Charlie Changes Into a Chicken

by Sam Copeland

  He was free! He had escaped!

  He was a pigeon!

  Settling on the tarmac, Charlie bobbed uncertainly forward, unsure of what to do with himself. Before he had time to gather his thoughts a startling flap of wings nearly made him jump out of his feathers.

  Another pigeon had landed next to him. It was pacing back and forth around him, head bobbing, neck feathers glinting in the sunshine. It had gnarled toes and one foot was just a stump, like a lump of popcorn. Its eyes, little black holes in burnt orange, were – and Charlie could not mistake this – staring straight at him. The pigeon cooed, deep and low, and to Charlie’s utter shock he realized it was talking to him. He could understand pigeon. And the first words that he heard the other pigeon say were:

  ‘’Allo, you beautiful, delightful little pigeon. My name is Jean-Claude. I am a pigeon. And I am in love with you.’

  Charlie wasn’t sure he heard him right.

  ‘I … I beg your pardon?’ Charlie replied. He actually cooed, which came as something of a surprise to Charlie.

  ‘I said, my name is Jean-Claude the pigeon. And I am in love with you. You are the most beautiful pigeon I have ever seen. In the last minute.’

  Charlie was beginning to wish that he did not understand pigeons.

  ‘But-but …’ Charlie stammered, edging away from Jean-Claude.

  ‘Do not “but” me, mon petit pigeon,’ Jean-Claude cooed, edging closer. ‘Ours is a love that pigeons will talk of for many years. It is a story as old as time – ooh, look! What is this I spy?’ Jean-Claude eyed the ground beadily. ‘It is a delicious and tasty morsel of food!’

  Jean-Claude pecked at something, and chewed it for a few moments.

  It was a small piece of gravel. ‘Ah! Perhaps not so delicious, after all. Not as delicious as you, my beautiful, delectable pigeon. Now fly away with me!’

  ‘But we’ve only just met!’ Charlie cooed in alarm.

  ‘Ah, but what is time? Time is an illusion! It is capricious like the – ooh, look!’ Jean-Claude eyed the ground again. ‘A delicious and tasty morsel of food!’

  Jean-Claude pecked at something.

  It was an old piece of chewing gum that stuck to his beak.

  ‘Mmph! Mmhaphs mmoh mpho mmaphy mmapheh mmah!’

  A small battle ensued as Jean-Claude attempted to dislodge the gum. Finally he succeeded.

  ‘I said “Ah! Perhaps not so tasty, after all!” ’ He flapped his foot frantically at the gum that was now stuck to the end of a claw. ‘No matter! We have wasted enough time. We must make haste –’

  Another flap of wings startled Charlie and Jean-Claude.

  It was a second pigeon. This one was grimy-looking, with greasy feathers. And he was looking right at Charlie, with a beady look in his eye and a greedy look on his beak.

  ‘Bonjour! My name is Antoine! I am a pigeon. And I am in love with you, my feathery little pigeon.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Charlie exclaimed.

  ‘I am also looking out for any small pieces of food. I am particularly looking for crumbs,’ Antoine the pigeon said.

  ‘Back off, Monsieur Antoine! This pigeon is mine!’ Jean-Claude flapped angrily. ‘We have been in love for minutes! And any crumbs in this particular region are mine too.’

  Antoine bustled. ‘Monsieur, you are not the emperor of crumbs! And you are not the emperor of this exquisite pigeon’s heart, for it is I, Antoine the pigeon, pecker of crumbs and –’

  At that, a sudden flap of wings announced the arrival of – you guessed it – ANOTHER pigeon.

  ‘Did somebody mention crumbs? I am – zut alors!’ The new pigeon bobbed towards Charlie. ‘But who are you? What a fine example of pigeon you are! We must fly away together, you and I! A love like ours cannot wait! But first we must eat crumbs!’

  ‘Stay away, new pigeon! This beautiful pigeon and all crumbs in this general area are mine!’ Jean-Claude flapped excitedly.

  ‘’ow dare you?’ Antoine cooed, puffing out his chest. ‘This is MY pigeon. But I am prepared to discuss sharing the crumbs in this general area.’

