ALSOBYR.J.PALACIO

WonderTheJulianChapter365DaysofWonder

THISISABORZOIBOOKPUBLISHEDBYALFREDA.KNOPF

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.

Textcopyright©2015byR.J.PalacioCoverartcopyright©2015byTadCarpenter

Allrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyAlfredA.Knopf,animprintofRandomHouseChildren’sBooks,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,NewYork.

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eBookISBN 9780553499094

RandomHouseChildren’sBookssupportstheFirstAmendmentandcelebratestherighttoread.

v4.0

ep

Contemporaryobservationsarechangingourunderstandingofplanetarysystems,anditisimportantthatournomenclatureforobjectsreflectourcurrentunderstanding.Thisapplies,inparticular,tothedesignation“planets.”Theword“planet”originallydescribed“wanderers”thatwereknownonlyasmovinglightsinthesky.Recentdiscoveriesleadustocreateanewdefinition,whichwecanmakeusingcurrentlyavailablescientificinformation.

—InternationalAstronomicalUnion(IAU),excerptfromResolutionB5

IguessthereisnoonetoblameWe’releavinggroundWillthingseverbethesame?

—Europe,“TheFinalCountdown”

Itissuchamysteriousplace,thelandoftears.

—AntoinedeSaint-Exupéry,TheLittlePrince

Contents

CoverAlsobyR.J.PalacioTitlePageCopyrightEpigraph

Introductions7:08a.m.DarthDaisy7:11a.m.Friendships8:26a.m.9:14a.m.10:05a.m.Space3:50p.m.5:48p.m.TheHospitalVisit7:04p.m.FaceChat8:22p.m.NorthRiverHeights9:56p.m.Pluto10:28p.m.10:52p.m.10:59p.m.11:46p.m.11:59p.m.

Introductions

IwastwodaysoldthefirsttimeImetAuggiePullman.Idon’tremembertheoccasionmyself,obviously,butmymomtoldmeaboutit.SheandDadhadjustbroughtmehomefromthehospitalforthefirsttime,andAuggie’sparentshadjustbroughthimhomefromthehospitalforthefirsttime,too.ButAuggiewasalreadythreemonthsoldbythen.Hehadtostayinthehospital,becauseheneededsomesurgeriesthatwouldallowhimtobreatheandswallow.Breathingandswallowingarethingsmostofusdon’teverthinkabout,becausewedothemautomatically.Buttheyweren’tautomaticforAuggiewhenhewasborn.MyparentstookmeovertoAuggie’shousesowecouldmeeteachother.Auggiewashookeduptoa

lotofmedicalequipmentintheirlivingroom.MymompickedmeupandbroughtmefacetofacewithAuggie.“AugustMatthewPullman,”shesaid,“thisisChristopherAngusBlake,yournewoldestfriend.”Andourparentsapplaudedandtoastedthehappyoccasion.My mom and Auggie’s mom, Isabel, became best friends before we were born. They met at the

supermarketonAmesfortAvenuerightaftermyparentsmovedtotheneighborhood.Sincebothof themwerehavingbabiessoon,and they livedacross thestreet fromeachother,MomandIsabeldecided toformamothers’group.Amothers’groupiswhenabunchofmomshangouttogetherandhaveplaydateswithotherkids’moms.Therewereabout sixor sevenothermoms in themothers’groupat first.Theyhungouttogetheracoupleoftimesbeforeanyofthebabieswereborn.ButafterAuggiewasborn,onlytwo other moms stayed in the mothers’ group: Zachary’s mom and Alex’s mom. I don’t know whathappenedtotheothermomsinthegroup.Those first couple of years, the fourmoms in themothers’ group—alongwith us babies—hung out

togetheralmosteveryday.Themomswouldgo jogging through theparkwithus inour strollers.Theywould take longwalks along the riverfrontwith us in our baby slings. Theywould have lunch at theHeightsLoungewithusinourbabychairs.Theonly timesAuggie andhismomdidn’thangoutwith themothers’groupwaswhenAuggiewas

back in thehospital.Heneeded a lot of operations, because, just likewithbreathing and swallowing,therewereotherthingsthatdidn’tcomeautomaticallytohim.Forinstance,hecouldn’teat.Hecouldn’ttalk. He couldn’t really even close his mouth all the way. These were things that the doctors had tooperateonhimsothathecoulddothem.Butevenafterthesurgeries,AuggieneverreallyateortalkedorclosedhismouthallthewaylikemeandZackandAlexdid.Evenafterthesurgeries,Auggiewasverydifferentfromus.Idon’tthinkIreallyunderstoodhowdifferentAuggiewasfromeveryoneelseuntil Iwasfouryears

old. It was wintertime, and Auggie and I were wrapped in our parkas and scarves while we playedoutsideintheplayground.Atonepoint,weclimbeduptheladdertotherampatthetopofthejunglegymandwaitedinlinetogodownthetallslide.Whenwewerealmostnext,thelittlegirlinfrontofusgotcoldfeetaboutgoingdownthetallslide,sosheturnedaroundtoletuspass.That’swhenshesawAuggie.Her eyes opened really wide and her jaw dropped down, and she started screaming and cryinghysterically.Shewassoupset,shecouldn’tevenclimbdowntheladder.Hermomhadtoclimbupthe

ramp to get her. ThenAuggie started to cry, because he knew the girlwas crying because of him.Hecoveredhisfacewithhisscarfsonobodycouldseehim,andthenhismomhadtoclimbuptheramptogethim,too.Idon’trememberallthedetails,butIremembertherewasabigcommotion.Alittlecrowdhadformedaroundtheslide.Peoplewerewhispering.Irememberusleavingtheplaygroundveryquickly.IrememberseeingtearsinIsabel’seyesasshecarriedAuggiehome.ThatwasthefirsttimeIrealizedhowdifferentAuggiewasfromtherestofus.Itwasn’tthelasttime,

though.Likebreathingandswallowing,cryingcomesautomaticallytomostkids,too.

7:08a.m.

Idon’tknowwhyIwasthinkingaboutAuggiethismorning.It’sbeenthreeyearssincewemovedaway,andIhaven’tevenseenhimsincehisbowlingpartyinOctober.MaybeI’dhadadreamabouthim.Idon’tknow.ButIwasthinkingabouthimwhenMomcameintomyroomafewminutesafterI turnedoffmyalarmclock.“Youawake,sweetie?”shesaidsoftly.Ipulledmypillowovermyheadasananswer.“Time towake up,Chris,” she said cheerfully, opening the curtains ofmywindow.Even undermy

pillowwithmyeyesclosed,Icouldtellmyroomwaswaytoobrightnow.“Closethecurtains!”Imumbled.“Lookslikeit’sgoingtorainalldaytoday,”shesighed,notclosingthecurtains.“Comeon,youdon’t

wanttobelateagaintoday.Andyouhavetotakeashowerthismorning.”“Itookashower,like,twodaysago.”“Exactly!”“Ugh!”Igroaned.“Let’sgo,honeyboy,”shesaid,pattingthetopofmypillow.Ipulledthepillowoffmyface.“Okay!”Iyelled.“I’mup!Areyouhappy?”“You’resuchagrumpinthemorning,”shesaid,shakingherhead.“Whathappenedtomysweetfourth

graderfromlastyear?”“Lisa!”Ianswered.She hatedwhen I called her by her first name. I thought she’d leavemy room then, but she started

pickingsomeclothesoffmyfloorandputtingtheminmyhamper.“Didsomethinghappenlastnight,bytheway?”Isaid,myeyesstillclosed.“Iheardyouonthephone

withIsabelwhenIwasgoingtosleeplastnight.Itsoundedlikesomethingbad….”Shesatdownontheedgeofmybed.Irubbedmyeyesawake.“What?”Isaid.“Isitreallybad?IthinkIhadadreamaboutAuggielastnight.”“No,Auggie’sfine,”sheanswered,scrunchingupherfaceabit.Shepushedsomehairoutofmyeyes.

“Iwasgoingtowaittilllaterto—”“What!”Iinterrupted.“I’mafraidDaisydiedlastnight,sweetie.”“What?”“I’msorry,honey.”“Daisy!”Icoveredmyfacewithmyhands.“I’msorry,sweetie.IknowhowmuchyoulovedDaisy.”

DarthDaisy

I remember the day Auggie’s dad brought Daisy home for the first time. Auggie and I were playingTroubleinhisroomwhen,allofasudden,weheardhigh-pitchedsquealingcomingfromthefrontdoor.ItwasVia,Auggie’sbigsister.WecouldalsohearIsabelandLourdes,mybabysitter,talkingexcitedly.Sowerandownstairstoseewhatthecommotionwasabout.Nate,Auggie’sdad,wassittingononeofthekitchenchairs,holdingasquirming,crazyyellowdogin

hislap.Viawaskneelingdowninfrontofthedog,tryingtopetit,butthedogwaskindofhyperandkepttryingtolickherhand,whichViakeptpullingaway.“Adog!”Auggiescreamedexcitedly,runningovertohisdad.Iranover,too,butLourdesgrabbedmebythearm.“Ohno,papi,”shesaidtome.Shehadjuststartedbabysittingmeinthosedays,soIdidn’tknowher

verywell. I remember she used to put baby powder inmy sneakers,which I still do now because itremindsmeofher.Isabel’shandswereonthesidesofherface.ItwasobviousthatNatehadjustcomethroughthedoor.“I

can’tbelieveyoudidthis,Nate,”shewassayingoverandoveragain.ShewasstandingontheothersideoftheroomnexttoLourdes.“Whycan’tIpethim?”IaskedLourdes.“BecauseNatesaysthreehoursagothisdoglivedonthestreetwithahomelessman,”sheanswered

quickly.“Isdisgusting.”“She’snotdisgusting—she’sbeautiful!”saidVia,kissingthedogonherforehead.“Inmycountry,dogsstayoutside,”saidLourdes.“He’ssocute!”Auggiesaid.“It’sashe!”Viasaidquickly,nudgingAuggie.“Becareful,Auggie!”saidIsabel.“Don’tletherlickyouintheface.”ButthedogwasalreadylickingAuggiealloverhisface.“Thevetsaidshe’sperfectlyhealthy,guys,”NatesaidtobothIsabelandLourdes.“Nate,shewaslivingonthestreet!”Isabelansweredquickly.“Whoknowswhatshe’scarrying.”“Thevetgaveherallhershots,atickbath,checkedforworms,”answeredNate.“Thispuppy’sgota

cleanbillofhealth.”“Thatisnotapuppy,Nate!”Isabelpointedout.Thatwastrue:Thedogwasdefinitelynotapuppy.Shewasn’t little,orsoftandround, likepuppies

usuallyare.Shewasskinnyandpointyandwild-eyed,andshehadthiscrazy,longblacktonguekindofpouringoutof thesideofhermouth.Andshewasn’tasmalldog,either.Shewas thesamesizeasmygrandmother’slabradoodle.“Okay,”saidNate.“Well,she’spuppylike.”“Whatkindofdogisshe?”askedAuggie.

“Thevetthinksayellowlabmix,”answeredNate.“Maybesomechow?”“Morelikepitbull,”saidIsabel.“Didheatleasttellyouhowoldsheis?”Nateshrugged.“Hecouldn’ttellforsure,”heanswered.“Twoorthree?Usuallytheyjudgefromthe

teeth,buthersareinbadshapebecause,youknow,she’sprobablybeeneatingjunkfoodallherlife.”“Garbageanddeadrats,”Lourdessaid,likeitwasforsure.“OhGod!”Isabelmuttered,rubbingherhandoverherface.“Herbreathdoessmellprettybad,”saidVia,wavingherhandinfrontofhernose.“Isabel,”saidNate,lookingupather.“Shewasdestinedforus.”“Wait,youmeanwe’rekeepingher?”Viasaidexcitedly,hereyesopeningupreallywide.“Ithought

wewerejustbabysittingheruntilwecouldfindherahome!”“Ithinkweshouldbeherhome,”saidNate.“Really,Daddy?”criedAuggie.NatesmiledandpointedhischinatIsabel.“Butit’suptoMommy,guys,”hesaid.“Areyoukiddingme,Nate?”criedIsabelasViaandAuggieranovertoherandstartedpleadingwith

her,puttingtheirhandstogether,liketheywereprayinginchurch.“Please please please please please please please please please?” they kept saying over and over

again.“Pleaseprettypleasepleasepleaseplease?”“Ican’tbelieveyou’redoing this tome,Nate!”saidIsabel,shakingherhead.“Likeour livesaren’t

complicatedenough?”Nate smiled and looked down at the dog, who was looking at him. “Look at her, honey! She was

starvingandcold.Thehomelessguyofferedtosellhertomefortenbucks.WhatwasIgoingtodo,sayno?”“Yes!”saidLourdes.“Veryeasytodo.”“It’sgoodkarmatosaveadog’slife!”answeredNate.“Don’tdoit,Isabel!”saidLourdes.“Dogsaredirty,andsmelly.Andtheyhavegerms.Andyouknow

whowillendupwalkingherallthetime,pickingupallthepoo-poo?”ShepointedatIsabel.“That’snottrue,Mommy!”saidVia.“IpromiseI’llwalkher.Everyday.”“Metoo,Mommy!”saidAuggie.“We’lltakecareofhercompletely,”continuedVia.“We’llfeedher.We’lldoeverything.”“Everything!”addedAuggie.“Pleasepleaseplease,Mommy?”“Pleasepleaseplease,Mommy?”Viasaidatthesametime.Isabelwasrubbingherforeheadwithherfingers,likeshehadaheadache.FinallyshelookedatNate

andshrugged.“Ithinkthisiscrazy,but…Okay.Fine.”“Really?” shriekedVia, hugging Isabel tightly. “Thankyou,Mommy!Thankyou somuch! I promise

we’lltakecareofher.”“Thankyou,Mommy!”repeatedAuggie,huggingIsabel.“Yay!Thankyou,Isabel!”saidNate,clappingthedog’stwofrontpawstogether.“CanIpleasepethernow?”IsaidtoLourdes,pullingawayfromhergripbeforeshecouldstopme

again.IslidoverbetweenAuggieandVia.Nateputthedogdownontherugthen,andsheliterallyturnedoverontoherbacksothatwewouldall

scratchhertummy.Sheclosedhereyeslikeshewassmiling,herlongblacktonguehangingfromthesideofhermouthontotherug.“That’sexactlyhowIfoundhertoday,”Natepointedout.“I’veneverseenalongertongueinmylife,”saidIsabel,crouchingdownnexttous.Shestillhadn’tpet

thedogyet,though.“ShelooksliketheTasmanianDevil.”“Ithinkshe’sbeautiful,”saidVia.“What’shername?”“Whatdoyouwanttonameher?”askedNate.“IthinkweshouldnameherDaisy!”answeredViawithoutanyhesitationatall.“She’syellow,likea

daisy.”“That’sanicename,”said Isabel,whostartedpetting thedog.“Thenagain, she looksa little likea

lion.WecouldcallherElsa.”“Iknowwhatyoushouldnameher,”Isaid,nudgingAuggie.“YoushouldcallherDarthMaul!”“Thatisthestupidestnameintheworldforadog!”Viaanswered,disgusted.Iignoredher.“Doyougetit,Auggie?Darth…maul?Getit?Becausedogsmaul…”“Haha!”Auggiesaid.“That’ssofunny!DarthMaul!”“We’renotcallingherthat!”Viasaidsnottilytothetwoofus.“Hi,DarthMaul!”Auggie said to thedog,kissingheronherpinknose. “WecancallherDarth for

short.”VialookedatNate.“Daddy,we’renotcallingherthat!”“Ithinkit’skindofafunname,”Nateanswered,shrugging.“Mommy!”Viasaidangrily,turningtoIsabel.“IagreewithVia,”saidIsabel.“Idon’tthinkweshouldusetheword‘maul’foradog…especiallyone

thatlookslikethisone.”“Thenwe’lljustnameherDarth,”Auggieinsisted.“That’sidiotic,”saidVia.“Ithink,sinceMommy’slettinguskeepthedog,”answeredNate,“sheshouldbetheonewhodecides

whattonameher.”“CanwecallherDaisy,Mommy?”askedVia.“CanwecallherDarthMaul?”askedAuggie.IsabelgaveNatealook.“Youreallyarekillingme,Nate.”Natelaughed.AndthatwashowtheyendedupcallingherDarthDaisy.

