If someone asked me who my favorite heroine from books was, I’d be really torn, man. I mean, there are so many great characters to choose from that I’d need time. But if someone forced me to think quick, I could narrow it down to two. Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series and Annabeth Chase from the Percy Jackson series. One fought evil with kindness and brains—though she was never given proper respect for how brilliant she was since she was so quirky—and the other was a fearless warrior but kind and brilliant. However, she had to put up with a dumb guy who thought he was the Chosen One or something. I can’t stand the Chosen One trope when it’s a teenage guy. It’s so overdone. You’d think that’d I’d hate Harry Potter for that very reason, but it’s not really a straightforward Chosen One story. It’s Chosen-One-because-the-villain-made-it-so-by-accident trope. Totally acceptable. Also, I’m pretty sure I mentioned Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood, right? I could list at least a dozen strong heroines from Harry Potter—Professor McGonagall, Hermione, Luna, Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Tonks, Trelawney, Lily, freaking Hedwig—well, you get me. No matter how you feel about the series, there are a lot of awesome female characters.
That’s another reason I like books like the Hunger Games series—Chosen Ones who are chosen due to their own actions or a misunderstanding, not because of fate or some divine intervention. A character realized that things were getting real, so they stepped up to the plate. I like characters who are faced with a problem and realize that if no one else is going to figure things out, they may as well grow a spine and sort things out themselves—even if they don’t exactly like it. It’s like baseball. Even though I’m on a team—we’re all on a team of some kind—ultimately, you know you’re all alone. You can depend on others to support you, but in the end, you have to depend on yourself to make things happen. If you’re diving for a line drive, it’s all you, man. Of course, when you pop up and rail the ball towards first base, you expect your teammate to be there waiting to catch it. To finish the play. However, until that ball is in your mitt, no one can help you but you.
We’re all alone—no matter how many people are on our team.
Maybe that’s why I like fantasy and sci-fi so much. There’s always the Chosen One in some form or another, so maybe I don’t really hate the trope so much if I’m really fair about it. It just sucks when a character doesn’t have any choice in the matter, or there’s some type of ancient prophecy foretelling what’s going to happen. I don’t like absolutes. Maybe there’s a chance that the hero fails and everyone dies? Maybe the hero decides he’d rather go to the dark side? Being good just because it’s expected of you, or because that’s how your path was laid out before you were even born, doesn’t make a character a good person. It makes them a puppet. Someone choosing to do good, regardless of their circumstances, no matter how hard it will be or what they have to sacrifice, will always be much more interesting. If a character does something because that’s just what they’re supposed to do, I can’t really get behind them, ya’ know?
I’ll still read any fantasy or sci-fi novel I can get my hands on, even if it has a trope that makes me roll my eyes so hard that I see brains. Even though my parents get onto me for “daydreaming too much.” And my teachers tell me that I “need to focus more in class.” And my coach tells me to “get my head out of the books and on my future.”
If I’m being totally honest, I’m not really academically inclined—which is a fancy way of saying that I’m just not that smart. Okay, I’m smart. But I’m not smart like my teachers and parents want me to be—and I’m not focused on a baseball scholarship like Coach Reynolds wants me to be. My report card isn’t littered with failing grades or anything, but my grades aren’t going to get me on the Honor Roll. And I know that not focusing on academics and not focusing on a college scholarship with baseball might mean that I’m left with an uncertain future—but would that be so bad? Why do we all have to have our futures figured out the day we graduate from high school? After thirteen years in the American public school system, shouldn’t I be allowed to take a breath before I declare what I’m going to do until I retire, die, or global warming kills us all? It’s not the end of the world if I decide to take a regular job and figure things out along the way.
Being a guy makes it even harder. Just hear me out. We still live in a society where guys are supposed to have it all figured out, be assertive, be decisive, be ready to provide for themselves and their families. The patriarchy expects guys to not show their emotions, have life figured out, know what they’re going to do with their lives, and not complain about it too much. This bothers me for the obvious reason that I don’t like having that crap forced on me. It also bothers me because it implies that girls are flighty or unreliable, that they need a guy to take care of everything—and most of the girls in my school have things figured out a lot better than I do, but they don’t have the same expectations shoved on them. Not just that, but ambition in girls is kind of discouraged in comparison to guys. Society tries to toughen guys up at all costs and oppress girls at all costs. In each scenario, what makes us human is slowly stripped away. Then we die.
Life is grand.
A perfect example of how guys and girls are treated differently was staring me in the face as I stood in front of the fantasy section, lost in thought. As I came out of my fog, I noticed some buttwipe freshman sitting at a table and looking at Kat Hudson. I think she’s Mormon or…something…so people give her a hard time. But the way the kid was leering at her made something in my stomach churn, and something else in my cheeks burn. I was out of Kat’s line of sight, so I caught his eye and glared at him as I ran a finger across my throat menacingly. His eyes immediately returned to the book on the table in front of him. A second later, I noticed Kat scuttling away towards Mrs. Clark’s desk. The kid at the table didn’t turn his head to glance at me, and he didn’t try to leer at Kat again, so I was mostly satisfied that he’d learned to mind his business. Being a jock at Long-Moore—and also older than the jerk at the table—had its benefits.
With a deep sigh, I scanned the shelves in front of me. Did I want to revisit old friends or meet some new ones? It was hard to decide with the noise in my head. Running into Nate—kind of—in the library, then seeing some freshmen ogle Kat just annoyed me and took up too much headspace. Without another thought, I reached out and grabbed a random book off of the shelf. Any book would do as long as it was my favorite genre. A quick glance at the spine told me I’d chosen some book I’d never read before. Mortal Peril by Ian Barril.
Okay. Sure. Why not?
By the time I’d made my way over to Mrs. Clark’s desk—after making sure I had walked by the freshmen pervert’s table—Kat was gone. My favorite librarian in the world smiled over the desk at me and held her hand out. I whispered my normal, “Hey, Mrs. Clark,” as I handed her the book. She was frowning down at the book before she had a chance to respond. For several moments, she turned the book over in her hands, inspecting it from every angle. Finally, she sighed deeply as she clasped the book between her hands.