Posted

“Point is, none of us is alone. We might feel alone sometimes, but more often than not we are just lonely. There’s a difference. We aren’t alone because it’s basic human nature to band together. Herd mentality. We are programmed to find our people.”

Eric reflects on the idea that everyone (children and adults) finds their “tribe,” people who they deem similar to themselves. Rather than being avoidant or exclusive, this behavior makes people feel comfortable, and people like to feel comfortable. Tending toward “similar” people is not meant as a slight toward “different” people. Eric also touches on the difference between being alone and loneliness. Being alone is a choice—choosing not to surround yourself with other people. Loneliness is a natural feeling that comes at moments when people think they are alone in the world.

“I have this theory. I call it the theory of socio-magnetic homogeny. A bunch of big words, but it basically says that people gravitate toward people who share their interests and whatnot. Band kids will hang out with other band kids. People with pierced tongues will hang out with people with pierced noses. The basketball players will clump together like cat hair on a sofa. Kids whose lawyer fathers drive heated-leather-seated sports cars hang with other kids whose lawyer fathers drive heated-leather-seated sports cars. There are exceptions, of course, but all other things being equal, you merge with the crowd that reminds you the most of you.

It’s not that original, I guess. And it’s mostly just common sense, but I took it one step further. My theory has to do with the people who don’t find people just like them. These people—they find each other. And then they realize that not finding people like them is the thing they have in common. That’s what happened to me, I think. I found the people who weren’t quite like other people, and we used that difference as glue.”

Eric builds on his earlier discussion of “herd mentality” to include people who feel like they don’t belong anywhere. Eric believes he, Deedee, Wolf, and Bench gravitated toward each other because they had no one else, not because they had anything in common. However, throughout Posted, the boys are shown sharing interests and opinions, which suggests more than a lack of fitting in brought them together.

“I read all 114 poems in the book that summer. Most more than once. That next winter, with my father and mother still haggling on the phone about what to do with the house that he didn’t even live in anymore, I came home with an assignment to write something for the thirteenth annual Branton School District Young Authors’ Competition. It could be a poem or a short story. You could illustrate it if you wanted to. The winner would receive a medal and a fifty-dollar gift card to Barnes & Noble.

I wrote a poem inspired by Frost’s ‘Mending Wall,’ my personal favorite of the 114. Frost’s poem was about these two guys who meet in the middle of a field to repair this broken old stone wall that separates their properties, and it has this line, ‘Good fences make good neighbors,’ which the speaker of the poem thinks is total crap, and yet he goes on and keeps building the fence anyways. And you kind of wonder why? What would happen if they left the wall broken, or tore it down completely? Wouldn’t they still be good neighbors? Would they maybe be better neighbors? Would they maybe be something more? Like friends?”

Throughout Posted, Eric reminds the reader of his interest in poetry. He tells the story of how this interest came to be, which reveals a few things about his character. First of all, Eric turned to Frost’s poetry during a time of emotional turmoil, the words somehow filling the void left by his parent’s separation; poetry is a part of who he is. Secondly, Eric is a critical thinker. He considers poems beyond their words alone to find Frost’s meaning, as well as his own, within them.

“Deedee and Wolf met all the way back in elementary school—spending their recesses together, avoiding pickup kickball games and hiding behind the slides from bigger kids, trading Pokémon cards and splitting Oreos—but middle school jammed us together. Together we knew a little bit about just about everything. Bench had kissed a girl not on a dare. Deedee had visited Paris and India and had pictures of himself grinning in front of the Arc de Triomphe and the Taj Mahal. Wolf had hiked down into the Grand Canyon—though he said all he remembered was his parents arguing about who didn’t bring enough water. He’d also been stung by a jellyfish. I’d been to Disney World and already had my wisdom teeth pulled. Together we had already broken most major bones—legs, arms, fingers, toes, collar, ribs.”

This passage shows how close—and distant—Eric’s group of friends is. While they know many facts about each other, these things are mostly superficial, such as which bones each of them broke. In keeping with his idea that the group formed because they didn’t fit anywhere else, Eric uses surface-level details to link them (despite these details being comparable to other friend groups). Eric doesn’t yet understand what constitutes true friendship.