7:11a.m.

“Howdidshedie?”IaskedMom.“Wasshehitbyacar?”“No.”Shestrokedmyarm.“Shewasold,sweetie.Itwashertime.”“Shewasn’tthatold.”“Shewassick.”“What,sotheyputhertosleep?”Iasked,incensed.“Howcouldtheydothat?”“Sweetie,shewas inpain,”sheanswered.“Theydidn’twanther tosuffer. Isabelsaid thatshedied

verypeacefullyinNate’sarms.”Itriedtopicturewhatthatwouldlooklike,DaisydyinginNate’sarms.IwonderedifAuggiehadbeen

there,too.“Asifthatfamilyhasn’tbeenthroughenoughalready,”Momadded.Ididn’tsayanything.Ijustblinkedandlookedupattheglow-in-the-darkstarsonmyceiling.Someof

themwerecomingunstuck,hangingonbyjustoneortwopoints.Afewhadfallendownonme,likelittlepointyraindrops.“Youneverfixedthestars,bytheway,”Isaidwithoutthinking.ShehadnoideawhatIwastalkingabout.“What?”“You said youwere going to glue thembackon,” I said, pointing to the ceiling. “Theykeep falling

downonme.”Shelookedup.“Oh,right,”shesaid,nodding.Ithinkshehadn’texpectedtheconversationaboutDaisy

tobeoversoquickly.ButIdidn’twanttotalkaboutitanymore.Shegotupontopofmybed,tookoneofthelightsabersleaningonmybookcase,andtriedtojamone

ofthelargerstarsbackintoplacewiththeendofthelightsaber.“Theyneedtobeglued,Lisa,”Isaidjustastheplasticstarfelldownonherhead.“Right,”sheanswered,pickingthestaroutofherhair.Shejumpeddownoffmybed.“Canyounotcall

meLisa,please?”“Okay,Lisa,”Ianswered.Sherolledhereyesandpointedthelightsaberatme,likeshewasgoingtojabme.“Thanksforwakingmeupwithreallybadnews,bytheway,”Isaidsarcastically.“Hey,you’retheonewhoaskedmeaboutit,”sheanswered,puttingthelightsaberback.“Iwasgoingto

waituntilthisafternoontotellyou.”“Why?I’mnotababy,Lisa,”Ianswered.“Imean,sure,IloveDaisy,butit’snotlikeshewasmydog.

It’snotlikeIseeheranymore.”“Ithoughtyou’dbereallyupset,”sheanswered.“Iam!”Isaid.“I’mjustnot,like,goingtostartcryingoranything.”“Okay,”sheanswered,noddingandlookingatme.

“What?”Isaidimpatiently.“Nothing,”sheanswered.“You’reright,you’renotababy.”Shelookedattheplasticstarthatwasstill

stuckonherthumbandthen,withoutsayinganythingelse,leaneddownandstuckitonmyforehead.“YoushouldcallAuggiethisafternoon,bytheway.”“Why?”Iasked.“Why?” She raised her eyebrows. “To tell him how sorry you are about Daisy. To pay your

condolences.Becausehe’syourbestfriend.”“Oh,right,”Imumbled,nodding.“Oh,right,”sherepeated.“Okay,Lisa.Igetit!”Isaid.“Grumpitygrumpgrump,”shesaidonherwayout.“Youhavethreeminutes,Chris.Thenyou’vegotto

getup.I’llturnontheshowerforyou.”“Closethedoorbehindyou!”Icalledoutafterher.“Please!”sheyelledfromthehallway.“Closethedoorbehindyou,PLEASE!”Igroaned.Sheslammedthedoorshut.Shecouldbesoannoyingsometimes!Ipickedthestaroffmyforeheadandlookedatit.Momhadputthosestarsontheceilingwhenwefirst

movedin.ThatwasbackwhenshewastryingtodoeverythingshecouldtogetmetolikeournewhouseinBridgeport.Shehadevenpromisedthatwewouldgetadogafterwegotsettledin.Butwenevergotadog. We got a hamster. But that’s hardly a dog. That’s not even one quarter of a dog. A hamster isbasicallyjustawarmpotatowithfur.Imean,itmovesandit’scuteandall,butdon’tletanyonetrytofoolyouthatit’sthesameasadog.IcalledmyhamsterLuke.Butshe’snoDaisy.PoorDaisy!Itwashardtobelieveshewasgone.ButIdidn’twanttothinkabouthernow.IstartedthinkingofallthethingsIhadtodothisafternoon.Bandpracticerightafterschool.Studyfor

the math test tomorrow. Start my book report for Friday. Play someHalo. Maybe catch up on TheAmazingRacetonight.Iflickedtheplasticstarintheairandwatcheditspinacrosstheroom.Itlandedontheedgeofmyrug

bythedoor.Lotsofstufftodo.Itwasgoingtobealongday.ButevenasIwastickingoffallthethingsIhadtodotoday,IknewcallingAuggiewasn’tgoingtobe

oneofthem.

Friendships

Idon’t rememberexactlywhenZackandAlexstoppedhangingoutwithmeandAuggie. I think itwasaboutthetimewestartedkindergarten.Beforethat,weallusedtoseeeachotheralmosteveryday.Ourmomswouldusuallybringusoverto

Auggie’s house, since therewere a lot of timeswhen he couldn’t go out because hewas sick.Not acontagiouskindofsickoranything,butthekindwherehecouldn’tgooutside.Butwelikedgoingtohishouse.Hisparentshadturnedtheirbasementintoagiantplayroom.So,basically,itwaslikeatoystoredownthere.Boardgames,trainsets,airhockeyandfoosballtables,evenaminitrampolineintheback.ZackandAlexandAuggieandIwouldliterallyspendhoursrunningarounddownthere,havingall-daylightsaberduelsandhopballraces.Wewouldhaveballoonwars.Wewouldpilecardboardbricksintogiantmountainsandplayavalanche.Ourmomscalledus theFourMusketeers,sincewedideverythingtogether.Andevenafterallthemoms—exceptIsabel—wentbacktowork,ourbabysittersgotustogethereveryday.TheywouldtakeusondaytripstotheBronxZoo,ortoseethepirateshipsattheSouthStreetSeaport.We’dhavepicnicsinthepark.WeevenwentallthewaydowntoConeyIslandafewtimes.Butoncewestartedkindergarten,ZackandAlexstartedhavingplaydateswithotherkids.Theywentto

adifferentschoolthanIdid,sincetheylivedontheothersideofthepark,sowedidn’tseethemasmuchanymore.AuggieandIwouldbumpinto themin theparksometimes—ZackandAlex,hangingoutwiththeirnewbuddies—andwetriedhangingoutwith themacoupleof times.But theirnewfriendsdidn’tseemtolikeus.Okay,that’snotexactlytrue.Theirnewfriendsdidn’tlikeAuggie.Iknowthatforafact,becauseZacktoldmethis.Iremembertellingthistomymom,andsheexplainedthatsomekidsmightfeel“uncomfortable” around Auggie because of the way he looks. That’s how she put it. Uncomfortable.That’snothowZackandAlexhadputit,though.Theyusedtheword“scared.”ButIknewthatZackandAlexweren’tuncomfortableorscaredofAuggie,soIdidn’tunderstandwhy

theystoppedhangingoutwithus.Imean,Ihadnewfriendsfrommyschool,too,butIdidn’tstophangingoutwithAuggie.Thenagain,IneverhungoutwithAuggieandmynewfriendstogether,because,well,mixingfriendscanbeaweirdthingevenunderthebestcircumstances.Iguessthetruthis,Ididn’twantanyonetofeeluncomfortableorscared,either.Auggie had his own group of friends, too, by the way. These were kids who belonged to an

organizationforkidswith“craniofacialdifferences,”whichiswhatAuggiehas.Everyyear,allthekidsandtheirfamilieshangouttogetheratDisneylandorsomeotherfunplacelikethat.Auggielovedgoingonthesetrips.He’dmadefriendsalloverthecountry.Butthesefriendsdidn’tlivenearus,sohehardlyevergottohangoutwiththem.I didmeet one of his friends once, though.A kid namedHudson.He had a different syndrome than

Auggiehas.Hiseyeswerespacedveryfarapart,andtheykindofbulgedoutabit.HeandhisparentswerestayingwithAuggie’sfamilyforacoupleofdayswhiletheywereinthecitymeetingwithdoctorsatAuggie’shospital.HudsonwasthesameageasmeandAuggie.HewasreallyintoPokémon,Iremember.Anyway, Ihadanokay timeplayingwithhimandAuggie thatday, thoughPokémonhasnever really

beenmything.Butthenweallwentouttodinnertogether—andthat’swhenthingsgotbadforme.Ican’t

believehowmuchwegotstaredat!Like,usuallywhenitwasjustmeandAuggie,peoplewouldlookathimandnotevennoticeme.Iwasusedto that.ButwithHudsonthere,forsomereason, itwas justsomuch worse. People would look at Auggie first, and then they’d look at Hudson, and then they’dautomatically look atme like theywerewonderingwhatwaswrongwithme, too. I sawone teenagerstaringatme likehewas trying to figureoutwhatwasoutofplaceonmyface. Itwassoannoying! Itmademewanttoscream.Icouldn’twaittogohome.The next day, since I knewHudson was still going to be there, I asked Lourdes if I could have a

playdateoveratZack’shouseafterschool insteadofgoingtoAuggie’shouse. It’snot thatIdidn’t likeHudson,becauseIdid.ButIwasn’tintoPokémon,andIdefinitelydidn’twanttogetstaredatagainifweallwentoutsomewhere.IendeduphavinglotsoffunatZack’shouse.Alexcameover,andthethreeofusplayedFourSquarein

frontofhisstoop.Itreallyfeltlikeoldtimesagain—exceptforthefactthatAuggiewasn’ttherewithus.Butitwasnice.Noonestaredatus.Noonefeltuncomfortable.Noonegotscared.HangingoutwithZackandAlexwasjusteasy.That’swhenIrealizedwhytheydidn’thangoutwithusanymore.BeingfriendswithAuggiecouldbehardsometimes.Luckily,AuggieneveraskedmewhyIdidn’tcomeovertohishousethatday.Iwasgladaboutthat.I

didn’tknowhowtotellhimthatbeingfriendswithhimcouldbehardformesometimes,too.

8:26a.m.

Idon’tknowwhy,butit’salmostimpossibleformetogettoschoolontime.Honestly,Idon’tknowwhy.Everyday, it’s the same thing. I sleep throughmyalarm.MomorDadwakesmeup.Whether I takeashowerornot,whetherIhaveabigbreakfastoraPop-Tart,weendupscramblingbeforeweleave,MomorDadyellingatmetohurryupandgetmycoat,hurryupandtiemyshoelaces.Andeveninthoseraremomentswhenwedogetout thedooron time,I’ll forgetsomething,soweenduphavingto turnbackanyway.Sometimesit’smyhomeworkfolderIforget.Sometimesit’smytrombone.Idon’tknowwhy,Ireally don’t. It’s just theway it is.Whether I’m sleeping atmymom’s house ormy dad’s house, I’malwaysrunninglate.Today,Itookaquickshower,gotdressedsuperfast,poppedmyPop-Tart,andmanagedtogetoutthe

doorontime.Itwasn’tuntilwehaddriventhefifteenminutesittakestogettoschoolandhadpulledintotheschoolparkinglotthatIrealizedIhadforgottenmysciencepaper,mygymshorts,andmytrombone.Anewrecordforforgettingthings.“You’rekidding,right?”saidMomwhenItoldher.Shewaslookingatmeintherearviewmirror.“No!”Isaid,bitingmynailsnervously.“Canwegoback?”“Chris,you’realreadyrunninglate!In thisrain, it’ll takefortyminutesbythe timewegothomeand

back.No.Yougotoclass,andI’llwriteyouanoteorsomething.”“Ican’tshowupwithoutmysciencepaper!”Iargued.“Ihavesciencefirstperiod!”“Youshouldhavethoughtofthatbeforeyouleftthehousethismorning!”sheanswered.“Nowcomeon,

getoutoryou’llbelateontopofeverything.Look,eventheschoolbusesareleaving!”Shepointedtowheretheschoolbuseshadstarteddrivingoutoftheparkinglot.“Lisa!”Isaid,panicked.“What,Chris?”sheshotback.“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?Ican’tteleport.”“Can’tyougohomeandgetthemforme?”Shepassedherfingersthroughherhair,whichhadgottenwetfromtherain.“HowmanytimeshaveI

toldyoutopackupyourstuffthenightbeforesoyoudon’tforgetanything,huh?”“Lisa!”“Fine,”shesaid.“Justgotoclass,andI’llbringyouyourstuff.Nowgo,Chris.”“Butyouhavetohurry!”“Go!”Sheturnedaroundandgavemethatlookshegivesmesometimes,whenhereyeballsgetsuper

bigandshekindoflookslikeanangrybird.“Getoutofthecarandgotoschoolalready!”“Fine!” I said. I stompedoutof thecar. Ithadstarted rainingharder,andofcourse Ididn’thavean

umbrella.Sheloweredthedriver’ssidewindow.“Becarefulwalkingtothesidewalk!”“Trombone,sciencepaper,gymshorts,”Isaidtoher,countingonmyfingers.“Carefulwhereyou’rewalking,”shesaid,nodding.“Thisisaparkinglot,Chris!”

