Wonder / R.J. Palacio.
"Ten-year-old Auggie Pullman, who was born with extreme facial abnormalities and was not expected to survive, goes from being home-schooled to entering fifth grade at a private middle school in Manhattan, which entails enduring the taunting and fear of his classmates as he struggles to be seen as just another student."-- Title verso page.
Record details
- ISBN: 9780375869020
- ISBN: 0375869026
- ISBN: 9780375969027
- ISBN: 0375969020
- ISBN: 9780605575912
- ISBN: 9781451758139
- ISBN: 1451758138
- ISBN: 9780552565974
- Physical Description: 316 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm
- Publisher: New York : Alfred A. Knopf, [2012]
- Copyright: ©2012
Content descriptions
General Note: | Series numeration found at Fantastic Fiction. |
Target Audience Note: | 790L Lexile. |
Study Program Information Note: | Accelerated Reader AR MG 4.8 11.0 149900. |
Awards Note: | Young Hoosier Book Intermediate Award winner, 2015. |
Search for related items by subject
Genre: | Young adult fiction. |
Search for related items by series
Available copies
- 160 of 210 copies available at Evergreen Indiana.
Holds
- 1 current hold with 210 total copies.
Other Formats and Editions
Show Only Available Copies
Location | Call Number / Copy Notes | Barcode | Shelving Location | Status | Due Date |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Adams PL Sys. - Decatur Branch | JF PAL (Text) | 34207002532753 | Juv Fiction | Available | - |
Adams PL Sys. - Geneva Branch | JF PAL (Text) | 34207002168897 | Juvenile Fiction | Checked out | 04/23/2024 |
Akron Carnegie PL - Akron | JUV FIC PAL (Text)
: Young Hoosier Book Award Nominee, 2014-2015
|
75253000047070 | Juvenile Fiction | Available | - |
Akron Carnegie PL - Akron | JUV FIC PAL (Text) | 75253000055720 | Juvenile Fiction | Display | - |
Alexandria-Monroe PL - Alexandria | jF PAL (Text) | 37521530924903 | AMPL Juvenile Fiction | Available | - |
Andrews-Dallas PL - Andrews | JF PAL (Text) | 73351000051782 | Juvenile Fiction-Chapter Books | Available | - |
Attica PL - Attica | JF PALACIO, R.J. (Text) | 74231000117491 | Juvenile Fiction | Available | - |
Barton Rees Pogue Mem. PL - Upland | JF PALACIO r.j. wonder bk.1 (Text) | 76277000036020 | Juvenile Fiction* | Available | - |
Batesville Mem. PL - Batesville | YF PALACIO (Text) | 34706001706102 | Childrens | Available | - |
Benton Co PL - Fowler | jF PAL (Text) | 34044000851335 | Juvenile Fiction | Available | - |
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Ordinary
I know Iâm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean, sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an XBox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside. But I know ordinary kids donât make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids donât get stared at wherever they go.
If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Hereâs what I think: the only reason Iâm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way.
But Iâm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend I donât see the faces people make. Weâve all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom and Dad, Via. Actually, I take that back: Viaâs not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I donât even know what the noises were exactly because I didnât hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. Thatâs the way she is. Iâm not that way.
Via doesnât see me as ordinary. She says she does, but if I were ordinary, she wouldnât feel like she needs to protect me as much. And Mom and Dad donât see me as ordinary, either. They see me as extraordinary. I think the only person in the world who realizes how ordinary I am is me.
My name is August, by the way. I wonât describe what I look like. Whatever youâre thinking, itâs probably worse.
Why I Didnât Go to School
Next week I start fifth grade. Since Iâve never been to a real school before, I am pretty much totally and completely petrified. People think I havenât gone to school because of the way I look, but itâs not that. Itâs because of all the surgeries Iâve had. Twenty-seven since I was born. The bigger ones happened before I was even four years old, so I donât remember those. But Iâve had two or three surgeries every year since then (some big, some small), and because Iâm little for my age, and I have some other medical mysteries that doctors never really figured out, I used to get sick a lot. Thatâs why my parents decided it was better if I didnât go to school. Iâm much stronger now, though. The last surgery I had was eight months ago, and I probably wonât have to have any more for another couple of years.
Mom homeschools me. She used to be a childrenâs-book illustrator. She draws really great fairies and mermaids. Her boy stuff isnât so hot, though. She once tried to draw me a Darth Vader, but it ended up looking like some weird mushroom-shaped robot. I havenât seen her draw anything in a long time. I think sheâs too busy taking care of me and Via.
I canât say I always wanted to go to school because that wouldnât be exactly true. What I wanted was to go to school, but only if I could be like every other kid going to school. Have lots of friends and hang out after school and stuff like that.
