Good Different

Rules form one of the novel’s most prominent motifs, serving as frequent reminders of the intricate coping mechanisms that Selah constructs to survive environments that were not designed for her sensory and emotional needs. Her rules dictate everything from how to behave in conversations to how to hide her distress and overwhelm, and she is clearly laboring under the accumulated weight of society’s expectations. The motif illustrates the issues involved in The Challenges of Masking by illustrating how deeply Selah feels compelled to conform to the neurotypical world, even when her own rules stifle her sense of self. Over the course of the narrative, she begins to question the prospect of adhering to patterns of behavior that make others more comfortable at the expense of her own well-being. When she notes, “It’s hard to tell / what are real rules / and what are my rules” (272), the novel suggests that masking, while useful in certain situations, can also entangle genuine needs with imposed norms.

As Selah learns new approaches, she learns to shed self-imposed rules that have become a barrier to authentic self-expression. She even goes so far as to create a new set of rules at the end of the novel—ones emphasizing honesty, help-seeking, and being herself. This evolution celebrates Selah’s new willingness to set aside her old fears and accept every aspect of herself.

Pebblecreek Academy functions as a symbol of structure, familiarity, and conditional belonging. For much of Selah’s life, the school has offered companionship and routine, aspects that she values deeply. However, as she enters middle school and faces new social complexities and increasing academic pressure, she grows overwhelmed by sensory overload and her peers’ scrutiny, and at this pivotal moment, the school community that was once a haven now seeks to exclude her at every turn. Despite being framed as a “family,” the staff and students repeatedly fail to understand or support Selah’s needs, and the school’s strict behavioral expectations amplify her anxiety.

The crowded classrooms and noisy hallways reinforce the sense that Pebblecreek has become a gauntlet of sensory overwhelm, and certain authority figures, such as Mr. S and Principal Merkert, enforce a systemic attitude of rigidity, openly criticizing Selah’s autistic traits and using them as reasons to single her out for exclusion. The principal makes it a personal quest to silence her voice by removing her posted poems, and it is clear that he is unwilling to tolerate any student voices that deviate from the norm. However, despite these imperfections, Selah’s courageous response to this discrimination teaches her valuable life lessons about speaking out against injustice and bringing about positive change, and in this light, Pebblecreek becomes the site of her emerging advocacy. Her poems spark new conversations and inspire others to write, and she eventually causes deeper changes for the better within the school community. Pebblecreek therefore encapsulates both the obstacles and the breakthroughs that shape Selah’s journey toward self-discovery.

Dragons operate as a multifaceted symbol, and Selah’s varying descriptions of the mythical creatures serve as reliable indicators of her mood and outlook at any given moment. She associates dragons with imagination and her own developing identity, and in some scenes, dragons also represent the personality traits that Selah admires, such as strength, independence, honesty, and freedom from social constraints. She holds that unlike people, dragons do not mask their emotions or worry about appearing “weird.” By identifying with dragons so intensely, Selah expresses her sense of “otherness” among her peers, indicating that her own way of being does not always align with people’s expectations. She notes that dragons can be “solitary creatures / if we need to be. / Safer / for everyone / if we stay / in dungeons and caves / away / from everyone else” (110), and her use of the first-person plural reflects her conviction that she too must isolate herself to avoid hurting others. In this sense, dragons symbolize both her perceived danger and her longing for safety.

As the narrative progresses, the dragon symbol evolves alongside Selah’s understanding of herself, becoming a metaphor for her creative power. She later reflects that “Dragons fly // wherever they want to go; no one / can stop them. And poems // make me feel like a dragon” (179). Here, dragons symbolize self-expression and liberation, aligning closely with the theme self-expression as a tool for advocacy. The dragon inside Selah “wakes up” during moments of courage or emotional awareness, and it is clear that embracing her true nature grants her a new sense of strength. Ultimately, dragons symbolize the reframing of autistic intensity from something dangerous to something powerful, imaginative, and unique.