A chill breeze picked up, stinging my nose and cheeks, and I pulled my knit scarf up a little further. As if mirroring me, the crow fluffed his feathers up, watching me warily. I kept still as a statue, trying to tell him with my eyes that I just wanted to be friends.
He jumped off the lip of the can, flapping his wings twice as he glided down to where I’d left the granola crumbs. He kept one eye on me the entire time, picking out the dried berries first, then the nuts, then the oats. When the ground was picked clean, he straightened back up, fluffed his feathers out again, and cawed once.
I smiled. “You’re welcome,” I told him. He flew off.
—
I didn’t see Russel Crow again for a little more than a week. I started calling him that in my head a few days after I first met him. I thought it was funny. I assume it was him that I saw again, anyway. I don’t think a stranger crow would look at me with that kind of expectancy in his eyes. I had a paper cup with a red cardboard sleeve in one hand, steam and the earthy scent of coffee rising from within. The warmth of the hot drink kept my fingers from going numb after the sudden cold snap in the weather. In my other hand was a huge blueberry muffin dusted with rough sugar crystals on top, still warm from the coffee shop’s toaster oven. I don’t usually get breakfast out of the house, but I’d managed to turn my work in on time for once and I thought that deserved a treat-myself kind of morning.
The muffin was sweet, soft, and moist, and each bite came with these little bursts of bright blueberry flavor, and it practically fell apart in my hands as I bit into it. It was impossible to keep from making a mess as I walked and ate, but I was outside, so it didn’t matter that I trailed crumbs like footprints. I didn’t notice Russel following me until he gave a sudden, impetuous caw, and I turned around to see him pecking at the crumbs I left behind.
“Well, hi there,” I said to him, a smile growing across my wind-stung cheeks. “You having a good morning?”
He cawed again, and I had the strange feeling that he was saying No small talk, feed me again, will you? I laughed and nodded.
“Alright, alright, here, you can have some of my muffin.” Tearing off a chunk, I gave a gentle underhand toss, and it landed a foot in front of him. He immediately dove forward, breaking the muffin apart with a few eager pecks and turning his beak skyward to swallow down the bite sized pieces.
Russel gave another caw and flapped his wings twice before taking off into the air. I smiled and stuck a sticky thumb in between my lips to suck the blueberry juice off, watching the little black speck that he was disappear into the uniform gray. I kept walking then, happy to have seen him again. I could see the street sign marking the turn into the school when I heard him caw again, and I looked over my shoulder, my eyebrows shooting up beneath my bangs.
“Hello again. Twice in one morning?” I asked him. Russel dropped something bright onto the ground and pecked at it twice, then gave me a meaningful look and flew off again. Curiously, I turned around.
There on the ground was a buttercup yellow button about the size of a nickel with two holes in the center.
—
I rolled the button between my fingers throughout the school day, rubbing a thumb against its time-roughened edges until it grew warm in my hand.When I was restless, I’d slot the little disk between two fingers and tap out a rhythm on my desk. I thought about Russel and wondered where he’d gotten a hold of such a thing. What kind of places did he get to see, being what he was? Unlike me, he could fly anywhere he wanted to. People wouldn’t pay him any mind. He was just a bird. Maybe he’d stolen it off of someone’s laundry drying on a line. Maybe it came from a dog toy left out in someone’s yard.
“Hey, what’s it got in its hand?” Catherine’s acid drawl cut through my musings, and on instinct I closed my fist around the button, hiding it from view. I tucked my hand into my lap under my desk and turned an impassive face up at her.
She was beautiful- there was no denying that. Her hair was always a perfect sun-kissed blonde, though I knew she was naturally brunette because I’d known her since we were kids. She was just as awful back then as she was now. You’re not allowed to use my hopscotch square had simply become Who said you were allowed to sit on this side of the room? I’m holding that desk for Allie.
“It’s nothing,” I rasped, then cleared my throat and tried again, firmly. “It’s none of your business.”
Cat rolled her eyes and laughed. “Is it playing with trash now?” She asked aloud. From around the room, there was a scattered snickering. I felt my classmates’ gazes burning into me. I refused to look at them and kept my gaze fixed on Cat’s eyes.
“You wouldn’t know trash if it kissed you on the mouth,” I countered, hoping my voice wasn’t shaking as much as it felt like it was. “And neither would your boyfriend, obviously.”
The snickers picked up in volume, with a few outright laughs, and a low murmuring of ooooooh…
The smile dropped off and her face became frigid. She put a hand on my shoulder, pale peach manicured claws digging into my shirt. As she leaned over me, her hair slid off one shoulder, falling around her like a curtain so that her face was all I could see. Her eyes were grey and strained. “You’ll regret that,” she said.