“Mrs. Kastor will deduct five points off my grade if I don’t handmy paper in by the end of firstperiod!”Ianswered.“Youhavetobebackbeforefirstperiodends!”“Iknow,Chris,”sheansweredquickly.“Nowwalktothesidewalk,sweetie.”“Trombone,sciencepaper,gymshorts!”Isaid,walkingbackwardtowardthesidewalk.“Watchwhereyou’rewalking,Chris!”sheshriekedjustasabikeswervedaroundtoavoidhittingme.“Sorry!”Isaidtothebicyclist,whohadababybundledupinthefrontbikecarrier.Theguyshookhis

headandpedaledaway.“Chris!Youhavetowatchwhereyou’regoing!”Momscreamed.“Willyoustopyelling?”Iyelled.Shetookadeepbreathandrubbedherforehead.“Walk.To.The.Sidewalk.PLEASE.”Thisshesaid

throughgrittedteeth.I turned around, looked both ways in an exaggerated way, and crossed the parking lot to the path

leadingtotheschoolentrance.Bynow,thelastoftheschoolbuseswaspullingoutoftheparkinglot.“Happynow?”IsaidwhenIreachedthesidewalk.I could hear her sighing from twenty feet away. “I’ll leave your stuff at the front desk in themain

office,”sheanswered,turningontheignitionandlookingbehindherasshestartedslowlybackingoutoftheparkingspace.“Bye,honey.Haveanice—”“Wait!”Iranovertothecarwhileitwasstillmoving.Thecarscreechedtoastop.“Chris!”“Iforgotmybackpack,”Isaid,openingthecardoortogetthebackpackthatIhadleftinthebackseat.I

couldseehershakingherheadoutofthecornerofmyeye.I closed the door, looked both ways in a super-obvious way again, and sprinted back toward the

sidewalk.Bynow,therainwascomingdownreallyhard.Ipulledmyhoodovermyhead.“Trombone!Sciencepaper!Gymshorts!” I shouted,not lookingbackather. I started joggingup the

sidewalktotheschoolentrance.“Loveyou!”Iheardhercallout.“Bye,Lisa!”Imadeitinsidejustbeforefirstbellrang.

9:14a.m.

Ikeptlookingattheclockallthroughscienceclass.Then,abouttenminutesbeforethebell,Iaskedforthebathroompass.IranovertothemainofficeasfastasIcouldandaskedMs.Denis,theniceoldladybehindthemaindesk,forthestuffmymotherhaddroppedoff.“Sorry,Christopher,”shesaid.“Yourmotherhasn’tdroppedanythingoff.”“What?”Isaid.“Wasshesupposed tocomeatacertain time?”sheasked, lookingatherwatch.“I’vebeenhereall

morning.I’msureIhaven’tmissedher.”Shemusthaveseentheexpressiononmyface,becauseshewavedmetocometotheothersideofher

desk.Shepointedtothephone.“Whydon’tyougiveheracall,honey?”IcalledMom’scellphoneandgothervoicemail.“Hi,Mom. It’smeand…um,you’renothereand it’s…” I lookedat thebigclockon thewall. “It’s

nine-fourteen. I’m totallyscrewed ifyoudon’t showup in thenext tenminutes, so,yeah.Thanksa lot,Lisa.”Ihungup.“I’m sure she’ll be here anyminute now,” saidMs.Denis. “There’s a lot of traffic on the highway

becauseofalltheconstruction.Andit’sreallypouringoutsidenow….”“Yeah.”Inoddedandheadedbacktoclass.Atfirst,IthoughtmaybeI’dgottenlucky.Mrs.Kastordidn’tmentionanythingaboutthepaperforthe

restoftheclass.Then,justasthebellrang,sheremindedustodropoffoursciencepapersatherdeskonthewayout.Iwaiteduntileveryoneelsehadleftandwalkedovertoheratthewhiteboard.“Um,Mrs.Kastor?”Isaid.“Yes,Christopher?”“Yeah,um,sorry,butIleftmysciencepaperathomethismorning?”Shecontinuederasingthewhiteboard.“Mymom’sbringingittoschool,butshegotcaughtintherain?”Isaid.Idon’tknowwhy,butwhenItalktoteachersandgetalittlenervous,myvoicegoesupattheendof

everysentence.“That’sthefourthtimethissemesteryou’veforgottenanassignment,Christopher,”shesaid.“Iknow,”Ianswered.ThenIraisedmyshouldersandsmiled.“ButIdidn’tknowyouknew!Ha.”Shedidn’tevencrackasmileatmyattemptathumor.“IjustmeantIdidn’tknowyouwerekeepingtrack…,”Istartedtosay.“It’sfivepointsoff,Chris,”shesaid.“EvenifIgetittoyounextperiod?”IknowIsoundedwhinyatthispoint.

“Rulesarerules.”“Sounfair,”Imutteredundermybreath,shakingmyhead.Thesecondbellrang,andIrantomynextclassbeforeshecouldrespond.

10:05a.m.

Mr.Wren,mymusicteacher,wasjustasannoyedatmeforforgettingmytromboneasMrs.Kastorhadbeenaboutmysciencepaper.Foronething,IhadtoldMr.WrenthatKatieMcAnn,thefirsttrombonist,could take my trombone home today to practice her solo for the spring concert onWednesday night.Katie’strombonewasgettingrepaired,andtheonlyothersparetrombonewassobangedup,youcouldn’tevenpushtheslidepastfourthposition.SonotonlywasMr.Wrenangry,butKatiewas,too.AndKatieisthekindofgirlyoudon’twantgettingmadatyou.She’saheadtallerthaneveryoneelse,andshegivesreallyscarydirtylookstopeopleshe’smadat.Anyway,ItoldKatiethatmymomwasonherwaybacktoschoolwithmytrombone,soshedidn’tgive

methedirtylookrightaway.Mr.Wrengaveherthedentedtrombonetouseduringclass,soshedidn’teven have to sit out ofmusic.When people forget their instruments,Mr.Wren usuallymakes them sitquietly off to the side and watch the orchestra rehearse. You’re not allowed to read anything, or dohomework. You just have to sit and listen to the orchestra rehearse. Not exactly the most thrillingexperienceintheworld.I,ofcourse,didhavetositmusicouttoday,sincetherewasnotromboneleftformetoplay.Duringbreak,IranovertothemainofficetopickupthestuffMomshouldhavedroppedoffbynow.

Butshestillhadn’tshownup.“I’msureshejustgotstuckintraffic,”offeredMs.Denis.Ishookmyhead.“No,IthinkIknowwhathappened,”Iansweredgrumpily.IthadoccurredtomewhileIwaswatchingthebandrehearse.Isabel.Duh, of course!Daisy just died. Something elsemust have happened.Maybe something to dowith

Auggie.AndIsabelcalledMom.AndMom,likeshealwaysdoes,droppedwhatevershewasdoingtogohelpthePullmans.ForallIknew,shewasprobablyatthePullmanhouserightnow!Ibetshe’dbeenonherwaybackto

schoolwithmytrombone,sciencepaper,andgymshortsinthebackseatofthecarwhenIsabelcalled,andbam,Momcompletelyforgotaboutme.Duh,ofcoursethat’swhathappened!Itwouldn’tbethefirsttime,either.“Youwanttocallheragain?”saidMs.Denissweetly,handingmethephone.“Nothanks,”Imumbled.KatiecameovertomewhenIgotbacktomusicclass.“Where’s the trombone?” she said. Her eyebrows were practically touching in the middle of her

forehead.“Yousaidyourmomwasbringingit!”“She’sstuckintraffic?”Isaidapologetically.“She’llhaveitwhenshepicksmeupfromschooltoday,

though?”IguessKatiemademeasnervousasteachersdid.“Canyoumeetmeafterschoolatfive-thirty?”“WhywouldIwant towaitaroundtill five-thirty?”sheanswered,makingacluckingsoundwithher

tongue.ShegavemethesamelookshegavemewhenIaccidentallyemptiedmyspitvalveinherDixie

cup a few weeks ago. “Gee, thanks, Chris! Now I’m going to totally mess up my solo at the springconcert.Andit’stotallygoingtobeyourfault!”“It’snotmyfault?”Isaid.“Mymotherwassupposedtobringmemystuff?”“You’resucha…moron,”shemumbled.“No,youare”wasmybrilliantcomeback.“Yourearsstickout.”Shemadebothherhandsintolittlefistsandwalkedawaywithherarmsstraight

athersides.“Ugh!”Iansweredher,rollingmyeyes.Andfor therestof theclass,sheshotme thedirtiest looksyoucan imagineoverhermusicstand. If

looksreallycouldkill,KatieMcAnnwouldbeaserialmurderer.AllofthiscouldhavebeenavoidedifMomhadn’tabandonedmetoday!Iwassomadatherforthat.

Boy,wasshegoingtobesorrytonight.Icouldpictureitalready,howshewouldpickmeupafterschoolandbe all, “I’m so sorry, honey! I had to drive over to thePullmans’, because theyneededhelpwithyaddayaddayadda.”AndIwouldbelike,“Yaddayaddayadda.”Andshewouldbelike,“Comeon,honey.Youknowtheyneedourhelpsometimes.”“Yadda!Yadda!Yadda!”

Space

WhenAuggieturnedfive,someonegavehimanastronauthelmetasabirthdaypresent.Idon’trememberwho.ButAuggiestartedwearingthathelmetallthetime.Everywhere.Everyday.Iknowpeoplethoughtit was because hewanted to cover his face—andmaybe part of itwas that. But I think it wasmorebecauseAuggiereallylovedouterspace.Starsandplanets.Blackholes.AnythingtodowiththeApollomissions.Hestartedtellingeveryonehewasgoingtobeanastronautwhenhegrewup.Inthebeginning,Ididn’t get why he was so obsessed with this stuff. But then one weekend, our moms took us to theplanetarium at the natural history museum—and that’s when I got sucked into it, too. That was thebeginningofwhatwecalledourspacephase.Auggie and I had gone through a lot of phases by then. ZoobiePlushies. PopBopBots. Dinosaurs.

Ninjas.PowerRangers(I’membarrassedtosay).But,untilthen,nothinghadbeenasintenseasourspacephase.WewatchedeveryDVDwecouldfindabouttheuniverse.Spacevideos.PicturebooksabouttheMilkyWay. Making 3-D solar systems. Building model rocket ships.We would spend hours playingpretend games aboutmissions to deep space, or landing on Pluto. That became our favorite planet totravelto.PlutowasourTatooine.Wewerestilldeepintoourspacephasewhenmysixthbirthdayrolledaround,somyparentsdecided

tohavemypartyattheplanetarium.AuggieandIweresoexcited!Thenewspaceshowhadjustcomeout,andwehadn’tseenityet.Iinvitedmyentirefirstgradeclass.AndZackandAlex,ofcourse.IeveninvitedVia,butshecouldn’tcomebecauseshehadadifferentbirthdaypartytogotothatsameday.But then, themorningofmybirthday, Isabel calledMomand toldher that she andNatehad to take

Auggietothehospital.Hehadwokenupwithahighfever,andhiseyelidswereswollenshut.Afewdaysbefore,hehadhada“minor”surgerytocorrectaprevioussurgerytomakehislowereyelidslessdroopy,andnowithadbecomeinfected.SoAuggiehadtogotothehospitalinsteadofgoingtomysixthbirthdayparty.Iwassobummed!ButIgotevenmorebummedwhenMomtoldmethat Isabelhadaskedher ifshe

wouldbeabletodropViaoffattheotherbirthdaypartybeforegoingtomyparty.Beforeevencheckingwithmefirst,Momhadsaid,“Yes,ofcourse,whateverwecandotohelp!”Even

thoughthatmeantthatshemightendupbeingalittlelatetomybirthdayparty!“Butwhycan’tNatedropViaoffattheotherparty?”IaskedMom.“Becausehe’sdrivingAuggietothehospital,alongwithIsabel,”Momanswered.“It’snotabigdeal,

Chris.I’lltakeViainataxiandthenhoponatrain.”“Butcan’tsomeoneelsetakeVia?Whydoesithavetobeyou?”“Isabeldoesn’thavethetimetostartcallingothermoms,Chris!Soifwedon’ttakeVia,she’llhaveto

justgowiththemtothehospital.PoorViaisalwaysmissingout—”“Mommy!”Iinterrupted.“Idon’tcareaboutVia!Idon’twantyoutobelatetomybirthdayparty!”“Chris,whatdoyouwantmetosay?”Momanswered.“They’reourfriends.Isabelismygoodfriend,

justlikeAuggieisyourgoodfriend.Andwhengoodfriendsneedus,wedowhatwecantohelpthem,

right?Wecan’tjustbefriendswhenit’sconvenient.Goodfriendshipsareworthalittleextraeffort!”WhenIdidn’tsayanything,shekissedmyhand.“IpromiseI’llonlybeafewminuteslate,”shesaid.Butshewasn’tjustafewminuteslate.Sheendedupbeingmorethananhourlate.“I’msosorry,honey….TheAtrainwasoutofservice….Notaxisanywhere…Sosorry…”Iknewshefeltterrible.ButIwassoangry.IrememberevenDadwasannoyed.Shewassolate,sheevenmissedthespaceshow.

3:50p.m.

