Wonder (21 page)

My hearing was getting worse, but I hadn’t told anyone about it. The ocean sound that was always in my head had been getting louder. It was drowning out people’s voices, like I was underwater. I couldn’t hear teachers if I sat in the back of the class. But I knew if I told Mom or Dad about it, I’d end up with hearing aids—and I was hoping I could make it through the fifth grade without having that happen.

But then in my annual checkup in October I flunked the audiology test and the doctor was like, “Dude, it’s time.” And he sent me to a special ear doctor who took impressions of my ears.

Out of all my features, my ears are the ones I hate the most. They’re like tiny closed fists on the sides of my face. They’re too low on my head, too. They look like squashed pieces of pizza dough sticking out of the top of my neck or something. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. But I really hate them.

When the ear doctor first pulled the hearing aids out for me and Mom to look at, I groaned.

“I am not wearing that thing,” I announced, folding my arms in front of me.

“I know they probably look kind of big,” said the ear doctor, “but we had to attach them to the headband because we had no other way of making them so they’d stay in your ears.”

See, normal hearing aids usually have a part that wraps around the outer ear to hold the inner bud in place. But in my case, since I don’t have outer ears, they had to put the earbuds on this heavy-duty headband that was supposed to wrap around the back of my head.

“I can’t wear that, Mom,” I whined.

“You’ll hardly notice them,” said Mom, trying to be cheerful. “They look like headphones.”

“Headphones? Look at them, Mom!” I said angrily. “I’ll look like Lobot!”

“Which one is Lobot?” said Mom calmly.

“Lobot?” The ear doctor smiled as he looked at the headphones and made some adjustments. “
The Empire Strikes Back?
The bald guy with the cool bionic radio-transmitter thing that wraps around the back of his skull?”

“I’m drawing a blank,” said Mom.

“You know
Star Wars
stuff?” I asked the ear doctor.

“Know
Star Wars
stuff?” he answered, slipping the thing over my head. “I practically invented
Star Wars
stuff!” He leaned back in his chair to see how the headband fit and then took it off again.

“Now, Auggie, I want to explain what all this is,” he said, pointing to the different parts of one of the hearing aids. “This curved piece of plastic over here connects to the tubing on the ear mold. That’s why we took those impressions back in December, so that this part that goes inside your ear fits nice and snug. This part here is called the tone hook, okay? And this thing is the special part we’ve attached to this cradle here.”

“The Lobot part,” I said miserably.

“Hey, Lobot is cool,” said the ear doctor. “It’s not like we’re saying you’re going to look like Jar Jar, you know? That would be bad.” He slid the earphones on my head again carefully. “There you go, August. So how’s that?”

“Totally uncomfortable!” I said.

“You’ll get used to them very quickly,” he said.

I looked in the mirror. My eyes started tearing up. All I saw were these tubes jutting out from either side of my head—like antennas.

“Do I really have to wear this, Mom?” I said, trying not to cry. “I hate them. They don’t make any difference!”

“Give it a second, buddy,” said the doctor. “I haven’t even turned them on yet. Wait until you hear the difference: you’ll want to wear them.”

“No I won’t!”

And then he turned them on.

How can I describe what I heard when the doctor turned on my hearing aids? Or what I didn’t hear? It’s too hard to think of words. The ocean just wasn’t living inside my head anymore. It was gone. I could hear sounds like shiny lights in my brain. It was like when you’re in a room where one of the lightbulbs on the ceiling isn’t working, but you don’t realize how dark it is until someone changes the lightbulb and then you’re like, whoa, it’s so bright in here! I don’t know if there’s a word that means the same as “bright” in terms of hearing, but I wish I knew one, because my ears were hearing brightly now.

“How does it sound, Auggie?” said the ear doctor. “Can you hear me okay, buddy?”

I looked at him and smiled but I didn’t answer.

“Sweetie, do you hear anything different?” said Mom.

“You don’t have to shout, Mom.” I nodded happily.

“Are you hearing better?” asked the ear doctor.

“I don’t hear that noise anymore,” I answered. “It’s so quiet in my ears.”

“The white noise is gone,” he said, nodding. He looked at me and winked. “I told you you’d like what you heard, August.” He made more adjustments on the left hearing aid.

