Pluto by R. J. Palacio Read Free Book Online

and Mom, and then we got inside the elevator.
    I saw Via waving at me as the elevator doors closed. Even though I was only six at the time, I remember thinking I felt sorry for her that she couldn’t leave with us.
    As soon as we were outside, Mom sat me down on a bench and hugged me for a long time. She didn’t say anything. She just kissed the top of my head over and over again.
    When I finally calmed down, I handed her the Ewok.
    “Can you go back and give it to him?” I said.
    “Oh, honey,” she answered. “That’s so sweet of you. But Isabel can clean the Lego set. It’ll be good as new for Auggie, don’t worry.”
    “No, for the other kid,” I answered.
    She looked at me a second, like she didn’t know what to say.
    “Via said he doesn’t speak any English,” I said. “It must be really scary for him, being in the hospital.”
    She nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It must be.”
    She closed her eyes and hugged me again. And then she took me over to the security desk, where I waited until she went back up the elevator and, after about five minutes, came back down again.
    “Did he like it?” I asked.
    “Honeyboy,” she said softly, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “You made his day.”

7:04 p.m.
    When we got to Mom’s hospital room, we found her sitting up in a wheelchair watching TV. She had a huge cast that started from her thigh and went all the way down to her ankle.
    “There’s my guy!” she said happily as soon as she saw me. She held her arms out to me, and I went over and hugged her. I was relieved to see that Daddy had told the truth: except for the cast and a couple of scratches on her face, Mom looked totally fine. She was dressed and ready to go.
    “How are you feeling, Lisa?” said Dad, leaning over and kissing her cheek.
    “Much better,” she answered, clicking off the TV set. She smiled at us. “Totally ready to go home.”
    “We got you these,” I said, giving her the vase of flowers we had bought downstairs in the gift store.
    “Thank you, sweetie!” she said, kissing me. “They’re so pretty!”
    I looked down at her cast. “Does it hurt?” I asked her.
    “Not too much,” she answered quickly.
    “Mommy’s very brave,” said Dad.
    “What I am is very lucky,” Mom said, knocking the side of her head.
    “We’re all very lucky,” added Dad quietly. He reached over and squeezed Mom’s hand.
    For a few seconds, no one said anything.
    “So, do you need to sign any discharge papers or anything?” asked Dad.
    “All done,” she answered. “I’m ready to go home.”
    Dad got behind the wheelchair.
    “Wait, can I push her?” I said to Dad, grabbing one of the handles.
    “Let me just get her out the door here,” answered Dad. “It’s a little hard to maneuver with her leg.”
    “How was your day, Chris?” asked Mom as we wheeled her into the hallway.
    I thought about what an awful day it had been. All of it, from beginning to end. Science, music, math, rock band. Worst day ever.
    “Fine,” I answered.
    “How was band practice? Is Elijah being any nicer these days?” she asked.
    “It was good. He’s fine.” I shrugged.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t bring your stuff,” she said, stroking my arm. “You must have been wondering what happened to me!”
    “I figured you were running errands,” I answered.
    “He thought you went to Isabel’s house,” laughed Dad.
    “I did not!” I said to him.
    We had reached the nurses’ station and Mom was saying goodbye to the nurses, who were waving back, so she didn’t really hear what Dad had said.
    “Didn’t you ask me if Mom had gone to—” Dad said to me, confused.
    “Anyway!” I interrupted, turning to Mom. “Band was fine. We’re playing ‘Seven Nation Army’ for the spring concert on Wednesday. Can you still come?”
    “Of course I can!” she answered. “I thought you were playing ‘The Final Countdown.’ ”
    “ ‘Seven Nation Army’ is a great song,” said Dad.