Therestofthedayendedupbeingprettymuchasbadasthebeginningoftheday.Ihadtositoutofgym,because Ididn’thavemygymshortsand Ididn’thavea spare set inmy locker.KatieMcAnn’sentiretablekeptshootingmedirtylooksatlunch.Idon’tevenremembermyotherclasses.Thenmathwasthelastclassoftheday.Iknewwewerehavingabigmathtesttomorrow,whichIhadn’tstudiedforovertheweekend like I was supposed to. But it wasn’t until Ms.Medina started going over the material fortomorrow’stestthatIrealizedIwasindeeptrouble.Ididn’tunderstandwhattheheckweweredoing.Imean,seriously,itwaslikeMs.Medinawassuddenlytalkinginamade-uplanguagethateveryoneelseinclassseemedtounderstandbutme.Gaddabaddaquotient.Pattabeeboodivisor.Attheendofclass,sheofferedtomeetwithanykidswhoneededalittleextrahelpstudyingrightafterschool.Um,thatwouldbeme,thankyou!ButIhadbandpracticethen,soIcouldn’tgo.Iraceddowntotheauditoriumrightafterdismissal.Theafter-schoolrockbandmeetseveryMonday

andTuesdayafternoon.Ihadonlyjoinedafewmonthsago,atthebeginningofthespringsemester,butIwasreallyintoit.I’dbeentakingguitarlessonssincelastsummer,andmydad,who’sareallygoodguitarplayer,hadbeen teachingmeall thesegreatguitar licks.SowhenSantagavemeanelectricguitar forChristmas,IfiguredIwasreadytojointheafter-schoolrockband.Iwasalittlenervousinthebeginning.Iknewthethreeguyswhowerealreadyinthebandwerereallygoodmusicians.ButthenIfoundouttherewas a fourth grader named John who was also joining the band in the spring semester, so I knew Iwouldn’tbetheonlynewkid.Johnplayedguitar,too.HeworeJohnLennonglasses.TheotherthreeguysinthebandwereEnnio,whoplaysthedrumsandisconsideredtobethisprodigy

drummer,Harryonleadguitar,andElijahonbassguitar.Elijah’salsotheleadsinger,andhe’skindoftheleaderoftheband.Thethreeofthemareallinthesixthgrade.They’vebeenintheafter-schoolrockbandsincetheywereinthefourthgrade,sothey’reaprettytightgroup.Ican’tsaytheywerethrilledwhenJohnandIfirstjoinedtheband.Notthattheyweren’tnice,butthey

weren’tnicenice.Theydidn’ttreatuslikewewereequalmembersoftheband.Itwasprettyobviousthattheydidn’tthinkweplayedaswellastheydid—and,tobetruthful,wereallydidn’t.Butstill,weweretryingreallyhardtogetbetter.“So,Mr.B,”Elijahsaidafterwehadalljammedonourownabit.“We’rethinkingwewanttoplay

‘SevenNationArmy’forthespringconcertonWednesday.”Mr.Bowleswastheafter-schoolrockbandadviser.Hehadgrayhairthathekeptinaponytail,andhad

beenamemberofafamousfolk-rockbandinthe’80sthatmydad,forone,hadneverheardof.ButMr.Bowleswassupernice,andhewasalwaystryingtogettheotherguystoincludemeandJohn.This,ofcourse,justgottheotherguysevenmoreannoyedatus.AnditalsomadethemreallydislikeMr.Bowles.Theymadefunofthewayhesometimestalkedwithhiseyesclosed.Theymadefunofhisponytailandhistasteinmusic.“ ‘SevenNationArmy’?”answeredMr.Bowles,likehewasimpressedbythesongchoice.“That’san

awesomesong,Elijah.”“IsthatbyEurope,too?”Johnasked,sincewe’dallagreedafewweeksago—aftermucharguing—to

play“TheFinalCountdown”byEuropeatthespringconcert.Elijah snickered andmade a face. “Dude,” he answered, not looking at Johnorme. “It’s theWhite

Stripes.”Elijahhadlongblondhairthathewasreallygoodattalkingthrough.“Neverheardofthem!”Johnsaidcheerfully,whichIwishedhehadn’tsaid.Truthis,Ihadn’theardof

them,either,butIknewenoughtopretendIknewthem—atleastuntilIcoulddownloadthesongtonight.Johnwasn’tsogreatatthesocialstuffthatgoesoninsidearockband.Lotsofgroupdynamicstufftosortout.Youhavetokindofjustnodandgoalongifyouwanttofitin.Thenagain,Johnwasn’tverygoodatfittinginthatway.Elijahlaughedandturnedaroundtotunehisguitar.Johnlookedatmeoverhislittleroundglassesandmadean“Isitme,oraretheycrazy?”face.Ishruggedinresponse.JohnandIhadbecomeourownlittlegroupinsidethisrockband.Wehungouttogetherduringbreaks

andmadejokes,especiallysincetheotherthreeguyshungouttogetherandmadetheirownjokes.EveryThursdayafter school, I’dgoover to John’shouseandwe’dpractice together,orwe’d listen to someclassicrocksongssowecouldsoundlikeweknewasmuchaboutrockmusicastheotherguys.Andthenwe’dmakesuggestionsaboutwhatsongswecouldplay.Sofar,wehadsuggested“YellowSubmarine”and“EyeoftheTiger.”ButElijah,Harry,andEnniohadnixedthemboth.Thatwasfine,though,becauseIwasreallyinto“TheFinalCountdown,”whichhadbeenMr.Bowles’s

suggestion.It’sthefinalcountdown!“Idon’tknow,guys,”Mr.Bowlessaid.“I’mnotsure there’sgoingtobeenoughtimebetweentoday

andWednesdaytolearnabrand-newsong.Maybeweshouldstickto‘TheFinalCountdown’fornow?”Heplayedtheopeningnotesofthatsongonthekeyboard,andJohnstartedboppinghishead.ThenElijahstartedplayingagreatriffonhisbass,whichturnedouttobetheopeningof“SevenNation

Army.”Asifoncue,HarryandEnniostartedplaying,too.Itwasprettyobviousthattheyhadpracticedthesongalotoftimesbeforetoday.Ihavetosay,theysoundedamazing.Somewhereinthesecondchorus,Mr.Bowlesputhishandupforthemtostopjamming.“Okay, dudes,” he said, nodding. “You’re sounding absolutely awesome. Killer bass, Elijah. But

everyone’sgottobeabletoplaythesongforthespringconcert,right?Thesetwodudesneedachancetolearnthesong,too.”HepointedatmeandJohn.“Butit’sjustbasicchords!”saidElijah.“LikeCandG!B.D.YoudoknowD,right?”Helookedatus

likewewereanalienspecies.“Youseriouslycan’tdothat?”“Icandothat,”Iansweredquickly,formingthechordswithmyfingers.“IhatetheBchord!”saidJohn.“It’ssoeasy!”saidElijah.“Butwhatabout‘TheFinalCountdown’?”Johnwhined.“I’vebeenpracticingthatforweeks!”HestartedplayingthesameopeningpartthatMr.Bhadjustplayed,buthehonestlydidn’tsoundthat

good.“Dude,thatwasawesome!”saidMr.B,high-fivingJohn.InoticedElijahsmiledatHarry,wholookeddownlikehewastryingnottolaugh.“Guys,wehavetobefairhere,”saidMr.BtoElijah.

“Here’sthething,”answeredElijah.“Wecanonlyplayonesongatthespringconcert,andwewantittobe‘SevenNationArmy.’Majorityrules.”“Butit’snotwhatwesaidweweregoingtoplay!”yelledJohn.“It’snotfairthatyouguysagreedto

play‘TheFinalCountdown,’andmeandChrishavespentalotoftimelearningit….”Ihavetoadmit,Johnhadgutstalkingbacktoasixthgraderlikethat.“Sorry,dude,”saidElijah,fiddlingwithhisamp.Buthedidn’tseemsorry.“Okay,let’ssettledown,guys,”saidMr.Bwithhiseyesclosed.“Mr.B?”saidEnnio,holdinguphishandlikehewasinclass.“Thethingis,thisisgoingtobeourlast

springconcertbeforethethreeofusgraduate.”HepointedhisdrumstickatHarryandElijahandhimself.“Yeah,we’regoingtomiddleschoolnextyear!”agreedElijah.“Wewant to play a song thatwe feel really good about,”Ennio finished. “ ‘The FinalCountdown’

doesn’trepresentusmusically.”“Butthat’snotfair!”saidJohn.“Thisisanafter-schoolrockband.Notjustyourband!Youcan’tjust

dothat!”“Dude,youcanplaywhateveryouwantnextyear,”Elijahanswered.Helookedlikehewantedtoflick

John’sglassesoffhisface.“Youcanplay‘PufftheMagicDragon’forallIcare.”Thismadetheotherguyslaugh.Mr.Bowlesfinallyopenedhiseyes.“Okay,guys,enough,”hesaid,holdinguphishands.“Here’swhat

we’regoingtodo.Let’sseehowwellyoutwopickup‘SevenNationArmy’todayandtomorrow.”HesaidthiswhilepointingatmeandJohn.“We’llpracticeitalittletoday.We’llalsotightenup‘TheFinalCountdown.’Then,tomorrow,we’llseewhichsongsoundsbetter.ButI’mgoingtobetheonetomakethefinaldecisionwhichsongweplay,okay?Soundgood?”Johnnoddedyeseagerly,butElijahrolledhiseyes.“So,let’sstartwith‘TheFinalCountdown,’ ”saidMr.Bowles.Heclappedhishandstwice.“Fromthe

beginning.Let’sgo,guys. ‘TheFinalCountdown’!Fromthe top.Ennio,wakeup!Harry!Elijah,getusgoing,man!Onfour.Aone.Two.Three…”Weplayedthesong.EventhoughElijahandtheotherguysweren’tintoit,theytotallyrockedit.Infact,

wesoundedprettyamazingtogether,Ithought.“That soundedawesome!” said Johnwhen itwasover.Heheldhishand in the air tohigh-fiveme,

whichIdidalittlereluctantly.“Whatever,”saidElijah,shakinghishairoffhisface.Wespenttherestoftheclassrunningthrough“SevenNationArmy.”ButJohnkeptmakingmistakesand

askingustostartover.Itdidn’tsoundgoodatall.“Youguyssoundterrific!”saidJohn’smother,whohadjustcomeinthebandroom.Shetriedtoclap

whileholdingherwetumbrella.Mr.Blookedathiswatch.“Whoa,it’sfive-thirty?Ohman!Dudes,I’vegotagigtonight.Wehaveto

wrapthisup.Let’sgo.Everythinginthelockroom.”Istartedputtingmyguitarinthecase.“Steponit,guys!”saidMr.B,puttingthemicsaway.Weallhurriedupandputourinstrumentsinthelockroom.“See you tomorrow,Mr. B!” said John,whowas the first to be ready to leave. “Bye, Elijah, bye,

Ennio,bye,Harry!”Hewavedatthem.“Seeyoutomorrow!”Isawthethreeofthemshooteachotherlooks,buttheynoddedgoodbyetoJohn.“Bye,Chris!”Johnsaidloudlyfromthedoor.“Bye,” Imumbled. I liked the guy, I really did. One on one hewas awesome. But he could be so

clueless,too.ItwaslikebeingfriendswithSpongeBob.AfterJohnandhismotherhadleft,ElijahwentuptoMr.Bowles,whowaswrappingupthemiccords.“Mr.B,”hesaid,ultrapolitely.“Canwepleaseplay‘SevenNationArmy’onWednesdaynight?”Atthatmoment,Ennio’smomarrivedtopickupthethreeofthem.“We’llseetomorrow,dude,”Mr.Bowlesanswereddistractedly,throwingthelastoftheequipmentinto

thelockroom.“Yeah,you’rejustgonnachoose‘TheFinalCountdown,’ ”saidElijah,andthenhewalkedoutthedoor.“Bye,guys,”IsaidtoHarryandEnnioastheyfollowedElijahout.“Bye,dude,”theybothsaidtome.Mr.Bturnedthekeyinthelockroom.Thenhelookedatme,likehewassurprisedIwasstillthere.“Where’syourmom?”“Iguessshe’srunninglate.”“Don’tyouhaveacellphone?”Inodded,fishedmyphoneoutofmybackpack,andturnediton.Therewerenotextsormissedcalls

fromMom.“Justcallher!”hesaidafterafewminutes.“I’vegottogetoutofhere,dude.”

5:48p.m.

JustasIwasabouttocall,mydadknockedonthebandroomdoor.Iwastotallysurprised.He’sneverpickedmeupfromschoolonaMondaybefore.“Dad!”Isaid.Hesmiledandwalkedin.“SorryI’mlate,”hesaid,shakingouthisumbrella.“ThisisMr.Bowles,”Isaidtohim.“Nicetomeetyou!”saidMr.Bquickly,buthe’dalreadystartedoutthedoor.“Sorry,Ican’tstayand

chat.You’vegotanicekidthere!”Thenheleft.“Don’tforgettolockthedoorbehindyou,Chris!”heyelledoutasecondlaterfromdownthehallway.“Iwill!”Isaid,loudenoughforhimtohearme.IturnedtoDad.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”“Momaskedmetogetyou,”heanswered,pickingupmybackpack.“Letmeguess,”Isaidsarcastically,puttingonmyjacket.“ShewenttoAuggie’shousetoday,right?”Dadlookedsurprised.“No,”hesaid.“Everythingisfine,Chris.Pullyourhoodup—it’sraininghard.”

Westartedwalkingoutthedoor.“Thenwhereisshe?Whydidn’tshebringmemystuff?”Isaidangrily.Heputhishandonmyshoulderaswekeptwalking.“Idon’twantyoutoworryatall,but…Mommygot

inalittlecaraccidenttoday.”Istoppedwalking.“What?”“She’stotallyfine,”hesaid,squeezingmyshoulder.“Nothingtoworryabout.Promise.”Hemotioned

formetokeepwalking.“So,whereisshe?”Iasked.“She’sstillinthehospital.”“Hospital?”Iyelled.Onceagain,Istoppedwalking.“Chris,she’sfine,Ipromise,”heanswered,pullingmebytheelbow.“Shebrokeherleg,though.She

hasahugecast.”“Seriously?”“Yes.”Heheldtheexitdooropenformewhileopeninghisumbrella.“Pullyourhoodup,Chris.”Ipulledmyhoodovermyheadaswehurriedacrosstheparkinglot.Itwasreallypouring.“Wasshehit

byacar?”“No,shewasdriving,”heanswered.“Apparently,theraincausedsomefloodingontheparkway,anda

constructiontruckhitaditch,andMomswervedtoavoidhittingitbutthengotsideswipedbythecarintheleftlane.Thewomanintheothercarwasfine,too.Mommy’sfine.Herlegwillbefine.Everyoneisfine,thankGod.”HestoppedataredhatchbackIhadneverseenbefore.

“Isthisnew?”Isaid,confused.“It’sarental,”heansweredquickly.“Mom’scargottotaled.Comeon,getin.”Igotintothebackseat.Bynowmysneakersweresoakingwet.“Where’syourcar?”“Iwenttothehospitalstraightfromthetrainstation,”heanswered.“Weshouldsuewhoeverwasdrivingthatconstructiontruck,”Isaid,puttingmyseatbelton.“Itwasafreakaccident,”hemuttered.Hestarteddrivingoutoftheparkinglot.“Whendidithappen?”Iasked.“Thismorning.”“Whattimethismorning?”“Idon’tknow.Aboutnine?Ihadjustgottentoworkwhentheycalledmefromthehospital.”“Wait,didthepersonwhocalledyouknowthatyouandMomaregettingadivorce?”Helookedatmeintherearviewmirror.“Chris,”hesaid.“YourmomandIwillalwaysbetherefor

oneanother.Youknowthat.”“Right,”Isaid,shrugging.Ilookedoutthewindow.Itwasthattimeofdaywhenthesun’sgonedownbutthestreetlightshaven’t

comeonyet.Thestreetswereblackandshinybecauseoftherain.Youcouldseethereflectionsofalltheredandwhitelightsofthecarsinthepuddlesalongthehighway.IpicturedMomdrivingintherainthismorning.Didithappenrightaftershedroppedmeoff,orwhen

shewasdrivingbacktoschoolwithmystuff?“WhydidyouthinkshewasonherwaytoAuggie’shouse?”Dadasked.“Idon’tknow,”Ianswered,stilllookingoutthewindow.“BecauseDaisydied.Ithoughtmaybe—”“Daisydied?”hesaid.“Ohno,Ididn’tknowthat.Whendidthathappen?”“Theyputhertosleeplastnight.”“Hadshebeensick?”“Dad,Idon’tknowanydetails!”“Okay,don’tbitemyheadoff.”“It’sjust…Iwishyouhadtoldmeabouttheaccidentearlierintheday!Someoneshouldhavetoldme.”Dadlookedatmeintherearviewmirroragain.“Therewasnoneedtoalarmyou,Chris.Everything

wasundercontrol.Therewasnothingyoucouldhavedoneanyway.”“IwaswaitingforMomtocomebackwithmystuffallmorning!”Isaid,crossingmyarms.“Itwasacrazydayforallofus,Chris,”heanswered.“Ispentthedaydealingwithaccidentreports

andinsuranceforms,rentalcars,goingbackandforthtothehospital….”“Icouldhavegonetothehospitalwithyou,”Isaid.“Well,you’reinluck,”hesaid,drummingthesteeringwheel.“Becausethat’swherewe’regoingright

now.”“Wait,we’regoingtothehospital?”Isaid.“Momjustgotdischarged,sowe’repickingherup.”Helookedatmeinthemirroragain,butIlooked

away.“Isn’tthatgreat?”“Yeah.”Wedrovequietlyforafewseconds.Therainwascomingdowninsheets.Dadmadethewindshield

wipersgofaster.Ileanedmyheadagainstthewindow.“Thisdaysucked,” I saidquietly. Iblewsomehotairon thewindowanddrewasad facewithmy

finger.“Youokay,Chris?”“Yes,”Imumbled.“Ihatehospitals,that’sall.”

