Page 30 of The Incredible Ordinary

I quirk my brow at him wordlessly.

“I want mechanical pencils.” Rory straightens his back and lifts his chin. “Different sizes. An eraser pen. Sketch markers. Alcohol based, not water based.” He leans forward a bit, completely forgetting he’s supposed to be aloof. Seriously. People will clean him out at poker like this. “And paper. It has to be?—”

I hold my hand up to stop him. “So far I’ve followed through on my end. You haven’t. Maybe let’s wait until Saturday after practice with that list?”

He slouches back in his seat and eyes me with a mix of suspicion and calculation, and that’s fine by me. I need him to agree to get this punishment issue sorted.

Is it in the spirit of proper, responsible guardianship? Probably not.

Does it have major potential for creating problems in the future? Most likely.

Does it have all the hallmarks of kicking the proverbial can down the road? Yes.

But you know what? Fuck that. I promised Aiden a year, so in nine months it’s not my problem anymore.

“Do we have a deal?” I ask.

He studies me for a moment longer before he straightens in his seat and nods.

Aiden looks about ready to kill me. I’m gonna guess this is not the kind of parenting he approves of.

Tough shit.

“For a starters, as a sign of good faith, you can go and finish your homework,” I tell Rory.

He rolls his eyes, but he gets up and stalks out of the room, clutching the pencils in his hand. I drop my head back and blow out a breath the moment he’s out of the room and out of earshot.

Aiden rubs his hand over his face, eyes locked on the empty doorway.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

I shake my head, exhausted to the bone. “I’m winging it.”

“He’s a child, not…” He opens and closes his mouth a few times trying to find a suitable analogy. What he eventually comes up with is “Breakfast.”

I let out a mock gasp. “I would never wing breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Milàn!” he grits out.

“Do you have any better ideas? Because I have news for you—everyone is winging it, and no one really knows what they’re doing. There’s eight billion of us, and I can guarantee you, not a single person, dead or alive, has ever had it all figured out, even if you do your fucking best to give the impression you do. I am so far out of my depth here, so I will do whatever the fuck I need to to keep us all afloat.”

He stares at me for a bit before he laughs in a way that’s mostly disbelief.

“Perfect. How’s winging it going so far for you?”

I push myself up from my chair. “Ask me again after Saturday.”

MILÁN

We makeit to the stadium on Saturday with a sullen, silent Rory trailing a few steps behind me, dragging his feet and being as obvious as possible about his reluctance to be here for a person who’s apparently taken a vow of silence.

I’d say I don’t care, but there’s been something happening to me ever since I bribed Rory to be here.

Nerves.

They’ve been slowly gathering in my belly over the past few days. Gradually, so I couldn’t put a finger on it at first. But the uncomfortable, nagging feeling has intensified to the point where I can’t pretend it’s not there anymore.

I don’t understand it.