  As a heated argument began to break out, Charlie took the opportunity to escape. He walked away, head bobbing, edging as slyly as possible away from the bickering pigeons. He had made it a few metres without getting noticed. And then all the pigeons turned as one.

  ‘Ma chérie!’

  ‘Do not go! I am just a foolish love-struck pigeon!’

  ‘We must fly away together, you and I, to pigeon paradise!’

  The three pigeons strutted menacingly towards Charlie.

  Charlie bobbed backwards away from them.

  They strutted quicker, circling him now.

  Charlie panicked, as Charlie usually did these days, and he flapped his wings.

  He lifted into the air. He flapped more, and rose higher, but the other pigeons took flight too.

  ‘Come back! We fly together!’ they called in unison.

  Charlie beat his wings harder, rising above the school now. The others followed, though, flying round Charlie, trying to force him down. Charlie pushed his way through the circling pigeons, climbing higher still.

  ‘Some crumbs!’ cried Antoine suddenly. ‘I’m certain I see some crumbs of food in the general area below!’

  ‘We must peck at the delicious crumbs!’ chorused the other pigeons in reply.

  And with that all three pigeons flew to the ground and began pecking, leaving Charlie flying alone.

  He was flying.

  Charlie was flying.

  With a rush of joy and surprise he realized he was soaring way above the school now. He beat his wings harder, the wind whistling through his feathers. Higher and higher Charlie flew, so free, his heart bursting with happiness.

  Silence. The rush of traffic was gone, and there was just the sound of the gentle breeze lifting him.

  Charlie had never felt so exhilarated in his life.

  Below him he felt, rather than saw, a map, a magnetic map, a rippling field gently pulling him one way, then another.

  Higher he flew, towards thick white clouds. The air smelled icy and crisp.

  Far below him, the town looked tiny. Fields stretched away towards the horizon. The earth curved gently in the distance.

  Charlie hung there, softly beating his wings, suspended by the flowing currents in the air, a mile above the ground.

  It was therefore perhaps the worst possible time to feel a charge of electricity shoot through him. A charge of electricity that could only mean one thing.

  Charlie was changing.

  Back into a boy.

  A mile above the ground.

  This time, Charlie had no time to panic. He knew he had to do something and do it very, very, very quickly.

  He folded his wings, pointed his beak towards the ground and started diving, as fast as he could.

  Down he plummeted, his eyes streaming.

  500 metres to go …

  He could feel his face changing. His feet changing.

  There was the school, screaming towards him.

  300 metres …

  He felt his feathers disappearing.

  Close to the ground. Hurtling down. He had to slow himself. Or the crash would be the last thing he ever did.

  200 metres to go …

  He opened his wings, tried slowing himself, and pulled out of the dive.

  100 metres …

  A lurch upwards.

  50 metres …

  He could feel his wings vanishing.

  25 metres …

  Had to land. Had to –

  Charlie crashed on to the ground and rolled. And then just lay there, looking up at the sky he had just been flying in. He wasn’t quite sure if he was still alive. He seemed to be – he could see the clouds rolling across the sky, and his bum hurt where he’d landed on it, but he was breathing.

  He tried sitting up. He was just about OK. He looked around. By some miracle he had landed in the school field, not far from the bi
ke and scooter rack.

  ‘Charles McGuffin, what do you think you are doing out there?!’

  A shout came from an open door. And the shout came from Ms Fyre, hands on hips, her wild bonnet of hair getting wilder by the second.

  ‘Come on, boy, get up! What on earth are you doing just sitting there on the ground? Where have you been? Mr Wind sent you to my office AGES ago! You are in very SERIOUS trouble, young man! COME WITH ME NOW.’

  Half an hour later, Charlie was walking back into his class, Ms Fyre’s furious telling-off ringing in his ears, and a punishment letter in his pocket, which his parents had to sign. The thought of taking home the news of how much trouble he was in – even more since the pigeon incident – was making him feel sick. His mum and dad had enough problems without him adding to them. He’d let them down. He couldn’t help it – he could feel the tears coming again. It didn’t help that Dylan was staring at him with a look on his face that was a mixture of gloating and disbelief.

