Page 32 of The Incredible Ordinary

“It got him here,” I say. “We’ll see if it gets him out of the locker room.”

“It will. Who wouldn’t want to come out here and sweat a bit for pencils.” He purses his lips thoughtfully. “You know, not to be judgmental, but at thirteen I was gunning for beer. At the very least, I would’ve asked for video games.”

“I know. I fear for the youth and am embarrassed for them in equal measure.”

We both laugh, and I try not to think about the fact that this is something people worry about with teenagers, and now that I’ve thought about it, I’m sort of worried too.

Jordan cocks his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“No, you definitely got the look.”

“The look?”

“Yeah. That slightly pale expression of horror I had when I found out they stopped making the deep-fried cherry pies they sold in the bodega down the street from our house.”

My lips twitch. “Was that a real blow for you?”

“I wrote to my local representative.”

I throw my head back and laugh out loud. “And did they fix the legislation to force the sale of deep-fried cherry pies?”

“They sent me two stickers and a pen. A few weeks later the bodega started selling deep-fried apple pies, and they were mentioned by some celebrity, so people lined up down the street to get them. But I didn’t buy any as a sign of protest and a way to bankrupt them.”

“Did it work?”

“Revenge takes time, so they’re still open, but I’m betting it’ll be any day now.” He crosses his fingers.

“I’m sorry about the pies. As a sign of solidarity, I shall not buy any of those deep-fried apple pies from… What’s the address? So I can definitely avoid buying those apple pies that don’t sound delicious at all.”

“Thank you for understanding.” He lifts his chin toward me. “So? What was that look about, then?”

I shake my head. “Just remembering when I was a teenager and trying to estimate how much of my behavior might have been caused by genetics.”

“Because you were a proper young gentleman and are trying to determine if it was a fluke or if history will repeat itself?”

“I did so much unbelievably dumb shit.”

He laughs again. “I think that’s par for the course.”

“How are you so calm about this?”

“No point in preemptively freaking out.” He shrugs.

“Okay, and how do you do that? I’d prefer highly detailed instructions.”

He laughs and throws his arm over my shoulders to steer me toward the stands. “Come on. Let’s get ourselves some good seats.”

We watch the boys start to come out of the changing rooms. Some walk alone, others in small groups. Rory is the last to emerge, dragging his feet, eyes firmly set on the ground. He stops in the entrance and frowns at the toes of his sneakers for a bit before he takes a quick glance around. Our gazes meet. He doesn’t acknowledge me, exactly. But he doesn’t frown or glower at me either.

For some bizarre, unexplainable reason, it feels like a win. I’ve seriously lowered my standards for what I consider an accomplishment.

We make it to the stands behind the players’ bench, where a few other parents are standing around. Most are chatting with each other, but there’s a woman who looks up and smiles widely at Jordan when she sees him approach.

“And here I was starting to think you’d abandoned me.”

Jordan shakes his head. “I would never. Just roping in more free labor so I can sit around and do nothing. Like a pyramid scheme for lazy parents.”