Chapter One: The Mrs. Rockwell Chapter:

Via wasn't nervous about starting 10th grade until the middle of first period – at least, not the kind of nervous she had been on the first day of freshman year, skin shiny with sweat and stomach writhing with snakes (butterflies, she decided at the time, sounded much too friendly to describe the feeling.) Sure, she had felt a familiar increase of her pulse when she entered her World History classroom where she didn't know anyone, but her nervousness quickly subsided when she realized no one else was talking either – some glassy-eyed and yawning, others looking slightly uncomfortable in their clean back-to-school clothes, a few busily looking over their schedules or scribbling into their notebooks, but only a few, like Via herself, seemed shy about being thrown into a classroom with complete strangers (or, at least, relative strangers) first thing in the morning.

Miranda, Via's BFF since Kindergarten, probably would have hated it. She had always had an issue with awkward silences, but Via much preferred this slight discomfort to coming into a classroom where everyone was already paired off, chatting noisily about their summer vacations, while she counted down the agonizingly slow minutes until the start of class – which, Via recalled, was exactly how freshman year first period had started.

"Sophomore year is very important," their World History teacher, Ms. Salisbury, who looked like a stereotypical grandmother with curly hair and round glasses and who talked in one of those soothing voices that made Via a bit sleepy, said after reading through five pages of the syllabus. "Colleges really pay attention to how well you do this year, so please, make sure you keep on top of everything."

"Holy buckets," murmured a girl next to Via, who Via had seen around the school, but had never spoken to. The rest of the class giggled nervously and exchanged awkward smiles.

"Don't worry about it too much," said Ms. Salisbury, smiling. "Just something to keep in mind. This class should be easy as long as you focus, do all the reading and hand everything in on time."

Via wasn't worried. She had never had any problem completing her work – even when Auggie was having surgery and she had to fill out worksheets in the hospital waiting room.

But then, a girl with short-cropped hair, neon green bangs and a gray hoodie stomped into the room holding a note out to Ms. Salisbury. "Mrs. Rockwell wants to see, um," she looked down at the note and narrowed her eyes, "Olivia Pullman in her office."

Via's heart leaped into her throat and pounded against her temples.

"Okay," said Ms. Salisbury. "Olivia Pullman?"

"It's Via," said Via in a small voice, her cheeks turning hot.

"You may take your things with you if you like," Ms. Salisbury said. "Thank you, Skye," she said to the green-haired girl.

"Coolio," said Skye and gave the teacher a thumbs-up. She nodded and strode out of the room.

Via scooped up her backpack and nearly dropped it, her hands were shaking so much. Whenever she got called down to the office in middle school and elementary school, it had been about Auggie – that he was in the hospital again for emergency surgery or that she needed to stay over at Miranda and Lisa's house for the week because her parents needed to fly out to a specialized clinic. And even though she had gotten called into the office for this type of news more times than she could count, she always felt her stomach drop like on her least favorite Coney Island ride when the counselor gently told her that something had happened with Auggie.

As a sixth grader, Auggie hardly got sick anymore and his last major surgery had been over a year ago, but Via still worried in the back of her mind as she hurried down the hall that something else had happened – perhaps he had gotten in another physical fight with an older boy or had been hit by a bus on the way to school.

Skye had somehow beaten Via to the counseling office and was reading an American Girl magazine and loudly chewing smelly bubblegum behind the desk when Via entered, which, in the back of her mind, Via couldn't help thinking was babyish. She and Miranda had loved American Girls when they were little, but stopped reading the magazine before they turned ten.

"Um, hi," Via said breathlessly, her throat dry as sandpaper.

Skye looked up from the magazine and stared at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, I'm Via Pullman? You just told me to come down here."

"Oh," said Skye. "Let me get Mrs. Rockwell." Via awkwardly followed Skye a closed door and watched as Skye pounded her fist against it. "Hey, Mrs. Rockwell. Olivia Pullman is here to see you."

"I'm actually with someone else right now, Skye," the guidance counselor said. "Remember, we talked about not interrupting me in the middle of meetings?"

Via was sure that if someone had admonished her this way, she would have been horrified, but Skye just shrugged. "Oh, oh yeah," she said. She looked at Via with an oddly blank expression. "I guess she's with someone else," she narrated, as if Via hadn't been standing right there when Mrs. Rockwell said that. "If you want, we can go back into the waiting room."

"O-okay," Via said. Perhaps, she thought to herself, this wasn't such an urgent meeting after all. If something was really, really wrong with Auggie, wouldn't the counselor (or hell, even the principal?) drop everything to tell her? Then, a horrible thought occurred to her. Maybe it wasn't urgent because the counselor was going to tell her that Auggie was already dead. And if that was the case, there was absolutely nothing Via or anyone else could do. In fact, maybe it wasn't even Auggie who was dead. Maybe it was one of her parents. Or maybe even both of her parents, meaning that she and Auggie would either be placed in foster care or she, as a sixteen-year-old would unofficially become Auggie's guardian at which point getting good grades and doing well enough to get into college wouldn't matter. Or maybe her mother, her father and Auggie were dead – killed in a freak hit-and-run accident on the way to school this morning. Via felt her lungs tighten and nausea crawl up the back of her throat.

"You can sit down if you want," said Skye.

"N-no thanks," Via stammered, realizing that she had been pacing. "I'm okay standing up."

Skye shrugged again and returned to her magazine. "Hey, wait a sec," Skye flopped her magazine down on the counter and narrowed her eyes at Via. "Pullman, right?"

"Y-yeah," said Via, wondering for a brief second if Skye recognized her last name from the news this morning about how her whole family was tragically killed. "Why?"

