ƚᴎiɒꙅbɘbɒɘʜǫoᗡ

“Okay,” Ray had responded with a light scoff, not paying much mind to the scrappy-looking kid and thinking instead of what he wanted to buy at the local corner store.

Jed had continued to scrutinize the older boy and finally, after a minute of obvious gawking, said, “I know you’re hiding something.”

“What?” Ray had huffed in surprise, taking a step back from him. The cigarette smoke in his lungs suddenly felt stale, and he swallowed, exhaling harshly out of his nose.

“I know when people are lying,” Jed said, unfolding his legs and beginning to swing them back and forth so that the tips of his sneakers brushed the top of the drying grass.

Ray bristled and flicked his fingers to dislodge the ash from the end of his cigarette as he stared at the boy uneasily.

“I keep a lot of secrets,” the younger boy said in a knowing tone that still managed to convey a sense of whimsy. His smile revealed a prominent gap between his front teeth that transformed his expression into a thinly veiled snarl.

“Right,” Ray responded, for lack of a better response. He took a hard drag from his cigarette, eyes darting up and down over the boy. There was something unsettlingly eerie about him that radiated in waves, like the rise of static before an electric storm, and made the tiny hairs on the back of Ray’s neck stand up. A bead of sweat slowly ran down his back, and he repressed a shiver as if a cool front had suddenly blown his way.

“Why do swallows fly differently?” the boy then asked, head tilted to the side as he looked up at him.

“What?” Ray asked in bewilderment at the strange question, feeling as if everything about the kid was catching him off guard. What harm there could be in such a simple question, he didn’t know.

The boy merely raised an arm and pointed to a spot over Ray’s shoulder.

“I don’t— I—” Ray turned and spotted a bird in the direction the boy was pointing. He watched as a small brown bird swooped down toward the ground, crossed paths with another, and then soared off, following it into a cluster of barren trees straight ahead.

“They fly lower, I suppose,” he answered after watching the bird hop along a branch before it took off, circled the tree, and performed an aerial twist.

“Kinda reminds me of bats,” Ray commented, not sure whether he was talking to himself or not, the words coming up and out of his mouth unbridled as soon as he registered the thought.

The boy straightened his back on the bench and then jumped to his feet, his face a picture of elation at Ray’s words.

“That’s because both are crepuscular flyers,” he blurted immediately, as if he had been waiting for the chance to impart this information for some time. “That means they come out in the twilight,” he added when Ray’s brows rose.

“Oh,” Ray nodded, taken aback by the look of shrewd intelligence on the boy’s face.

“Both are hunting insects,” the boy imparted as he looked toward the sky. “Two different species that normally wouldn’t cross paths, joined by the shared need for survival.” He paused for effect, then stuck his hands in his shorts pockets.

When he spoke again, he was no longer gazing at the birds but looking at the other children; the game seemed to be reaching an end. “It’s the hunt that brings them together,” he said sagely, with a small frown. He kicked at the ground and then looked up at Ray, as if awaiting a response to his assessment.

Ray found it difficult to concentrate with the boy’s protuberant blue eyes blinking up at him in expectation. He had the notion the boy might not merely be talking about bats and birds. It was a profound observation to come from someone so young. With a shake of his head, as if it would help clear it, he opened his mouth, determined to find a reply.

“That’s… uh— that’s, um—”

“I gotta go,” the boy said suddenly, interrupting Ray’s train of thought with another look back at the playing field.

“What? Well— hey!” Ray found himself calling as the boy turned around and began to walk away. “What’s your name?”

The boy paused momentarily to look over his shoulder at Ray, an expression of mild surprise on his face, as if he had expected this to be something Ray should already have known. Once again, his eyes drifted back to the children at the field, who were slowly making their way down toward the two of them.