I swallowed and said, “The only thing I regret is the fact that you didn’t brush your teeth this morning.”
With a hiss, she straightened up and took her hand off me like she’d been burned. The bell rang, and she glanced toward the door where the teacher was stepping in. Cat’s winning smile was back on her face, and she waggled her fingers at me in a precious mockery of a friendly wave. “See you in gym class, Leona,” she said in a sing-song whisper then spun away.
—
I always hated gym class for the locker rooms. The lingering stench of old sweat and deodorant didn’t bother me too much. They were always a little dirty, with a thin layer of brownish grime outlining the grout between the muddy orange tiles, and the lockers didn’t have proper locks on them, so I had to be careful what I left in them, but neither of these things were the reason why either. I hated undressing, really. Hated being around all those girls, feeling out of place somewhere I was told I should belong, a stranger in my own skin, so I’d picked a corner locker all the way in the back and always changed with my back to the rest of the room, hoping that if I didn’t look at anyone else I could convince myself they weren’t there. It never worked.
This time, Cat was waiting for me at my locker, leaning with one hand on the blue-grey metal, her claws going tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Counting out a lazy, menacing rhythm. “Leonaaaaa,” She said, drawing out the last syllable with the voice of someone surprised to see me. “You made it, I’m so happy to see you.” Her words were thin and insincere.
“My name is Leo,” I said firmly. “And that’s my locker. Could you move?”
“Oh, is it?” she gasped in mock surprise, holding one hand before the perfect pink “O” of her lips. It was impossible to tell whether she was reacting to my name or my claim of a right to that space. “Gee, I had no idea, so very sorry,” she frowned as though she actually meant her apology, but again, the sarcasm saturating her voice made sure I knew the truth. “Let me just move, yeah?”
I pressed myself back against the opposite row of lockers to give her room to pass, but she bumped into me as she walked by anyway with too much force for it to have been an accident, then picked a locker at the end of that same row.
I looked away from her, my shoulders drawn up in a tight line, and began to undress.
I was folding my sweatshirt up to shove it into the locker when Cat’s voice shrieked shrilly again. “Oh my god, ew, I think there’s a cockroach in the locker room! Quick, someone squish it!” Then a pause, a titter of laughter. “Oh, nevermind. It’s just Leona.” The giggles around the room rose and fell like a wave, and I felt my cheeks grow hot.
“Nice bra, by the way. What dumpster did you dig that out of?”
“Shut up, Cat,” I ground out, then quickly pulled on my gym shirt. I exchanged my jeans for cotton shorts as quickly as I could and bustled out of the locker room, more jeers hot on my heels.
—
My clothes were in the toilet. They weren’t in my locker when I came back. I’d begun pulling open the surrounding lockers, wondering if maybe I’d put them in a different one by mistake thanks to Cat’s distraction, but then she’d leaned around the corner, her lips drawn wide in a cheshire grin, and said “Why don’t you check the middle stall?”
So that was it. My day clothes were soaked in toilet water. My gym clothes were soaked in sweat. I had to pick the lesser of two evils, I suppose.
I was late to my next class because I’d spent ten minutes wringing my clothes out into the locker room sink until they weren’t dripping any more. That earned me a detention. Ms. Andrews wasn’t known for her leniency.
It started snowing on my walk home from school, and by the time I got to my house I couldn’t feel my legs, and my body wouldn’t stop shivering.
—
Over the next week Russel visited me a few times. I’d taken to making sure I always had something on me that he would like. He seemed to favor nuts and fruit, so I’d bought a bulk bag of trail mix that had cashews, almonds, dried bananas and apricots, and raisins, and I always made sure to have a handful of it in one of my pockets. He didn’t seem to mind when there was a bit of lint in it, either.
On Wednesday, Russel brought long piece of thin ruby-red ribbon and a friend. The other bird was slightly larger, their feathers a little messier, and when I fed the both of them, I smiled at Russel and told him “You keep yourself a lot neater than your friend there. You must be a particularly beautiful crow, huh? Have anyone you like? I bet you could get them in a heartbeat, handsome boy.”
He watched me silently for a moment, then answered me with a noise that sounded almost like he was echoing my voice- handsome boy. I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.
At school that day, I threaded the button he’d brought me onto the ribbon and tied it around my wrist like a bracelet, and every time I glanced at it, I smiled.