I have a few really good friends now. Christopher is my best friend, followed by Zachary and Alex. Weâve known each other since we were babies. And since theyâve always known me the way I am, theyâre used to me. When we were little, we used to have playdates all the time, but then Christopher moved to Bridgeport in Connecticut. Thatâs more than an hour away from where I live in North River Heights, which is at the top tip of Manhattan. And Zachary and Alex started going to school. Itâs funny: even though Christopherâs the one who moved far away, I still see him more than I see Zachary and Alex. They have all these new friends now. If we bump into each other on the street, theyâre still nice to me, though. They always say hello.
I have other friends, too, but not as good as Christopher and Zack and Alex were. For instance, Zack and Alex always invited me to their birthday parties when we were little, but Joel and Eamonn and Gabe never did. Emma invited me once, but I havenât seen her in a long time. And, of course, I always go to Christopherâs birthday. Maybe Iâm making too big a deal about birthday parties.
How I Came to Life
I like when Mom tells this story because it makes me laugh so much. Itâs not funny in the way a joke is funny, but when Mom tells it, Via and I just start cracking up.
So when I was in my momâs stomach, no one had any idea I would come out looking the way I look. Mom had had Via four years before, and that had been such a âwalk in the parkâ (Momâs expression) that there was no reason to run any special tests. About two months before I was born, the doctors realized there was something wrong with my face, but they didnât think it was going to be bad. They told Mom and Dad I had a cleft palate and some other stuff going on. They called it âsmall anomalies.â
There were two nurses in the delivery room the night I was born. One was very nice and sweet. The other one, Mom said, did not seem at all nice or sweet. She had very big arms and (here comes the funny part), she kept farting. Like, sheâd bring Mom some ice chips, and then fart. Sheâd check Momâs blood pressure, and fart. Mom says it was unbelievable because the nurse never even said excuse me! Meanwhile, Momâs regular doctor wasnât on duty that night, so Mom got stuck with this cranky kid doctor she and Dad nicknamed Doogie after some old TV show or something (they didnât actually call him that to his face). But Mom says that even though everyone in the room was kind of grumpy, Dad kept making her laugh all night long.
When I came out of Momâs stomach, she said the whole room got very quiet. Mom didnât even get a chance to look at me because the nice nurse immediately rushed me out of the room. Dad was in such a hurry to follow her that he dropped the video camera, which broke into a million pieces. And then Mom got very upset and tried to get out of bed to see where they were going, but the farting nurse put her very big arms on Mom to keep her down in the bed. They were practically fighting, because Mom was hysterical and the farting nurse was yelling at her to stay calm, and then they both started screaming for the doctor. But guess what? He had fainted! Right on the floor! So when the farting nurse saw that he had fainted, she started pushing him with her foot to get him to wake up, yelling at him the whole time: âWhat kind of doctor are you? What kind of doctor are you? Get up! Get up!â And then all of a sudden she let out the biggest, loudest, smelliest fart in the history of farts. Mom thinks it was actually the fart that finally woke the doctor up. Anyway, when Mom tells this story, she acts out all the parts--including the farting noises--and it is so, so, so, so funny!
Mom says the farting nurse turned out to be a very nice woman. She stayed with Mom the whole time. Didnât leave her side even after Dad came back and the doctors told them how sick I was. Mom remembers exactly what the nurse whispered in her ear when the doctor told her I probably wouldnât live through the night: âEveryone born of God overcometh the world.â And the next day, after I had lived through the night, it was that nurse who held Momâs hand when they brought her to meet me for the first time.
Mom says by then they had told her all about me. She had been preparing herself for the seeing of me. But she says that when she looked down into my tiny mushed-up face for the first time, all she could see was how pretty my eyes were.
Mom is beautiful, by the way. And Dad is handsome. Via is pretty. In case you were wondering.
I know Iâm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean, sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an XBox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside. But I know ordinary kids donât make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids donât get stared at wherever they go.
If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Hereâs what I think: the only reason Iâm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way.
But Iâm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend I donât see the faces people make. Weâve all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom and Dad, Via. Actually, I take that back: Viaâs not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I donât even know what the noises were exactly because I didnât hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. Thatâs the way she is. Iâm not that way.
Via doesnât see me as ordinary. She says she does, but if I were ordinary, she wouldnât feel like she needs to protect me as much. And Mom and Dad donât see me as ordinary, either. They see me as extraordinary. I think the only person in the world who realizes how ordinary I am is me.
My name is August, by the way. I wonât describe what I look like. Whatever youâre thinking, itâs probably worse.
