Over the next few weeks Ronan moves into our group like a puppy learning to trust. We offer him food as he passes, some of Rose's mum's best cupcakes. He takes them with a hesitant smile. After another two weeks he's stopping by deliberately, for cake and a chat. At the end of the month he's sitting with us every day.

Most of the eggs that DiLingo gave us hatched yesterday. Because Chickpea stubbornly remains hidden, I'm spending the night at Ronan's in the hope that she'll hatch, which dad and Alex deeply disapprove of. But typically, as we wander into class, the chicks are the only topic worth speaking about.

"Ours has little black feathers on it's beak, it's sooo cute!"
"Why on earth would you name yours Bambi?"
"Melanie and Callum named theirs Simba!"
"I have a feeling ours is blind."
"It's a newborn, it's supposed to be blind."

"Alright everyone, settle down!" DiLingo calls. "Who's egg hasn't hatched yet?"

A few hands are up. Me and Ronan, Jackson and Honey, Rebecca and Poppy. The teacher nods thoughtfully at us all, explaining that each egg takes its own time to hatch. Rose mutters under her breath to me about how annoying a baby bird is.

Someone knocks at the door and Matilda jumps up to answer it. And in rolls Lizzy, twenty-six kilos of craziness. She looks around seriously for a moment, then her eyes land on me. It's not just her either, the entire class is staring at me. "Lizzy, what the hell are you doing?" I hiss.

She turns to DiLingo and curtsies. "Mum and dad and Mrs Ronan and Mr Ronan want Emma and Ronan to leave school early."

I stare at Lizzy and so does Ronan. Why on earth would all four parents want us to skip school? She looks up at DiLingo. "Mrs Ronan says that Chickpea is hatching and since it's almost the end of the day they might as well come home early."

"Aaah yes. Go ahead Emma, Ronan."

"Nice, I'll let Hannah know. She'll be so proud." Rose whispers. I lean over the desk and punch her arm as I stand.

"I'm not skiving, idiot." I say in a low hiss. Lizzy tugs on my arm and leads me out of the room.

Logan's there to pick us up. He has written permission notes from my parents, and another two from him and Tara. Ronan and I slide into the backseat, dragging Lizzy in after us. Logan turns and grins. "Emma, your parents are at ours."

I pull a face as we turn out of the school driveway and roar down the road. Having my parents at a boy's house is not high on my list of priorities. I'm so deep in thought that I don't even notice when the car grinds to a halt. Ronan, Lizzy, and I head for the front door.

A loud screaming noise comes from the house and the door swings open. Fifty kilos of grey hair comes flying at us, barking and making that odd screeching. I reach down and scratch Felix between the ears. The dog seems to purr, but he might just be fantasising about tearing my face off. There's no way to be sure.

"Emma, welcome!" Tara calls. She leans against the doorframe, smiling in earnest. I smile back as Lizzy ambles forward and wraps her arms around Felix's neck, squealing gleefully. Ronan grabs my hand and drags me inside, looking determined.

"Chickpea." He reminds me swiftly. I shake him off my wrist and follow him through the house, through a narrow hallway, to a glossy mahogany door. I watch as Ronan presses against it gently, then ducks in and slams it in my face. Startled, I step back.

A clattering noise sounds from inside, the sound of Ronan hurriedly cleaning his room. I hear several locks click before he shouts for me to come in. With a hesitant hand I push open the door and walk in.

Ronan is sitting on his bed, facing a large glass box. Safe in the warm tank, something is trying to break through the shell of the egg from the inside out. I sit down gingerly on the edge of Ronan's bed and watch, gazing intently through the bright glass.

And Chickpea emerges into the world, her yellowish feathers like dry quills all over her body, eyes tightly shut. I shudder instinctively. Nobody told me newborn birds were so weird looking. Ronan though has a different reaction. His eyes are round with wonder as he reaches in to stroke the tiny bird. There seems to be some kind of spiritual connection between this almost-adult mystery boy and this tiny flightless bird. Almost magic.

There's a rap at the door and we both start. Mum pokes her face in, looking flustered. "Emma, sweetheart, we're going home now. Do you still want to stay over?" From the suspicious look she's giving Ronan, I can only begin to guess what she thinks of this. I pull a face.

"Yeah, all good. Don't worry about anything mum. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye Mrs West." Ronan chips in unhelpfully. Mum raises an eyebrow in a behave yourselves kind of way, before disappearing from the doorway. A few minutes later, the sound of the car's engine roars and fades.

Ronan gently guides Chickpea to the improvised best of tissues and straw. She folds into it, falling quiet. Ronan bounces up again, a strange look on his face. I laugh and drape a blanket over the tank, darkening the tiny bird's world so she can sleep.

"Wow, it's dark already. How time flies, eh?" Ronan declares, drawing the curtains. "Do you want dinner or....?"

"No, I'm not hungry thanks. I'll crash on the couch if you don't mind?" I ask, a yawn in my words. Ronan smirks.

"I'm not helping you, you know where the lounge room is." He laughs. I pick up my bag and saunter into the main room of the Caninamara household. My snores fill the darkness of the room, and the blanket Tara supplied me with presses heavily against my pyjama'd body. I don't think I've ever felt safer on a couch with an Irish wolfhound dog sleeping on the settee next to me.

I just did not expect to wake up to the sound of swearing, of the cupboards being ransacked.