Wonder R. J. Palacio

Extraordinary, but No One There to See 
 
Neither my mother nor my father could come see the play on opening night: my mother 
because she had this thing at work, and my dad because his new wife was going to 
have her baby any second now, and he had to be on call.
Zack couldn't come to opening night, either: he had a volleyball game against 
Collegiate he couldn't miss. In fact, he had wanted me to miss the opening night so I 
could come cheer him on. My "friends" all went to the game, of course, because all 
their boyfriends were playing. Even Ella didn't come. Given a choice, she chose the 
crowd.
So on opening night no one that was remotely close to me was even there. And the 
thing is, I realized in my third or fourth rehearsal that I was good at this acting thing. I 
felt the part. I understood the words I spoke. I could read the lines as if they were 
coming from my brain and my heart. And on opening night, I can honestly say I knew I 
was going to be more than good: I was going to be great. I was going to be
extraordinary, but there would be no one there to see.
We were all backstage, nervously running through our lines in our heads. I peeked 
through the curtain at the people taking their seats in the auditorium. That's when I saw
Auggie walking down the aisle with Isabel and Nate. They took three seats in the fifth 
row, near the middle. Auggie was wearing a bow tie, looking around excitedly. He had 
grown up a bit since I'd last seen him, almost a year ago. His hair was shorter, and he 
was wearing some kind of hearing aid now. His face hadn't changed a bit.
Davenport was running through some last-minute changes with the set decorator. I saw 
Justin pacing off stage left, mumbling his lines nervously.
"Mr. Davenport," I said, surprising myself as I spoke. "I'm sorry, but I can't go on 
tonight."
Davenport turned around slowly.
"What?" he said.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you kidding?"

---

"I'm just . . . ," I muttered, looking down, "I don't feel well. I'm sorry. I feel like I'm going 
to throw up." This was a lie.
"It's just last-minute jitters. . . ."
"No! I can't do it! I'm telling you."
Davenport looked furious. "Miranda, this is outrageous."
"I'm sorry!"
Davenport took a deep breath, like he was trying to restrain himself. To be truthful, I 
thought he looked like he was going to explode. His forehead turned bright pink. 
"Miranda, this is absolutely unacceptable! Now go take a few deep breaths and
—"
"I'm not going on!" I said loudly, and the tears came to my eyes fairly easily.
"Fine!" he screamed, not looking at me. Then he turned to a kid named David, who was 
a set decorator. "Go find Olivia in the lighting booth! Tell her she's filling in for Miranda
tonight!"
"What?" said David, who wasn't too swift.
"Go!" shouted Davenport in his face. "Now!" The other kids had caught on to what was 
happening and gathered around.
"What's going on?" said Justin.
"Last-minute change of plans," said Davenport. "Miranda doesn't feel well."
"I feel sick," I said, trying to sound sick.
"So why are you still here?" Davenport said to me angrily.
"Stop talking, take off your costume, and give it to Olivia! Okay? Come on, everybody! 
Let's go! Go! Go!"
I ran backstage to the dressing room as quickly as I could and started peeling off my 
costume. Two seconds later there was a knock and Via half opened the door.
"What is going on?" she said.
"Hurry up, put it on," I answered, handing her the dress.
"You're sick?"

---

"Yeah! Hurry up!" Via, looking stunned, took off her T-shirt and jeans and pulled the 
long dress over her head. I pulled it down for her, and then zipped up the back. Luckily, 
Emily Webb didn't go on until ten minutes into the play, so the girl handling hair and 
makeup had time to put Via's hair up in a twist and do a quick makeup job. I'd never 
seen Via with a lot of makeup on: she looked like a model.
"I'm not even sure I'll remember my lines," Via said, looking at herself in the mirror. " 
Your lines."
"You'll do great," I said.
She looked at me in the mirror. "Why are you doing this, Miranda?"
"Olivia!" It was Davenport, hush-shouting from the door. "You're on in two minutes. It's 
now or never!"
Via followed him out the door, so I never got the chance to answer her question. I don't 
know what I would have said, anyway. I wasn't sure what the answer was.