“If you were having a thoroughly craptastic day, you’d be allowed to vent using all kinds of words that would never get back to your parents. But I wouldn’t say we really talked about feelings or whatever. It was okay to have feelings, just so long as you kept them mostly to yourself, which was fine by me.”

This passage expands on the idea that Eric doesn’t yet understand true friendship. He admits that the group rarely discusses anything serious about their emotions or lives. While Eric claims he’s content with this, he only says this to hide his discomfort with discussing emotions. Through his parent’s separation, he equates discussing emotions to hurting people, which may contribute to his avoidance.

“Some things are better kept to yourself. I don’t share my poems with anyone. Not even Bench or Wolf or Deedee. Not because I’m afraid of what they would think. I mean, we play Dungeons & Dragons. It’s hard to be embarrassed when it’s the four of us. I just prefer not to share. We all need something that’s ours. A thing that we know absolutely about ourselves that others can only guess at.”

Eric touches on the idea that each person is an individual, no matter how close they might be to others. For Eric, his poems are the thing that makes him unique. He wouldn’t mind sharing, but he wants to keep part of his identity to himself. Like loneliness, this is a natural feeling that everyone experiences; Eric’s acceptance shows that it’s healthy to keep things to oneself.

“‘So how about it, Mr. Voss? Do you see yourself as the hero of a tragedy, or a comedy? Are you fated to let your pride lead to your inevitable destruction, or are you simply a fool being toyed with by forces beyond your control?’

I didn’t like either option, really. I glanced at Wolf and then back at Mr. Sword. ‘Um. I’m pretty sure I’m just part of the chorus,’ I said.

Apparently it was a good answer, because Mr. Sword laughed and let me off the hook. ‘And a good thing, too,’ he said. ‘They are usually the only ones still standing at the end.’”

Eric’s English class reads Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar throughout Posted. This conversation between Eric and his English teacher elucidates the nature of Shakespeare’s tragedies—that many of the main characters die while the chorus survives. Eric’s observation that he’s part of the chorus defines his role in the story. Wolf and Deedee get bullied, and Bench and Rose stand out as heroes. Eric remains in the background of these incidents, offering support as his friends fall victim or emerge victorious. Like the chorus in Julius Caesar, Eric experiences the least hardship in the book—but still plays a vital role.

“Middle school is a minefield. Deciding who to like and not like and who to follow and who to ignore completely. Worrying that you’re going to trip while walking down the hall and sprawl all over the floor like a beached starfish. Wondering if you should raise your hand when the teacher asks a hard question and risk exposing your nerdiness for the sake of a few bonus points. Taking every sideways glance as a message, trying to crack the code. Every day you’re bound to do something that gets you noticed by the wrong people. Every day you’re bound to step somewhere you shouldn’t.”

Eric reflects on the social politics of middle school. While one’s school years are free of adult worries (such as money), middle school comes with its own set of challenges. Unlike adult challenges, which often have seemingly clear solutions (applying for a job to make money), Eric’s challenges have no easy fixes. Children believe the decisions they make during these years will dictate the rest of their lives, which is typically not true. Here, Eric shows how the “minefield” of middle school consumes life.

“‘It’s the safest thing. You walk down a road and you see a wire poking out of the dirt, you stop walking, you back the hell up, and you call EOD.’ Uncle Mike liked to use acronyms. He was full of them. I suspected he was full of a lot of things. Nobody could have that many stories. ‘You take cover, clinch hard, and cross your fingers, but you stay out of the way. Sometimes there are no RSPs.’ ‘RSPs?’ I stopped bouncing my ball. ‘Render safe procedures. Whatever you gotta do to make sure a bomb doesn’t hurt somebody. You know—don’t cut the black wire or whatever crapola they teach you in the movies. But sometimes there’s really not much you can do. Nothing but trigger the thing and stay out of the way and try not to get hurt. You know what I’m saying?’”

