God overcometh the world." And the next day, after I had lived through the night, it was
that nurse who held Mom's hand when they brought her to meet me for the first time.
Mom says by then they had told her all about me. She had
been preparing herself for
the seeing of me. But she says that when she looked down into my tiny mushed-up
face for the first time, all she could see was how pretty my eyes were.
Mom is
beautiful, by the way. And Dad is handsome. Via is pretty. In case you were
wondering.
Christopher's House
I was really bummed when Christopher moved away three years ago. We were both
around seven then. We used to spend hours playing with our Star Wars action figures
and dueling with our lightsabers. I miss that.
Last spring we drove over to Christopher's house in Bridgeport. Me and Christopher
were looking for
snacks in the kitchen, and I heard Mom talking to Lisa, Christopher's
mom, about my going to school in the fall. I had never, ever
heard her mention school
before.
"What are you talking about?" I said.
Mom looked surprised, like she hadn't meant for me to hear that.
"You should tell him what you've been thinking, Isabel," Dad said. He was on the other
side of the living room talking to Christopher's dad.
"We should talk about this later," said Mom.
"No, I want to know what you were
talking about," I answered.
"Don't you think you're ready for school, Auggie?" Mom said.
"No," I said.
"I don't, either," said Dad.
"Then that's it, case closed," I said, shrugging, and I sat in her lap like I was a baby.
"I just think you need to learn more than I can teach you," Mom said. "I mean, come on,
Auggie, you know how bad I am at fractions!"
"What school?" I said. I already felt like crying.
"Beecher Prep. Right by us."
"Wow, that's a great school, Auggie," said Lisa, patting my knee.
"Why not Via's school?" I said.
"That's too big," Mom answered. "I don't think that would be a good fit for you."
"I don't want to," I said. I admit: I made my voice sound a little babyish.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Dad said, coming over
and lifting
me out of Mom's lap. He carried me over to sit on his lap on the other side of the sofa.
"We won't make you do anything you don't want to do."
"But it would be good for him, Nate," Mom said.
"Not if he doesn't want to," answered Dad, looking at me. "Not if he's not ready."
I saw Mom look at Lisa, who reached over and squeezed her hand.
"You guys will figure it out," she said to Mom.
"You always have."
"Let's just talk about it later," said Mom. I could tell she and
Dad were going to get in a
fight about it. I wanted Dad to win the fight. Though a part of me knew Mom was right.
And the truth is, she really was terrible at fractions.
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