TheHospitalVisit

ThefirstandonlytimeI’deverbeentoahospitalbeforewastovisitAuggie.Thiswaswhenwewereaboutsixyearsold.Auggiehadhad likeamillionsurgeriesbefore then,but thiswas thefirst timemymomthoughtIwasoldenoughtogoandvisithim.Thesurgeryhadbeen to remove the“buttonhole”onhisneck.This iswhatheused tocallhis trach

tube, a little plastic thingy that was literally inserted into his neck below his Adam’s apple. The“buttonhole” is what the doctors put inside Auggie when he was born to allow him to breathe. Thedoctorswereremovingitnow,becausetheywereprettysureAuggiecouldbreatheonhisown.Auggiewas reallyexcitedabout this surgery.Hehatedhisbuttonhole.AndwhenI sayhehated it, I

meanhehaaaatedit.Hehatedthatitwassonoticeable,sincehewasn’tallowedtocoveritup.Hehatedthathecouldn’tgoswimminginapoolbecauseofit.Mostofall,hehatedhowsometimesitwouldgetblockedup,fornoreason,andhewouldstarttocoughlikehewaschoking,likehecouldn’tbreathe.ThenIsabel orNatewould have to jab a tube into the hole, to suction it, so that he could breathe again. Iwatchedthishappenacoupleoftimes,anditwasprettyscary.IrememberIwasreallyhappyaboutvisitingAuggieafterhissurgery.Thehospitalwasdowntown,and

Momsurprisedmeby stoppingoff atFAOSchwarz so I couldpickout a nicebigpresent tobring toAuggie(aStarWarsLegoset)andasmallpresentforme(anEwokplushie).Afterweboughtthetoys,Mom and I got lunch atmy favorite restaurant,whichmakes the best foot-long hot dogs and iced hotchocolatemilkshakesontheplanet.Andthen,afterlunch,wewenttothehospital.“Chris,therearegoingtobeotherkidswhoarehavingfacialsurgeries,”Momtoldmequietlyaswe

walkedthroughthehospitaldoors.“LikeAuggie’sfriendHudson,okay?Remembernottostare.”“Iwouldneverstare!”Ianswered.“IhatewhenkidsstareatAuggie,Mommy.”Aswewalkeddownthehall toAuggie’sroom,Irememberseeinglotsofballoonseverywhere,and

postersofDisneyprincessesandsuperheroestapedtothehallwaywalls.Ithoughtitwascool.Itfeltlikeagiantbirthdayparty.Ipeekedintosomeofthehospitalroomsaswepassed,andthat’swhenIrealizedwhatmymommeant.

Thesewerekids likeAuggie.Not that they looked likehim, thoughacoupleof themdid,but theyhadotherfacialdifferences.Someofthemhadbandagesontheirfaces.Onegirl,Isawquickly,hadahugelumponhercheekthatwasthesizeofalemon.Isqueezedmymom’shandandrememberednottostare,soIlookeddownatmyfeetaswewalkedand

heldontighttomyEwokplushie.WhenwereachedAuggie’sroom,IwasgladtoseethatIsabelandViawerealreadythere.Theyboth

cameovertothedoorwhentheysawusandkissedushellohappily.TheywalkedusovertoAuggie,whowasinthebedbythewindow.Aswepassedthebedclosestto

thedoor,IgottheimpressionthatIsabelwastryingtoblockmefromlookingatthekidlyinginthatbed.SoItookaquickpeekbehindmeafterwehadpassed.Theboyinthebed,whowasprobablyonlyabout

four,waswatchingme.Underhisnose,wherethetopofhismouthwassupposedtobe,wasanenormousredhole,andinsidetheholewaswhatlookedlikeapieceofrawmeat.Thereseemedtobeteethstuckintothemeat,andpiecesofjaggedskinhangingoverthehole.IlookedawayasquicklyasIcould.Auggiewas asleep.He seemed so tiny in the big hospital bed!His neckwaswrapped up inwhite

gauze,andtherewasbloodonthegauze.Hehadsometubesstickingoutofhisarm,andonestickingintohisnose.Hismouthwaswideopen,andhistonguewaskindofhangingoutofhismouthontohischin.Itlookedalittleyellowandwasalldriedup.I’veseenAuggieasleepbefore,butI’dneverseenhimsleeplikethatbefore.IheardmymomandIsabeltalkingaboutthesurgeryintheirquietvoices,whichtheyusedwhenthey

didn’twantmeorAuggietohearwhattheyweresaying.Somethingabout“complications”andhowithadbeen“touchandgo”forawhile.MymomhuggedIsabel.Istoppedlistening.IstaredatAuggie,wishinghewouldclosehismouthinhissleep.Viacameoverandstoodnexttome.Shewasabouttenyearsoldthen.“Itwasniceofyoutocomevisit

Auggie,”shesaid.Inodded.“Ishegoingtodie?”Iwhispered.“No,”shewhisperedback.“Whyishebleeding?”Iasked.“It’swheretheyoperatedonhim,”sheanswered.“It’llheal.”Inodded.“Whyishismouthopen?”“Hecan’thelpit.”“What’swrongwiththelittleboyintheotherbed?”“He’sfromBangladesh.Hehasacleft lipandpalate.Hisparentssenthimhere tohavesurgery.He

doesn’tspeakanyEnglish.”Ithoughtofthebigemptyredholeontheboy’sface.Thejaggedflapofskin.“Areyouokay,Chris?”Via askedgently,nudgingme. “Lisa?Lisa, I don’t thinkChris is looking so

good….”That’swhenthefoot-longhotdogandicedhotchocolatemilkshakekindofjustexplodedoutofme.I

threwupallovermyself, thegiantLegoboxI’dgottenforAuggie,andmostofthefloorinfrontofhisbed.“Ohmygoodness!”criedMomasshelookedaroundforpapertowels.“Oh,sweetie!”Isabelfoundatowelandstartedcleaningmewithit.Mymom,meanwhile,wasfranticallywipingthe

floorwithanewspaper.“No,Lisa!Don’tworryaboutthat,”saidIsabel.“Via,sweetie,gofindanurseandtellherweneeda

cleanuphere.”Shesaidthisasshewaspickinghotdogchunksoffmychin.Via,wholookedlikeshemightthrowupherself,turnedaroundcalmlyandheadedoutthedoor.Within

afewminutes,somenurseshadcomeintotheroomwithmopsandbuckets.“Canwegohome,Mommy?”Iremembersaying,thevomittastestillfreshinmymouth.“Yes,honey,”saidMom,takingoverforIsabelandcleaningmeoff.“I’msosorry,Lisa,”saidIsabel,wettinganothertowelatthesink.Shedabbedmyfacewithit.Bynow,Iwassweatingprofusely.IturnedtoleaveevenbeforeMomandIsabelhadfinishedcleaning

meoff.ButthenIaccidentallycaughtaglimpseofthelittleboyinthebed,whowasstilllookingatme.I

startedtocrywhenIlookedintothebigemptyredholeabovehismouth.At that point,Mom kind of huggedme and glidedme out the door at the same time.Whenwe got

outsidetheroom,shehalfcarriedmetothelobbybytheelevators.Myfacewasburiedinhercoat,andIwascryinghysterically.IsabelandViafollowedusout.“I’msosorry,”Isabelsaidtous.“I’msosorry,”saidMom.Theywerebothkindofmumblingsorries toeachotherat thesame time.

“PleasetellAuggiewe’resorrywecouldn’tstay.”“Ofcourse,”saidIsabel.Shekneltdowninfrontofmeandstartedwipingmytears.“Areyouokay,

honey?I’msosorry.Iknowit’salottoprocess.”Ishookmyhead.“It’snotAuggie,”Itriedtosay.Hereyesgotverywetsuddenly.“Iknow,”shewhispered.Thensheputbothherhandsonmyface,like

shewascradlingit.“Auggie’sluckytohaveafriendlikeyou.”Theelevatorcame,IsabelhuggedmeandMom,andthenwegotinsidetheelevator.I saw Via waving at me as the elevator doors closed. Even though I was only six at the time, I

rememberthinkingIfeltsorryforherthatshecouldn’tleavewithus.Assoonaswewereoutside,Momsatmedownonabenchandhuggedmeforalongtime.Shedidn’t

sayanything.Shejustkissedthetopofmyheadoverandoveragain.WhenIfinallycalmeddown,IhandedhertheEwok.“Canyougobackandgiveittohim?”Isaid.“Oh,honey,”sheanswered.“That’ssosweetofyou.ButIsabelcancleantheLegoset.It’llbegoodas

newforAuggie,don’tworry.”“No,fortheotherkid,”Ianswered.Shelookedatmeasecond,likeshedidn’tknowwhattosay.“Viasaidhedoesn’tspeakanyEnglish,”Isaid.“Itmustbereallyscaryforhim,beinginthehospital.”Shenoddedslowly.“Yeah,”shewhispered.“Itmustbe.”She closedher eyes andhuggedme again.And then she tookmeover to the securitydesk,where I

waiteduntilshewentbackuptheelevatorand,afteraboutfiveminutes,camebackdownagain.“Didhelikeit?”Iasked.“Honeyboy,”shesaidsoftly,brushingthehairoutofmyeyes.“Youmadehisday.”

7:04p.m.

WhenwegottoMom’shospitalroom,wefoundhersittingupinawheelchairwatchingTV.Shehadahugecastthatstartedfromherthighandwentallthewaydowntoherankle.“There’smyguy!”shesaidhappilyassoonasshesawme.Sheheldherarmsouttome,andIwent

overandhuggedher.IwasrelievedtoseethatDaddyhadtoldthetruth:exceptforthecastandacoupleofscratchesonherface,Momlookedtotallyfine.Shewasdressedandreadytogo.“Howareyoufeeling,Lisa?”saidDad,leaningoverandkissinghercheek.“Muchbetter,”sheanswered,clickingofftheTVset.Shesmiledatus.“Totallyreadytogohome.”“Wegotyouthese,”Isaid,givingherthevaseofflowerswehadboughtdownstairsinthegiftstore.“Thankyou,sweetie!”shesaid,kissingme.“They’resopretty!”Ilookeddownathercast.“Doesithurt?”Iaskedher.“Nottoomuch,”sheansweredquickly.“Mommy’sverybrave,”saidDad.“WhatIamisverylucky,”Momsaid,knockingthesideofherhead.“We’reallverylucky,”addedDadquietly.HereachedoverandsqueezedMom’shand.Forafewseconds,noonesaidanything.“So,doyouneedtosignanydischargepapersoranything?”askedDad.“Alldone,”sheanswered.“I’mreadytogohome.”Dadgotbehindthewheelchair.“Wait,canIpushher?”IsaidtoDad,grabbingoneofthehandles.“Letmejustgetheroutthedoorhere,”answeredDad.“It’salittlehardtomaneuverwithherleg.”“Howwasyourday,Chris?”askedMomaswewheeledherintothehallway.Ithoughtaboutwhatanawfuldayithadbeen.Allofit,frombeginningtoend.Science,music,math,

rockband.Worstdayever.“Fine,”Ianswered.“Howwasbandpractice?IsElijahbeinganynicerthesedays?”sheasked.“Itwasgood.He’sfine.”Ishrugged.“I’msorryIdidn’tbringyourstuff,”shesaid,strokingmyarm.“Youmusthavebeenwonderingwhat

happenedtome!”“Ifiguredyouwererunningerrands,”Ianswered.“HethoughtyouwenttoIsabel’shouse,”laughedDad.“Ididnot!”Isaidtohim.Wehadreachedthenurses’stationandMomwassayinggoodbyetothenurses,whowerewavingback,

soshedidn’treallyhearwhatDadhadsaid.

“Didn’tyouaskmeifMomhadgoneto—”Dadsaidtome,confused.“Anyway!”Iinterrupted,turningtoMom.“Bandwasfine.We’replaying‘SevenNationArmy’forthe

springconcertonWednesday.Canyoustillcome?”“OfcourseIcan!”sheanswered.“Ithoughtyouwereplaying‘TheFinalCountdown.’ ”“ ‘SevenNationArmy’ isagreatsong,”saidDad.Hestartedhumming thebass lineandplayingair

guitaraswewaitedfortheelevator.Momsmiledathim.“IrememberyouplayingthatattheParlor.”“What’stheParlor?”Iasked.“Thepubdowntheroadfromourdorm,”answeredMom.“Beforeyouwereborn,buddy,”saidDad.Theelevatordoorsopened,andwegotin.“I’mstarving,”Isaid.“Youguyshaven’teatendinneryet?”Momasked,lookingatDad.“Wecamestraightherefromschool,”heanswered.“Whenwerewegoingtostopfordinner?”“CanwestopforsomeMcDonald’sonthewayhome?”Iasked.“Soundsgoodtome,”answeredDad.Wereachedthelobby,andtheelevatordoorsopened.“NowcanIpushthewheelchair?”Isaid.“Yep,”heanswered.“Youguyswaitformeover there,okay?”Hepointedto thefarthestexitonthe

left.“I’llpullthecararound.”He jogged out the front entrance toward the parking lot. I pushedMom’swheelchair towhere he’d

pointed.“Ican’tbelieveit’sstillraining,”saidMom,lookingoutthelobbywindows.“Ibetyoucouldpopawheelieonthisthing!”Isaid.“Hey,hey!No!”Momscreamed,squeezedthesidesofthewheelchairasItilteditbackward.“Chris!

