palacio r-j--wonder_-pluto-_2015_-random-house-children_s-books_-9780553499094_-_2_
TRANSCRIPT
THISISABORZOIBOOKPUBLISHEDBYALFREDA.KNOPF
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Textcopyright©2015byR.J.PalacioCoverartcopyright©2015byTadCarpenter
Allrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyAlfredA.Knopf,animprintofRandomHouseChildren’sBooks,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,NewYork.
Knopf,BorzoiBooks,andthecolophonareregisteredtrademarksofPenguinRandomHouseLLC.
VisitusontheWeb!randomhousekids.com
Educatorsandlibrarians,foravarietyofteachingtools,visitusatRHTeachersLibrarians.com
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
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