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"Water's fine, thanks. Oh, with ice, please!" She'd noticed the ice maker on the front of the fridge.

The kitchen matched the rest of the house in opulence. Black and white chessboard tile covered the floor and the walls, and all the cupboards were matching dark wood. They were also all enormous. The kitchen itself was vast, easily the size of the Days' living room. Georgia Lee tried not to let it awe her.

She paused for a moment beside the kitchen island, and when it became clear that the smaller boy wasn't going to go ahead and invite her to sit, she went ahead and did so anyway. Those born into a lot of wealth, Georgia Lee had noticed, tended to be underdeveloped in terms of common courtesy. It came, she supposed, from never having to impress anyone. When everyone you know worked for you, why would you bother to be polite? They'd do whatever you wanted, no matter how you treat them.

And wasn't that why she was here, after all? Well no, it was not. She was here to tutor the boy, not to do whatever he wanted. Especially, she thought grimly, if he wanted what she thought he wanted.

Georgia Lee looked toward Beaks, and noticed he was staring at her. She turned away.

Opening her bag, she pulled out the textbooks that she'd gotten together the previous day, as well as a pad of refill and a ziplock bag containing pencils, and placed them on the counter in front of her. It should really be incumbent on the person hosting the tutoring, she thought, to supply the necessary materiel, but clearly Beaks thought differently. Still, she had anticipated this, and it didn't particularly trouble her. Of course someone needing tutoring wasn't going to be remotely organized, that was why she was here in the first place.

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What Are Little Boys Made Of? · The Neighborhood