Olivia's Brother

Part 5: Justin\
Sometimes I think my head is so big
because it is so full of dreams.
—John Merrick in Bernard Pomerance’s
The Elephant Man
Olivia’s Brother
the first time i meet Olivia’s little brother, i have to admit i’m totally taken by surprise.
i shouldn’t be, of course. olivia’s told me about his “syndrome.” has even described what he looks like. but she’s also
talked about all his surgeries over the years, so i guess i assumed he’d be more normal-looking by now. like when a
kid is born with a cleft palate and has plastic surgery to fix it sometimes you can’t even tell except for the little scar
above the lip. i guess i thought her brother would have some scars here and there. but not this. i definitely wasn’t
expecting to see this little kid in a baseball cap who’s sitting in front of me right now.
actually there are two kids sitting in front me: one is a totally normal-looking kid with curly blond hair named jack;
the other is auggie.
i like to think i’m able to hide my surprise. i hope i do. surprise is one of those emotions that can be hard to fake,
though, whether you’re trying to look surprised when you’re not or trying to not look surprised when you are.
i shake his hand. i shake the other kid’s hand. don’t want to focus on his face. cool room, I say.
are you via’s boyfriend? he says. i think he’s smiling.
olivia pushes down his baseball cap.
is that a machine gun? the blond kid asks, like i haven’t heard that one before. and we talk about
zydeco for a bit. and then via’s taking my hand and leading me out of the room. as soon as we close
the door behind us, we hear them laughing.
i’m from brooklyn! one of them sings.
olivia rolls her eyes as she smiles. let’s go hang out in my room, she says.
we’ve been dating for two months now. i knew from the moment i saw her, the minute she sat down at our table in
the cafeteria, that i liked her. i couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. really beautiful. with olive skin and the bluest eyes
i’ve ever seen in my life. at first she acted like she only wanted to be friends. i think she kind of gives off that vibe
without even meaning to. stay back. don’t even bother. she doesn’t flirt like some other girls do. she looks you right

in the eye when she talks to you, like she’s daring you. so i just kept looking her right in the eye, too, like i was
daring her right back. and then i asked her out and she said yes, which rocked.
she’s an awesome girl and i love hanging out with her.
she didn’t tell me about august until our third date. i think she used the phrase “a craniofacial abnormality” to
describe his face. or maybe it was “craniofacial anomaly.” i know the one word she didn’t use was “deformed,”
though, because that word would have registered with me.
so, what did you think? she asks me nervously the second we’re inside her room. are you shocked?
no, i lie.
she smiles and looks away. you’re shocked.
i’m not, i assure her. he’s just like what you said he’d be.
she nods and plops down on her bed. kind of cute how she still has a lot of stuffed animals on her bed. she takes one
of them, a polar bear, without thinking and puts it in her lap.
i sit down on the rolling chair by her desk. her room is immaculate.
when i was little, she says, there were lots of kids who never came back for a second playdate. i mean, lots of kids. i
even had friends who wouldn’t come to my birthdays because he would be there. they never actually told me this, but
it would get back to me. some people just don’t know how to deal with auggie, you know?
i nod.
it’s not even like they know they’re being mean, she adds. they were just scared. i mean, let’s face it, his face is a
little scary, right?
i guess, i answer.
but you’re okay with it? she asks me sweetly. you’re not too freaked out? or scared? i’m not freaked out or scared.
i smile.
she nods and looks down at the polar bear on her lap. i can’t tell whether she believes me or not, but then she gives
the polar bear a kiss on the nose and tosses it to me with a little smile. i think that means she believes me. or at least
that she wants to.
Valentine’s Day
i give olivia a heart necklace for valentine’s day, and she gives me a messenger bag she’s made out of old floppy
disks. very cool how she makes things like that. earrings out of pieces of circuit boards. dresses out of t-shirts. bags

