Good Different

Sue, Selah’s mother, is a nuanced supporting character whose internal conflicts parallel Selah’s in significant ways. At the beginning of the novel, Sue is characterized primarily through her efforts to maintain order, peace, and social propriety. She sometimes takes her people-pleasing efforts to extremes, as when she bakes cookies for neighbors who refuse to answer the door or avoids confrontations even when she is justifiably distressed by loud parties. When she urges Selah to stay calm in public spaces, the novel implies that Selah’s own social “rules” and masking tactics have been passed down from a mother who has used them to survive socially in her own life. These traits initially frame Sue as a parental figure who is invested in conformity, but the narrative gradually reveals that her avoidance behaviors stem from her own unrecognized neurodivergence. Sue’s fear of conflict and her tendency to “bottle up” her emotions suggest that she has engaged in long-term masking similar to Selah’s, and she therefore stands as a foil to her daughter by embodying the emotional consequences of a lifetime of masking.

Sue’s role evolves as she confronts her misunderstandings about Selah’s needs and her own identity. Her characterization is enriched through moments of vulnerability, as when she cries after learning why Selah hit Addie or when she panics over Pop’s disappearance. These scenes reveal Sue to be a dynamic character who is wrestling with her own feelings of inadequacy and guilt. Her revelation that she is also on the autism spectrum reframes the mother-daughter relationship between her and Selah. After this redefining moment, she becomes far more than an authority figure as she and Selah both seek ways to better understand each other. As she begins advocating for the accommodations that Selah needs, Sue demonstrates significant emotional growth. By the end of the novel, she embodies a synthesis of empathy, self-awareness, and protective instinct, and her own inner development suggests that even intergenerational patterns of masking can be interrupted when people learn to communicate effectively and trust each other with their moments of mutual vulnerability.

Pop serves as a mentor and an intergenerational counterpart to Selah. He is introduced through a series of concrete, sensory-rich details that suggest his neurodivergent traits, for as Selah states, “He always wears / orange-tinted sunglasses, / always carries / the same notebook in his shirt pocket, / always bikes off / or wanders into the woods / deep in thought” (34). These details emphasize his preference for routine, introspection, and familiar sensory anchors. Pop’s candid speech pairs with his disregard for social niceties, and when he “wanders” both physically or mentally, these quirks position him as a person who operates outside the neurotypical social norms that continue to constrain Sue and Selah. Selah recognizes Pop as a kindred spirit early on, noting, “Pop and I are the same / in lots of ways. // We’re both itching / to be in our own world” ( 94). This connection casts Pop as both a mirror and a possible future for Selah if she were to live without masking entirely.

In a literary sense, Pop functions as a foil to his daughter, Sue, for his blunt honesty and self-directed routines contrast sharply with her people-pleasing tendencies. Together, their disparate approaches to life illustrate two very different paths that neurodivergent adults might take in response to the stresses of a neurotypical world. Pop’s refusal to suppress his feelings or follow social expectations often leads to conflict, but he also provides Selah with validation and emotional safety, and he encourages her to express herself through writing. As the novel unfolds , he proves to be a rounded character whose strengths and shortcomings play a pivotal role in Selah’s development. Through Pop, the novel explores how neurodivergent traits can manifest differently across generations.

Noelle is Selah’s closest friend and functions as both a stabilizing presence and a catalyst for Selah’s interpersonal growth. Early in the novel, Noelle is the most accepting member of Selah’s lunch group; she shares interests like The Lord of the Rings and maintains a long-standing friendship with Selah, which dates back to kindergarten.

Noelle also serves as a contrast character—someone who moves through social spaces with ease but still harbors her own uncertainties. Her speech and behavior are initially portrayed as casual, but the text gradually reveals that Noelle also struggles with communication and misinterpretation. The girls’ friendship suffers not because Noelle rejects Selah but because both girls mistakenly believe that the other is withdrawing from the relationship. This mutual misreading highlights the fragility of adolescent relationships and sets the stage for the novel’s emphasis on Repairing Relationships After Harm.

Noelle’s significance in the narrative becomes most apparent during key emotional junctures. She speaks up for Selah during PE, advocates for her during FantasyCon, and defends her in social situations whenever Selah struggles to find her voice. However, Noelle is far from flawless. Her misunderstanding of Selah’s reasons for hitting Addie causes a temporary distance between the two friends, and her discomfort at FantasyCon contributes to Selah’s sense of overwhelm. In the end, these imperfections allow Noelle to become a dynamic, round character who proves to be capable of apologizing for her misunderstandings and demonstrating  empathy and inner growth. By reestablishing their friendship through open communication, Noelle models the type of relational reciprocity that Selah herself is learning to cultivate. Their repaired friendship represents a hopeful vision of what peer relationships can look like when differences are met with patience and honesty.

Addie is a secondary character whose well-meaning actions nonetheless precipitate the conflicts that drive the novel forward. Initially, Selah finds her persistent talking and physical closeness to be unacceptable stressors, and when Addie braids Selah’s hair without asking permission, this gesture becomes the tipping point that triggers an uncontrolled physical response from a deeply overwhelmed Selah, who inadvertently hits Addie. As a result, Addie represents the kind of well-intentioned but intrusive peer whose neurotypical social habits clash sharply with Selah’s sensory boundaries. She does not intend harm, but her actions nonetheless illuminate the fact that misaligned social expectations can be experienced as distressing or even threatening to someone who has heightened sensory sensitivity. Her behavior becomes the catalyst for the central conflict of the novel, underscoring how interpersonal misunderstandings can escalate when no shared language exists for discussing boundaries.

