Three Birds On A Windowsill

Prologue

In a secluded area of a park most kids in Brooklyn frequented, a small 7 year old boy with blonde hair was crying. He had been grabbed when playing with his friend Bucky, and was now being tormented by three mean spirited 12 year old boys.

His ears were pounding and his lashes were thick with heavy tears. He just wanted to play, but no. Mean older boys, and even some boys his age, would constantly torment him due to his small stature and many, many, illnesses.

Though it was muffled, he could tell that the yelling had stopped. He looked up and rubbed his eyes, seeing if they had gave up or were planning to hit him now.

To his surprise, he saw a girl, maybe his age, telling the boys off. They looked astounded that she was even talking to them, much less that she was treating them like a puppy who'd just done it's business on the carpet.

Focusing more on the girl, he saw that she had raven-black hair tied up in two neat little pigtails. She was wearing a white shirt over what seemed to be a light pink romper. She had little pink mary-janes with what looked like kitten ears inked on each shoe. She was taller than him, certainly, but shorter than Bucky. She had owl-like big brown eyes and freckles that dotted her face like stars.

Once she decided the boys had a good talking to, she turned her attention to the boy, not paying any mind to the gaggle behind her. They seemed too stunned to say anything and all shuffled away once they realized she wouldn't acknowledge them any more.

She looked down at the blonde boy like she had discovered a new species. It wasn't like she was looking at him odd, just curiously. Finally speaking up, she had a semi-monotonous voice that you would think belonged to an angsty teenager, not a child who had just told 5th graders to get lost.

"Ya got a name?"

Of course he had a name, everyone had a name it was a silly question. But he thought it over and guessed she actually wanted his name. So in a meek, timid voice, he answered;

"Steve. My name is Steve Rogers."

As if she didn't care about actually learning his name, she just continued.

"Do you have parents or friends around? You seem kinda y'know, small and helpless to be here alone."

She clearly had no social filter, because wow. But skipping over that last-ahem-comment, he answered because he wanted to get back to Bucky.

"Oh- uh yeah. I have a friend here. His name is Bucky and he's probably looking for me right now."

To his complete and utter horror, she scooped him up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He just went limp because what else could you do in this situation? A strange girl who just yelled at a bunch of older kids for calling you small and helpless?? Who also called you small and helpless??? Just lifted you up like dead weight to look for the friend you lost???? It was bizarre.

At the same time on the other side of the park, a brunette seven year old boy was calling out for his friend. He had on a creme colored button up tucked neatly into his tan corduroy pants with some brown boots to match.

He was still yelling the same name, Steve, over and over in hopes of finding his friend. He only paused when he heard footsteps and a girls voice.

"Bucky, right?"

He was so taken aback by the fact that this strange girl knew his name that he didn't notice the small legs dangling on her shoulder.

"Yeah, uh how did you know that?"

All of his questions were answered when she grabs a limp Steve from over her shoulder and holds him up like she's about to baptize him.

"Oh. There you are."

Steve only nods solemnly while the girl starts talking again.

"You should keep a better watch on him. Some animal might eat him. Or a group of teenage boys. Or both."

Bucky is confused by the absurdity of the comment but he also gets what she's trying to say. Composing himself, he speaks again;

"Huh. What's your name?"

The girl plasters on a big smile and bounces on the balls of her feet before answering:

"Lola Cohan!"