“Does it sound very different, love?” Mom asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “It sounds … lighter.”

“That’s because you have bionic hearing now, buddy,” said the ear doctor, adjusting the right side. “Now touch here.” He put my hand behind the hearing aid. “Do you feel that? That’s
the volume. You have to find the volume that works for you. We’re going to do that next. Well, what do you think?” He picked up a small mirror and had me look in the big mirror at how the hearing aids looked in the back. My hair covered most of the headband. The only part that peeked out was the tubing.

“Are you okay with your new bionic Lobot hearing aids?” the ear doctor asked, looking in the mirror at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. James,” said Mom.

The first day I showed up at school with the hearing aids, I thought kids would make a big deal about it. But no one did. Summer was glad I could hear better, and Jack said it made me look like an FBI agent or something. But that was it. Mr. Browne asked me about it in English class, but it wasn’t like, what the heck is that thing on your head?! It was more like, “If you ever need me to repeat something, Auggie, make sure you tell me, okay?”

Now that I look back, I don’t know why I was so stressed about it all this time. Funny how sometimes you worry a lot about something and it turns out to be nothing.

A couple of days after spring break ended, Mom found out that Via hadn’t told her about a school play that was happening at her high school the next week. And Mom was mad. Mom doesn’t really get mad that much (though Dad would disagree with that), but she was really mad at Via for that. She and Via got into a huge fight. I could hear them yelling at each other in Via’s room. My bionic Lobot ears could hear Mom saying: “But what is with you lately, Via? You’re moody and taciturn and secretive.…”

“What is so wrong with my not telling you about a stupid play?” Via practically screamed. “I don’t even have a speaking part in it!”

“Your boyfriend does! Don’t you want us to see him in it?”

“No! Actually, I don’t!”

“Stop screaming!”

“You screamed first! Just leave me alone, okay? You’ve been really good about leaving me alone my whole life, so why you choose high school to suddenly be interested I have no idea.…”

Then I don’t know what Mom answered because it all got very quiet, and even my bionic Lobot ears couldn’t pick up a signal.

By dinner they seemed to have made up. Dad was working late. Daisy was sleeping. She’d thrown up a lot earlier in the day, and Mom made an appointment to take her to the vet the next morning.

The three of us were sitting down and no one was talking.

Finally, I said: “So, are we going to see Justin in a play?”

Via didn’t answer but looked down at her plate.

“You know, Auggie,” said Mom quietly. “I hadn’t realized what play it was, and it really isn’t something that would be interesting to kids your age.”

“So I’m not invited?” I said, looking at Via.

“I didn’t say that,” said Mom. “It’s just I don’t think it’s something you’d enjoy.”

“You’d get totally bored,” said Via, like she was accusing me of something.

“Are you and Dad going?” I asked.

“Dad’ll go,” said Mom. “I’ll stay home with you.”

“What?” Via yelled at Mom. “Oh great, so you’re going to punish me for being honest by not going?”

“You didn’t want us to go in the first place, remember?” answered Mom.

“But now that you know about it, of course I want you to go!” said Via.

“Well, I’ve got to weigh
everyone’s
feelings here, Via,” said Mom.

“What are you two talking about?” I shouted.

“Nothing!” they both snapped at the same time.

“Just something about Via’s school that has nothing to do with you,” said Mom.

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Excuse me?” said Mom, kind of shocked. Even Via looked surprised.

“I said you’re lying!” I shouted. “You’re lying!” I screamed at Via, getting up. “You’re both liars! You’re both lying to my face like I’m an idiot!”

“Sit down, Auggie!” said Mom, grabbing my arm.

I pulled my arm away and pointed at Via.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on?” I yelled. “You just don’t want your brand-new fancy high school friends to know your brother’s a freak!”

“Auggie!” Mom yelled. “That’s not true!”

“Stop lying to me, Mom!” I shrieked. “Stop treating me like a baby! I’m not retarded! I know what’s going on!”

I ran down the hallway to my room and slammed the door behind me so hard that I actually heard little pieces of the wall crumble inside the door frame. Then I plopped onto my bed and pulled the covers up on top of me. I threw my pillows over my disgusting face and then piled all my stuffed animals on top of the pillows, like I was inside a little cave. If I could walk around with a pillow over my face all the time, I would.

