Page 29 of The Incredible Ordinary

“I’m not going back to him,” Rory says. “To some shitty trailer park in some shitty desert. And if you think you can make me, you’re full of shit.”

“We’re not sending you any—” Aiden starts to say, but it’s already clear these words of reassurance will do absolutely nothing.

“We’re talking about two different things,” I say. “Let’s rewind a bit. You like to draw.”

The sudden change of topic makes Rory snap his eyes at me. He seems to be surprised enough that I get an answer.

He nods.

Once.

I breathe in slowly and deeply and push the pencils toward him again.

He doesn’t come closer. Just eyes the pencils. There’s a look in his eyes, though. Longing. Temptation. Suspicion.

“These are motivation,” I say. “You have to show up for soccer, or you and I will get into a shitload of trouble at school.”

Rory scoffs and mutters something under his breath.

“Pardon?” I say.

“That’s a dumbass punishment,” he says, louder.

“Some would say it’s also a real dumbass move to punch someone for trying to be friendly, so the dumbass punishment fits the bill in this case.”

He scoffs again, but there’s the slightest shade of pink on his cheeks, and if somebody didn’t know any better, they might even classify his expression as something like regret.

“You show up for soccer and do your best not to beat anybody else up. In return, I know where the art supply store is now. And I’ve got a lot of money.”

“Umm,” Aiden says with the kind of alarmed tone that makes it clear he’s read a bunch of parenting books about teenagers and none of them support my methods.

“It’s a bribe,” Rory says. I don’t know if I should be worried that now he looks somewhat intrigued. “To… keep me here.”

“More or less.”

“Milàn. A word,” Aiden says tightly.

I ignore him.

“There’s more where this came from,” I say.

Rory inches closer.

I keep very still.

Aiden’s eyes move between me and Rory. He looks outraged, but for now he shuts up.

Rory takes another step closer.

He very carefully takes a seat on the edge of the chair. And snatches the pencils away. He eyes them greedily but also clearly tries to hide that he wants them.

“These are fine, I guess,” he says after a little while. He sounds dismissive, but when he puts the pencils back down hedoesn’t drop them. He places them carefully on the table and keeps his fingers on them.

“Good to know.”

“For basics,” he says. “I can get something like these from the grocery store myself.”

The tips of his fingers gently move over the pencils. Jesus, somebody needs to teach this kid how to bluff.