Aves: Passerine: Fringillidae

[Macie Finch]

Sam and Macie Finch stood waist deep in the fountain, fully clothed, their heads together. Hands holding each other's elbows, they seemed a serene picture, like mirror images, so alike, but different. Like siblings; perhaps twins. Sam, the more wilful of the two, taller, stronger, his lips forming a contented curve. Macie, her dark hair spiralling to the blades of her shoulders, soft eyes staring at their reflection. The water was not cold, not warm. Simply there, surrounding Sam and Macie as they stood with their heads together, saying nothing, being simple and still and pure.

Inside, however, their minds were vociferous. It was a secret conversation for them only; a dialogue silent to the ears. She asks, he answers. Questions, questions, only so many that Sam can answer now; her mind will keep on growing and asking, wanting to know more --

Why can I only touch you in dreams?

*

"He's watching you."

Macie jerked her head up, placing down the apple piece that she picked up only a second before. She glanced at Sam, perched on the seat beside her, his dark eyes focused on something she couldn't see, lips pouting as though he were trying to work something out. He matched her choice of red vest and short, black pleated skirt with a shirt - sleeves rolled up to the elbows - and suit trousers of the same respective colours. Adorning his right wrist was the same plaited braid of mahogany horse hair that she wore; something Macie had put together some months previously after a trip to the stables.

Who is watching me?

"That boy," Sam indicated his focus with two fingers, eyes narrowing as Macie turned briefly, "Ben Daley."

Facing him again, Macie searched his face for a moment, hers clearly confused. Ben Daley was an integral part of the sports teams; basketball, swimming, track ...why was he staring at her?

Sam's smile grew into mischief, "Want to know what he's thinking?"

No! Sam, that would be ...invasive, intrusive - not to mention rude -- Sam, what is it?

Her shield was on his feet - she hadn't seen him move - frowning, the sudden anger radiating from him so strong that Macie picked up on it in a moment. She repeated her question, looking up at him in worry, fingers tracing the skin of her apple piece. His throat moved, but he said nothing - just continued to stare at the boy sitting across the canteen. Macie looked too, and her eyes immediately locked with Ben's. He reached for his unopened can of coke, shooting her a wink.

The can exploded.

That small part of the canteen was thrown into uproar; the group of uniformed cheerleaders squealed and backed away from the spray, Ben's fellow athletes laughed and claimed credit for the prank. No prank, Macie thought, shivering as Sam asked that they leave. Taking a bite from her apple piece, she obliged, gathering her books and leading him out of the canteen, skirt swaying with the rhythm of her stride. On the edge of her mind, a latent thought that could only be from her shield brushed past:

"Yes; invasive, intrusive and rude."

[Macie Finch]

As the school day drew to a close, Macie was sure to be one of the first at the lockers, placing her books in a neat pile on the upper shelf before pulling out the kit bag she had stored in the lower compartment that morning. It was somewhat weighty against her slender shoulder, however she took it with an optimistic thought of it making her upper body stronger and swung it so it rested against the small of her back. Pushing the cold door of the locker shut, she closed her fingers around the key, but froze before she twisted it.

They're gonna leave and they're never gonna find me --

"What?" The words came out aloud; a spoken response to what she was sure was something said to her. Resting her hand against the locker, Macie tilted her head, listening despite the swarms of people surrounding her. Nothing. She shrugged, murmuring softly: "Guess I imag--"

What if I DIE IN HERE?

At her side, Sam gripped at her elbow. Macie turned to him, her eyes swimming with worry; What is it? What is that voice?

'I'll go and look --'

"Hi." Macie flinched again as a boy threw his athletic frame into the locker in front of her, leaning up against it with all the self-assurance of a hunting leopard. Her eyelashes flickered before she recognised him.

"Ben? Oh, hello."

