In Chap­ter Eigh­teen of “If These Wings Could Fly,” the pro­tag­o­nist reflects on her progress reports, reveal­ing her aca­d­e­m­ic per­for­mance: a stel­lar AP Eng­lish score of 100 and decent grades in oth­er sub­jects except for a dis­ap­point­ing C in Art I. This grade frus­trates her, as she had viewed art class as an easy break to focus more on her news­pa­per work and col­lege appli­ca­tions. In her frus­tra­tion, she nav­i­gates through crowd­ed hall­ways, eager to escape the school envi­ron­ment and dive into her per­son­al inter­ests, which include read­ing and music.

As she makes her way to her lock­er, a class­mate, Liam, play­ful­ly teas­es her about her grades. Their con­ver­sa­tion reveals a bud­ding friend­ship as he offers to help her improve in art. Despite her ini­tial resis­tance and self-doubt regard­ing her skills, Leighton finds her­self intrigued by the idea of spend­ing time with Liam out­side of school. While nom­i­nal­ly an art tutor­ing ses­sion, it feels akin to a date to her.

Their play­ful ban­ter con­tin­ues, and Liam invites her to a foot­ball game that night, which also has a bon­fire afterward—a prospect that makes her anx­ious as she’s not one for par­ties. While she hes­i­tates, it is evi­dent that she is drawn to Liam’s enthu­si­asm, and a part of her is tempt­ed to join in.

After dis­miss­ing Liam’s invi­ta­tion, she boards the bus, feel­ing con­flict­ed about her inter­ac­tions with him. Camp­bell, her friend, ques­tions her about Liam, and the top­ic shifts to her grades, high­light­ing her aspi­ra­tions for New York Uni­ver­si­ty. Camp­bell makes a pro­tec­tive remark about Leighton’s grades that indi­cates their deep bond and under­ly­ing fears about their future. The chap­ter clos­es with Leighton grap­pling with her deci­sions about school and friend­ships, pon­der­ing her own brav­ery in leav­ing her cur­rent life behind, with the weight of uncer­tain­ty hang­ing over her as she con­tem­plates what will ulti­mate­ly pro­pel her for­ward: courage or cow­ardice.

In Chap­ter Eigh­teen of “The Choco­late War,” intense intro­spec­tion leads Jer­ry to ques­tion the choic­es he has made, specif­i­cal­ly regard­ing his rebel­lion against Broth­er Leon. The chap­ter opens with Jer­ry wrestling with exis­ten­tial ques­tions about his actions, lead­ing to a tumul­tuous inter­nal dia­logue. He rec­og­nizes the absur­di­ty of his sit­u­a­tion, feel­ing both like the inter­roga­tor and the inter­ro­gat­ed, while tan­gled in his bed­sheets, sym­bol­iz­ing his suf­fo­cat­ing thoughts. The weight of mor­tal­i­ty press­es on him, as mem­o­ries of his deceased moth­er resur­face, prompt­ing him to pon­der the nature of life and death.

Jer­ry’s insom­nia is com­pound­ed by thoughts of Broth­er Leon’s cru­el enforce­ment tac­tics and the tor­ment faced by class­mates like Bai­ley. Despite ini­tial­ly feel­ing relief after con­clud­ing a bur­den­some choco­late sale assign­ment, Jer­ry becomes increas­ing­ly tired of Leon’s psy­cho­log­i­cal games. Dur­ing roll call, he unex­pect­ed­ly asserts his defi­ance with a firm “No,” an act that sur­pris­es both him and Broth­er Leon, expos­ing the hid­den strug­gle with­in the teacher. Leon’s vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties, evi­dent in his eyes, become a focal point for Jer­ry, who feels empa­thy mixed with dis­gust towards the sit­u­a­tion they are both trapped in.

As the chap­ter pro­gress­es, Jer­ry reflects on his iso­la­tion from his peers due to the secret he car­ries and con­tem­plates whether reveal­ing his feel­ings to The Goober might alle­vi­ate his bur­den. How­ev­er, he ulti­mate­ly decides to endure the sit­u­a­tion until the assign­men­t’s con­clu­sion. The chap­ter ends with Jer­ry grap­pling with dis­con­tent about his life, pon­der­ing the specter of con­for­mi­ty while being drawn to a cap­ti­vat­ing image of a girl, sym­bol­iz­ing his long­ing for nor­mal­cy and con­nec­tion. Despite his tur­bu­lent thoughts and the dark­ness envelop­ing him, he remains trapped in a cycle of self-exam­i­na­tion, illus­trat­ing the inter­nal con­flict between rebel­lion and com­pla­cen­cy that defines his char­ac­ter jour­ney.