This conversation between Eric and his uncle takes place a few years before the main story. Eric’s uncle is trained in disarming bombs, and he likens conflict between people to an explosion. Like bombs, conflict can sometimes be defused, but other times, there is nothing one can do other than stay out of the way. But steering clear of an explosive argument doesn’t guarantee a bystander won’t be affected. Though Eric keeps his distance when his parents fight, their conflict has an impact on him and continues to influence his life.

“That’s what a secret is. It’s a confession in disguise. Well, sort of. The whole power of a secret is in the keeping—the power of knowing something that nobody else does. But the whole point of confession is letting go. You’re supposed to feel better afterward. Like the weight has been lifted and your soul is suddenly free to fly or whatever. But what if it isn’t? What if, after telling someone, you feel just as bad as you did before, except now everybody else knows? And you can see it in their eyes as you walk down the hall? Your secrets staring right back at you? Wasn’t it better, sometimes, to not say anything at all?”

Eric reflects on secrets and confessions during the group’s lunchtime game of rolling Deedee’s die. Secrets are private and confessions public, but both have the potential to hurt. Secrets, especially ones kept only to oneself, carry a feeling of safety—the idea that a person’s thoughts can’t harm them if they don’t share. Confessions, by contrast, employ risk by their nature. Confessing a secret puts information into another person’s hands for them to use however they wish.

“There’s this other poem by Robert Frost that I like a lot, about the end of the world. It’s only fifty words or so, but you can do a lot with fifty words. Heck, you can do a lot with just one or two. I should know.”

In this short passage, Eric asserts that any number of words can make an impact—and he knows this for two reasons. The first stems from watching sticky notes do great harm with few words. The second stems from his own poetry. His poems are not long but cover a lot of ground, and knowing what a short poem can do also shows that Eric has confidence in his writing.

“‘Do you even know what Star Wars is?’ she asked.

I derred her. Out loud. ‘Derr.’ I couldn’t help it. It was more than she deserved for what might be the most ignorant question asked of a thirteen-year-old boy ever.

She derred me right back. ‘Not the movie, dinglefart. The plan to put lasers into outer space to shoot down nuclear missiles.’”

This exchange between Eric and Rose occurs after Wolf invites the latter to help with a history project. Eric is torn about Rose helping them, partly because he’s still uncertain if he wants to be seen with her. His reaction to her question shows that Rose is clever and that Eric doesn’t give her enough credit. She knows a 13-year-old boy would be familiar with Star Wars. Her explanation of Star Wars as it relates to the nuclear arms race helps Eric start to see Rose as a person, rather than as the girl who disrupted his group at lunch.

“Sometimes, things stick. Like frost on a windshield or chewed-up pecan rolls to the roof of your mouth. And it’s annoying. Especially when you can’t get rid of them. Other times, though, they catch fire. Like a too-short fuse leading to a toilet paper roll full of gunpowder that you’ve sprinkled inside. And then they explode.”

Eric discusses how the sticky notes stick as a form of communication post-cell phone ban. In doing so, he also touches on popularity and how unpredictable it can be. Being seen often comes down to being in the right place at the right time, and the content of a message doesn’t have to be deep or unique—it only needs to get the right group’s attention. Eric goes on to compare this mentality to fire and how things like sickness spread, implying that popularity (especially via social media) is its own form of disaster.

“He never made a mistake, at least not one that I could hear. Maybe he just knew how to hide them, move past them so quickly that nobody noticed. Playing the piano isn’t like writing poetry. You can’t edit. You can’t go back and erase. If you stop and start over, people will know. They will say to themselves, ‘Well, it was good, but it wasn’t perfect.’ Nobody knows what the first draft of Frost’s poems looked like except for Robert Frost. When he showed them to the world they were just how he wanted them.”

The arts often get lumped together, but this passage explores the nuances of music and writing. A musician must practice the same piece over and over to hone their craft. By contrast, an author may revise a piece until it’s presentable; regardless of medium, an artist’s progression relies on creating many individual pieces of work. This passage also speaks to how artists can make their skills look easy. Wolf is an accomplished musician with Eric failing to notice mistakes as he gets caught up in the music. If Wolf were to look at Eric’s rough drafts, he might not see the flaws that Eric himself sees.

