Shingaling (12 page)

The last day of school, Mr. Tushman's assistant, Mrs. Garcia, found me in seventh period and asked if I would come talk to Mr. Tushman right after school. Maya overheard her and started giggling.

“Ooh, ooh, Charlotte's in trouble,” she sang.

We both knew that wasn't the case, though, and that it probably had to do with the awards they were giving out tomorrow. Everyone assumed that I would win the Beecher medal because I had organized the coat drive, and the medal usually went to the student who did the most community service.

I knocked on Mr. Tushman's door right after the last-period bell.

“Come in, Charlotte,” he said
enthusiastically,
signaling for me to sit at the chair in front of his desk.

I always loved Mr. Tushman's office. He had all these fun puzzles on the edge of his desk, and artwork from kids over the years framed and hanging on the walls. I noticed immediately that he had Auggie's self-portrait as a duck displayed behind his desk.

And then suddenly I knew what this meeting was about.

“So, are you excited about tomorrow's graduation ceremony?” he asked, crossing his hands in front of him on the desk.

I nodded. “I can't believe fifth grade is almost over!” I answered, unable to restrain my happiness.

“It's hard to believe, isn't it?” he said. “Do you have plans for summer?”

“I'm going to dance camp.”

“Oh, how fun!” he answered. “You three were so amazing at the benefit in March. Like professional dancers. Mrs. Atanabi was so impressed with how hard you worked, and how well you worked together.”

“Yeah, it was so much fun,” I said excitedly.

“That's great,” he said, smiling. “I'm glad you've had a good year, Charlotte. You deserve it. You've been a joyful presence in these hallways, and I appreciate how you've always been nice to everyone. Don't think things like that go unnoticed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tushman.”

“The reason I wanted to have a little word with you before tomorrow,” he said, “and I'm hoping you can keep it between us, is that I know
you
know that among the many honors I give out tomorrow, one of them is the Beecher medal.”

“You're giving it to Auggie,” I blurted out. “Right?”

He looked surprised. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Everybody's assuming I'm getting it.”

He looked at me carefully. Then he smiled.

“You are a very smart girl, Charlotte,” he said gently.

“I'm fine with that, Mr. Tushman,” I said.

“But I wanted to explain,” he insisted. “Because, the truth of the matter is, had this been like any other ordinary year,
you
would probably be getting that medal, Charlotte. You deserve it—not only because of all the hard work you did on the coat drive, but because, like I just said before, you've been a really nice person to everyone. I still remember how, right from the start when I asked you to be Auggie's welcome buddy, you embraced that wholeheartedly and without equivocation.”

Have I mentioned how much I love the fact that he uses big words and assumes we understand them?

“But, as you know,” he said, “this year has been anything
except
ordinary. And when I was thinking about this award, thinking about what it represents, I realized that it can be about more than community service—not to devalue that at
all.
”

“No, I know totally what you mean,” I agreed.

“When I look at Auggie and all the challenges he has to face on a daily basis,” he said, patting his heart. “I'm in awe of how he manages to simply show up every day. With a smile on his face. And I want him to have validation that this year was a triumph for him. That he's made an impact. I mean, the way the kids rallied around him after the horrible incident at the nature reserve? It was because of
him.
He inspired that kindness in them.”

“I completely get what you mean,” I said.

“And I want this award to
be
about kindness,” he continued. “The kindness we put out in the world.”

“Totally,” I agreed.

He seemed genuinely delighted by my attitude. And a little relieved, I think.

“I'm so glad you understand, Charlotte!” he said. “I wanted to tell you beforehand, so you wouldn't be disappointed during the ceremony tomorrow, since, as you say, everyone's assuming you're getting it. But you won't tell anyone, right? I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for Auggie or his family.”

“Can I tell
my
parents?”

“Of course! Though I'm planning on giving them a call myself tonight to tell them just how proud I am of you at this very moment.”

He got up and reached across the table to shake my hand, so I shook his hand.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Tushman.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” I started walking toward the door, but then this one thought popped into my head, like a fully formed idea. I had no clue where it came from.

“But the award
can
go to two people, right?” I asked.

He looked up. For a second, I thought I saw the tiniest bit of disappointment in his eyes. “It has, on a
few
occasions, gone to a couple of students who've done a community service project
together,
” he answered, scratching his forehead. “But in the case of Auggie and you, I think, the reasons he would be getting it are so different from the reasons you would be—”

“No, I'm not talking about Auggie and me,” I interrupted. “I think
Summer
should get that award.”

“Summer?”

“She's been such an
amazing
friend to Auggie all year long,” I explained. “And not because you
asked
her to be his welcome buddy, like with me and Jack. She just did it! It's like what you just said about kindness.”

Mr. Tushman nodded, like he was really listening to what I was saying.

“I mean, I've been
nice
to Auggie,” I said, “but Summer was
kind.
That's like nice to the tenth power or something. Do you know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he answered, smiling.

I nodded. “Good.”