I’vehadenoughexcitementfortheday.”Iputthewheelchairdown.“Sorry,Mom.”Ipattedherhead.Sherubbedhereyeswiththepalmsofherhand.“Sorry,it’sjustbeenareallylongday.”“DidyouknowthatadayonPlutois153.3hourslong?”Iasked.“No,Ididn’tknowthat.”Wedidn’tsayanythingforafewminutes.“Hey,didyougiveAuggieacall,bytheway?”shesaidoutoftheblue.“Mom,”Igroaned,shakingmyhead.“What?”shesaid.Shetriedtoturnaroundinherwheelchairtolookatme.“Idon’tgetit,Chris.Did

youandAuggiehaveafightorsomething?”“No!There’sjustsomuchgoingonrightnow.”“Chris…”Shesighed,butshesoundedtootiredtosayanythingelseaboutit.Istartedhummingthebasslineof“SevenNationArmy.”Afterafewminutes,theredhatchbackpulledupinfrontoftheexit,andDadcamejoggingoutofthe

car,holdinganopenumbrella.IpushedMomoutsidethefrontdoors.Dadgavehertheumbrellatohold,

andthenhepushedherdownthewheelchairrampandaroundtothepassengersideofthecar.Thewindwaspickingupnow,andtheumbrellaMomwasholdingwentinsideoutafterastronggust.“Chris,getinside!”saidDad.HestartedpickingMomupunderherarmstotransferhertothefrontseat

ofthecar.“Kindofnicebeingwaitedon,”Momjoked.ButIcouldtellshewasinpain.“Worthabrokenfemur?”Dadjokedback,outofbreath.“What’safemur?”Iasked,scoochingintothebackseat.“The thighbone,”answeredDad.Hewassoakingwetbynowashe tried tohelpMomfindherseat

belt.“Soundslikeananimal,”Ianswered.“Lionsandtigersandfemurs.”Momtriedtolaughatmyjoke,butshewassweating.Dadhurriedaroundtothebackofthecarandspentafewminutestryingtofigureouthowtofoldthe

wheelchairtogetitinside.Thenhecamearoundtothedriver’sseat,satdown,andclosedthedoor.Weall kind of sat there quietly for a second, thewind and rain howling outside thewindows. ThenDadstartedthecar.Wewereallsoakingwet.“Mommy,”Isaidafterwe’dbeendrivingafewminutes,“whenyougotintheaccidentthismorning,

wereyouonyourwayhomeafterdroppingmeoff?Orwereyoudrivingbacktoschoolwithmystuff?”Momtooka second toanswer.“It’sactuallykindofablur,honey,” sheanswered, reachingherarm

behindhersothatIwouldtakeherhand.Isqueezedherhand.“Chris,”saidDad,“Mommy’skindoftired.Idon’tthinkshewantstothinkaboutitrightnow.”“Ijustwanttoknow.”“Chris,now’snotthetime,”saidDad,givingmeasternlookintherearviewmirror.“Theonlything

that’simportantisthateverythingworkedoutokayandthatMommy’ssafeandsound,right?Wehavealottobethankfulfor.Todaycouldhavebeensomuchworse.”Ittookmeasecondtorealizewhathemeant.AndthenwhenIdid,Ifeltashivergoupmyspine.

FaceChat

ThefirstyearafterwemovedtoBridgeport,ourparentstriedreallyhardtogetAuggieandmetogetheratleast a couple of times amonth—either at our place or at Auggie’s. I had a couple of sleepovers atAuggie’shouse,andAuggietriedasleepoveratmyplaceonce,thoughthatdidn’tworkout.Butit’salongcarridebetweenBridgeportandNorthRiverHeights,andeventuallyweonlygottogethereverycoupleofmonthsorso.WestartedFaceChattingeachotheralotaroundthattime.Like,practicallyeverydayinthirdgrade,AuggieandIwouldhangout togetheronFaceChat.Wehaddecided togrowourPadawanbraidsbefore Imovedaway, so itwasagreatway tocheckhow long theyhadgotten.Sometimeswewouldn’teventalk:we’djustkeepthescreensonwhilewebothwatchedaTVshowtogetherorbuiltthesameLegosetatthesametime.Sometimeswewouldtraderiddles.Like,whathasafootbutnoleg?Or,whatdoesapoormanhave,arichmanneed,andyouwoulddieifyouateit?Stufflikethatcouldkeepusgoingforhours.Then, in the fourth grade,we started FaceChatting less. Itwasn’t a thingwe did on purpose. I just

startedhavingmorethingstodoinschool.NotonlydidIgetmorehomeworknow,butIwasdoingalotofafter-schoolstuff.Socceracoupleoftimesaweek.Tennislessons.Roboticsinthespring.ItfeltlikeIwasalwaysmissingAuggie’sFaceChat requests, so finallywedecided to scheduleourchats for rightbeforedinneronWednesdaysandSaturdays.Andthatworkedoutfine,thoughitendedupbeingonlyWednesdaynightsbecauseSaturdaysIhadtoo

muchgoingon.ItwassomewheretowardtheendofthefourthgradethatItoldAuggieIhadcutoffmyPadawanbraid.Hedidn’tsayit,butIthinkthathurthisfeelings.Thenthisyear,Auggiestartedgoingtoschool,too.Ialmostcouldn’timagineAuggieatschool,orhowitwouldbeforhim.Imean,beinganewkidishard

enough.ButbeinganewkidthatlookslikeAuggie?Thatwouldbeinsane.Andnotonlywashestartingschool,hewasstartingmiddleschool!That’showtheydoitinhisschool—fifthgraderswalkingdownthesamehallwaysasninthgraders!Crazy!YouhavetogiveAuggiehisprops—thattakesguts.TheonlytimeIFaceChattedwithAuggieinSeptemberwasafewdaysafterschoolhadstarted,buthe

didn’tseemtowanttotalk.IdidnoticehehadcutoffhisPadawanbraid,butIdidn’taskhimaboutit.IfigureditwasforthesamereasonIhadcutmineoff.Imean,youknow,nerdalert.IwascurioustogotoAuggie’sbowlingpartyafewweeksbeforeHalloween.Igottomeethisnew

friends,whoseemedniceenough.TherewasthisonekidnamedJackWillwhowasprettyfunny.ButthenI think something happened with Jack and Auggie, because when I FaceChatted with Auggie afterHalloween,hetoldmetheyweren’tfriendsanymore.ThelasttimeIFaceChattedwithAuggiewasrightafterwinterbreakhadended.MyfriendsJakeand

TylerwereovermyplaceandwewereplayingAgeofWar II onmy laptopwhenAuggie’sFaceChatrequestcameuponmyscreen.“Guys,”Isaid,turningthelaptoptowardme.“Ineedtotakethis.”“CanweplayonyourXbox?”askedJake.

“Sure,”Isaid,pointingtowheretheycouldfindtheextracontrollers.AndthenIkindofturnedmybackto them, because I didn’twant them to seeAuggie’s face. I tapped “accept” on the laptop, and a fewsecondslater,Auggie’sfacecameonthescreen.“Hey,Chris,”hesaid.“Sup,Aug,”Ianswered.“Longtimenosee.”“Yeah,”Ianswered.Thenhestartedtalkingaboutsomethingelse.Somethingaboutawarathisschool?JackWill?Ididn’t

reallyfollowwhathewassaying,becauseIwascompletelydistractedbyJakeandTyler,whohadstartednudgingoneanother,mouthsopen,halflaughing,themomentAuggiehadcomeon-screen.IknewtheyhadseenAuggie’sface.Iwalkedtotheothersideoftheroomwiththelaptop.“Mm-hmm,”IsaidtoAuggie,tryingtotuneoutthethingsJakeandTylerwerewhisperingtoeachother.

ButIheardthismuch:“Didyouseethat?”“Wasthatamask?”“…afire?”“Istheresomeonetherewithyou?”askedAuggie.IguesshemusthavenoticedthatIwasn’treallylisteningtohim.Iturnedtomyfriendsandsaid,“Guys,shh!”Thatmadethemcrackup.Theywereveryobviouslytryingtogetacloserlookatmyscreen.“Yeah,I’mjustwithsomefriends,”Imumbledquickly,walkingtoyetanothersideofmyroom.“Hi,Chris’sfriend!”saidJake,followingme.“Canwemeetyourfriend?”askedTylerloudlysoAuggiewouldhear.Ishookmyheadatthem.“No!”“Okay!”saidAuggiefromtheothersideofthescreen.JakeandTyler immediatelycameoneithersideofmeso the threeofuswere facing thescreenand

seeingAuggie’sface.“Hey!”Auggie said. I knew hewas smiling, but sometimes, to peoplewho didn’t know, his smile

didn’tlooklikeasmile.“Hey,”bothJakeandTylersaidquietly,noddingpolitely.Inoticedthattheywerenolongerlaughing.“So,theseguysaremyfriendsJakeandTyler,”IsaidtoAuggie,pointingmythumbbackandforthat

them.“Andthat’sAuggie.Frommyoldneighborhood.”“Hey,”saidAuggie,waving.“Hey,”saidJakeandTyler,notlookingathimdirectly.“So,”saidAuggie,noddingawkwardly.“So,yeah,whatareyouguysdoing?”“WewerejustturningontheXbox,”Ianswered.“Oh,nice!”answeredAuggie.“Whatgame?”“HouseofAsterion.”“Cool.Whatlevelareyouon?”“Um,Idon’tknowexactly,”Isaid,scratchingmyhead.“Secondmaze,Ithink.”

“Oh,that’sahardone,”Auggieanswered.“I’vealmostunlockedTartarus.”“Cool.”InoticedoutofthecornerofmyeyethatJakewaspokingTylerbehindmyback.“Yeah,well,”Isaid,“Ithinkwe’regoingtostartplayingnow.”“Oh!”saidAuggie.“Sure.Goodluckwiththesecondmaze!”“Okay.Bye,”Isaid.“Hopethewarthingworksout.”“Thanks.Nicemeetingyouguys,”Auggieaddedpolitely.“Bye,Auggie!”Jakesaid,smirking.Tylerstartedlaughing,soIelbowedhimoutofscreenview.“Bye,”Auggie said,but I could tellhenoticed them laughing.Auggiealwaysnoticed stuff like that,

eventhoughhepretendednotto.Iclickedoff.AssoonasIdid,bothJakeandTylerstartedcrackingup.“Whattheheck?”Isaidtothem,annoyed.“Oh,dude!”saidJake.“Whatwasupwiththatkid?”“I’veneverseenanythingthatuglyinmylife,”saidTyler.“Hey!”Ianswereddefensively.“Comeon.”“Washeinafire?”askedJake.“No.Hewasbornlikethat,”Iexplained.“Hecan’thelpthewayhelooks.It’sadisease.”“Wait,isitcontagious?”askedTyler,pretendingtobeafraid.“Comeon,”Ianswered,shakingmyhead.“Andyou’re friendswithhim?”askedTyler, lookingatme likeIwasaMartian.“Whoa,dude!”He

wassnickering.“What?”Ilookedathimseriously.Heopenedhiseyeswideandshrugged.“Nothing,dude.I’mjustsaying.”IsawhimlookatJake,whosqueezedhislipstogetherlikeafish.Therewasanawkwardsilence.“Areweplayingornot?”Iaskedafterafewseconds.Igrabbedoneofthecontrollers.We started playing, but itwasn’t a great game. Iwas in a badmood, and they just continued being

goofballs.Itwasirritating.Aftertheyleft,IstartedthinkingaboutZackandAlex,howtheyhadditchedAuggieallthoseyearsago.Evenafterallthistime,itcanstillbehardbeingfriendswithAuggie.

8:22p.m.

AssoonasDadwheeledMomintoourhouse,IploppeddownonthesofainfrontoftheTVwithmyhalf-finishedMcDonald’sHappyMeal.IclickedtheTVonwiththeremote.“Wait,”saidDad,shakingouttheumbrella.“Ithoughtyouhadhomeworktodo.”“IjustwanttowatchtherestofAmazingRacewhileIeat,”Ianswered.“I’lldomyhomeworkwhen

it’sover.”“Isitokayforhimtodothat?”DadsaidtoMom.“It’salmostoveranyway,Mommy!”IsaidtoMom.“Please?”“Solongasyoustartrightaftertheshow’sover,”sheanswered.butIknewshewasn’treallypaying

attention. Shewas looking up at the staircase, shaking her head slowly. “How am I going to do this,Angus?”shesaidtoDad.Shelookedreallytired.“That’s what I’m here for,” Dad answered. He turned her wheelchair around toward him, reached

underher,wrappedhisotherarmaroundherback,andliftedheroutofthewheelchair.ThismadeMomscreaminagigglysortofway.“Wow,Dad,you’re strong!” I said,poppinga french fry inmymouthas Iwatched them.“Youguys

shouldbeonTheAmazingRace.They’realwayshavingdivorcedcouples.”DadstartedclimbingthestaircasewithMominhisarms.Theywerebothlaughingastheybumpedinto

therailingandthewallsonthewayup.Itwasniceseeingthemlikethis.Lasttimewewerealltogether,theywerescreamingateachother.I turnedaroundandwatched the restof theshow.JustasPhil thehostwas telling the lastcouple to

arriveatthepitstopthattheyhavebeeneliminated,myphonebuzzed.ItwasatextfromElijah.Yochris.someandtheguysdecidedwe’redroppingoutofafterschoolrockband.we’restarting

ourownband.we’replaying7NationArmyonWednesday.Irereadthetext.Mymouthwasliterallyhangingopen.Droppingoutoftheband?Couldtheydothat?

Johnwouldgoballisticwhennoneofthemshowedupatbandpracticetomorrow.Andwhatdidthatmeanfortheafter-schoolrockband?WoulditbejustmeandJohnplaying“TheFinalCountdown”?Thatwouldbeawful!Thenanothertextcamethrough.doyouwant to joinourband?wewantYOUtojoin.butABSOLUTLYNOTjohn.Hesucks.We’re

practicingatmyplacetomorrowafterschool.Bringyourguitar.Dadcamedownstairs.“Timeforhomework,Chris,”hesaidquietly.Thenhesawmyface.“What’sthe

matter?”“Nothing,”Isaid,clickingoffthephone.Iwaskindofinastateofshock.Theywantmeintheirband?

“Ijustremembered,Ineedtopracticeforthespringconcert.”“Okay,butitneedstobequiet,”answeredDad.“Momisoutlikealight,andwehavetoletherrest,

okay?Don’tmakealotofnoisegoingupthestairs.I’mintheguestroomifyouneedanything.”“Wait,you’restayingheretonight?”Iasked.“Forafewdays,”heanswered.“Untilyourmomcangetaroundherself.”HestartedwalkingbackupstairswiththecrutchestheyhadgivenMominthehospital.“Can you print out the chords for ‘SevenNationArmy’ forme?” I asked. “I have to learn themby

tomorrow.”“Sure,”hesaidatthetopofthestairs.“Butremember,keepitdown!”

