And then it appears behind me. Wings half-spread, head bobbing, little orange feet pattering against the hardwood at a pace that should not be possible on legs that short.
Luna screams. Her notebook going airborne. Maren screams and scrambles up onto the couch.
"Is that real?" Luna shrieks, teetering on the upholstery. "Beth, is that areal chicken?"
"Does it look fake to you?" I yell, vaulting up onto the couch right beside them.
The bird skids to a halt at the edge of the living room rug. For one blissful, wildly naive second, I think we've established our dominance and it's going to retreat. Instead, it slowly cocks its head, lets out a littlecluck, and charges the couch.
All three of us scream again in unison, the sound probably carrying through every wall in this building.
"The bathroom," I gasp. "Go go go—"
Luna vaults off the couch with an athleticism she has never once demonstrated in our entire friendship. Maren is somehow already halfway there.
We pile in and I slam the door, hands shaking.
For a moment we just stand there, panting, crammed between the sink and the shower stall, Luna with one hand pressed to her chest, Maren gripping the towel rack.
Soft scratching sounds comes from the other side of the door, then a quiet cluck.
"Shhh," I whisper.
Luna clamps her hand over her own mouth.
"If we're quiet," I breathe, "maybe it'll leave."
Maren stares at me. "What if it doesn't?"
"Then we live here now," Luna whispers.
Maren closes her eyes. Opens them. Nods once, like she's accepting a fate she never anticipated but has decided to meet with dignity.
We wait.
The scratching stops. Silence. Long, fragile silence. Luna pressed against the shower door. Me on the closed toilet lid with my knees drawn up. Maren in the corner.
One minute passes. Then two. Maybe three. It's impossible to keep track of time when the rush of adrenaline is pounding so loudly in your ears.
"I think it's gone," Luna mouths.
I hold up a finger.Wait.
More silence. My shoulders start to come down from my ears. Luna lowers her hand. Maren lets out a long breath.
Then the door swings open.
All three of us scream. Luna grabs the showerhead. I grab a bottle of conditioner. Maren grabs a towel.
Arthur.
He's standing in the doorway. One hand on the knob, the other already reaching for his belt buckle. He freezes.
We freeze.
"What," Arthur says slowly, "are you all doing in here?"
***
