Wonder R. J. Palacio

The Shift 
When I went back to school the next day, the first thing I noticed was that there was a 
big shift in the way things were. A monumental shift. A seismic shift. Maybe even a 
cosmic shift. Whatever you want to call it, it was a big shift. Everyone
—not just in our 
grade but every grade
—had heard about what had happened to us with the seventh 
graders, so suddenly I wasn't known for what I'd always been known for, but for this 
other thing that had happened. And the story of what happened had gotten bigger and 
bigger each time it was told. Two days later, the way the story went was that Amos 
had gotten into a major fistfight with the kid, and Miles and Henry and Jack had thrown 
some punches at the other guys, too. And the escape across the field became this
whole long adventure through a cornfield maze and into the deep dark woods. Jack's 
version of the story was probably the best because he's so funny, but in whatever 
version of the story, and no matter who was telling it, two things always stayed the 
same: I got picked on because of my face and Jack defended me, and those guys
—
Amos, Henry, and Miles
—protected me. And now that they'd protected me, I was 
different to them. It was like I was one of them. They all called me "little dude" now
—
even the jocks. These big dudes I barely even knew before would knuckle-punch me in 
the hallways now.
Another thing to come out of it was that Amos became super popular and Julian, 
because he missed the whole thing, was really out of the loop. Miles and Henry were 
hanging out with Amos all the time now, like they switched best friends. I'd like to be 
able to say that Julian started treating me better, too, but that wouldn't be true. He still 
gave me dirty looks across the room. He still never talked to me or Jack. But he was 
the only one who was like that now. And me and Jack, we couldn't care less.
Ducks 
The day before the last day of school, Mr. Tushman called me into his office to tell me 
they had found out the names of the seventh graders from the nature retreat. He read 

---

off a bunch of names that didn't mean anything to me, and then he said the last name: 
"Edward Johnson."
I nodded.
"You recognize the name?" he said.
"They called him Eddie." "Right. Well, they found this in Edward's locker." He handed 
me what was left of my hearing aid headband. The right piece was completely gone 
and the left one was mangled. The band that connected the two, the Lobot part, was 
bent down the middle.
"His school wants to know if you want to press charges," said Mr. Tushman.
I looked at my hearing aid.
"No, I don't think so." I shrugged. "I'm being fitted for new ones anyway."
"Hmm. Why don't you talk about it with your parents tonight? I'll call your mom tomorrow 
to talk about it with her, too."
"Would they go to jail?" I asked.
"No, not jail. But they'd probably go to juvie court. And maybe they'll learn a lesson that 
way."
"Trust me: that Eddie kid is not learning any lessons," I joked.
He sat down behind his desk.
"Auggie, why don't you sit down a second?" he said. I 
sat down. All the things on his desk were the same as when I first walked into his office 
last summer: the same mirrored cube, the same little globe floating in the air. That felt 
like ages ago.
"Hard to believe this year's almost over, huh?" he said, almost like he was reading my 
mind.
"Yeah."
"Has it been a good year for you, Auggie? Has it been okay?"
"Yeah, it's been good." I nodded. "I know academically it's been a great year for you. 
You're one of our top students. Congrats on the High Honor Roll."
"Thanks. Yeah, that's cool."

---

"But I know it's had its share of ups and downs," he said, raising his eyebrows. 
"Certainly, that night at the nature reserve was one of the low points."
"Yeah." I nodded. "But it was also kind of good, too."
"In what way?"
"Well, you know, how people stood up for me and stuff?"
"That was pretty wonderful," he said, smiling.
"Yeah."
"I know in school things got a little hairy with Julian at times."
I have to admit: he surprised me with that one.
"You know about that stuff?" I asked him.
"Middle-school directors have a way of knowing about a lot of stuff."
"Do you have, like, secret security cameras in the hallways?" I joked.
"And microphones everywhere," he laughed.
"No, seriously?"
He laughed again. "No, not seriously."
"Oh!"
"But teachers know more than kids think, Auggie. I wish you and Jack had come to me 
about the mean notes that were left in your lockers."
"How do you know about that?" I said.
"I'm telling you: middle-school directors know all."
"It wasn't that big a deal," I answered. "And we wrote notes, too."
He smiled. "I don't know if it's public yet," he said, "though it will be soon anyway, but 
Julian Albans is not coming back to Beecher Prep next year."
"What!" I said. I honestly couldn't hide how surprised I was.
"His parents don't think Beecher Prep is a good fit for him," Mr. Tushman continued, 
raising his shoulders.
"Wow, that's big news," I said.

---

"Yeah, I thought you should know."
Then suddenly I noticed that the pumpkin portrait that used to be behind his desk was 
gone and my drawing, my Self- Portrait as an Animal that I drew for the New Year Art
Show, was now framed and hanging behind his desk.
"Hey, that's mine!" I pointed.
Mr. Tushman turned around like he didn't know what I was talking about. "Oh, that's 
right!" he said, tapping his forehead. "I've been meaning to show this to you for months
now."
"My self-portrait as a duck." I nodded.
"I love this piece, Auggie," he said. "When your art teacher showed it to me, I asked her 
if I could keep it for my wall. I hope that's okay with you."
"Oh, yeah! Sure. What happened to the pumpkin portrait?"
"Right behind you."
"Oh, yeah. Nice."
"I've been meaning to ask you since I hung this up . . . ," he said, looking at it. "Why did 
you choose to represent yourself as a duck?"
"What do you mean?" I answered. "That was the assignment."
"Yes, but why a duck?" he said. "Is it safe to assume that it was because of the story of 
the . . . um, the duckling that turns into a swan?"
"No," I laughed, shaking my head. "It's because I think I look like a duck."
"Oh!" said Mr. Tushman, his eyes opening wide. He started laughing. "Really? Huh. 
Here I was looking for symbolism and metaphors and, um . . . sometimes a duck is just 
a duck!"
"Yeah, I guess," I said, not quite getting why he thought that was so funny. He laughed 
to himself for a good thirty seconds.
"Anyway, Auggie, thanks for chatting with me," he said, finally. "I just want you to know 
it's truly a pleasure having you here at Beecher Prep, and I'm really looking forward to
next year." He reached across the desk and we shook hands.
"See you tomorrow at graduation."
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Tushman."

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