NorthRiverHeights

OurnewhouseismuchbiggerthanouroldhouseinNorthRiverHeights.Ouroldhousewasactuallyabrownstone,andwelivedonthefirstfloor.Weonlyhadonebathroom,andatinyyard.ButIlovedourapartment.Ilovedourblock.Imissedbeingabletowalkeverywhere.Ievenmissedtheginkgotrees.Ifyoudon’tknowwhatginkgotreesare,they’rethetreesthatdroptheselittlesquishynutsthatsmelllikedogpoopmixedwithcatpeemixedwithsometoxicwastewhenyousteponthem.Auggieusedtosaytheysmelledlikeorcvomit,whichIalwaysthoughtwasfunny.Anyway,Imissedeverythingaboutouroldneighborhood,eventheginkgotrees.Whenwe lived inNorthRiverHeights,Momowneda little floral shoponAmesfortAvenuecalled

EarthLaughsinFlowers.Sheworkedreallylonghours,whichiswhytheyhiredLourdestobabysitme.Thatwas another thing Imissed:Lourdes. Imissedher empanadas. Imissedhow sheused to callmepapi.Butwedidn’tneedLourdesafterwemovedtoBridgeport,becauseMomhadsoldherfloralshopandnolongerworkedfull-time.NowMompicksmeupfromschoolonMondaysthroughWednesdays.OnThursdaynights,shepicksmeupfromJohn’shouseanddropsmeoffatDad’splace,whichiswhereIstayuntilSunday.Whenwe lived inNorthRiverHeights,Dadwasusuallyhomeby sevenp.m.Butnowhe can’t get

homebeforeninep.m.becauseofthelongcommutefromthecity.Originallytheplanwasthatthatwasonlygoingtobeatemporarything,becausehewasgoingtobetransferredtoaConnecticutoffice,butit’sbeenthreeyearsandhestillhashisoldjobinManhattan.MomandDadusedtoargueaboutthatalot.OnFridays,Dadleavesworkearlysothathecanpickmeupfromschool.WeusuallyorderChinese

food for dinner, jam a little on our guitars, andwatch amovie.Mom gets annoyedwith Dad that hedoesn’tmakemedomyhomeworkovertheweekendwhenI’mwithhim,sobythetimeIgobackhomeonSundaynight,I’malwayskindofgrumpyasIscrambletofinishmyhomeworkwithher.Thisweekend,forinstance,Ishouldhavebeenstudyingformymathtest,butDadandIwentbowlingandIjustnevergotaroundtodoingthat.Mybad.IgotusedtothenewhouseinBridgeport,though.Mynewfriends.Lukethehamsterthat’snotadog.

ButwhatImissthemostaboutNorthRiverHeightsisthatmyparentsseemedtogetherthen.Dadmovedoutofourhouse last summer.Myparentshadbeenfightinga lotbefore that,but Idon’t

knowwhyhemovedoutoverthesummer.Justthatoneday,outofnowhere,theytoldmethattheywereseparating.They“neededsometimeapart”tofigureoutiftheywantedtocontinuelivingtogether.Theytoldmethatthishadnothingtodowithme,andtheywould“bothgoonlovingme”andseeingmeasmuchasbefore.Theysaidtheystilllovedeachother,butthatsometimesmarriagesarelikefriendshipsthatgettested,andpeoplehavetoworkthroughthings.“Goodfriendshipsareworthalittleextraeffort,”Iremembersayingtothem.Idon’tthinkMomevenrememberedthatshe’stheonewhotoldmethatonce.

9:56p.m.

Ilistenedto“SevenNationArmy”whileIdidmyhomework.AndItriednottothinktoomuchabouthowJohnwouldreacttomorrowwhenItoldhimIwasjoiningtheotherband.Imean,Ididn’tthinkIreallyhad a choice. If I stayed in the after-school rock band, it’d just be me and John playing “The FinalCountdown” at the spring concert,withMr.B playing drums, andwe’d look like theworld’s biggestdweebs.Wewerejustnotgoodenoughtoplaybyourselves.IrememberedhowHarrywastryingnottolaughwhen Johnplayed theguitar solo today. If itwas just the twoof us up there,all the kids in theaudiencewouldbetryingnottolaugh.What Icouldn’t figureoutwaswhatJohnwoulddowhenhe foundout.Anysanepersonwould just

forgetaboutplayinginthespringconcertonWednesdayatall.ButknowingJohn,Icouldprettymuchbetthathewouldgoaheadandplay“TheFinalCountdown.”Hedidn’tcareaboutmakingafoolofhimselfthatway. I could picture him singing his heart out, strumming the guitar,withMr.Bowles rocking outbehindhimon thekeyboards.Ladiesandgentlemen, theafter-schoolrockband! Just the thoughtof itmademecringeforhim.Hewouldneverlivethatdown.Itwashardtoconcentrateonmyhomework,soittookmealotlongerthanIthoughtitwould.Ididn’t

even start studying for themath test until almost tenp.m.That’swhen I remembered that Iwas totallyscrewedinmath.Iwaitedtothelastminutetostudy,andIdidn’tunderstandanyofit.DadwasinbedworkingonhislaptopwhenIopenedthedooroftheguestbedroom.Iwasholdingmy

ridiculouslyheavyfifth-grademathtextbookinmyhands.“Hey,Dad.”“You’renotinbedyet?”heasked,lookingatmeoverhisreadingglasses.“Ineedsomehelpstudyingformymathtesttomorrow.”Heglancedoverattheclockonthebedsidetable.“Kindoflatetobediscoveringthis,no?”“Ihadsomuchhomework,”Ianswered.“AndIhadtolearnthenewsongforthespringconcert,which

isthedayaftertomorrow.There’ssomuchgoingon,Dad.”Henodded.Thenheputhis laptopdownandpatted thebedformetositnext tohim,whichIdid. I

turnedtopage151.“So,”Isaid,“I’mhavingtroublewithwordproblems.”“Oh,well,I’mgreatatwordproblems!”heanswered,smiling.“Layitonme.”I started reading from the textbook. “Jill wants to buy honey at an outdoor market. One vendor is

sellingatwenty-six-ouncejarfor$3.12.Anothervendorissellingasixteen-ouncejarfor$2.40.Whichisthebetterdeal,andhowmuchmoneyperouncewillJillsavebychoosingit?”IputthetextbookdownandlookedatDad,wholookedatmeblankly.“Okay,um…,”hesaid,scratchinghisear.“So,thatwastwenty-sixouncesfor…whatagain?I’mgoing

toneedapieceofpaper.Passmemynotebookoverthere?”I reachedover to theother endof thebedandpassedhimhisnotebook.He started scribbling in it,

askedmetorepeatthequestionagain,andthenkeptscribbling.“Okay,okay,so…,”hesaid,turninghisnotebookaroundformetolookathisscribblednumbers.“So,

firstyouwanttodividethenumberstofigureoutwhatthecostperounceis,thenyouwant…”“Wait,wait,” I said, shakingmy head. “That’s the part I don’t get.When do you knowyou have to

divide?Whatdoyouneedtodo?Howdoyouknow?”Helookeddownatthescribblesonhisnotebookagain,asiftheanswerwerethere.“Letme see the question?” he said, pushinghis readingglasses backuponhis nose and looking at

whereIpointedinthetextbook.“Okay,well,youknowyouhavetodivide,because,um,well,youwanttofigureoutthepriceperounce…becauseitsayssorighthere.”Hepointedtotheproblem.Ilookedquicklyatwherehepointedbutshookmyhead.“Idon’tgetit.”“Well,look,Chris.Rightthere.Itaskshowmuchthecostperounceis.”Ishookmyheadagain.“Idon’tgetit!”Isaidloudly.“Ihatethis.Isuckatthis.”“No,youdon’t,Chris,”heansweredcalmly.“Youjusthavetotakeadeepbreathand—”“No!Youdon’tunderstand,”Isaid.“Idon’tgetthisatall!”“WhichiswhyI’mtryingtoexplainittoyou.”“CanIaskMom?”Hetookhiseyeglassesoffandrubbedhiseyeswithhiswrist.“Chris,she’sasleep.Weshouldjustlet

herresttonight,”heansweredslowly.“I’msurewecanfigurethisoutourselves.”Istartedpokingmyknucklesintomyeyes,sohepulledmyhandsdownoffmyfacegently.“Whydon’t

youcalloneofyourfriendsatschool?HowaboutJohn?”“He’sinthefourthgrade!”Isaidimpatiently.“Okay,well,someoneelse,”hesaid.“No!” Ishookmyhead.“There’snooneIcancall. I’mnot friendswithanyone like that thisyear. I

mean,myfriendfriendsaren’tinthesamemathclassI’min.AndIdon’tknowthekidsinthismathclassthatwell.”“Thencallyourotherfriends,Chris,”hesaid,reachingoverforhiscellphone.“WhataboutElijahand

thoseguysintheband?I’msurethey’vealltakenthatclass.”“No!Dad!Ugh!”Icoveredmyfacewithmyhands.“I’mtotallygoingtofailthistest.Idon’tgetit.I

justdon’tgetit.”“Okay,calmdown,”hesaid.“WhataboutAuggie?He’skindofamathwhiz,isn’the?”“Nevermind!”Isaid,shakingmyhead.Itookthetextbookfromhim.“I’llfigureitoutmyself!”“Christopher,”hesaid.“It’sfine,Dad,”Isaid,gettingup.“I’lljustfigureitout.OrI’lltextsomeone.It’sfine.”“Justlikethat?”“It’sfine.Thanks,Dad.”Iclosedthetextbookandgotup.“I’msorryIcouldn’thelpyou,”heanswered,andforasecond,Ifeltsorryforhim.Hesoundedalittle

defeated.“Imean,Ithinkwecanfigureitouttogetherifyougivemeanotherchance.”“No,it’sokay!”Ianswered,walkingtowardthedoor.“Goodnight,Chris.”“Night,Dad.”

Iwent tomyroom,satatmydesk,andopened the textbook topage151again. I tried rereading thewordproblem,butallIcouldhearinmyheadwerethewordsto“SevenNationArmy.”Andthosemadenosensetome,either.NomatterhowhardIstaredattheproblem,Ijustcouldn’tthinkofwhattodo.

Pluto

A few weeks before we moved to Bridgeport, Auggie’s parents were over at our house helping myparentspackforthebigmove.Ourentireapartmentwasfilledwithboxes.AuggieandIwerehavingaNerfwarinthelivingroom,turningtheboxesintohostilealiensonPluto.

Occasionally,oneofourNerfdartswouldhitVia,whowas trying toreadherbookonthesofa.Okay,maybeweweredoingitalittlebitonpurpose,tee-hee.“Stopit!”shefinallyscreamedwhenoneofmydartszingedherbook.“Mom!”sheyelled.ButIsabelandNatewereallthewayontheothersideoftheapartmentwithmyparents,takingacoffee

breakinthekitchen.“Canyouguyspleasestop?”Viasaidtousseriously.Inodded,butAuggieshotanotherNerfdartatherbook.“That’safartdart,”saidAuggie.Thismadeusbothcrackup.Viawasfurious.“Youguysaresuchgeeks,”shesaid,shakingherhead.“StarWars.”“NotStarWars.Pluto!”answeredAuggie,pointinghisNerfblasterather.“That’snotevenarealplanet,”shesaid,openingherbooktoread.AuggieshotanotherNerfdartatherbook.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Yes,itis.”“Stopit,Auggie,orIswearI’ll…”AuggieloweredhisNerfblaster.“Yes,itis,”herepeated.“No,it’snot,”answeredVia.“Itusedtobeaplanet.Ican’tbelieveyoutwogeniusesdon’tknowthat

afterallthespacevideosyou’vewatched!”Auggiedidn’tanswer rightaway, likehewasprocessingwhat she just said.“Butmyveryeducated

motherjustshowedusnineplanets!That’showMommysaidpeopleremembertheplanetsinoursolarsystem.”“Myveryeducatedmotherjustservedusnachos!”answeredVia.“Lookitup.I’mright.”Shestarted

lookingituponherphone.Itmaybethatinallourreadingsciencebooksandwatchingvideos,thisinformationhadmadeitsway

tousbefore.But Iguesswenever reallyunderstoodwhat itmeant.Wewere still littlekidswhenwewereinourspacephase.Webarelyknewhowtoread.Viastartedreadingaloudfromherphone:“FromWikipedia:‘TheunderstandingthatPlutoisonlyone

ofseverallargeicybodiesintheoutersolarsystempromptedtheInternationalAstronomicalUnion(IAU)toformallydefine“planet”in2006.ThisdefinitionexcludedPlutoandreclassifieditasamemberofthenew“dwarfplanet” category (and specifically as aplutoid).’Do Ineed togoon?Basicallywhat thatmeansisthatPlutowasconsideredtoopunytobearealplanet,sothere.I’mright.”Auggielookedreallyupset.“Mommy!”heyelledout.“It’snotabigdeal,Auggie,”saidVia,seeinghowupsethewasgetting.

“Yes,itis!”hesaid,runningdownthehallway.ViaandIfollowedhimtothekitchen,whereourparentsweresittingaroundthetableoverabageland

creamcheesespread.“Yousaiditwas‘myveryeducatedmotherjustshowedusnineplanets’!”saidAuggie,chargingover

toIsabel.Isabelalmostspilledhercoffee.“What—”shesaid.“Whyareyoumakingsuchabigdealaboutthis,Auggie?”Viainterrupted.“What’sgoingon,guys?”askedIsabel,lookingfromAuggietoVia.“Itisabigdeal!”Auggiescreamedatthetopofhislungs.Itwassoloudandunexpected,thatscream,

thateveryoneintheroomjustlookedatoneanother.“Whoa,Auggie,”saidNate,puttinghishandonAuggie’sshoulder.ButAuggieshruggeditoff.“YoutoldmePlutowasoneofthenineplanets!”AuggieyelledatIsabel.“Yousaiditwasthelittlest

planetinthesolarsystem!”“Itis,sweetness,”Isabelanswered,tryingtogethimtocalmdown.“No, it’s not, Mom,” Via said. “They changed Pluto’s planetary status in 2006. It’s no longer

consideredoneofthenineplanetsinoursolarsystem.”IsabelblinkedatVia,andthenshelookedatNate.“Really?”“Iknewthat,”Nateansweredseriously.“TheydidthesamethingtoGoofyafewyearsago.”Thismadealltheadultslaugh.“Daddy, this isn’t funny!” Auggie shrieked. And then, out of the blue, he started to cry. Big tears.