“‘How’s it going?’ I whispered to Wolf as his mother padded upstairs.

‘She’s been happy today,’ Wolf said with a shrug. ‘I like it when they’re happy, even if it’s only one at a time.’

I didn’t bother to say that with me it was always one at a time. He was right, though. A happy one was better than a miserable two.”

Throughout the book, Eric and Wolf’s home lives mirror each other. While Eric’s parents split up long before the main story, Wolf’s parents are in the process of separating. Posted shows the effect of divorce on children at different stages. Wolf and Eric’s takes on happiness show the importance of appreciating better times. Wolf is glad his mother is happy, even if his father isn’t, showing how he cares about his parents as individuals as well as a unit.

“All the voices mixed together again, a hundred conversations that I wasn’t a part of, blending to a steady incomprehensible roar. I stood in line and closed my eyes. No words. Just noise. It wasn’t the same as quiet, but I didn’t want quiet. I just didn’t want to know what people were saying.”

Before this passage, Eric thinks about how he doesn’t like quiet as it reminds him too much of the persistent silence during his parents’ separation. He touches on the difference between quiet, talk, and noise. Quiet is the absence of sound; talk is discussion, which can be positive or negative; and noise is sound without meaning. Here, Eric both wants and doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Talk would disrupt his ability to think, and quiet would force him to hear too much of his own thoughts. Noise drowns out the parts he doesn’t want to hear while still letting him focus.

“‘So it’s like, official,’ Wolf said, his teeth no longer orange. ‘Your parents.’ He made some kind of chopping motion with his hands. […] ‘It’s just kind of a big deal, don’t you think?’

He was serious. This wasn’t the first time one of us had brought up parents or divorce or how nobody in their right mind should get married. You find people who share your interests. Wolf and I were both interested in complaining about the poor choices our parents had made, primarily in each other. […]

I shrugged back. ‘Honestly, it’s been so long coming, I just don’t care anymore.’

That wasn’t completely true. I did care, but not as much as I thought I would. Or maybe thought I should. This wasn’t like the day Dad left, or any of the days leading up to it, or even some of the days that came after. Those days were harder. This was just papers. I didn’t need a lawyer to tell me that my parents couldn’t stand each other anymore. I just needed one to tell me how many weeks I’d spend in Florida each year. It was different for Wolf. He was still knee-deep in the middle of it.”

This conversation between Eric and Wolf is another example of how their home lives mirror each other. They also show how one’s perspective can change as a conflict progresses. Eric feels almost detached from his parents’ divorce because it’s been going on for so long, and he just wants it to be over. He sees no need to dwell on it. Wolf’s parents are fighting, leaving Wolf with hope that they’ll resolve their differences and stay together. Unlike cases in which children feel responsible for their parents separating, neither boy blames himself for this.

“‘The other conspirators did what they did because they were jealous of Caesar’s power,’ she said. ‘But Brutus thought he was really doing what was best for Rome.’

‘Excellent. But does that make it right?’ Again nobody raised their hands. ‘Seriously, people. Is it all right to murder one person in cold blood if it will improve the life of thousands of others. Is that justifiable?’”

Eric’s English class studies the ending of Julius Caesar—in which Brutus, one of Caesar’s most trusted friends and advisors, stabs Caesar to death because he believes ending his life will make the people’s lives better. Mr. Sword poses the question of whether this is justified. Caesar is a bully of sorts, and his murder mirrors how Eric decides to deal with the bully who defaced Wolf’s locker. Rather than take matters into his own hands, Eric reports the bully so that the incident can be resolved, hopefully without causing further strife.

“Notes weren’t exactly new. Despite what Deedee might think, he didn’t invent them as a form of communication. I bet Ancient Egyptian schoolchildren shuffled little bits of papyrus back and forth, scratched up with hieroglyphics poking fun at the pharaoh. The Founding Fathers probably passed around bits of parchment with a poll on them: On a scale of one to five, how cool are you with the current tax on tea? I could see Shakespeare passing a note to some girl—or boy—with checkboxes that asked, ‘Art thou besmitten with me’ or ‘Art thou not besmitten with me.’”

