Page 118 of A Better Place

“Oh yeah. Right. Sorry.” I smile widely. I clap my hands together and rub them a few times. “Alright, you sneaky little suckers, time to go back out where you came from.” I walk over to the fireplace and crouch down in front of the window.

Carly hands me her tennis racket, and I give her a funny look. She just nods her head quickly and shoves it farther into my hands with wide eyes. Obviously, they’ll be tired out from flapping around in here. I’ll probably be able to just reach in, grab hold of one and set it outside for it to fly away to its home.

Yeah, not so much. I look back at Carly who’s covering her face with her hands, her fingers spread in front of her eyes just slightly so she can peek through them, reminding me of a kid.

“Ready?” I ask her.

“Yeah. Just do it already. Get it over with.”

Rolling my eyes at her dramatics and creak the door open just a crack. Nothing happens, so I open the door the rest of the way. Three birds sit in the middle of the stove, surrounded by ash and soot.

I gingerly stretch out one arm, my fingers shaking a little bit, and reach my hand in to grab hold of the closest bird. Beady eyes stare back at me, and a black head cocks to the side a little bit. It hops forward one time, and then all hell breaks loose.

It begins to flap its wings, bouncing around the small space causing the other two birds to follow suit. They bump into each other a few times before noticing the window is open, and one by one they fly out, charging at my face, causing me to scream — quite manly — and fall back onto my butt. Carly shrieks then turns and runs in the other direction as the birds begin to flap around her living room.

I quickly stand up, grabbing the tennis racket, which moments ago I deemed unnecessary, and prepare to wage war. I raise the racket in my hand and swing as one dive-bombs my head, causing me to drop to the ground.

“Ahhh! What the hell is WRONG with them?”

“THEY’RE INSANE!” Carly yells, her voice muffled due to the fact that her head is buried under a pillow, her face shoved into the couch cushion, and butt sticking up in the air.

“I don’t…” I swing again as another one flies down at me, damn near pecking an eye out, I’m certain. “…understand! AGHH!” I shout as I continue to swing. “Carly! Open a door! A window! Something!”

“I can’t get up! They’ll get me!” she screeches back, her ass swinging in the air as her feet dance on the couch between little kicks.

Just then the front door flies open, Jack’s ever growing body filling the frame.

“Mom!? I’ll take a shower and then… Wait. What the heck is happening in here? Whoa! What the hell was that!?” he asks as he jerks his body to the side when a bird flies directly toward his head, turning and switching directions back into the house just moments before colliding with him.

“Birds! There’s birds everywhere!” Carly yells, not even attempting to get up off the couch.

He trips over his football helmet that Carly had dropped onto the floor, glances back at the offender then up at me, and gives me a funny look. I shrug and point with the racket toward his mom, and he doesn’t even flinch before he charges into his room and comes back with a lacrosse stick and gets into a fighting stance, stick raised above his head. The kid has more sports equipment than anyone I know.

The two of us stand facing each other, our heads darting around to watch for the three birds who continually move about, never staying in the same place for more than a few seconds. I lean over and open the windows in the living room.

He looks at me and grins. “Wassup?” He does the chin nod, and I burst out laughing.

“Not much. What about you?”

“Same. I was thinking tonight we should…”

“DO YOU TWO MIND?!”

We both grin again. She’s too easy to screw with. “Right. We need to get the birds out of here. Okay, here’s the plan. Carly, you’re gonna have to man-up, girl. Stand by the front door. Keep it open while Jack and I tag-team these things. Maybe if we keep shooing them along, we can get them out of here.”

“Okay. Yeah. I can do that,” she says, standing up, tossing the pillow to the floor like it offended her, cracking her neck side to side, and shaking her arms out then stretching them above her head before bending down and touching her toes. She bounces a few times then punches into the air with each arm. “I got this. Totally. I’m about to make these birds my bitch.”

Jack and I watch her, both of us grinning at her dramatics.

“Mom…” Jack shakes his head.

“Let’s do this.”

“Okay, Ali. You ready?”

“What did I say? I was born ready. Now you two stop acting like a couple of girls and help me!” she says, still bouncing on her toes like she’s in the middle of a boxing ring.

I raise my eyebrows at her, unsure that I’ve ever seen her like this but finding it oddly hot at the same time.

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