Read Mermaid in Chelsea Creek for Free Online Page B

roof.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with her?” Sophie peered at the object stuck awkwardly to the tail feathers.
    â€œNothing is wrong with her.” The doctor stroked the bird’s iridescent neck the way one would pet a docile cat. Andrea flinched as she watched the doctor’s sterile fingers rub the greasy feathers. “This is bamboo.” She touched the carved tubes lightly. “Bamboo whistles. When she flies, it makes the sweetest sound. Perhaps you heard it right before she smashed into the window. Silly bird,” she murmured, pecking the pigeon’s smooth gray head and leaving a bit of red lipstick on the feathers there. “You’re too smart to fly into a window! What was that about?” As if in answer, the pigeon shook itself all over, lifting from the doctor’s hand and taking to the air, there in the cramped office. Andrea cried out and backed away from the commotion of feathers, but Sophie remained still, even as the bird clumsily advanced and then settled on her head. She could feel the bird’s sharp claws tapping her scalp, sliding into her hair. She stayed very, very still.
    â€œOh my god,” Sophie said, feeling like a strange statue in a park, a girl with an animal perched on her head. She thought briefly of Ella. If her friend could see her now, she very likely would end the friendship for good, judging Sophie contaminated beyond repair.
    â€œDr. Chen!” Andrea scolded. “Please, get your bird off my daughter!” But Andrea made no move to brush the bird away. Its status as the doctor’s special pet had elevated it above the common pigeons trolling for scraps in dumpsters around the city. It wasn’t wild—itbelonged to Dr. Chen. Andrea felt it would be rude to swat it. But what kind of pet was a pigeon? A grimy one, she imagined. Still out there flying around in the muck, tucking germs into its dingy feathers. “Please!” she snapped again.

    Sophie rather liked the bird settling on her head, though she feared its droppings. Its claws brought a roll of goose bumps down her neck, and her hair felt alive beneath its movements. The doctor shook her head at the scene and snapped her fingers at the pigeon. With a push off that stung Sophie, Livia jumped back into the air, flapping onto the doctor’s outstretched hand. Dr. Chen walked the animal to the window, stretching her fingers like a bridge for the bird to waddle across.
    â€œGo home,” she said firmly. And the pigeon did. With all the world before it, its take off was powerful and smooth. It glided into the sky, pulling air through the whistles on its tail, leaving a flute of sound in its wake. “Listen to that,” the doctor said, smiling, and Sophie rushed to the window to see her new friend disappear, straining her ears to hear the last of the music as it faded. Like the thin, fragile tone of a finger on a ring of glass. Like the subtle vibrations of something gently, artfully struck. Andrea followed her daughter to the window, inspecting the girl’s head for fleas and bird poop. She found nothing but kept digging. Sophie allowed it. Her mother’s scratchy fingernails reminded her of the bird, its comforting heaviness and skittering claws.
    â€œDid you do that?” Sophie marveled. “Give it that whistle?”
    The doctor nodded. “I learned from my father. It is a very old art, mostly forgotten. Once, long ago, whole flocks of pigeons were whistled. They would fly together and it would be an orchestra in the air, like heaven was announcing itself to the world. Imagine! A sky full of such sound!” The doctor sighed wistfully, blowing her own light whistle through her lipsticked mouth. “But not all pigeons like the whistles. Some find it terrible.” She scrunched her face. “Would you want a tuba rigged up to your butt? I would not!”
    Sophie considered it. She wouldn’t want to have to lug something around on