giant bulletin board in back of Ximena’s desk, which was completely covered with tiny photos and pictures and quotes and sayings.
“Oh look, a Mr. Browne precept!” she said, pointing to a cutout of Mr. Browne’s September precept.
“He’s, like, my favorite teacher ever,” answered Ximena.
“Mine, too!” I said.
“What a cute picture of you and Savanna,” Summer said.
I went over to see what she was pointing at. In between the dozens of little pictures of people from Ximena’s life, most of whom we didn’t recognize, were camera booth–type photos of Ximena and Savanna—plus Ximena and Miles, Savanna and Henry, and Ellie and Amos. When I saw Ellie’s picture up there, I have to admit, it was kind of strange for me. Like I saw her in a different light. She really did have this whole new life.
“I have to get a picture of
you
two for my wall,” Ximena said.
“Oh, come on,” said Summer, in her cute, disapproving fairy way as she pointed to a picture on the board. “Ximena!”
It took me a second to realize she hadn’t said “oh, come on” in response to what Ximena had just said.
“Oh, sorry,” said Ximena, making a guilty face.
At first I didn’t know what the problem was, since it was just our homeroom class picture. Then I realized that over Auggie’s face was a tiny yellow Post-it with a drawing of a sad face.
Ximena pulled the Post-it off the picture. “It was just Savanna and those guys fooling around,” she said apologetically.
“That’s almost as bad as Julian’s mom Photoshopping the picture,” Summer said.
“It was from a long time ago. I forgot it was even there,” said Ximena. I was so used to the dimple in her left cheek by now that I never confused when she was serious with when she was joking anymore. I would say her expression right now was definitely remorseful. “Look, the truth is, I think Auggie’s amazing.”
“But you never talk to him,” said Summer.
“Just because I’m not comfortable around him doesn’t mean I’m not amazed by him,” explained Ximena.
At that moment, we heard a knock on the open door. Luisa was holding a little boy in her arms, who had obviously just woken up from a nap. He was probably about three or four years old and looked exactly like Ximena, except for the fact that it was very obvious he had Down syndrome.
“¡Hola, Eduardito!”
said Ximena, beaming. She held her arms out to her little brother, who Luisa deposited into her arms. “These are my friends.
Mis amigas.
This is Charlotte, and that’s Summer. Say hi.
Di hola.
” She took Eduardito’s hand and waved it at us, and we waved back. Eduardito, who had still not completely woken up, looked at us sleepily while Ximena planted kisses all over his face.
How We Played Truth or Dare
“The day I found out my dad died,” Summer said.
The three of us were lying in our sleeping bags on the floor in Ximena’s bedroom. The ceiling lights had been turned off, but the red chili Christmas lights that were strung all around the room gave the walls a pink glow in the dark. Our pajamas glowed pink. Our faces glowed pink. It was the perfect lighting for telling secrets and talking about things you would never talk about in the daylight. We were playing a Truth or Dare game, and the Truth card that Summer had drawn read:
What was the worst day of your life?
My first instinct had been to put the card back and tell her to draw another one. But she didn’t seem to mind answering it.
“I was in Mrs. Bob’s class when my mom and grandma came to get me,” she continued quietly. “I thought they were taking me to the dentist, since I’d lost a tooth that morning. But the second we got inside our car, my grandma started to cry. And then Mom told me that they’d just found out that Dad had been killed in action.
Daddy’s in heaven now,
she said. And then we just all cried and cried in the car. Like, these huge, unstoppable tears.” She was fidgeting with the zipper of
“Oh look, a Mr. Browne precept!” she said, pointing to a cutout of Mr. Browne’s September precept.
“He’s, like, my favorite teacher ever,” answered Ximena.
“Mine, too!” I said.
“What a cute picture of you and Savanna,” Summer said.
I went over to see what she was pointing at. In between the dozens of little pictures of people from Ximena’s life, most of whom we didn’t recognize, were camera booth–type photos of Ximena and Savanna—plus Ximena and Miles, Savanna and Henry, and Ellie and Amos. When I saw Ellie’s picture up there, I have to admit, it was kind of strange for me. Like I saw her in a different light. She really did have this whole new life.
“I have to get a picture of
you
two for my wall,” Ximena said.
“Oh, come on,” said Summer, in her cute, disapproving fairy way as she pointed to a picture on the board. “Ximena!”
It took me a second to realize she hadn’t said “oh, come on” in response to what Ximena had just said.
“Oh, sorry,” said Ximena, making a guilty face.
At first I didn’t know what the problem was, since it was just our homeroom class picture. Then I realized that over Auggie’s face was a tiny yellow Post-it with a drawing of a sad face.
Ximena pulled the Post-it off the picture. “It was just Savanna and those guys fooling around,” she said apologetically.
“That’s almost as bad as Julian’s mom Photoshopping the picture,” Summer said.
“It was from a long time ago. I forgot it was even there,” said Ximena. I was so used to the dimple in her left cheek by now that I never confused when she was serious with when she was joking anymore. I would say her expression right now was definitely remorseful. “Look, the truth is, I think Auggie’s amazing.”
“But you never talk to him,” said Summer.
“Just because I’m not comfortable around him doesn’t mean I’m not amazed by him,” explained Ximena.
At that moment, we heard a knock on the open door. Luisa was holding a little boy in her arms, who had obviously just woken up from a nap. He was probably about three or four years old and looked exactly like Ximena, except for the fact that it was very obvious he had Down syndrome.
“¡Hola, Eduardito!”
said Ximena, beaming. She held her arms out to her little brother, who Luisa deposited into her arms. “These are my friends.
Mis amigas.
This is Charlotte, and that’s Summer. Say hi.
Di hola.
” She took Eduardito’s hand and waved it at us, and we waved back. Eduardito, who had still not completely woken up, looked at us sleepily while Ximena planted kisses all over his face.
How We Played Truth or Dare
“The day I found out my dad died,” Summer said.
The three of us were lying in our sleeping bags on the floor in Ximena’s bedroom. The ceiling lights had been turned off, but the red chili Christmas lights that were strung all around the room gave the walls a pink glow in the dark. Our pajamas glowed pink. Our faces glowed pink. It was the perfect lighting for telling secrets and talking about things you would never talk about in the daylight. We were playing a Truth or Dare game, and the Truth card that Summer had drawn read:
What was the worst day of your life?
My first instinct had been to put the card back and tell her to draw another one. But she didn’t seem to mind answering it.
“I was in Mrs. Bob’s class when my mom and grandma came to get me,” she continued quietly. “I thought they were taking me to the dentist, since I’d lost a tooth that morning. But the second we got inside our car, my grandma started to cry. And then Mom told me that they’d just found out that Dad had been killed in action.
Daddy’s in heaven now,
she said. And then we just all cried and cried in the car. Like, these huge, unstoppable tears.” She was fidgeting with the zipper of
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