Page 9 of Before We Break

I pinch the bridge of my nose, searching for patience. “I—you know what, I can’t even argue with that. Go play, and I’ll call you when they’re ready.”

He fist pumps the air and scurries off to the living room, where his tablet stays plugged in to charge overnight. Maybe I should limit his screen time, so I don’t get caught up in another chicken nugget debate.

Fucking hell.

I never wanted kids, so this parenting thing isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse. It’s not a moral issue or anything against children, but to have them, you need to have a partner, and I have no intention of shacking up with anyone now or in the future.

I don’t know the first thing about talking to kids, but Auggie’s like a tiny adult. He’s brilliant. I don’t feel the need to oversimplify things for him.

I toss a handful of nuggets into the air fryer and put two waffles in the toaster. Less than ten minutes later, breakfast is served. I help Auggie onto one of the stools at my kitchen island and take up the space across from him. He dips his chicken nuggets into a heaping pile of ketchup, ignoring the waffles on the other side of the plate. I know he played me; I’m not a complete idiot.

“When you’re done eating, we have to get ready for school. You’re meeting your teacher today.”

“Do I have to?” Auggie mumbles with his mouth full of chicken.

“It’s only a half day, then Aunt Emma will take you for ice cream. How does that sound?”

He perks up. Whether it’s the promise of treats or a visit with his aunt, I can’t be sure. Auggie loves Emma. I tried to get her to take him instead, but her photography career has really taken off, and she travels too much. She helps out when she can, and I’m thankful for the support.

I hold Auggie’s backpack in one hand as he clings to the other, and we make our way up the front steps to Willow Valley Elementary. They run the preschool program in the same building as the school-age kids to get them acclimated early. I stop by the front desk to meet with the preschool director, Carla Howard. She’s in her sixties with greying hair and a pinched smile.

“Hello, August. It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Mrs. Howard.”

Auggie squeezes my hand and hides behind my leg.

“He’s a little nervous around new people.” I crouch to his level. “You got your ears on?”

He nods.

I ruffle his curls. “You’re gonna do great. You’ll make a bunch of new friends and have the best time, ok, bud?”

He gives me a skeptical look.

Taking a page out of Clio’s book, I make an X across my chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Would you like me to take you to meet your new teacher?” Carla asks Auggie.

He gives her a slightly more confident nod, and she beams at him. “Follow me.”

We walk past a bank of cubbies filled with coats and backpacks as a cheerful voice drifts into the hallway. When the classroom comes into view, the first thing I see is a shock of red hair. Clio’s eyes widen when she sees me standing in the doorway before they trail down to the child still clinging to my hand. A bright smile lights up her face as she holds up her hand and waves at Auggie.

She folds the book in her lap and stands from the beanbag chair she’d been perched in. “Everybody, catch a bubble.” She inhales, then puffs out her cheeks, pressing a finger to her pursed lips. The class of about ten children gathered in a circle around the rug instantly mimics her movement.

“Good job,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

I knew Clio was a teacher, but I never cared enough to ask what grade. Somehow, it makes perfect sense.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Carla says, taking her leave.

“Thanks, Carla.” Clio reaches the open door in three strides and crouches down to eye level with Auggie, ignoring my presence.

“Hi! You must be August,” she speaks and signs at the same time, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. “I’m Miss Marsden, but everybody calls me Miss Clio.” She forms the letter C with her right hand next to her dimple and moves it upward, smiling as she says her name.

Auggie’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. “I’m Auggie. I’m four, and I have superpowers.” He plants his hands on his hips like a superhero.

“Wow!” Clio says, holding her hand to her chest. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of a superhero. What kind of powers do you have, Super Auggie?”

A bright smile spreads across his face. “I’m deaf!”