Page 55 of The Incredible Ordinary

Rory fidgets in his chair for a bit.

Try to relax, kid. You’re safe and sound here,I think.

“It smells good,” he blurts, and then immediately looks like he wants to disappear. But Jordan sends him one of his calm, affable smiles.

“I hope you like enchiladas. I forgot to ask. Theo eats everything, so I didn’t think.”

“I eat everything, too,” Rory says.

We’re all sitting around the table with plates of food in front of us. Jordan and Theo are chatting easily, disguising Rory’s silence and my inability to even begin to fill it.

“How was soccer?” I ask.

Rory looks up from his plate, clearly startled by the sheer volume of the question.

He stares. Shrugs. “I still suck.”

It’s interesting. He’s annoyed, but I don’t think it’s at me. I think—and I might be wrong here, but I don’t think I am—I think he’s annoyed that he’s not as good as he’d like to be. And then I wonder if this is the first time this has ever happened.

I know what it feels like. How failure leaves you at a crossroads where you have to decide whether to continue or quit. I could help him keep a clear head at that crossroads. If he’d let me.

I’m not sure he would.

Now I’m at a crossroads of my own. Speak up? Stay silent?

I freeze instead, because the possibility of failure hangs over me.

“You don’t suck,” Theo says. “You’re just new at this. Want to practice again Monday? We can go after school.”

There’s a flicker in Rory’s eyes. Something faint and brief. His shoulders relax. Just an inch, but it’s a start.

And he nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Neither of us says that much, but we both lean back and relax into our chairs. And we watch.

Jordan and Theo. Theo and Jordan. They talk, carrying most of the conversation. Theo’s first soccer game. The camping trips they take every year. Stories about movies and bike rides.

It’s like the two of them glow with warmth and Rory and I can’t help but inch closer and closer to the brightness of them.

They tease each other, and they laugh. They laugh so much. And the more I look at them, the wider my smile stretches.

Rory and Theo migrate to the living room, and suddenly there are shouts and the noises of a video game as our soundtrack, and Jordan grins and shakes his head.

We lose track of time. We’ve talked enough about the serious for tonight, so everything that comes now is easy. Easy conversation about music and movies and road trips.

We talk about the most ordinary things, but everything I hear feels like something worth keeping. I hoard bits and pieces of Jordan. Small, safe things that I don’t have to overthink. We all want to know things about the people we choose to surround ourselves with. It’s all natural.

He always sets his alarm fifteen minutes early because it “gives him time to come to terms with the morning.”

He talks to the plants in his living room.

His handwriting slants uphill.

He can’t whistle to save his life.

When he listens, he tilts his head a little like he’s giving the words better access.