So in August my parents got this call from Mr. Tushman, the middle- school director. And my Mom said: “Maybe he calls all the new students to welcome them,” and my dad said: “That’s a lot of kids he’d be calling.” So my mom called him back, and I could hear her talking to Mr. Tushman on the phone. This is exactly what she said:
“Oh, hi, Mr. Tushman. This is Amanda Will, returning your call? Pause. Oh, thank you! That’s so nice of you to say. He is looking forward to it. Pause. Yes. Pause. Yeah. Pause. Oh. Sure. Long pause. Ohhh. Uh-huh. Pause. Well, that’s so nice of you to say. Pause. Sure. Ohh. Wow. Ohhhh. Super long pause. I see, of course. I’m sure he will. Let me write it down … got it. I’ll call you after I’ve had a chance to talk to him, okay? Pause. No, thank you for thinking of him. Bye bye!”
And when she hung up, I was like, “what’s up, what did he say?” And Mom said: “Well, it’s actually very flattering but kind of sad,
too. See, there’s this boy who’s starting middle school this year, and he’s never been in a real school environment before because he was homeschooled, so Mr. Tushman talked to some of the lower-school teachers to find out who they thought were some of the really, really great kids coming into fifth grade, and the teachers must have told him you were an especially nice kid—which I already knew, of course
—and so Mr. Tushman is wondering if he could count on you to sort of shepherd this new boy around a bit?”
“Like let him hang out with me?” I said.
“Exactly,” said Mom. “He called it being a ‘welcome buddy.’ ” “But why me?”
“I told you. Your teachers told Mr. Tushman that you were the kind of kid who’s known for being a good egg. I mean, I’m so proud that they think so highly of you.…”
“Why is it sad?” “What do you mean?”
“You said it’s flattering but kind of sad, too.”
“Oh.” Mom nodded. “Well, apparently this boy has some sort
of … um, I guess there’s something wrong with his face … or something like that. Not sure. Maybe he was in an accident. Mr. Tushman said he’d explain a bit more when you come to the school next week.”
“School doesn’t start till September!”
“He wants you to meet this kid before school starts.” “Do I have to?”
Mom looked a bit surprised.
“Well, no, of course not,” she said, “but it would be the nice thing to do, Jack.”
“If I don’t have to do it,” I said, “I don’t want to do it.” “Can you at least think about it?”
“I’m thinking about it and I don’t want to do it.”
“Well, I’m not going to force you,” she said, “but at least think about it some more, okay? I’m not calling Mr. Tushman back until tomorrow, so just sit with it a bit. I mean, Jack, I really don’t think it’s that much to ask that you spend a little extra time with some new kid.
…”
“It’s not just that he’s a new kid, Mom,” I answered. “He’s deformed.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Jack.” “He is, Mom.”
“You don’t even know who it is!”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, because I knew the second she started talking about him that it was that kid named August.