Eric considers the potential history of notes. Eric’s sense of humor comes through in this passage, but the ideas he presents are serious ones. People have likely passed notes to share information since writing became a form of communication. The sticky note war presents one such situation, and it’s possible similar events in the past got equally out of hand.

“It makes you wonder where they all go, all the letters and notes, the thank-you cards and the birthday invitations, the little missives scrawled along the edges of grocery lists, the doodles on the cardboard backs of spiral-bound notebooks. All those messages, so important, so pressing, so necessary.”

Eric contemplates the letters his father sent to his mother while they were in college. He wonders what happened to those letters, especially now with the divorce, and he relates them to other writings that people hold onto as important. Messages seem essential in the moment, but time often makes their importance fade. Words that were once treasured become nothing but scrawls on paper that are bound for storage or the trash.

“One last message on locker B78, in permanent marker that couldn’t be scrubbed off, that would have to be painted over in order to cover it completely. TOTAL ROMAN. Nothing. Almost nothing. Nonsense. Except it wasn’t. Because words don’t always mean the same thing to everyone. Because their meanings can change. And because word gets around.”

“TOTAL ROMAN” both serves as the novel’s climax and speaks to how the meaning of words can change over time. Out of context, “TOTAL ROMAN” might leave someone confused or prompt thoughts about ancient Rome. But for the students of BMS, the phrase takes on the meaning of “gay”; for Wolf, the phrase is a painful reminder as bullies used it to get under his skin for years. The phrase has a unique effect on Wolf because of his history, and those words may evoke negative feelings for the rest of his life.

“Words accumulate. And once they’re free there’s no taking them back.

You can do an awful lot of damage with a handful of words. Destroy a friendship. End a marriage. Start a war. Some words can break you to pieces.

But that’s not all. Words can be beautiful. They can make you feel things you’ve never felt before. Gather enough of them and they can stick those same pieces back together, provided they’re the right words, said at the right time. But that takes more courage than you’d think.”

Eric examines the power of words and the posting of positive sticky notes over Wolf’s locker. For much of Posted, the story focuses on the negativity brought about by words. Children get hurt by messages; insults fly, and mean things are said under the cover of anonymity. Following “TOTAL ROMAN,” Eric delves into the positivity of words for the first time. Words hurt Wolf, but words are also used to show him how appreciated he is. It took a cruel incident to evoke this positivity because, as Eric observes, it takes courage to say something kind. Insults are easy because they cover up a person’s insecurities. Compliments prove more difficult as they require a person to put their vulnerability on display.

“Wars should teach you things. Though judging by how many humans have had, we must be terrible students. Not me, though. I learned more in the two weeks following that first posted note than I did in the two years of middle school leading up to it. Like you should maybe put your dirty laundry in a basket, because you never know when a girl’s going to come along and see your underwear lying in the middle of your floor. And that there are better ways to let your emperor know he’s being a jerk than stabbing him twenty-three times. And that people who get embarrassed by other people who laugh or sing too loud just don’t have the guts to laugh and sing out loud themselves. And you can’t have it both ways. The road forks sometimes and you have to choose. Just pick the path that looks the least perilous and watch out for the trees on your way down. And you can’t be friends with everyone, and even the friends you do make won’t always last forever, which royally sucks, but as my mom would say, that’s life. And finally, if you can’t say anything nice, like, not a single freaking thing, then maybe you should keep your big trap shut. But if you do have something nice to say, and you feel a little awkward saying it, you can always write a note.”

Eric summarizes everything he learned during the sticky note war, and in doing so, summarizes the novel’s lessons. These lessons are a mix of amusing and serious, making the heavier topics easier to understand in relation to the less intense ones, as is appropriate for Eric’s voice. The opening line of this passage comments on how humans often don’t learn from their mistakes and implies that Posted itself isn’t enough to teach the lessons within.