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.”
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