Confidence and Growing Up Theme Analysis

What good would those opportunities do him if he wasn’t qualified to be given them? And where was the pleasure in cheating? If he couldn’t pass fairly, he didn’t want to pass. He thought this––and mostly believed it––and felt his spirits boosted by the decision. But even so, a few seconds passed before he could tear his eyes from the paper on the floor.

“Do you suppose we’re going to meet anybody normal today?” Kate asked.

“I’m beginning to doubt it,” Reynie said.

[Reynie’s] own parents were never known to him, and so he didn’t miss them in particular, but on rainy days, or days when other children taunted him, or nights when he woke from a bad dream and could use a hug and perhaps a story to lull him back to sleep––at times like these he didn’t miss his parents, exactly, but he did wish for them.

“I want to make some things perfectly clear,” said Mr. Benedict. “It is not my wish to put you in harm’s way. Quite the opposite: I despite the notion. Children should spend their time learning and playing in absolute safety––that is my firm belief. Now then, assuming that I am telling the truth, can you guess why I would nonetheless involve you in something dangerous?”

[…]

“If you’re telling the truth,” said Reynie, “then the only reason you would put us in danger is that you believe we’ll fall into greater danger if you don’t.”

“…Would you consider this a good move?”

“I’m no great chess player, sir, but I would say not. By starting over, white loses the advantage of going first.”

“Why, then, do you think the white player might have done it?”

Reynie considered…. “Perhaps he doubted himself.”

Part of him wanted not to believe Mr. Benedict. Could he really be trusted? ...It would be such a relief to think his predictions about the thing to come were nothing more than wild speculation. And yet Reynie did trust Mr. Benedict, had trusted him almost immediately. What troubled Reynie was that he so badly wanted to trust Mr. Benedict––wanted to believe in this man who had shown faith in him, wanted to stay with these children who seemed to like and respect Reynie as much as he did them.

And so the question was not whether Reynie could trust Mr. Benedict, but whether he could trust himself. Who in his right mind would actually want to be put in danger just because that let him be a part of something?

Exploring was what she did best, and Kate liked always to be doing what she did best. Not that she was a bad sport; in fact, she was a very good one, and she rarely complained. But Kate had spent all her life––ever since her father abandoned her, which affected her more than she cared to admit––trying to prove she didn’t need anyone’s help, and this was easiest to believe when she was doing what she was good at.

Reynie wasn’t surprised by his friends’ responses. He too had been wary of the notion when it occurred to him. But were they not secret agents? Was not their very presence on the island a deception? Kate and Sticky’s reaction was just an instinctive response, he thought; they would come around in a minute. Still, Reynie was troubled….Where was his powerful love of truth?...Was he perhaps not quite the truth-loving brave soul Mr. Benedict and everyone else thought him to be?

“Children despise superior minds, you know, especially in leaders, who must often make unpopular decisions.”

Reynie thought suddenly of Kate and Sticky, who had been so shocked at his suggestion to cheat on the quizzes. But they didn’t despise him, he knew that….

“One problem with being a leader,” Mr. Curtain was saying, “is that even among your friends you are alone, for it is you––and you alone––to whom the others look for final guidance.” (Reynie felt a pang. That was true, he thought. He did feel that way sometimes.)

Reynie’s face fell. “It’s not funny, Kate.”

For a moment––a fleeting moment––Kate looked desperately sad. “Well, of course it’s not funny, Reynie Muldoon. But what do you want me to do? Cry?”

[Sticky] was glaring at Jackson. It was such an angry look––so full of defiant outrage––that Reynie actually felt encouraged. There was strength in Sticky. It was just easy to miss. Easiest of all for Sticky himself.

Sticky tried to smile, but in truth he was decidedly troubled. If Reynie hadn’t spoken up just then, he wasn’t at all sure what he would have done. He had actually wanted to join the Messengers! Was that all it took to sway him––being asked? Did he want so much to be wanted that he would do, well, anything? It was as if the Whisperer had opened a door, and now Sticky couldn’t close it again. He was so ashamed he could hardly look up.

[Reynie] was hoping against hope that Mr. Benedict would find some way to save them––to save everyone––without requiring anything more from him. Reynie didn’t think he was capable of more, not since the Whisperer. He was worried, deeply worried, that the Whisperer had revealed to him who he truly was.

You shouldn’t let her go alone, Reynie thought. She ought to have help. But when he opened his mouth to argue, he found nothing would come out. A fog seemed to have rolled into his mind, and on top of that he felt bone-weary. He was tired, very tired, of always trying to do the right thing.

[Kate] had grand visions of sabotaging the Whisperer, destroying all its computers by herself. Ripping out cables, crushing components, stealing mysterious gizmos that could not be replaced. Not only would she be regarded as a hero, she could prove once and for all that she could do everything alone––that she needed no one’s help. But now she saw she could do no such thing. Not this time.

There had been times in Sticky’s life when an important question would flummox him no matter how well he knew the answer; and times he had run away from his problems; and times when he’d felt himself paralyzed when action was most needed. He’d never understood this tendency of his––he knew only that he rarely lived up to expectation….

And yet, in these last days, he'd become friends with people who cared about him, quite above and beyond what was expected of him….The effect of…all his friendships had grown stronger and stronger until––though he couldn’t say why he didn’t feel mixed up now––at the most desperate moment yet, he knew it to be true. There was bravery in him. It only had to be drawn out.

It has to be all four of us, but Constance can’t handle them. You can handle them, though. It will be rough, but you can handle them.

(Part of Kate believed this––a very important part, for Kate’s sense of invincibility was the main thing that had sustained her all her young life alone. But another part did not believe this––and it, too, was an important part, for unless you know about this part it is impossible to understand how brave a thing Kate was about to do.)

“Mr. Benedict! Is he the one who tricked you into joining him, who encouraged you to cheat on quizzes, who offered you ‘special opportunities’? Or was that Mr. Curtain, who said cheating doesn’t bother him, who rounded up poor unfortunates only to give them a better life, who has offered you a chance to be an Executive? How different are the two men? Not very, Reynard. The only difference is that one can offer you only suffering now, while the other offers you a way to belong––a way to relieve the loneliness.”

For a moment Constance and Mr. Curtain both trembled violently, as if caught in an earthquake….And then, in a voice so loud it hurt everybody’s ears, Constance exclaimed: “I…don’t…CARE!”

… This was Constance’s great gift––the gift of stubborn independence––and she was bringing it to bear with all her might.

For all her valiant resistance, though, the child was, after all, only a child….She could not hold out forever.

“Just a few minutes more, Number Two. Let them play. They are children, after all.”

And this was certainly true, if only for the moment.