Hero

“Senator Kerrigan began by talking specific issues, about war and immigration and the economy. But then he shifted to the difference in life between talking tough and actually being tough, about courage and honor and doing the right thing and trusting your instincts and never wavering on your core beliefs. It was all in the context of talking about America, but somehow Zach felt as if the senator were talking directly to him.”

Since the death of his father, something is changing inside Zach. First, he stands up to the school bully; now, he hears the senator’s words as a personal call to arms. He’s beginning to shift, both physically and emotionally, into the role of superhero left vacant by his father.

“Tom Harriman was smart enough to know that a person can never escape his or her identity […]. You can try to ignore it, but you can’t hide from it. Tom Harriman hid from no one.”

A primary challenge in life is to know oneself and one’s true purpose. Senator Kerrigan, whose running mate would have been Tom Harriman, memorializes Tom as a person of integrity who helped inspire Kerrigan to redouble his efforts on behalf of his country. The words help point Zach toward his own proper destiny, a life of heroism for the good of others.

“Problem was, he was mad all of the time. And as much as he needed to know everything he could about the crash, as sure as he was that somebody had sabotaged his dad, reading up on it only made him madder.”

Zach confronts the rage and feelings of helplessness common to many who lose a loved one for reasons they can’t control. He seems to fall into the trap of paranoia as if convincing himself that there was a definite cause for his father’s death, a cause that points to a malevolent power, something that makes sense of the tragedy. Everyone else will interpret his search as an elaborate form of denial, of refusal to accept the loss and move on with his life. Sometimes, though, even the paranoids are right: Zach’s intuition comes from deep within, a source of power he’s yet barely aware of. 

“For a few minutes he would feel exactly the way he used to when his dad was away, and trick himself into thinking he was coming back next week. But then a much worse feeling would come in right behind it, like he’d been sucker-punched, and he’d remember all over again.”

When mourning a deep loss, a person may be tempted to imagine that it never happened. Zach tries to remember how it felt when his dad was merely away on assignment; the boy hopes that this can become the worst he feels about it. It doesn’t work—there’s no escaping the awful truth—and he must face again the agony of no longer having a father.

“His dad had always told him that fighting only proved who was the better fighter, and usually you knew that before you started.”

People often believe that victors thereby prove their virtue, but having character or being in the right is unrelated to being strong or good in battle. Still, when someone must fight and does so despite knowing they’ll lose, they demonstrate a quality of character that even the victor must admire.

“Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m not with you.”

Kate doesn’t want Zach to visit his dad’s crash site, especially since his mother forbids it. If he insists on doing it, though, she’ll do whatever she can to support him. Hers is that rare friendship that understands the difference between agreeing with someone and having their back.

“His father had told him once that bullies the world over had one thing in common: they hated people standing up to them. Maybe that’s what finally got Spence off his back—that fight in the park, even though Zach hadn’t given him much of a fight.”

Bullies are fairly efficient: They only hurt people who don’t fight back. When Zach stands up to Spence, Spence defeats him easily, but it’s no longer fun when the victim is willing to fight. Besides, Spence might someday lose to Zach, which would make others begin to defy him as well. 

“I mean, if this really is your life now, then it’s going to happen wherever you are. Right?”

Kate tells Zach that he can’t go somewhere to get away from his problems if he is the problem. He can’t solve who he is; he must be who he is, wherever he is. 

“If you think you’re in the wrong place, you probably are.”

Alba’s advice to her daughter, Kate, teaches the girl a great deal in one sentence. It tells her to listen to her intuition, which won’t raise concerns unless they’re somehow valid. It doesn’t tell her to be afraid all the time, but to be alert and let her sense of a situation be her guide.

“One more time Zach wished for the power he didn’t have, that no one had—the power to go back in time, to make things the way they were. He wanted to go back and tell his dad not to get on the plane, then sit down and ask him all the questions he couldn’t get answers to now. He’d trade everything for that.”

Every teen eventually must face the perils of adulthood alone—learning by doing, navigating through many problems unique to their situation, the ones only they can master. As a child who loses a parent too soon, Zach also faces the world without the emotional backstop he’s used to, a situation made worse because of the new dangers lurking all around him. His wish to turn back the clock is a last cry of a child suddenly on his own, a boy who must, by himself, find the way to his destiny.

“He just wanted his mom to come home. Somehow in a world that seemed to have gone completely haywire, her presence in the apartment made things seem a little more normal. The day she arrived back, he charged down the stairs and threw his arms around her the way he used to when his dad would come home from a long trip.”

With all the new dangers he faces, plus his confusion about whom to trust, Zach needs normalcy. He transfers some of his old need for his father onto his mom. Her presence calms him; thus reassured, he can resume his quest to grow into the person he must soon become.

“My dad used to always tell me even about my favorite athletes: believe everything they do and nothing they say.”

