Wonder Read Free Page A

Mrs. Garcia said. I think she was talking to me, but I was looking at all the stuff on her desk now. “That’s what everyone calls me. Mrs. G, I forgot my combination. Mrs. G, I need a late pass. Mrs. G, I want to change my elective.”
    “Mrs. G’s actually the one who runs the place,” said Mr. Tushman, which again made all the grown-ups laugh.
    “I’m here every morning by seven-thirty,” Mrs. Garcia continued, still looking at me while I stared at her brown sandals with small purple flowers on the buckles. “So if you ever need anything, August, I’m the one to ask. And you can ask me anything.”
    “Okay,” I mumbled.
    “Oh, look at that cute baby,” Mom said, pointing to one of the photographs on Mrs. Garcia’s bulletin board. “Is he yours?”
    “No, my goodness!” said Mrs. Garcia, smiling a big smile now that was totally different from her shiny smile. “You’ve just made my day. He’s my grandson.”
    “What a cutie!” said Mom, shaking her head. “How old?”
    “In that picture he was five months, I think. But he’s big now. Almost eight years old!”
    “Wow,” said Mom, nodding and smiling. “Well, he is absolutely beautiful.”
    “Thank you!” said Mrs. Garcia, nodding like she was about to say something else about her grandson. But then all of a sudden her smile got a little smaller. “We’re all going to take very good care of August,” she said to Mom, and I saw her give Mom’s hand a little squeeze. I looked at Mom’s face, and that’s when I realized she was just as nervous as I was. I guess I liked Mrs. Garcia—when she wasn’t wearing her shiny smile.

Jack Will, Julian, and Charlotte
    We followed Mr. Tushman into a small room across from Mrs. Garcia’s desk. He was talking as he closed the door to his office and sat down behind his big desk, though I wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying. I was looking around at all the things on his desk. Cool stuff, like a globe that floated in the air and a Rubik’s-type cube made with little mirrors. I liked his office a lot. I liked that there were all these neat little drawings and paintings by students on the walls, framed like they were important.
    Mom sat down in a chair in front of Mr. Tushman’s desk, and even though there was another chair right next to hers, I decided to stand beside her.
    “Why do you have your own room and Mrs. G doesn’t?” I said.
    “You mean, why do I have an office?” asked Mr. Tushman.
    “You said she runs the place,” I said.
    “Oh! Well, I was kind of kidding. Mrs. G is my assistant.”
    “Mr. Tushman is the director of the middle school,” Mom explained.
    “Do they call you Mr. T?” I asked, which made him smile.
    “Do you know who Mr. T is?” he answered. “I pity the fool?” he said in a funny tough voice, like he was imitating someone.
    I had no idea what he was talking about.
    “Anyway, no,” said Mr. Tushman, shaking his head. “No one calls me Mr. T. Though I have a feeling I’m called a lot of otherthings I don’t know about. Let’s face it, a name like mine is not so easy to live with, you know what I mean?”
    Here I have to admit I totally laughed, because I knew exactly what he meant.
    “My mom and dad had a teacher called Miss Butt,” I said.
    “Auggie!” said Mom, but Mr. Tushman laughed.
    “Now, that’s bad,” said Mr. Tushman, shaking his head. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. Hey, so listen, August, here’s what I thought we would do today.…”
    “Is that a pumpkin?” I said, pointing to a framed painting behind Mr. Tushman’s desk.
    “Auggie, sweetie, don’t interrupt,” said Mom.
    “You like it?” said Mr. Tushman, turning around and looking at the painting. “I do, too. And I thought it was a pumpkin, too, until the student who gave it to me explained that it is actually not a pumpkin. It is … are you ready for this … a portrait of me! Now, August, I ask you: do I really look that much like a