“I really appreciate your telling me all this, Charlotte,” he said. “You've given me much to think about.”

“Awesome.”

He was looking at me and nodding slowly, like he was debating something in his head. “Let me ask you something, though,” he said, pausing as if he were trying to find the right words. “Do you think
Summer
would want a medal just for being friends with Auggie?”

The moment he said it, I knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh!” I said. “Wait a minute. You're right. She wouldn't.”

For some reason, the image of Maya baring her teeth at the Savanna table across the room popped into my head.

Friends definitely aren't about the medals.

“But let me think about it tonight,” he said, getting up.

“No, you're right,” I answered. “It's good the way you had it.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Thanks again, Mr. Tushman. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

We shook hands again, but this time he took my hand in both of his own.

“Just so you know,” he said. “Being nice is the first step toward being kind. It's a pretty awesome start. I'm supremely proud of you, Charlotte.”

Maybe he knew it and maybe he didn't, but for someone like me, words like that are worth all the medals in the world.

Good morning, Dr. Jansen, Mr. Tushman, Dean Rubin, fellow students, faculty, teachers, and parents.

I'm honored to have been asked to give the commencement speech on behalf of the fifth grade this year. As I look around at all the happy faces, I feel so lucky to be here. As some of you know, this was my first year at Beecher Prep. I won't lie: I was a little nervous about coming here at first! I knew that some kids have been here since kindergarten, and I was afraid I wouldn't make friends. But it turns out that a lot of my classmates were also new to the school, like me. And even the kids who have been here a while, well, middle school is a brand-new ball game for everyone. It's definitely been a learning experience for all of us. With some bumps along the way. Some hits and misses. But it's been a wonderful ride.

Earlier this year, I was asked to perform in a dance choreographed by Mrs. Atanabi for the Beecher Prep Benefit. It was amazing for me. My fellow dancers and I worked really hard to learn how to dance together as one. That takes a lot of time. And trust. Now, you may not know this about me, but as someone who's gone to a lot of different new schools over the years, trust hasn't always been easy for me to give people. But I really learned to trust these girls. I realized I could be myself with them. And I'll always be grateful for that.

I think what I'm most looking forward to next year, my fellow fifth graders, is building that trust with all of you. My hope is, as we start sixth grade, as we get older and wiser, that we all learn to trust each other enough so that we can truly be ourselves, and accept each other for who we
really
are.

Thank you.

I had texted Summer and Ximena the day I saw Gordy Johnson getting on an uptown bus, and we were all thrilled to know he was alive and well. There was so much else going on at the time, though, that we really hadn't had the chance to talk about it too much. We got excited, kept our eyes peeled to see if we'd spot him again somewhere else in the neighborhood, but we never did. He was gone. Again.

The next time I saw him wasn't until the beginning of July. Suddenly he was there again, sitting in front of the A&P supermarket awning, playing the same songs on his accordion that he had always played, his black Labrador lying down in front of him.

I watched him for a few minutes. I studied his open eyes, remembering how they used to scare me. I watched his fingers tapping the buttons on the accordion. It's such a mysterious instrument to me. He was playing “Those Were the Days.” My favorite song.

I went up to him when he was finished.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled in my direction. “Hello.”

“I'm glad you're back!” I said.

“Thank you, missy!” he said.

“Where did you go?”

“Oh well,” he said, “I went to stay with my daughter down south for a spell. These New York City winters are getting tough on these old bones of mine.”

“It was a cold winter, that's for sure,” I said.

“That's for sure!”

“Your dog's name is Joni, right?”

“That's right.”

“And your name is Gordy Johnson?”

He tilted his head. “Am I so famous that you know my name?” he asked, cackling.

“My friend Summer Dawson knows you,” I answered.

He looked up, trying to think of who I might have been talking about.

“Her father was in the marines?” I explained. “He died a few years ago. Sergeant Dawson?”

“Sergeant Dawson!” he said. “Of course I remember him. Glorious man. Sad news. I remember that family well. You tell that little girl I say hello, okay? She was a sweet child.”

“I will,” I answered. “We had actually tried to find you. Summer and I were worried about you when you weren't here anymore.”

“Oh, honey,” he said. “You don't needs to worry about me. I make my way around all right. I'm not homeless or anything. I got a place of my own uptown. I just like to have something to do with myself, to get out with Joni. I take the express bus in the morning right outside my building. Get out at the last stop. It's a nice ride. I come here out of habit, you know? Nice people here, like Sergeant Dawson was. I like to play for them. You like my music?”

“Yes!” I said.

“Well, that's why I'm out here playing, girl!” he said excitedly. “To brighten up people's days.”

I nodded happily.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”

“You can call me Gordy.”

“I'm Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte,” he said.

He extended his hand. I shook it.

“I better go now,” I said. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Bye-bye, Charlotte.”

“Bye-bye, Mr. Johnson.”

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and dropped it into his accordion case.

Swoosh.

“God bless America!” said Gordy Johnson.