out of old jeans. she’s so creative. i tell her she should be an artist someday, but she wants to be a scientist. a
geneticist, of all things. she wants to find cures for people like her brother, i guess.
we make plans for me to finally meet her parents. a mexican restaurant on amesfort avenue near her house on
saturday night.
all day long i’m nervous about it. and when i get nervous my tics come out. i mean, my tics are always there, but
they’re not like they used to be when i was little: nothing but a few hard blinks now, the occasional head pull. but
when i’m stressed they get worse—and i’m definitely stressing about meeting her folks.
they’re waiting inside when i get to the restaurant. the dad gets up and shakes my hand, and the mom gives me a hug.
i give auggie a hello fist-punch and kiss olivia on the cheek before i sit down.
it’s so nice to meet you, justin! we’ve heard so much about you!
her parents couldn’t be nicer. put me at ease right away. the waiter brings over the menus and i notice his expression
the moment he lays eyes on august. but i pretend not to notice. i guess we’re all pretending not to notice things
tonight. the waiter. my tics. the way august crushes the tortilla chips on the table and spoons the crumbs into his
mouth. i look at olivia and she smiles at me. she knows. she sees the waiter’s face. she sees my tics. olivia is a girl
who sees everything.
we spend the entire dinner talking and laughing. olivia’s parents ask me about my music, how i got into the fiddle and
stuff like that. and i tell them about how i used to play classical violin but I got into appalachian folk music and then
zydeco. and they’re listening to every word like they’re really interested. they tell me to let them know the next time
my band’s playing a gig so they can come listen.
i’m not used to all the attention, to be truthful. my parents don’t have a clue about what I want to do with my life.
they never ask. we never talk like this. i don’t think they even know i traded my baroque violin for an eight-string
hardanger fiddle two years ago.
after dinner we go back to olivia’s for some ice cream. their dog greets us at the door. an old dog. super sweet. she’d
thrown up all over the hallway, though. olivia’s mom rushes to get paper towels while the dad picks the dog up like
she’s a baby.
what’s up, ol’ girlie? he says, and the dog’s in heaven, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, legs in the air at awkward
angles.
dad, tell justin how you got daisy, says olivia.
yeah! says auggie.
the dad smiles and sits down in a chair with the dog still cradled in his arms. it’s obvious he’s told this story lots of
times and they all love to hear it.

so i’m coming home from the subway one day, he says, and a homeless guy i’ve never seen in this neighborhood
before is pushing this floppy mutt in a stroller, and he comes up to me and says, hey, mister, wanna buy my dog? and
without even thinking about it, i say sure, how much you want? and
he says ten bucks, so i give him the twenty dollars i have in my wallet and he hands me the dog. justin, i’m telling
you, you’ve never smelled anything so bad in your life! she stank so much i can’t even tell you! so i took her right
from there to the vet down the street and then i brought her home.
didn’t even call me first, by the way! the mom interjects as she cleans the floor, to see if i’m okay with his bringing
home some homeless guy’s dog.
the dog actually looks over at the mom when she says this, like she understands everything everyone is saying about
her. she’s a happy dog, like she knows she lucked out that day finding this family.
i kind of know how she feels. i like olivia’s family. they laugh a lot.
my family’s not like this at all. my mom and dad got divorced when i was four and they pretty much hate each other.
i grew up spending half of every week in my dad’s apartment in chelsea and the other half in my mom’s place in
brooklyn heights. i have a half brother who’s five years older than me and barely knows i exist. for as long as i can
remember, i’ve felt like my parents could hardly wait for me to be old enough to take care of myself. “you can go to
the store by yourself.” “here’s the key to the apartment.” it’s funny how there’s a word like overprotective to describe
some parents, but no word that means the opposite. what word do you use to describe parents who don’t protect
enough? underprotective? neglectful? self-involved? lame? all of the above.
olivia’s family tell each other “i love you” all the time.
i can’t remember the last time anyone in my family said that to me.
by the time i go home, my tics have all stopped.
OUR TOWN
we’re doing the play our townfor the spring show this year. olivia dares me to try out for the lead role, the stage
manager, and somehow i get it. total fluke. never got any lead roles in anything before. i tell olivia she brings me
good luck. unfortunately, she doesn’t get the female lead, emily gibbs. the pink-haired girl named miranda gets it.
olivia gets a bit part and is also the emily understudy. i’m actually more disappointed than olivia is. she almost
seems relieved. i don’t love people staring at me, she says, which is sort of strange coming from such a pretty girl. a
part of me thinks maybe she blew her audition on purpose.
the spring show is at the end of april. it’s mid-march now, so that’s less than six weeks to memorize my part. plus
rehearsal time. plus practicing with my band. plus finals. plus spending time with olivia. it’s going to be a rough six
weeks, that’s for sure. mr. davenport, the drama teacher, is already manic about the whole thing. will drive us crazy