Why I Didnât Go to School
Next week I start fifth grade. Since Iâve never been to a real school before, I am pretty much totally and completely petrified. People think I havenât gone to school because of the way I look, but itâs not that. Itâs because of all the surgeries Iâve had. Twenty-seven since I was born. The bigger ones happened before I was even four years old, so I donât remember those. But Iâve had two or three surgeries every year since then (some big, some small), and because Iâm little for my age, and I have some other medical mysteries that doctors never really figured out, I used to get sick a lot. Thatâs why my parents decided it was better if I didnât go to school. Iâm much stronger now, though. The last surgery I had was eight months ago, and I probably wonât have to have any more for another couple of years.
Mom homeschools me. She used to be a childrenâs-book illustrator. She draws really great fairies and mermaids. Her boy stuff isnât so hot, though. She once tried to draw me a Darth Vader, but it ended up looking like some weird mushroom-shaped robot. I havenât seen her draw anything in a long time. I think sheâs too busy taking care of me and Via.
I canât say I always wanted to go to school because that wouldnât be exactly true. What I wanted was to go to school, but only if I could be like every other kid going to school. Have lots of friends and hang out after school and stuff like that.
I have a few really good friends now. Christopher is my best friend, followed by Zachary and Alex. Weâve known each other since we were babies. And since theyâve always known me the way I am, theyâre used to me. When we were little, we used to have playdates all the time, but then Christopher moved to Bridgeport in Connecticut. Thatâs more than an hour away from where I live in North River Heights, which is at the top tip of Manhattan. And Zachary and Alex started going to school. Itâs funny: even though Christopherâs the one who moved far away, I still see him more than I see Zachary and Alex. They have all these new friends now. If we bump into each other on the street, theyâre still nice to me, though. They always say hello.
I have other friends, too, but not as good as Christopher and Zack and Alex were. For instance, Zack and Alex always invited me to their birthday parties when we were little, but Joel and Eamonn and Gabe never did. Emma invited me once, but I havenât seen her in a long time. And, of course, I always go to Christopherâs birthday. Maybe Iâm making too big a deal about birthday parties.
How I Came to Life
I like when Mom tells this story because it makes me laugh so much. Itâs not funny in the way a joke is funny, but when Mom tells it, Via and I just start cracking up.
So when I was in my momâs stomach, no one had any idea I would come out looking the way I look. Mom had had Via four years before, and that had been such a âwalk in the parkâ (Momâs expression) that there was no reason to run any special tests. About two months before I was born, the doctors realized there was something wrong with my face, but they didnât think it was going to be bad. They told Mom and Dad I had a cleft palate and some other stuff going on. They called it âsmall anomalies.â
There were two nurses in the delivery room the night I was born. One was very nice and sweet. The other one, Mom said, did not seem at all nice or sweet. She had very big arms and (here comes the funny part), she kept farting. Like, sheâd bring Mom some ice chips, and then fart. Sheâd check Momâs blood pressure, and fart. Mom says it was unbelievable because the nurse never even said excuse me! Meanwhile, Momâs regular doctor wasnât on duty that night, so Mom got stuck with this cranky kid doctor she and Dad nicknamed Doogie after some old TV show or something (they didnât actually call him that to his face). But Mom says that even though everyone in the room was kind of grumpy, Dad kept making her laugh all night long.
When I came out of Momâs stomach, she said the whole room got very quiet. Mom didnât even get a chance to look at me because the nice nurse immediately rushed me out of the room. Dad was in such a hurry to follow her that he dropped the video camera, which broke into a million pieces. And then Mom got very upset and tried to get out of bed to see where they were going, but the farting nurse put her very big arms on Mom to keep her down in the bed. They were practically fighting, because Mom was hysterical and the farting nurse was yelling at her to stay calm, and then they both started screaming for the doctor. But guess what? He had fainted! Right on the floor! So when the farting nurse saw that he had fainted, she started pushing him with her foot to get him to wake up, yelling at him the whole time: âWhat kind of doctor are you? What kind of doctor are you? Get up! Get up!â And then all of a sudden she let out the biggest, loudest, smelliest fart in the history of farts. Mom thinks it was actually the fart that finally woke the doctor up. Anyway, when Mom tells this story, she acts out all the parts--including the farting noises--and it is so, so, so, so funny!
Mom says the farting nurse turned out to be a very nice woman. She stayed with Mom the whole time. Didnât leave her side even after Dad came back and the doctors told them how sick I was. Mom remembers exactly what the nurse whispered in her ear when the doctor told her I probably wouldnât live through the night: âEveryone born of God overcometh the world.â And the next day, after I had lived through the night, it was that nurse who held Momâs hand when they brought her to meet me for the first time.
Mom says by then they had told her all about me. She had been preparing herself for the seeing of me. But she says that when she looked down into my tiny mushed-up face for the first time, all she could see was how pretty my eyes were.
Mom is beautiful, by the way. And Dad is handsome. Via is pretty. In case you were wondering.