"No, I don't think so." I shrugged. "I'm being fitted for new ones anyway."
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"His school wants to know if you want to press charges," said Mr. Tushman.
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I looked at my hearing aid.
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"No, not jail. But they'd probably go to juvie court. And maybe they'll learn a lesson that way."
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I nodded.
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"Right. Well, they found this in Edward's locker." He handed me what was left of my hearing aid headband. The right piece was completely gone and the left one was mangled. The band that connected the two, the Lobot part, was bent down the middle.
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"Hmm. Why don't you talk about it with your parents tonight? I'll call your mom tomorrow to talk about it with her, too."
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"They called him Eddie."
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"You recognize the name?" he said.
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The day before the last day of school, Mr. Tushman called me into his office to tell me they had found out the names of the seventh graders from the nature retreat. He read off a bunch of names that didn't mean anything to me, and then he said the last name: "Edward Johnson."
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"Would they go to jail?" I asked.
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"But I know it's had its share of ups and downs," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Certainly, that night at the nature reserve was one of the low points."
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"Yeah, it's been good." I nodded.
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"Auggie, why don't you sit down a second?" he said.
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"Well, you know, how people stood up for me and stuff?"
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He sat down behind his desk.
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"Hard to believe this year's almost over, huh?" he said, almost like he was reading my mind.
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"That was pretty wonderful," he said, smiling.
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"I know academically it's been a great year for you. You're one of our top students. Congrats on the High Honor Roll."
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"Thanks. Yeah, that's cool."
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"Has it been a good year for you, Auggie? Has it been okay?"
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"Yeah."
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"Yeah." I nodded. "But it was also kind of good, too."
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I sat down. All the things on his desk were the same as when I first walked into his office last summer: the same mirrored cube, the same little globe floating in the air. That felt like ages ago.
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"In what way?"
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"Trust me: that Eddie kid is not learning any lessons," I joked.
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"His parents don't think Beecher Prep is a good fit for him," Mr. Tushman continued, raising his shoulders.
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"You know about that stuff?" I asked him.
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"Middle-school directors have a way of knowing about a lot of stuff."
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"I know in school things got a little hairy with Julian at times."
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I have to admit: he surprised me with that one.
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"Do you have, like, secret security cameras in the hallways?" I joked.
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"And microphones everywhere," he laughed.
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"It wasn't that big a deal," I answered. "And we wrote notes, too."
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"I'm telling you: middle-school directors know all."
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"How do you know about that?" I said.
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"Yeah."
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"Oh!"
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"But teachers know more than kids think, Auggie. I wish you and Jack had come to me about the mean notes that were left in your lockers."
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"No, seriously?"
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He smiled. "I don't know if it's public yet," he said, "though it will be soon anyway, but Julian Albans is not coming back to Beecher Prep next year."
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"What!" I said. I honestly couldn't hide how surprised I was.
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He laughed again. "No, not seriously."
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"Yes, but why a duck?" he said. "Is it safe to assume that it was because of the story of the… um, the duckling that turns into a swan?"
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"Hey, that's mine!" I pointed.
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"What do you mean?" I answered. "That was the assignment."
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"Yeah, I thought you should know."
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"Oh, yeah. Nice."
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"I love this piece, Auggie," he said. "When your art teacher showed it to me, I asked her if I could keep it for my wall. I hope that's okay with you."
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"My self-portrait as a duck." I nodded.
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"Oh, yeah! Sure. What happened to the pumpkin portrait?"
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Mr. Tushman turned around like he didn't know what I was talking about. "Oh, that's right!" he said, tapping his forehead. "I've been meaning to show this to you for months now."
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Then suddenly I noticed that the pumpkin portrait that used to be behind his desk was gone and my drawing, my Self-Portrait as an Animal that I drew for the New Year Art Show, was now framed and hanging behind his desk.
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"Right behind you."
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"I've been meaning to ask you since I hung this up…," he said, looking at it. "Why did you choose to represent yourself as a duck?"
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"Wow, that's big news," I said.
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"Oh!" said Mr. Tushman, his eyes opening wide. He started laughing. "Really? Huh. Here I was looking for symbolism and metaphors and, um… sometimes a duck is just a duck!"
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"No," I laughed, shaking my head. "It's because I think I look like a duck."
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"Yeah, I guess," I said, not quite getting why he thought that was so funny. He laughed to himself for a good thirty seconds.
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"Anyway, Auggie, thanks for chatting with me," he said, finally. "I just want you to know it's truly a pleasure having you here at Beecher Prep, and I'm really looking forward to next year." He reached across the desk and we shook hands. "See you tomorrow at graduation."
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"See you tomorrow, Mr. Tushman."
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