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It’s raining.
Huey says the rain is annoying. He makes sure to let everyone know just how much of an inconvenience it is. He’ll complain for hours when it seeps through his clothes, let alone if one drop gets on his precious hair. He prefers sunny weather, he says the lighting is better for taking selfies— or whatever that means.
But Dewey says he likes the rain. He can go on and on about how it’s the perfect weather for a good book or a horror movie. This always sets off their older brother, who rolls his eyes and starts naming the different reasons why Dewey is “completely and utterly wrong”.
Louie only laughs at their bickering because when it comes down to picking a side, he doesn’t know how he feels about rain.
Even right now, as he was squatted down over a puddle; watching as the rain droplets disrupted his reflection in the water. He wasn’t really sure. There were good things like jumping in puddles and catching raindrops on his tongue—but there were also bad things…
4 minutes. His uncle was supposed to pick him up from basketball practice only 4 minutes ago. But Louie knew all too well if his uncle wasn’t waiting outside when he walked out of the gym—then well, he was going to be waiting here a while.
He was wearing his big yellow coat and green rain boots, the pair he’s had for far too many years, but he doesn’t mind. Uncle Donald has to worry about bills and putting food on the table, he doesn’t want to worry him with things like needing a new pair of boots.
So, he doesn’t say anything. It’s not that important.
He doesn’t bother bringing an umbrella everywhere with him like Huey does. Usually when it rains, he tosses it to the side, forgotten as he splashes in the puddles of fallen rain. It’s fun, and it’s great way to pass the time until his uncle picks him up.
He doesn’t really know why he doesn’t feel like splashing right now.
He just feels tired.
Today has been a relatively good day. He got a B+ on the math exam he had been stressing over, they were serving pizza at lunch, and he scored the winning basket from the scrim a few minutes ago.
So why did he feel so…
The rain was cold, and although his coat caught most of the droplets, every now and then he would feel a little prick of wetness on his beak.
The storm above seemed to sense his mood as the sweet little plops of rain had turned into a straight downpour. Louie shivered, standing up and running under the gyms tiny awning.
Great. He contemplated walking but eventually decided against it, better to wait than to catch a cold.
He curled into himself, trying to save as much body heat as possible. Then he flipped his wrist around to where he could see his slightly wet wristwatch.
10 minutes.
Louie felt a small bubble of anger rise from the pits of his stomach—but he pushed it down quickly. He shouldn’t be mad, he can’t be mad. His uncle sacrificed so much to take care of him and his brothers, he just needed to suck it up.
12 minutes.
15 minutes.
18 minutes.
Louie had his back against the gym’s locked door, having slid down slowly to his bottom; knees tucked under his chest. The rain was a constant stream, relentless but it was sorta peaceful. He rested his cheek gently against his arm, his eyes felt droopy but the thunder rumbling every few minutes kept jolting him awake.
Eventually after 20 minutes or so, his uncle’s headlights blinded him and Louie pulled himself off the concrete.
“What took you so long?” He asked once he was safely inside, careful to keep his tone light.
“Work.” Donald answered, his eyes were tired but Louie didn’t miss the subtle hints of guilt reflected in them. “Sorry Lou, hope you aren’t too mad.”
Donald always was working overtime. There never seemed to be a day he didn’t come home exhausted.
“Oh. It’s fine.” Louie answered as he always did, with a gentle, and forgiving smile. He wasn’t allowed to be upset about it—even when it was cold and rainy. He didn’t want to be another stress on his uncle’s day.
Donald managed a brisk smile in return, pulling out of the school’s parking lot.
Louie had come to terms with his place in the family a long time ago. He was the one who didn’t complain, the kid who Donald could count on to keep smiling through the worst.
So he kept a smile on his beak as he looked out the car window.
And at dinner.
And when he got to bed.
The next day, and the next after that too.
He was always the one to cheer up his family, no matter what.
But who was there when he didn’t feel like smiling.
Who was there to cheer to him up when he was sad?
Right. Louie didn’t get sad.