Zach explains to Mr. Herbert that he doesn’t trust the man. His comment reflects the hard-earned experience of the author, who’s spent decades covering sports stars, and who knows that talk is for show and often false.

“The best liars always know how to use the truth to make their lies seem more real.”

Zach’s “Uncle” John, a longtime associate of Zach’s dad, warns the boy against trusting Mr. Herbert. He mentions an important technique used by con men, the selective use of the truth. If most of the story is true, the rest also will seem real. Though the advice is sound, perhaps it is meant to lure Zach into trusting someone he shouldn’t.

“I know you don’t want to think about this—but what if the evil has been right in front of you your whole life?”

Kate warns Zach that the problem doesn’t always lie out there but that sometimes it’s closer to home. Growing up involves questioning the things we trust as children—they might make us feel safe when we’re young, but, later, their dangers begin to surface, using our longtime trust to keep fooling us until it’s too late.

“When his breathing was back to normal, he stood up, still not sure how he’d stopped himself from giving the guy a beating, why he’d stopped himself. Just glad that he had. Maybe it was hearing something in the guy’s voice he used to hear from kids at school when guys like Spence would bully them. In that moment, Zach […] recognized the dark side of what he could do now. Of what he’d become. No matter how much he’d scared the guy, Zach Harriman had scared himself more.”

If his anger gets out of control, Zach can do serious damage. He sees that his powers, and the arrogant confidence they confer, can turn him not into a hero but a bad guy. It’s possibly the most important lesson he must learn before beginning the real battles that will define his destiny.

“His dad always used to tell him that you didn’t want to be the guy who joined the debate, you wanted to be the guy who set it.”

Trying to wrest control of his future from the forces around him, and especially from the frustrating teachings of Mr. Herbert, Zach remembers his dad’s wisdom about how to interact with people who try to control him. It’s better to be the one who decides the agenda and thereby finds out what s/he needs to know than be someone who must play catch-up to whoever’s controlling the conversation, merely giving them information and getting none in return.

“Evil is smart, boy. Never forget that.”

Mr. Herbert reminds Zach that his enemies are that way, not because they’re stupid, but because they’re trying to take from him. It’s easy to downplay an opponent’s abilities if only to give oneself courage, but it’s a mistake to march confidently into battle because one assumes the enemy are a bunch of dopes.

“All along he had listened to both of them, smart enough to know that some of what he was being told had to be the truth. What was harder to figure out was which parts. And which were lies?”

When a child has two mentors, each of whom offers great advice but regards the other as evil, the kid gets caught in a dilemma that even grownups don’t always know how to resolve. Getting the answer right can make a huge difference in a growing person’s life, but that person only has a fifty-fifty chance of avoiding a crucial mistake.

“Zach felt angrier than ever. Not angry at the old man or Uncle John. No, now he was angry at the man he’d always trusted more than anybody. His dad. For not preparing him. For not telling him what was coming. For dying.”

Part of the process of mourning the loss of a loved one is getting angry at them for leaving. Zach needs his father’s guidance, but he can’t get it if the man is dead. His anger is part of pushing himself away from an overly dependent relationship with his father. In that sense, Zach takes his first step into a larger world.

“‘So why didn’t you just say something?’ ‘You wouldn’t have listened.’ ‘I always listen to you.’ She smiled. ‘You listen. But you don’t always hear.’”

It’s harder for people to communicate than it seems, especially with difficult subject matter. It’s equally hard to impart wisdom when the other person doesn’t yet see its value. Kate’s comment makes the distinction between hearing and learning—between willingness and ability. It also implies that the communicator must be responsible for getting her point across, something Kate achieves by delivering cryptically her warning about trusting no one, which captures Zach’s attention and forces him to think deeply about it.

“Being on the side of good can mean a lonely life. But not as lonely as giving in.”

With his dying words, Mr. Herbert urges Zach to do the right thing, even if he must fight alone against evil. Someone who collaborates with the enemy to save his own skin dies repeatedly, while one who stands up to the bad guys may live a shorter life but a better one, and that person dies only once.

“The ones who tell you not to fight are the ones you should fear the most.”

Just before he’s killed, Tom Harriman has a phone conversation with John that Zach overhears. His father’s words echo in his mind as he realizes that John is the bad guy, the one who, failing to prevent Tom from doing what John thinks is wrong, lets Tom get killed. John’s advice not to fight is like telling Tom not to be himself. At that moment, the advisor becomes the enemy. 

“I finally know what the devil looks like. He’s the one you trust and then betrays you.”

Zach condemns John to his face for letting the boy’s father die and allowing the Bads to fire on Senator Kerrigan. The family’s best friend turns out to be its biggest enemy. Zach’s heightened intuition helps him see through John’s mask, but it’s a terrible, lonely lesson to learn that a trusted friend has done the sabotage.