Ben Daley was a good head taller than her, perhaps even taller than Sam, who stood closer than she remembered. Hot waves rolled from him ...of what? Glancing upwards, Macie shivered at the sight of his intense expression, his eyes burning like coals into Ben Daley, who remained coolly ignorant. Running a hand through his spiked hair, he seemed to take some pride in the expensive gel bouncing it back into its original style, while his eyes surveyed Macie Finch, who stood dumbfounded before him. He had heard that she had been pretty retarded in elementary school, but she had gotten smarter by middle school enrolment. She was petite, with dark hair in curls past her shoulders, and danced most nights a week at the city's famous school. Aside from that, there was precious little information. Why? Because Macie didn't really speak to others; kept herself to herself, seemed content at being solitary. And that in itself made her interesting.

Ben dug a hand into his jeans pocket, his mouth curving into a boyish grin, "Hey, you wanna do something later tonight?"

"No, thank you." She was calm, but her voice was quiet. "I ...um, I have to --"

"I know you dance. You're going to dance class, right?"

"Actually, I'm --"

"Just skip it, just this once? I wanna show you something." He moved closer, the height used to earn his place on the basketball team making it easy to tower over the dancer, who didn't move an inch. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Macie took in a breath, fighting Sam's overpowering vibes and Ben's shadow. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she tried again: "I'm sorry, but I have --"

She was cut short by her phone singing out from her shoulder bag. She seized the opportunity to fish it out and back away from Ben at the same time, casting her eyes over the screen. Daddy. Click: "Hi daddy, how are you?" A pause. "Mm hmm." Another pause. "Yes, I've finished school now. I'm heading home." Meaningfully, her dark eyes fixed on Ben's own pale blue ones: "...Yes, I remember we're having dinner together this evening."

At this, his attention was quashed, and Ben Daley cast out a hand in farewell, taking off into the crowd of students. The girl watched him go, and flipped her phone closed without a farewell. Any pair of eyes paying attention would have noticed that same girl looking rather confused, as if she'd forgotten what had happened in the last minute. Looking around, Macie Finch chewed on her lower lip, a hand nervously smoothing down her skirt.

'You don't need to be afraid of him.' said Sam gently, his expression softening into a hint of a smile. 'I'm your shield, remember?'

Macie shook her head, curls bouncing, What just happened?

'I asked him to leave ...because I knew you wouldn't.'

A shy smile, Thank you. You're right - I was too nervous --

Oh God please let me out of here please please I have to get out of this can't breathe I can't --

Macie's hands clapped to her mouth; Sam raised a hand to his ear, expression reverting to his focused frown. Macie shivered, hands also sliding up to her ears, but this time to cover them as the voice increased in decibels, and in desperation.

No no no please somebody find me no air nothing please don't go and leave me ...OH GOD!

"Sam, what is that?" She whimpered, tightening her grip on her ears. Her shield dashed to a locker, pressing his ear against it before drawing back and pointing at it.

'Here.'

Macie whirled, dropping her bag to the floor and scrambling to the locker, her fingers scrabbling at the lock. From inside there came no sound, which only served to fuel her desparation. The latch came free, and Macie swung the door back with all her strength - albeit unneeded - and her eyes fell upon a boy her age, crouched uncomfortably in the locker amid textbooks and hockey equipment. His face was streaked with tears, and Macie recognised him as part of the dark, yet friendly emotional clique. She leaned inside and grabbed at his dark-nailed hands, cold in her own stronger ones, pulling him into the light. He squinted, sniffed and rubbed at his matt, black-dyed hair. It was cut into choppy layers and was most likely designed to fall over one or both of his eyes when in proper array, but currently it appeared more suited to a scarecrow.

The feelings of cold and despair could only be radiating from him. Macie stepped back, careful not to collide with Sam, her eyes wide. "Are you alright?"

"F-f-ff ...fine."

"Gosh, how long were you in there?"

He shook his head, fingers nervously rubbing at his arms. "I-I dunno. Since before lunch maybe."

"Do you -" Her mind was a clutter, "do you want me to walk you somewhere, like home - do you need anything, maybe some --"

"Like, how did you find me?" His question silenced her instantly. Suddenly ashamed of nothing, Macie stared down at the floor. "I've been in there all day - nobody heard me."

At length, she whispered: "...I did. I heard you."

"How could you? You're weird."

"What?"

With his eyeliner streaked down his face with tears, he looked quite horror-movie character he so often masqueraded as: "I never said anything for you to hear."