I don’t even know how I got so mad. I wasn’t really mad at the beginning of dinner. I wasn’t even sad. But then all of a sudden it all kind of just exploded out of me. I knew Via didn’t want me to go to her stupid play. And I knew why.

I figured Mom would follow me into my room right away, but she didn’t. I wanted her to find me inside my cave of stuffed animals, so I waited a little more, but even after ten minutes she still didn’t come in after me. I was pretty surprised. She always checks on me when I’m in my room, upset about stuff.

I pictured Mom and Via talking about me in the kitchen. I figured Via was feeling really, really, really bad. I pictured Mom totally laying on the guilt. And Dad would be mad at her when he came home, too.

I made a little hole through the pile of pillows and stuffed animals and peeked at the clock on my wall. Half an hour had passed and Mom still hadn’t come into my room. I tried to listen for the sounds in the other rooms. Were they still having dinner? What was going on?

Finally, the door opened. It was Via. She didn’t even bother coming over to my bed, and she didn’t come in softly like I thought she would. She came in quickly.

“Auggie,” said Via. “Come quick. Mom needs to talk to you.”

“I’m not apologizing!”

“This isn’t about you!” she yelled. “Not everything in the world is about you, Auggie! Now hurry up. Daisy’s sick. Mom’s taking her to the emergency vet. Come say goodbye.”

I pushed the pillows off my face and looked up at her. That’s when I saw she was crying. “What do you mean ‘goodbye’?”

“Come on!” she said, holding out her hand.

I took her hand and followed her down the hall to the kitchen. Daisy was lying down sideways on the floor with her legs straight out in front of her. She was panting a lot, like she’d been running in the park. Mom was kneeling beside her, stroking the top of her head.

“What happened?” I asked.

“She just started whimpering all of a sudden,” said Via, kneeling down next to Mom.

I looked down at Mom, who was crying, too.

“I’m taking her to the animal hospital downtown,” she said. “The taxi’s coming to pick me up.”

“The vet’ll make her better, right?” I said.

Mom looked at me. “I hope so, honey,” she said quietly. “But I honestly don’t know.”

“Of course he will!” I said.

“Daisy’s been sick a lot lately, Auggie. And she’s old …”

“But they can fix her,” I said, looking at Via to agree with me, but Via wouldn’t look up at me.

Mom’s lips were trembling. “I think it might be time we say goodbye to Daisy, Auggie. I’m sorry.”

“No!” I said.

“We don’t want her to suffer, Auggie,” she said.

The phone rang. Via picked it up, said, “Okay, thanks,” and then hung up.

“The taxi’s outside,” she said, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands.

“Okay, Auggie, open the door for me, sweetie?” said Mom, picking Daisy up very gently like she was a huge droopy baby.

“Please, no, Mommy?” I cried, putting myself in front of the door.

“Honey, please,” said Mom. “She’s very heavy.”

“What about Daddy?” I cried.

“He’s meeting me at the hospital,” Mom said. “He doesn’t want Daisy to suffer, Auggie.”

Via moved me away from the door and held it open it for Mom.

“My cell phone’s on if you need anything,” Mom said to Via. “Can you cover her with the blanket?”

Via nodded, but she was crying hysterically now.

“Say goodbye to Daisy, kids,” Mom said, tears streaming down her face.

“I love you, Daisy,” Via said, kissing Daisy on the nose. “I love you so much.”

“Bye, little girlie …,” I whispered into Daisy’s ear. “I love you.…”

Mom carried Daisy down the stoop. The taxi driver had opened the back door and we watched her get in. Just before she closed the door, Mom looked up at us standing by the entrance to the building and she gave us a little wave. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look sadder.

“I love you, Mommy!” said Via.

“I love you, Mommy!” I said. “I’m sorry, Mommy!”

Mom blew a kiss to us and closed the door. We watched the car leave and then Via closed the door. She looked at me a second, and then she hugged me very, very tight while we both cried a million tears.

Justin came over about half an hour later. He gave me a big hug and said: “Sorry, Auggie.” We all sat down in the living room, not saying anything. For some reason, Via and I had taken all of Daisy’s toys from around the house and had put them in a little pile on the coffee table. Now we just stared at the pile.