Page 9 of Noticing Natalie

“Hmmm, so good.” I’m on my second promised cupcake and my insulin levels are screaming at the amount of sugar I’m consuming. But I don’t care. Chocolate makes everything better and after that scene with Dave, I need a little comfort eating.

“Yes,” Matthew agrees, his eyes on my lips.

Do I have frosting on them? Do I look like the greedy pig that I secretly am?

As subtly as possible, I lick my lips, watching Matthew watch my progress with interest. He’s so keenly locked on following the path of my tongue that he misses the warning sign. We both do.

“Argggh!” I fall off the wooden bench we’re sharing, throwing my arms up to protect my face from the swooping magpies, determined to eat our eyeballs, if the myths are anything to go by. “Matthew! Help!”

I look around to see why my friend isn’t shielding me from the divebombing bird pests, shocked into momentary immobility when I see him cowering under the nearby picnic table, a panicked expression on his face.

“Matthew?” I commando crawl on my hands and knees until I meet him under the table, holding on tightly to my cupcake as I go. “Are you OK?”

He doesn’t answer, peering out and up from under the safety of our table shelter only to zip back underneath with a yelp.

“They’re still out there.”

A laugh bubbles out of me as I take stock of the image in front of me. Matthew, all six-feet, muscly, tough-guy, captain of the soccer team, legs tucked into the foetal position, waving his hands sporadically around his head like that’s going to help. At all.

“Are you scared of birds?” I creep closer to him. His vulnerability makes him even more appealing.

“Magpies aren’t just any bird,” he whispers from behind his hands, like he’s worried they’ll hear him and exact revenge. “They’re eye-gauging terrorists of the sky.”

I bite my lips to stop the laugh that is dying to emerge from me, not wanting to mock his phobia, but also really wanting to mock his phobia.

“How are you not more scared?” His face is pained now and I rub his arm to try to comfort him. This big manly man, who’s scared of birds. It’s too good.

“I am a little scared of them,” I lie. Magpies are pests, but I’ve never really thought to be worried about them before. “But I’m sure if we just make a run for it, we’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head violently at this suggestion. “Running makes us targets,” his tone is hushed, urgent. “If we run, they’ll chase us.”

I’m not sure this is true, but I don’t argue with him, instead crouching even closer, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it gently.

“Should we just stay until they leave?” I offer.

“They’ll never leave.” He sounds so sure, and a glimpse outside confirms his suspicions. There, perched on a nearby tree branch, is an army of magpies, waiting to attack.

Keeping this information to myself, I ponder our options, while Matthew all but whimpers into his hands. We could stay here all afternoon or we could…

“Matthew, I have a solution. It sucks. But it may work.”

He flashes his hopeful gaze at me and it makes up my mind. “I’m going to throw this cupcake in that direction.” I point away from where we need to be. “And then we make a dash for the bus stop. How does that sound?”

He pulls his lips in and hums under his breath. It’s like this decision is life or death for him.

“OK,” he agrees. “Let’s try that.”

We inch closer to the edge of our protecting table and watch as the magpies start fluttering their wings.

“See? They’re ready for us.” Matthew goes to move backwards, but I stop him. This is the only way we’re getting out of here. There’s no turning back now.

“We can do this.” I tug on his hand and urge him forwards. “You throw it, you’re better at sports stuff.”

He mutters something about playing football, but takes the cupcake—my beautiful cupcake—from me, hurtling it with all his might away from us.

“GO!”

We bolt out of our hidey-hole, sprinting to the safety of the bus shelter, Matthew pulling me along by the sheer force of his strength and speed.

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