Full Measures

These chapters dismantle the concept of a stable future, using Ember’s abrupt transfer from Boulder to Colorado Springs to further explore The Illusion of Control in a World of Uncertainty. Her previous life, defined by a five-year plan with Riley, evaporates when her family’s crisis dictates her immediate decisions. The novel underscores this shift by repeatedly invoking and then subverting the idea of meticulous planning as a way to create control. Ember attempts to reestablish order by making pancakes, a family tradition tied to a predictable schedule, but learning of April’s chaotic spending disrupts this. The arrival of Uncle Mike with a news crew represents a serious violation of the family’s privacy and shows that Ember can’t calmly manage every variable. Her response (setting fire to the West Point shirt in the kitchen sink) is a raw, impulsive act of destruction that marks significant character development; unable to reestablish order, Ember asserts agency by violently rejecting the exploitative narrative her uncle attempts to impose on the family. In a world stripped of certainty, sometimes only defiance can regain control.

The novel’s thematic examination of The Impact of Grief on Relationships and Familial Roles deepens through Ember’s attempts to fill the role of a surrogate parent while processing her own trauma. This duality is evident in her actions and internal monologue: She performs the logistical duties of a mother (making breakfast, managing bills, dealing with the school) while privately feeling resentment and exhaustion. The line, “I wanted not to be the only adult in the family anymore” (103), reveals the psychological weight of her premature responsibilities. Her anger at her mother isn’t just for her emotional absence but for the abdication of her parenting role. Grams’s presence provides some support, yet she functions mainly as an advisor, reinforcing the idea that the primary burden remains on Ember. The conflict with April further complicates this dynamic, compelling Ember to become a disciplinarian to a sister whose destructive coping mechanisms mirror her own inner chaos. April’s theft and truancy aren’t just teenage rebellion but symptoms of unprocessed grief, forcing Ember to police behavior when she herself feels unmoored. Her decision to transfer to a local college is the ultimate manifestation of this theme, as she sacrifices her future to fulfill a duty she never chose.

Against this backdrop of loss and duty, the burgeoning relationship between Ember and Josh thematically develops Weighing the Risk of Love Against the Fear of Loss. Unlike Riley, whose love was conditional and predicated on self-serving behavior, Josh offers unconditional support, positioning himself not as a planner but as a responsive presence. His repeated promise to Ember that he’ll be “whatever you need me to be” (80) frames their connection as one of emotional attunement rather than predetermined goals. Ember’s intense physical and emotional response to him is consistently undercut by her profound fear. Having witnessed her mother’s life as a military wife (a life of “waiting” that has now culminated in widowhood), Ember resolves to live a life of independence and caution. This conviction transforms Josh’s presence from a potential comfort into a perceived threat. Her attempts to push him away are acts of self-preservation, born from the terror of becoming attached to someone who could inflict the same kind of loss she’s currently experiencing.

The abstract emotional conflicts driving the narrative find outlets in the story’s settings. Just as the party and then the family’s cabin offered respite from grief in the previous section, the hockey rink represents controlled escapism in these chapters. As a structured environment, the rink provides stability for Gus and a neutral territory where Ember can observe Josh outside the emotionally charged context of her home. It’s a space that represents potential, contrasting with the Howard house, which has become a container for grief and chaos.

In addition, symbolism continues to contribute to the novel’s depth. The West Point T-shirt represents not just the military institution but the commodification of the family’s tragedy. For Uncle Mike, it’s a prop to make the story more compelling for public consumption and a way to generate profit from their grief. For Ember, not only does the T-shirt reflect her uncle’s utter lack of compassion for the family, but it also embodies her fear that Gus will follow his father into a life that ends in a folded flag. Her burning the shirt, therefore, symbolically rejects this legacy and is a protective act of severing her family from the institution she blames for her father’s death. Because Josh witnesses her burning the shirt, she associates her embarrassment over succumbing to rage with their developing relationship, and again feels too overwhelmed to accept his support.

The structural craft of these chapters mirrors Ember’s psychological state of being under siege. The narrative pacing is relentless, stacking one small crisis upon another with little room for resolution: the breakup, the discovery of debt, the confrontation with Riley, the decision to transfer (and inherent tasks), and the ambush by the news crew all occur in rapid succession. This rapid sequence of events denies Ember any respite, mirroring her feeling of being overwhelmed. The final revelation that Josh lives in the apartment next door to hers eliminates any possibility of physical or emotional retreat for Ember, ensuring that the new life she’s building will be inextricably linked to him. By placing her source of potential love (and greatest fear) in immediate proximity, the narrative structure forces her to confront her central internal conflict.