Perfect Match

July. The town pool. A hundred and two degrees in Maine, a record.
'What if i sink?' Nathaniel asked me. I stood in the shallow end, watching him stare at the water like it was quicksand.
'Do you really think I'd let you get hurt?'
He seemed to consider this. 'No.'
'All right then.' I held out my arms.
'Mom? What if this was  a pit of lava?'
'I wouldn't be wearing a bathing suit, for one.'
'What if I get in there and my arms and legs forget what to do?'
'They won't.'
'They could.'
'Not likely.'
'One time is all it takes,' Nathaniel said gravely, and I realised he'd been listening to me practice my closings in the shower.
An idea. I rounded my mouth, raised my arms, and sank to the bottom of the pool. The water hummed in my ears, the world went slow. I counted to five and then the blue shimmied, an explosion just in front of me. Suddenly Nathaniel was underwater and swimming, his eyes full of stars and his mouth and nose blowing bubbles. I caught him tight and broke the surface. 'You saved me,' I said.
Nathaniel put his hands on either side of my face. 'I had to,' he said. 'So you could save me back.'

- Jodi Picoult, Perfect Match


....obvlada.... predvsem v pripovedovanju, da svet ni črno-bel....