Inspirational Media

Summary

Sam has his life figured out – at least his life after graduation. Until then he has to deal with peers trying to bash his head in just for being Sam (rather than the Amanda to whom they’ve grown accustomed). His pleas for help have been ignored by the principal and most of the staff. His persecutors are still given free rein to terrorize him, so he’s given up disclosing his gender identity to anyone else. Sam’s time is spent moving quickly between classrooms never left unattended and anticipating the freedom that will come with leaving high school behind forever.

When one attack leaves him unconscious and bleeding, his instinct upon waking is to find a safe place – his favorite safe place – Mr. Keegan’s classroom.

 From Todd Keegan’s perspective, the strange interaction that follows leaves him wondering if Amanda is on drugs and if he's underestimated her maturity. Between enabling his traumatized, dependent sister and hiding secrets of his own, Todd has no desire to waste time on a junkie teenager, let alone allow her to attend the AP History trip to Washington, DC.

In order to survive the remainder of senior year, Sam will have to convince his only ally that he's not under the influence and decide if, unlike the rest of his family and school staff, Mr. Keegan can be trusted with the truth.

This book was incredibly helpful when I wrote The Simplicity of Being Normal. By clicking on the image above, you'll be redirected to it's description on Amazon.

One of my favorite moments was stumbling across a quotation by one of my great grandfathers that I was able to include in Simplicity:

"They [women], as weaker vessels, are given to him to nourish, cherish, and protect; to be their head, their patriarch, and their savior; to teach, instruct, counsel, and perfect them in all things." - Orson Pratt, The Seer, 1853

I'm very drawn to certain images when I write. Click on or hover above the photos below for the lines these pictures inspired.

Todd Keegan is a huge Aerosmith fan. So "Pink" ended up being played quite often!

Excerpt one - Chapter 2
POV: Todd keegan

What he wanted to do was lecture – it was one of his favorite things. To be the focal point and hold all the aces. Before deciding on teaching, he’d considered pushing this narcissistic propensity into performing of some kind. But audiences came and went. Fads shifted. If he was lucky enough to achieve popularity, he’d fall out of it. But what never changed was the endless parade of teenagers filling twenty-five desks six times a day. And while a captivated audience was ideal, a captive one was also gratifying.

So it was the perfect job, and he got most of what he needed out of it. He liked history and enjoyed sharing what he knew even though few, if any, of the little idiots grasped the finer nuances of the subject. Their brains were too saturated with designer clothes, boy bands, Japanese animation, and whatever else they were into. The neural pathways for drawing patterns and deriving pleasure from dates, facts, and historical figures had been eroded with cheeseburgers.

However, there was a more important knowledge that he found easier to impart. Based on his disinterest and his refusal to negotiate or empathize, occasionally he was able to coax a vital life lesson to grow in the shamrock shake mush of the teenage brain.

You aren’t entitled to anyone else’s understanding or sympathy. When you’re pulling burgers out of a microwave at McDonald’s, your boss isn’t going to give a shit if you’re sleepy or if your hamster died. Outside the high school doors, there’s no more “cut poor little Snoochie a break.” Fuck little Snoochie. That’s the most valuable thing I could teach you.

Excerpt Two - Chapter 18
POV: Julie Keegan

The sound of the door closing behind her. The lock turning. The footsteps. And when she turned back to the open doorway of her kitchen, there he was. She dropped the phone.

A sudden coldness hit Julie’s core. Like someone had punched a syringe into her chest and pushed several units of liquid nitrogen into her heart. She imagined the organ freezing, swathes of smoky frost curling from the solid rock.

He had the intimidating build of a linebacker. He was older than her, but not old enough to have lost the power he appeared capable of. Unlike how she’d pictured a home invader, his face had been uncovered. And there was no indication on it that he was anything other than a normal man. A normal man who stumbled into the wrong house? Sure. That was it. The houses looked similar. Sure.

Yeah, buddy. You’re in the wrong house. Just go. It’s all good. Calm down. She struggled to lift the corners of her mouth.

But upon realizing one had accidently entered the wrong house, one wouldn’t set down one’s large duffel bag as if preparing to stay. One wouldn’t step closer. One wouldn’t smile.

“Julia.” The stranger said. “I didn’t think you’d be home for hours. Did you know I’d be here?”

She hadn’t known what to say. Her mind was as calcified as the rest of her. He recognized her. He was there for her.
 

excerpt Three - Chapter 20
pOV: Sam Porter

“It astounds me, the liberties writers take nowadays. The lies that are allowed to be made in print.” Mr. Farr folded the paper in half. “This ‘fought bravely, valiantly, courageously’ hogwash. I don’t know how they get away with putting that stuff in. It’s not true. In the end, they’re all screaming and writhing in agony. Nothing brave about that.”

Sam wondered how individuals with this level of brash dickishness lived as long as they did. Without someone beating their heads into a brick wall, or at least someone –

“What about making it that far?”

The words left Sam before he could think about them. And because a stream of teenage diarrhea didn’t spray constantly from his mouth even in the prime “Amanda” years, people paid notice to him. But he hadn’t been able to help it – He’d thought of his grandmother picking him up in the rain at a Target when she needed a seatbelt extender because her tumor was so large.

“When you could just opt out,” Sam continued. “When you could deliver yourself, enduring is brave. Carrying on and not giving up is meaningful, even if it takes you in the end. Holding on is brave.”

Somewhat to his shock, his newfound ally had given the rebuttal.

“Both roads lead to the same place. ‘To suffer unnecessarily is masochistic rather than heroic.’”

Sam had picked up the wrapped bundle of silverware next to him. He broke the paper ring, unfolded the napkin, and took out the knife. Then he slid it across the table, where it clinked into Mr. Keegan’s untouched water glass.

“Do it now then.”