—
On Friday, Cat found me on the walk to school. It must have been on purpose. She usually drove. My heart sank when I heard her voice instead of Russel’s coming up behind me, chattering idly away with someone else. I tried not to look at them, hoped maybe they wouldn’t notice it was me. Then I heard her voice calling out, “Look! There it is! I told you it was weird looking!”
I sped up, pretending like I didn’t hear.
“Hey, wait up,” a male voice- Cat’s boyfriend, Zeke- called out, and I could hear his footsteps as he jogged lazily up to me. He was a wall of a guy, had to be at least six foot two and two hundred fifty pounds, seemed a little slow on the uptake at times thanks to at least two concussions throughout his football career, but he had a kind of unexpected wit — he always knew just what to say to hurt you the most.
When Zeke caught up with me, he turned around, walking backwards to stare at my face. “You were right, Kitty,” he shook his head, giving a breathy whistle of disbelief. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“It has tits at least!” Cat called back.
“No way,” Zeke said, then stopped me dead with a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Prove it. C’mon, take your top off.”
I stood my ground, chin held high though my eyes were downcast. “Get out of my way, Zeke,” I said, my voice low. Jerking my shoulder out of his grip, I made to walk around him.
“Aw, don’t play coy. I’m dying to know,” he stopped me again, clamping a hand around my wrist with an iron grip. Russel’s button dug into my skin, and I worried Zeke might pull it loose or try to take it. “What is it? What’s in your pants, huh?” Zeke leaned in close, looming over me, and grabbed at the front of my jeans.
“Back off Zeke!” I shouted, hating the way my voice shrilled through a range of terrified high notes. “Don’t touch me.”
“C’mon, don’t be that way. Show us the goods. What are you packing?”
Zeke was grinning. Cat was laughing. My throat closed up as my heart rattled around in my chest like a bird throwing itself against the walls of a cage. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.
A loud croaking caw broke through the sound of their laughter. Cat and Zeke turned to look at each other, then behind me. It was Russel, his feathers fluffed up around his neck like a dog with its hackles raised.
“What the-? Shoo, shoo,” Cat began to wave a hand at him, her lip drawn up in a snarl of disgust.
“Sorry, Russel,” I said to him, my voice shaking. “I don’t have any food today.” I lied. I didn’t want him coming any closer to Cat or Zeke. I waved and tried to look sorry.
“You’re talking to it?” Cat’s upper lip pulled up in disgust as she looked between the two of us. “Maybe that’s why you’re so weird. You’re just an animal.”
Russel seemed to pause, his head flicking back and forth like he was considering the situation, then took flight. I sighed, a wave of subdued relief washing over me. At least Cat wouldn’t hurt him, too. His appearance had jostled me out of my panic into some other odd state. I felt resigned to this, whatever they were going to do. At least they won’t hurt him, I thought again, as a strange sense of calm settled over me.
“Filthy animal,” Cat sneered under her breath, pulling a thumb through her hair to push it back from her face as she strode around to my front. When she looked back to me, she scoffed, running her eyes over me. “You’re still here?” She asked. “Not gonna fly off like your vermin pet over there?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment,” I mused. “I thought you might have more in store. Didn’t want this to end prematurely. I’m sure you know all about that.”
Cat’s face turned bright red. She drew a hand back and slapped me across the face.
My head snapped back with the impact, and the sound of it rang out in the cold air like a gunshot. My cheek stung, though the feeling was numbed by the cold. Wincing, I turned my face slowly back toward her and rubbed a hand over the place she’d struck.
“Ow…” I said bluntly.
“You listen here you little… whatever you think you are,” Cat growled, stepping too close to me and jabbing a claw into my chest. “The next time you talk to me like that I am going to crucify you. You hear? I’ll-“
Cat was interrupted by cawing again, but this time it was different. A multitude of caws of different pitches, tones, and volumes tumbled over one another in a cacophony of sound. I looked up into the sky and a disbelieving laugh bubbled out up out of me.
A mass of tiny dark bodies was coming over the horizon, wheeling through the sky headed straight in our direction. In moments, they were on her, and I stepped back, hands raised in innocent surrender, to watch the show.
Cat shrieked and cursed and flailed as the crows descended upon her, pecking and pulling and battering their wings against her. Zeke fled, tailed by a few straggling birds. “Get off! Get off, oh my god get these animals off me!” Turning, Cat too began to run, and the crows followed her like swarming bees, pulling out strands of her perfect hair, tearing holes in her totally fashionable and definitely expensive puff coat.
Only one crow remained behind, bent low to the ground and watching me with his shiny black eye. I smiled at him, then squatted down, holding out a hand. Russel strode, bobbing slightly, over to me and gave my open hand a peck.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll bring you something good tomorrow.”
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