Sobbingcrying.Nooneunderstoodwhatwashappening.IsabelwrappedherarmsaroundAuggie,andhesobbedinto

herneck.“AuggieDoggie,”Natesaid,gentlyrubbingAuggieontheback.“What’sgoingonhere,buddy?”“Via,whathappened?”Isabelaskedsharply.“Ihavenoidea!”saidVia,openinghereyeswide.“Ididn’tdoanything!”“Somethingmusthavehappened!”saidIsabel.“Chris,doyouknowwhyAuggie’ssoupset?”askedMom.“BecauseofPluto,”Ianswered.“Butwhatdoesthatmean?”askedMom.Ishrugged.Iunderstoodwhyhewassoupset,butIcouldn’texplainittothemexactly.“You said…it was…a planet…,” Auggie finally said in between gulps. Even under ordinary

circumstances,Auggiecouldbehardtounderstandsometimes.Inthemiddleofacryingfit,itwasevenharder.“What,sweetness?”whisperedIsabel.“Yousaid…itwas…aplanet,”Auggierepeated,lookingupather.“I thought it was, Auggie,” she answered, wiping his tears with her fingertips. “I don’t know,

sweetness.I’mnotarealscienceteacher.WhenIwasgrowingup,therewerenineplanets.Itneverevenoccurredtomethatthatcouldchange.”Nate knelt down beside him. “But even if it’s not considered a planet anymore, Auggie, I don’t

understandwhythatshouldupsetyousomuch.”Auggielookeddown.ButIknewhecouldn’texplainhisPlutoniantears.

10:28p.m.

Byaboutten-thirty,Iwasgettingdesperateaboutthemathtesttomorrow.IhadtextedJake,who’sinmymathclass,andmessagedafewotherkidsonFacebook.Whenmyphonebuzzed,Iassumeditwasoneofthesekids,butitwasn’t.ItwasAuggie.Hey,Chris.Justheardaboutyourmombeinginhospital.Sorry,hopeshe’sok.Icouldn’tbelievehewastextingme,justwhenI’dbeenthinkingabouthim.Kindofpsychic.Hey,Aug,Itextedback.Thx.She’sok.Shebrokeherfemur.Shehasthishugecast.Hetextedmeasad-faceemoticon.Itexted:Mydadhadtocarryherupthestairs!Theykeptbumpingintothewall.Haha.Hetextedmealaughing-faceicon.Itexted:Iwasgoingtocallutoday.TotellusorryaboutDaisy.:(((((Ohyeah.Thx.Hetextedastringofcrying-faceemoticons.Hey,remembertheGalacticAdventuresofDarthDaisy?Itexted.Thiswasacomicstripweused todrawtogetherabout twoastronautsnamedGleeboandTomwho

livedonPlutoandhadadognamedDarthDaisy.Haha.Yeah,MajorGleebo.MajorTom.Goodtimesgoodtimes,hetextedback.DaisywastheGR8ESTDOGINUNIVERSE!Ithumbedloudly.Iwassmiling.HetextedmeapictureofDaisy.IthadbeensuchalongtimesinceIhadseenher.Inthepicture,her

facehadgottencompletelywhite,andhereyeswerekindoffoggy.Buthernosewasstillpinkandhertonguewasstillsuperlongasithungoutofhermouth.Socute!Daisy!!!!!!!Itexted.DARTHDaisy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Haha.Takethat,Via!Iwrote.Rememberthosefartdarts?Hahahahahaha.Iwassmilingalotatthispoint.Itwasthehappiestpartofmyday,tobetruthful.That

waswhenwewerestillintoPluto.WereweintoStarWarsyet?Gettingintoit.Doyoustillhaveallyourminiatures?YeahbutIputsomeawaytoo.Soanyway,Gleebo,mymom’stellingmeIgotstogotobednow.Glad

yourmomisokay.Inodded.TherewasnowayIcouldaskhimforhelpinmathatthispoint.Itwouldjustbetoolame.I

satdownontheedgeofmybedandstartedrespondingtohistext.BeforeIcouldfinish,hetexted:mymomactuallywantstotalktoyou.shewantstoFaceChat.RU

free?Istoodup.Sure.Twosecondslater,IgotarequesttoFaceChat.IsawIsabelonthephone.“Oh,hey,Isabel,”Isaid.“Hi,Chris!”sheanswered.Icouldtellshewasinherkitchen.“Howareyou?I talkedtoyourmom

earlier.Iwantedtomakesureyouguysgothomeokay.”“Yeah,wedid.”“Andshe’sdoingokay?Ididn’twanttowakeherifshe’ssleeping.”“Yeah,she’ssleeping,”Ianswered.“Ohgood.Sheneedsherrest.Thatwasabigcast!”“Dad’sstayingheretonight.”“Oh,that’ssogreat!”sheansweredhappily.“I’msoglad.Andhowareyoudoing,Chris?”“I’mgood.”“How’sschool?”“Good.”Isabelsmiled.“Lisatoldmeyougotherbeautifulflowerstoday.”“Yeah,”Ianswered,smilingandnodding.“Okay.Well,Ijustwantedtocheckinonyouandsayhello,Chris.Iwantyoutoknowwe’rethinking

aboutyouguys,andifthere’sanythingwecando—”“I’msorryaboutDaisy,”Iblurtedout.Isabelnodded.“Oh.Thankyou,Chris.”“Youguysmustbesosad.”“Yeah,it’ssad.Shewassuchapresenceinourhouse.Well,youknow.Youweretherewhenwefirst

gother,remember?”“Shewassoskinny!”Isaid.Iwassmiling,butsuddenly,outoftheblue,myvoicegotalittleshaky.“Withthatlongtongueofhers!”Shelaughed.Inodded.Ifeltalumpinmythroat,likeIwasgoingtocry.Shelookedatmecarefully.“Oh,sweetie,it’sokay,”shesaidquietly.Auggie’smomhadalwaysbeenlikeasecondmomtome.Imean,asidefrommyparents,andmaybe

mygrandmother,IsabelPullmanknewmebetterthananyone.“Iknow,”Iwhispered.Iwasstillsmiling,butmychinwastrembling.“Sweetie,where’syourdad?”sheasked.“Canyouputhimonthephone?”Ishrugged.“Ithink…hemightbeasleepbynow.”“I’msurehewon’tcareifyouwakehimup,”sheansweredsoftly.“Gogethim.I’llwaitonthephone.”Auggienudgedhiswayintoviewonthescreen.“What’sthematter,Chris?”heasked.Ishookmyhead,fightingbacktears.Icouldn’ttalk.IknewifIdid,I’dstarttocry.“Christopher,”Isabelsaid,comingclosetothescreen.“Yourmomisgoingtobefine,sweetie.”“Iknow,”Isaid,myvoicecracking,butthenitjustcameoutofme.“Butshewasinthecarbecauseof

me! Because I forgot my trombone! If I hadn’t forgotten my stuff, she wouldn’t have gotten into anaccident!It’smyfault,Isabel!Shecouldhavedied!”Thisallcamepouringoutofmeinastringofmessycryingbursts.

10:52p.m.

Isabel put Auggie on the phone while she called Dad’s cell phone to let him know I was cryinghysterically inmyroom.Aminute later,DadcameintomyroomandIhunguponAuggie.Dadputhisarmsaroundmeandhuggedmetightly.“Chris,”saidDad.“Itwasmyfault,Daddy!Itwasmyfaultshewasdriving.”Heuntangledhimselffrommyhugandputhisfaceinfrontofmyface.“Lookatme,Chris,”hesaid.“It’snotyourfault.”“Shewasonherwaybacktoschoolwithmystuff.”Isniffled.“Itoldhertohurry.Shewasprobably

speeding.”“No,shewasn’t,Chris,”heanswered.“Ipromiseyou.Whathappenedtodaywasjustanaccident.It

wasn’tanyone’sfault.Itwasafluke.Okay?”Ilookedaway.“Okay?”herepeated.Inodded.“Andthemostimportantthingisthatnoonegotseriouslyhurt.Momisfine.Okay,Chris?”HewaswipingmytearsawayasInodded.“IkeptcallingherLisa,”Isaid.“ShehateswhenIdo that.The last thingshesaid tomewas‘Love

you!’andallIansweredwas‘Bye,Lisa.’AndIdidn’teventurnaround!”Dadclearedhisthroat.“Chris,pleasedon’tbeatyourselfup,”hesaidslowly.“Momknowsyoulove

her somuch.Listen, thiswas a scary thing thathappened today. It’snatural foryou tobeupset.Whensomething scary like this happens, it acts like awake-up call, youknow? Itmakes us reassesswhat’simportant in life.Our family.Our friends.The peoplewe love.”Hewas looking atmewhile hewastalking,butIalmostfeltlikehewastalkingtohimself.Hiseyeswereverymoist.“Let’sjustbegratefulshe’sfine,okay,Chris?Andwe’lltakereallygoodcareofhertogether,okay?”Inodded.Ididn’ttrytosayanything,though.Iknewitwouldjustcomeoutasmoretears.Dadpulledmeclosetohim,buthedidn’tsayanything,either.Maybeforthesamereason.

10:59p.m.

AfterDadhadgottenmetocalmdownabit,hecalledIsabelbacktoletherknoweverythingwasfine.Theychatted,andthenDadhandedthephonetome.ItwasAuggieontheline.“Hey,yourdadtoldmymomyouneedsomehelpwithmath,”hesaid.“Ohyeah,”Iansweredshyly,blowingmynose.“Butit’ssolate.Don’tyouneedtogotobed?”“Mom’stotallyfinewithmyhelpingyou.Let’sFaceChat.”Twosecondslater,hewason-screen.“So,I’mhavingtroublewithwordproblems,”Isaid,openingmytextbook.“Ijust…I’mnotgettinghow

youknowwhatoperationtouse.Whendoyoumultiplyandwhendoyoudivide.It’ssoconfusing.”“Oh, that.”He nodded. “Yeah, I definitely had troublewith that, too.Have youmemorized the clue

words,though?Thathelpedmealot.”Ihadnoideawhathewastalkingabout.“LetmesendyouaPDF,”hesaid.Two seconds later, I printed out the PDFhe sentme,which listed awhole bunch of differentmath

words.“Ifyouknowwhatcluewordstolookforinthewordproblem,”Auggieexplained,“youknowwhat

operation to use. Like ‘per’ or ‘each’ or ‘equally’ means you have to divide. And ‘at this rate’ or‘doubled’meansmultiplication.See?”Hewentoverthewholelistofwordswithme,onebyone,untilitfinallybegantomakesomesense.

Thenwewentoverallthemathproblemsinthetextbook.Westartedwiththesampleproblemsfirst,anditturnedouthewasright:onceIfoundthecluewordineachproblem,Iknewwhattodo.Iwasabletodomostoftheworksheetproblemsonmyown,thoughwewentovereachandeveryoneofthemafterIwasdone,justtobesureIhadreallygottenit.

11:46p.m.

Myfavoritetypesofbookshavealwaysbeenmysteries.Like,youdon’tknowsomethingatthebeginningof thebook.Andthenat theendof thebook,youknowit.Andtheclueswere thereallalong,youjustdidn’tknowhowtoreadthem.That’swhatIfeltlikeaftertalkingtoAuggie.LikethiscolossalmysteryIcouldn’tunderstandbeforewasnowcompletely,suddenlysolved.“Ican’tbelieveI’mfinallygetting thisnow,”Isaid tohimafterwehadgoneover the lastproblem.

“Thankyousomuch,Aug.Seriously,thankyou.”Hesmiledandgotinclosetothescreen.“It’scoolbeans,”hesaid.“Itotallyoweyouone.”Auggieshrugged.“Noproblem.That’swhatfriendsarefor,right?”Inodded.“Right.”“G’night,Chris.Talksoon!”“Night,Aug!Thanksagain!Bye!”Hehungup.Iclosedmytextbook.Iwent to the guest room to tellDad thatAuggie hadhelpedme figure out all themath stuff, but he

wasn’tintheroom.Iknockedonthebathroomdoor,buthewasn’tinthere,either.ThenInoticedMom’sbedroomdoorwasopen.IcouldseeDad’slegsstretchedoutonthechairnexttothedresser.Icouldn’tsee his face from the hallway, so Iwalked in quietly to let himknow that Iwas finished talkingwithAuggie.That’swhenIsawthathehadfallenasleepinthechair.Hisheadwasdroopingtooneside.Hisglasses

wereontheedgeofhisnose,andhiscomputerwasonhislap.I tiptoedtothecloset,gotablanket,andplaceditoverhislegs.Ididitreallysoftlysohewouldn’t

wakeup.Itookthecomputerfromhislapandputitonthedresser.ThenIwalkedovertothesideofthebedwhereMomwassleeping.WhenIwaslittle,Momusedto

fallasleepreadingtomeatbedtime.Iwouldnudgeherawakeifshefellasleepbeforefinishingthebook,but sometimes, she just couldn’t help it. She’d fall asleep next to me, and I would listen to her softbreathinguntilIfellasleep,too.IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dseenhersleeping,though.AsIlookedathernow,sheseemedkindof

littletome.Ididn’trememberthefreckleonhercheek.I’dnevernoticedthetinylinesonherforehead.Iwatchedherbreathingforafewseconds.“Iloveyou,Mommy.”Ididn’tsaythisoutloud,though,becauseIdidn’twanttowakeherup.

11:59p.m.

ItwasalmostmidnightbythetimeIwentbacktomyroom.EverythingwasexactlythewayIhadleftitthismorning.Mybedwasstillunmade.Mypajamaswerejumbleduponthefloor.Myclosetdoorwaswide open. Usually,Momwouldmakemy room look nice after she droppedme off at school in themorning,buttoday,ofcourse,shenevergotthechancetodothat.ItfeltlikedayshadpassedsinceMomwokemeupthismorning.Iclosedtheclosetdoor,andthat’swhenInoticedthetrombonerestingagainstthewall.Sotheaccident

didn’thappenasshewasbringingmemystuffthismorning!Idon’tknowwhyexactly,butthismademefeelsomuchbetter.Iput the trombonerightnext to thebedroomdoorsoIwouldn’t forget itagainonmyway toschool

tomorrow,andIpackedmysciencepaperandgymshortsinsidemybackpack.ThenIsatdownatmydesk.Withoutthinkinganythingmoreaboutit,IrepliedtoElijah’stext.Hey,Elijah.Thanksfortheoffertojoinyourband.ButI’mgoingtostickwithJohnatthespring

concert.GoodluckwithSevenNationArmy.EvenifIlookedlikeatotaldweebatthespringconcert,Icouldn’tletJohndownlikethat.That’swhat

friendsarefor,right?It’sthefinalcountdown!Sometimesfriendshipsarehard.Iputmypajamason,brushedmyteeth,andgotintobed.ThenIturnedoffthelamponmynightstand.

Thestarsonmyceilingwereglowingbrightneongreennow,astheyalwaysdidrightafterIturnedthelightsoff.Iturnedoveronmyside,andmyeyesfellonasmallstar-shapedgreenlightonmyfloor.Itwasthestar

Momhadplacedonmyforeheadthismorning,whichIhadflickedacrosstheroom.Igotoutofbed,pickeditup,andstuckitonmyforehead.ThenIgotbackinmybedandclosedmy

eyes.

We’releavingtogetherButstillit’sfarewellAndmaybewe’llcomebackToEarth,whocantellIguessthereisnoonetoblameWe’releavinggroundWillthingseverbethesameagain?

It’sthefinalcountdown….

TheEnd