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isn’t a problem. Cold is. Her mother won’t feed her if she’s cold.’
    He speedily laid out layers of kitchen roll in the empty margarine tub. He’d already punched in holes for drainage. ‘Put her in. Carefully.’
    Yvonne lent over the yellow tub. She opened her hands and the little bird hopped out.
    ‘Why aren’t you putting it back in its nest?’ she asked quietly.
    Josh pointed to the tree above. Yvonne looked up, tilting her glasses to see better. The remains of the nest were just barely visible.
    ‘The thunderstorm this afternoon,’ he explained.
    He used his arms to grasp hold of a branch above him. Pulling himself off the ground, he wrapped his legs around the tree.
     

    ‘Here,’ he said. Yvonne put the tub in his outstretched hand. Keeping the hand holding the tub free, Josh began to climb. He wedged the tub into a group of small branches, then shook the main bough gently to make sure it would stay put. Then, using both hands, he climbed down.
    Yvonne watched him in silence. ‘You’re strong!’
    Josh had never thought of himself as strong, though he did the work of an adult on the farm. He pointed towards an old oak. ‘We can watch.’ He led the way.
    They could hear the baby blackbird’s distressed ‘cheep, cheep’. Yvonne shifted from foot to foot, her forehead wrinkled with worry. ‘Will the mother come?’
    Josh put his finger to his mouth and kept his eyes on the yellow tub.
    After what seemed like ages, a brown female bird flew onto the branch above the makeshift nest. She inspected the tub. Then she hopped down and stood on its side. She lent over, and they could see her regurgitate a worm. It disappeared into the baby bird’s mouth.
    Josh glanced at Yvonne, suddenly worried she might be upset at the sight. But Yvonne was unmoved. Josh remembered seeing her driving around in the vet’s brightly painted van with him, probably doing rounds. She’d probably seen a lot worse that a bird vomiting up worms  . . .
    He smiled, pleased at figuring this out, and at having another successful rescue under his belt. Butsuddenly, he felt awkward. He didn’t know what to say to Yvonne.
    ‘I’ve got chores,’ he told her. And without another word, he ran off.
    He caught a glimpse of Yvonne – her mouth was open and her eyes wide, as if she’d been shocked by something. Not him, surely  . . .
     
    * * *
    As they ran along the old river, the light rain continued.
    ‘I saved a bird today,’ Josh told Reggae. ‘And this girl from my class helped.’ Reggae looked up at Josh. ‘I think it went okay.’
    It started to rain in earnest. Josh examined the sky, a heavy grey in all directions.
    ‘It’s settling in,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what you remember back at the pen.’

 
    Chapter 8
    The following day after school, Josh returned to the woods to see how the baby bird was doing. As he approached the oak where he and Yvonne had hidden the previous day, he was surprised to see a glimpse of a school uniform. Someone was already there. He approached quietly.
    ‘Oh!’ Yvonne exclaimed. ‘I didn’t hear you coming! I ran all the way here because I wanted to see how our bird was doing!’
    ‘It’s not
our
bird,’ Josh snapped. ‘It’s mine.’ It was! The fourth he’d rescued this spring!
    Yvonne reacted sharply. ‘
My
bird,
my
bird,’ she said imitating him and sounding like a three-year-old.
    Josh blushed.
    ‘I thought you were different,’ Yvonne said, now sounding hurt and turning away from him.
    Josh didn’t understand. How could she be angry and hurt at the same time? And what did she mean when she said she’d thought he was different? They’d barely exchanged a word before yesterday. Surely she’d never given him a moment’s thought  . . .
    ‘I’m not different,’ he said.
    Yvonne didn’t turn towards him to speak. ‘You feed the school rabbit and guinea pig when the teacher forgets. You tickle their tummies when youthink no one’s looking. And you told