As the relationship evolves, the girls’ eventual reconciliation honors the novel’s thematic focus on repairing relationships after harm. When Selah apologizes via a poem that explains why she felt overwhelmed, Addie responds with grace, apologizing in turn and clarifying that her behavior was meant as friendliness. Their reconciliation culminates in Selah’s realization that she and Addie are “two different people / who like / different things,” and Selah admits, “for once / I realize // there’s nothing wrong / with that” (314). Addie’s shift in perspective and her later defense of Selah both position her as a character who highlights the possibility of genuine friendship across neurotypes.

As fellow students who frequently bully Selah, Cleo and Ezra collectively function as antagonistic figures, embodying the social forces that marginalize and stigmatize the protagonist. Cleo is positioned as a member of Selah’s lunch group—someone who should offer safety, familiarity, or companionship—but she instead becomes a source of emotional harm. Her comments about Selah’s interests, her negative reactions during the sleepover, and her perpetuation of harmful stereotypes about autism position her as a peer antagonist whose bullying comes from her determination to police the boundaries of social conformity. Her behavior exposes the subtle, socially sanctioned forms of bullying that often thrive in scholastic settings, and her mockery exhibits many of the societal misconceptions about autism, reinforcing the social pressures that Selah is desperately trying to navigate.

While Cleo’s actions are inherently harmful, Ezra represents a more overt form of antagonism. As a classmate who mocks Selah’s sensory tools, imitates siren noises, and taunts her with hostile questions, Ezra embodies the aggressive, performative cruelty that children and adolescents often used to assert their dominance within school social hierarchies. When he targets Selah’s coping strategies, his actions reveal that autistic accommodations can inadvertently attract unwanted attention, especially in unsupportive environments. Ezra’s taunts contribute to Selah’s fear of being perceived as dangerous or strange, reinforcing her belief that masking is necessary for survival. 

Together, Cleo and Ezra illustrate two sides of bullying; Cleo’s version relies upon microaggressions and indirect forms of social exclusion, while Ezra indulges in open ridicule. Their roles as antagonistic forces are essential elements in the author’s account of Selah’s transformation, for without their threatening presence in the narrative, the stakes of Selah’s self-expression and advocacy would not be as sharply defined.

Mrs. V serves as a warm, welcoming mentor who actively seeks to validate Selah’s experience of the world, and her encouragement counterbalances the social rejection that Selah experiences elsewhere. She is one of the few adults who consistently interprets Selah’s behavior through a lens of curiosity and understanding. Kuyatt often frames Mrs. V through her responses to Selah’s writing; the teacher reads Selah’s poems attentively, leaves thoughtful notes, and encourages her to experiment with self-expression, and these reactions reveal Mrs. V’s adherence to a student-centered pedagogy that gives Selah permission to celebrate and share her inner life.

Mrs. V’s symbolic role becomes most crucial in the moments when she validates Selah’s emotional experiences—especially when other adults interpret those same behaviors as misbehavior, danger, or immaturity. Mrs. V therefore represents the possibility that whole institutions might change for the better and begin accepting neurodivergent students for who they are rather than forcing them to conform to inauthentic social standards. In short, Mrs. V stands as proof that a teacher can hold authority while still offering empathy. By encouraging Selah to write about her feelings and to honor her own needs, she helps Selah find a healthier view of herself as different, not “wrong.”

Principal Merkert and Mr. S function as parallel antagonistic forces, for as they both seek to shame and exclude Selah in different ways, they collectively represent the institutional misunderstanding of autism and the punitive systems that often shape neurodivergent students’ educational experiences. While their behaviors differ in degree, their symbolic roles overlap significantly, and they both embody the neurotypical social norms that effectively erase Selah individuality and condemn her neurodivergence.

Mr. S adopts an attitude of casual cruelty and uses tools of negative authority, such as mispronouncing Selah’s name, calling attention to her doodling, threatening to confiscate her pencils, and taking away her sensory tools. Each of these actions communicates the message that Selah’s differences are a problem to be corrected. Functioning largely as a gatekeeper character, he polices students’ behavior through humiliation. His focus on stillness and obedience makes him an avatar of rigid classroom structures that often fail neurodivergent students in the real world.

By contrast, Principal Merkert’s antagonism is more systemic and far-reaching, and ultimately far crueler. As the final arbiter in the school’s day-to-day policies, he seeks to exclude Selah from the school entirely, enforcing her suspension and even going so far as to warn her that she may not have a her future at Pebblecreek. When she finally gains the courage to express herself publicly, he goes on a personal mission to remove her poems and other student-posted works from the walls. In this, he symbolizes the institutional layer of rejection, valuing rules and reputation far above the possibility of seeking to understand the needs of a struggling child.

Mr. S and Principal Merkert both perpetuate injustices and force Selah to realize that the crux of the problem lies in a school culture that equates “difference” with “disruption.” These characters highlight the stakes of Selah’s self-advocacy, compelling her to challenge a social structure that is designed to suppress the very traits that she is only beginning to understand.