The Sociopath

     No one questioned why he was larger than the others.  “What a big boy he is,” they’d occasionally say, but the novelty was past.  Familiarity brings comfort.  Just like now, as he leveraged his greater height and weight to lift Timmy up.  
     “C’mon, let me down!  C’mon, it’s not even funny anymore,” Timmy  twittered.  He was the smallest, the last one.  
     “I’m not joking, Timmy, you are too big enough.  You’ll see, you’ll fly just like the others.  They’re going to be really proud of you.”
     “No, I’m too small!” Timmy said.
     “You are not,” he said, lifting him higher.
     “No!  Stop it!” Timmy cried, thrusting a few stinging jabs at the top of the head.”
     He paused a moment before speaking in a soft calm voice.  “Timmy, the others begged Mom and Dad to let them go, and finally they agreed but only if you couldn’t, but I argued with them.  I stood up for you.  Robbie and Erika and Lucy and David, they all told me to shut up.  They didn’t care how the ‘little brother’ would feel, but I knew how sad you would be if they ditched you.  I understand what it’s like to be different.  I just came out a little big and you came out a little small, but that’s all.  We can be just as good as them, Timmy.  Tim ... maybe we can be even a little better.”
     He waited for the words to seep in.  It’s always better when you whisper.  He’d learned that long ago, watching his step-brothers shrill and get nothing.
     “Mom and Dad really said I was too small?”
     “Just look over the edge, Tim, and see how you feel.  Just have a look.  There’s no harm in looking.”
     “I ... yeah ... just to look.”
     Very slowly he pushed upwards until Timmy’s feet just touched the edge.  “How’s it look up there, Tim?”  he said, he voice showing the strain of Timmy’s weight.
     “I’ve never been this close to the edge before.  It’s beautiful.”
     “Yeah, well maybe tomorrow you can try it.  I’m starting to get really tired down here, so I’m going to bring you back down.  Just get your foot off my right shoulder, ok?  It’s killing me.”
     “Oh, sorry,” Timmy said, looking down as he lifted his right foot awkwardly.
     Feeling Timmy’s weight go off balance, he gave a final shove.  
     A fuzzy ball of tumbling white feathers, soundless like a snowflake, a long fall interrupted finally by the forest floor.  Further away from the base of the tree lay the twisted remains of four other wren chicks.
     High above, the cuckoo chick sat alone in the nest and waited for its adopted parents to return with supper.