"Just sounds familiar, is all," said Skye. "Oh, wait! Isn't your brother that deformed kid?"

"He's not deformed," Via snapped, jumping into protective big sister mode without even realizing it. "He has a facial deformity."

"Yeah, yeah, facial deformity, whatever," said Skye. "He is your brother, then?"

"How do you even know about him?" Via asked.

"I don't know," said Skye. "I've just heard about him, I guess. Can't even remember from where."

"Are you reading my files or something? That's private information!" It of course, was not private information and Via had no idea why she said that, nor why she felt so hysterical or why she accused Skye of reading her files.

"Olivia Pullman?" Mrs. Rockwell, a pretty African-American woman with her hair pulled back in a bun, stuck her head out of her office.

"It's Via," said Skye before blowing a huge bubble.

"Via, okay, why don't you come in and have a seat?" said Mrs. Rockwell.

The office, Via noted, looked pretty similar to that of the counselors at both her elementary and middle schools. There was a stuffed Boo sitting on the desk, smiling up at the ceiling and several posters of cats that read "Hang in there" and "I can do hard things."

"Hello, Via," said Mrs. Rockwell, sitting behind Boo. "I just want to start off by saying, you're not in any trouble."

In any trouble? Via thought. Of course, she wasn't in any trouble! The thought had never occurred to her as she had never been in trouble in all of her years at school, except for the one time she and Miranda got lectured for missing the bell in 2nd grade. "No," she said. "I mean, I didn't think I was."

"Okay, good," said Mrs. Rockwell. "So, this is just a routine visit. I want to get to know all of the Sophomores at the beginning of the year, because, as I'm sure you have heard, Sophomore year is extremely important, and I want to make sure no one falls through the cracks. I'm the Counselor for all Sophomores whose last names start with P-R, so you're one of the first on my list."

Via's muscles untightened and for the first time all morning, she was able to breathe normally. She almost smiled. This was all it was about?

"So," said Mrs. Rockwell, "lets take a look at your file. Hm," she continued after a minute. "Very good. Did you know you're top 15 in your class? Very impressive."

Via flushed with pleasure. She didn't know her actual place, but her grades had always been something she took pride in.

"Yep, looks like all A's and one B+ last year. Your teachers all say that you're pretty quiet in class, but that's okay. Oh," she added. "And you were in drama last year. Okay, yeah! I remember seeing you in Our Town. You were very good."

Via's face heated up even more. "Thank you," she said. "I was just the understudy."

Mrs. Rockwell pursed her lips. "That doesn't matter," she said. "It's still something that would look really good on a college app. Anyway," she added, "are you trying out for the Spring play this year? They're doing The Tempest."

"No, I don't think so," said Via, because in truth, although she had enjoyed play practice and would appreciate drama club forever for introducing her to Justin, she was looking forward to taking a break from the grueling after-school rehearsals. Besides, drama had always been more of Miranda's thing anyway.

"Hmm," said Mrs. Rockwell and Via could see this had not been the answer she wanted. "Personally, I think you should. I also noticed that you only have one AP this year."

"AP Psych," said Via. She was starting to really dislike the way this conversation was going. Moreover, she was starting to really dislike Mrs. Rockwell.

"I'm just going to be honest with you, Via," the counselor said, clicking her tongue. "I don't believe in lying to kids to make them feel better. That just isn't how I roll. Your grades and test scores are definitely good enough for Ivy League schools, but you need something that makes you stand out from every other applicant. As it is, there's really nothing special about your file. And if there isn't anything unique or special about your file, I think you might even struggle to get into state schools, especially considering how many qualified applicants there are these days."

Via felt heat prickle her scalp and spread down her forehead and into her cheeks. Embarrassingly, she also felt tears well in her throat.

"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Rockwell and Via realized she probably looked like she just gotten slapped. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that it would be a shame to waste your potential. I want every Sophomore to really start focusing on their goals and on what makes them unique. What do you have that no other incoming college freshman can claim?"

But what did make Via unique? What did she have that no other incoming college freshman could claim? Even if she took all AP classes and was in the play and was the very top of her class, how would that make her any different than a billion other applicants? And even so, why should any of this matter when she wasn't an incoming Freshman, but a Sophomore in high school? She suddenly felt her nausea return with a vengeance. "Um, well," she said, realizing that it had not been a rhetorical question. "My brother was born with a facial deformity."

Mrs. Rockwell looked up from Via's file, surprise registering on her face. "That's extremely interesting," she said. "That must have been such a huge struggle for you growing up!"

Via, of course, could not deny that. She just shrugged because she suddenly wasn't sure if she was going to throw up or to cry or both.

"What an amazing thing for you to write about on your college essay," said Mrs. Rockwell, suddenly beaming like a Jack-o-Lantern. "And if you add a few more AP's and participate in a few more activities – especially in drama, I think you would have a really good chance of getting into one of the top schools."

"NO!" Via said, much louder than she meant to.

"No?" repeated Mrs. Rockwell, looking confused.

"I'm not going to write a college essay about my brother," said Via.

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because," Via said, her breathing speeding up and her heart racing. "Because it's a shit…I mean, it's a crappy thing to do!"

Mrs. Rockwell wrinkled her eye brows but said nothing. "Well," she piped up after a few seconds. "Then I guess I would focus on taking more AP classes this year and really working the drama aspect."

By the end of the meeting, Via had transferred out of World History, even though she had liked Ms. Salisbury and had switched to AP World History, even though she heard Mr. Thompson was a hard-ass and had also signed up for AP Bio, AP English and remained in AP Psych. "This is a good start," said Mrs. Rockwell, before Skye knocked on the door to let her know Diego Puloza was there to see her.