  Wogan, Mohsen and Flora were looking at him too, clearly wondering what had happened. He’d tell them later. Charlie slumped to his desk, staring at the whiteboard, trying to hide his face as tears begin to trickle down his cheeks for the second time that day.

  ‘No way! It happened again?’ Wogan said, chasing after Charlie as Charlie stormed off ahead of him across the playground.

  ‘Yes,’ said Charlie glumly.

  ‘While you were on your way to Ms Fyre? You turned into a pigeon?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Charlie, frustration creeping into his voice.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Flora.

  ‘Oh, don’t you start hmming again. I had enough of that last time.’

  ‘Well, one way or another, we need to get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘No, what we really need to do is work out how to stop my parents from murdering me when they see this punishment letter.’ Charlie pulled the letter out of his pocket. ‘Listen to what it says: “Disobedience, lying, evasiveness and all manner of general misdemeanours.” What am I supposed to do about all that? I’m dead.’

  ‘Good question,’ said Wogan, sounding full of action. ‘OK, firstly, who is Miss Demeanours? Is she a new teacher? And General Miss Demeanours? Why is the army involved? We need to know.’

  Mohsen looked at Charlie and rolled his eyes. Charlie smiled for the first time in quite a while.

  The four were quiet for a moment, each lost in thought, until Flora broke the silence.

  ‘It’s funny that it happened …’ Flora paused carefully. ‘You know, when you were by yourself. Again,’ she added. ‘It’s just, you know, a bit strange.’

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean “funny”? Strange how?’

  Mohsen and Wogan held their breath.

  ‘It’s just that, well, nobody else has actually seen it happen yet,’ Flora said slowly and gently.

  ‘I knew it!’ Charlie shouted. ‘You don’t believe me! You think I’m lying!’

  ‘I don’t think you’re lying!’ Flora protested.

  ‘You do! I can’t believe, after everything that’s happened, one of my best friends thinks I’m making it all up.’

  ‘I don’t!’

  ‘Then what do you think?’

  ‘Well, have you considered that perhaps you just think it’s happening? Maybe your brain is tricking you? The mind is a funny thing and I know you believe you changed into a spider and a pigeon but maybe it didn’t … actually … happen?’

  Silence hit the four of them again.

  Charlie looked furious.

  Flora looked like she’d just broken the news to her pet hamster, Rollo, who was two years old, that hamsters usually only live for two years.

  Mohsen and Wogan looked terrified.

  ‘Well, you two are being very quiet. What do you think? Do you believe me?’ Charlie glared at Mohsen and Wogan.

  Mohsen and Wogan sort of muttered and shrugged. They looked nervously at the ground.

  Charlie rounded on them, his face red.

  ‘Well, that’s just great. Fantastic. Not one of my so-called best friends believes me. Well, you can all just be friends without me.’

  And with that Charlie stormed off to the other side of the playground.

  He sat on an empty bench fuming silently. And as he sat there, watching a football game between some Year Twos, his anger slowly turned into something much, much worse.

  Loneliness.

  His stomach felt hollow and yet at the same time like it was full of squirming worms. His head was throbbing and his face was hot and his eyes were prickling with tears again. He wanted to get a hug from his mum or play Pokémon with Mohsen or football with Flora or wrestle with Wogan or see SmoothMove again or anything, anything to make this awful feeling disappear.

  There really is nothing lonelier, Charlie thought glumly to himself, than sitting by yourself in a packed playground. He closed his eyes, if only to stop himself from crying for the third time that day.

  ‘I saw you.’

  Charlie swung round at the voice, startled.

  It was Dylan.

  ‘What do you want?’ Charlie said, having thought his day couldn’t get any worse.

  ‘I saw you,’ Dylan said again.

  ‘What do you mean you saw me?’ Charlie said, eyes slanting with suspicion.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Dylan replied.

  ‘Er, no, I don’t, actually,’ Charlie said, getting more frustrated.

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Look. If I did, I wouldn’t ask you, would I?’

  ‘If you call me wood-eye again, I’ll thump you.’

  ‘What?! I didn’t call you wood-eye! I meant “would I?”!’

  ‘You’re just saying the same thing. Anyway, the point is: I. Saw. You.’

