Ronan won. This was partially because he was shorter than Declan and thus more clandestine, but it was also because he wanted it more. He was fascinated by this flock of flyers, this many-headed entity that was not tied to the ground. The birds were individuals, but when they lifted off, it was together, in something even more magnificent than they could ever be on their own. Ronan didn’t have words for how they made him feel, but he loved them. He wished he knew how to explain it to Declan.

“I’d like a bird army,” he said.

Declan’s lip curled. “I don’t think that would be very interesting.”

“You’re never into anything. You’re the most boring person I know.”

Declan retrieved the ball. The game was clearly over.

Without warning, Ronan ran directly into the flock. There was a brief moment of stillness and then they all took off at once, surrounding him.

It was so much like a dream. Wings upon wings upon wings. Too many birds to count. Too many voices to pick out individual sounds. He raised his arms. Ground and air seethed with birds, hiding both so thoroughly that it didn’t seem entirely impossible that he had left the ground with them.

Imagine flying, he thought. Imagine flying while awake. Imagine dreaming while awake—

Then the birds had gone and he was just a boy standing on the ground. He was not flying. Being awake was nothing like dreaming. His older brother was a few feet away, the ball tucked under his arm, looking at him with an expression of vague irritation.

Ronan had never known such agony, and he didn’t even have words for it.

A few nights later, on the shortest night of the year, Ronan dreamt of the birds, only now they were ravens, not starlings, and there were fewer of them. They were gathered in the field in a purposeful way, studying something in the grass. They were muttering to themselves: make way, make way, make way.

When Ronan approached to investigate, they scattered. In the grass where they’d been, he found a blond-headed baby.

In the dream, Ronan knew without being told that this was a new brother.

The baby smiled at Ronan. His hands were already outstretched for Ronan to pick him up. He was so, so happy to see him.

Ronan knew without being told that this brother would always be happy to see him.

“Hello,” he told the baby.

The baby laughed.

Ronan laughed, too, and the awful feeling that had been inside him since that game of kickball dissipated. He scooped this new brother out of the grass.

And then he woke up. When he did, Matthew Lynch was still there, squalling and brand-new, in the hallway outside his closed bedroom door.