  ‘SAW ME WHAT?’ shouted Charlie.

  ‘Fall from the sky,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Oh! You saw that!’ cried Charlie, relief flooding him. Not only did he finally understand what Dylan was going on about, but he also had proof that he wasn’t going insane.

  ‘What else did you think I’d be talking about? Have you done anything else worth talking about?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Exactly. Well, I was staring out of the window after you got sent to Ms Fyre and I just saw this thing falling out of the sky. It had wings but then it didn’t, and it was too big for a bird, and then it hit the floor and sat up and that was when I saw. Saw it was you. I mean, I always knew you were a freak, but not this much of a freak.’

  ‘I can’t believe it! Finally someone has seen me change! I felt like I was going crazy.’

  ‘Calm down, freak boy. So can you just change into whatever you want?’

  ‘I wish,’ said Charlie. ‘I just sort of change into animals at random. I can’t control it. It’s useless really. Not exactly a superhero, am I?’

  ‘Hmm. Maybe not.’ Dylan thought for a moment. ‘Did you poo on anybody’s head when you were up there?’

  ‘No. I was waiting for you to come out of class but I changed back before I had the chance,’ Charlie said, grinning.

  Charlie saw a reluctant smile creep on to Dylan’s face.

  ‘And now none of my friends believe me.’

  Dylan snorted. ‘I don’t blame them. If I hadn’t seen it, I’d think you’d lost the plot.’

  ‘I guess so … But it doesn’t matter now. You can tell them what you saw.’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Dylan shook his head with a hint of sadness.

  ‘But … but why not?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Dylan turned as if to walk away. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘Because, Charlie, you’re missing the obvious. We hate each other.’

  ‘I don’t hate you! I mean, we’re never going to be best of friends, but … hate?’ Charlie was starting to get a sinking feeling that Dylan was perhaps the worst person who could have seen him change.

  ‘Oh, come on. Face the truth. You and I are morta
l enemies. We always have been. We always will be. And now YOU have some sort of freakish ability. And that means that I have to try to destroy you.’

  ‘Why are you sounding like a villain in a movie?’

  ‘Maybe I have to build a robot suit or swallow some radiation to defeat you,’ Dylan said to himself. ‘I’ll have to start saving for a lair.’

  ‘OK, that’s really not helping the whole movie-villain thing. We don’t have to be enemies, you know.’

  ‘Oh, but we do,’ replied Dylan. ‘We are enemies, Charlie, and we can never forget that. We are destined to fight. That’s just how stories work, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.’

  ‘But we don’t have to be! We can be friends.’

  ‘Come now. Where’s the fun in that?’ Dylan gave a wolfish grin and then walked off towards the classrooms.

  Charlie watched Dylan disappear into the distance and shook his head.

  ‘What a total nutcase.’

  ⋆⋆⋆

  It wasn’t until the next day that Charlie spoke to Mohsen, Wogan and Flora again. He had spent a miserable evening at home, banished to his room and banned from his PlayStation after delivering his punishment letter to his mum and dad. They had been very, very angry.

  ‘I’m disappointed in you, Charlie McGuffin,’ Charlie’s dad had said. He’d actually looked disappointed too. Usually his father was good-humoured; even when he was telling him off, Charlie could always see a gleam in his dad’s eyes. But since SmoothMove had gone into hospital, the gleam wasn’t there so much.

  ‘We both are. Very disappointed,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘But we both still love you very much,’ she added, giving Charlie a warm smile and a lump in his throat.

  Charlie had sat in his room for the rest of the evening, simmering with misery, anger, loneliness and, worse than all of those – guilt.

  His brother was due to have his big scan in two weeks’ time and Charlie felt desperate for making his parents angry.

  So, when Mohsen, Wogan and Flora all came up to him in the playground first thing the next day, his heart pounded with joy. But he couldn’t show that.

  ‘Hey,’ said Flora.

  ‘Hey,’ said Charlie quietly.

  ‘Hey,’ said Mohsen and Wogan.

  ‘Hey,’ said Charlie back.

  ‘So …’ said Flora. ‘We’ve been talking and we thought that maybe we should say sorry.’