In Chap­ter Ten of *If These Wings Could Fly*, the pro­tag­o­nist is sur­round­ed by an over­whelm­ing pres­ence of crows in Auburn, which seem to mul­ti­ply each day, adding an unset­tling yet fas­ci­nat­ing dimen­sion to her rou­tine. While the towns­peo­ple express annoy­ance at the birds, she finds com­fort in their pres­ence, as it par­al­lels her own expe­ri­ences and obser­va­tions of life in Auburn. The chap­ter nos­tal­gi­cal­ly reflects on her child­hood, espe­cial­ly with her late Grand­pa, who pro­vid­ed a sanc­tu­ary from her father’s anger. Fol­low­ing his death, there was a stark shift in her fam­i­ly’s dynam­ics, espe­cial­ly with her grand­moth­er Nana, who has also faced declines in health since los­ing Grand­pa.

The pro­tag­o­nist often vis­its Nana in an assist­ed liv­ing apart­ment in Lin­coln, yet she lies to her moth­er about her where­abouts, rein­forc­ing a secre­tive dis­tress in her fam­i­ly life. The vis­its to Nana are inti­mate but tinged with sad­ness, as they both under­stand the unspo­ken chal­lenges they face. Their con­ver­sa­tions reveal warmth and con­nec­tion amidst the back­drop of fam­i­ly strug­gles; Nana’s mem­o­ry remains strong, but each vis­it brings a reminder of the fam­i­ly frac­tures caused by grief and unre­solved issues root­ed in their past.

As Leighton takes care of Nana dur­ing her vis­it, she reflects on the com­fort­ing and famil­iar sen­sa­tions of her grandmother’s apart­ment, even as they dis­cuss their fam­i­ly trou­bles. The chap­ter con­cludes with Leighton return­ing to Auburn, still seek­ing a sign of reas­sur­ance from Grand­pa that every­thing will be okay, but instead, she is greet­ed only by the crows, sym­bol­iz­ing the weight of her unre­solved fears and the ongo­ing tur­bu­lence in her life. The crows embody a haunt­ing pres­ence, mir­ror­ing the emo­tion­al tur­moil she car­ries in her heart.

In Chap­ter Ten of “The Choco­late War,” Archie reluc­tant­ly acknowl­edges the effec­tive drama­ti­za­tion of the choco­late sale by Broth­er Leon, which has put both him­self and The Vig­ils in a pres­sured posi­tion. Dur­ing a spe­cial assem­bly, Broth­er Leon engages the stu­dent body with a the­atri­cal dis­play of school spir­it, intro­duc­ing ten large card­board posters list­ing every student’s name along­side spaces to record their choco­late sales. The assem­bly begins with tra­di­tion­al prayers, but the atmos­phere quick­ly turns comedic as the posters strug­gle to adhere to the con­crete walls, much to the amuse­ment of the audi­ence.

Broth­er Leon, unde­terred by the dis­rup­tions, deliv­ers a pow­er­ful speech that com­bines manip­u­la­tion and nos­tal­gia, empha­siz­ing school pride and the need for funds to sup­port Trin­i­ty. He informs the stu­dents that the choco­late sale’s quo­ta has dou­bled to fifty box­es per stu­dent, an appeal which is meant to stir enthu­si­asm and oblig­a­tion. He assures them that their con­tri­bu­tions will secure the school’s lega­cy, call­ing on the over­whelm­ing sense of respon­si­bil­i­ty among the boys.

How­ev­er, as Leon speaks, Archie’s thoughts drift. He remem­bers the ear­li­er Vig­il meet­ing where he guar­an­teed sup­port for the sale, despite his com­pan­ions’ skep­ti­cism about engag­ing in such fundrais­ing events. Empha­siz­ing the sig­nif­i­cance of The Vig­ils, he had argued for the endorse­ment to demon­strate their clout, but now lis­ten­ing to Leon’s exag­ger­at­ed fer­vor, doubts creep in.

Archie reflects on how he will han­dle his quo­ta. He’s always avoid­ed sell­ing choco­lates him­self, opt­ing instead to del­e­gate the task to oth­ers, as it ele­vates them to a spe­cial sta­tus with­in The Vig­ils. This year, he plans a new strat­e­gy: dis­trib­ut­ing the work­load even­ly among five peers, ensur­ing they only sell ten box­es each, which he jus­ti­fies as a fair and com­pas­sion­ate approach. Archie sits back, sat­is­fied with his clever plans, dis­play­ing a blend of arro­gance and an illu­sion of fair­ness in how he man­ages his respon­si­bil­i­ties.

In Chap­ter Ten of “Lord of the Flies,” titled “The Shell and the Glass­es,” the rem­nants of the group grap­ple with the con­se­quences of their descent into sav­agery, par­tic­u­lar­ly after Simon’s death. Pig­gy observes Ralph, who limps up, vis­i­bly hurt and disheveled, indi­cat­ing the toll tak­en on both phys­i­cal­ly and men­tal­ly. Their brief exchange reveals the loss of oth­er boys and the lin­ger­ing impact of recent events. Ralph’s acknowl­edge­ment of Simon’s mur­der weighs heav­i­ly on them, and a tense dis­cus­sion ensues as they both deny their roles in the chaos.

As their con­ver­sa­tion unfolds, Pig­gy insists that Simon’s death was an acci­dent, assert­ing the influ­ence of fear and dark­ness over their actions that night. Ralph, how­ev­er, feels an oppres­sive guilt, express­ing fear towards the inner dark­ness that has tak­en root with­in them all. They reflect on their desire for res­cue and a hope to return to civ­i­liza­tion, amidst grow­ing anx­i­ety about the oth­ers who have embraced bru­tal­i­ty.

Sam and Eric arrive, but there’s an unspo­ken under­stand­ing of shared trau­ma that envelops their dia­logue. They pre­tend igno­rance about the fray, align­ing with Piggy’s insis­tence that they were not part of the hor­ror of the last night’s dance, thus avoid­ing con­fronting their own involve­ment.

Mean­while, Jack and his tribe are por­trayed in stark con­trast. As they plot their next hunt, the group’s pri­mal urges emerge with­in Jack, who rein­forces his author­i­ty through rit­u­al and intim­i­da­tion. He boasts about plans to hunt and phys­i­cal­ly dom­i­nate oth­ers, rev­el­ing in the chaos that sur­rounds him. Roger’s enjoy­ment of vio­lence is increas­ing­ly evi­dent, and the dynam­ics of pow­er shift fur­ther away from Ralph and Pig­gy.

Ulti­mate­ly, Ralph strives to rekin­dle the hope of being res­cued through fire, sig­ni­fy­ing con­nec­tion to civ­i­liza­tion. How­ev­er, the boys strug­gle against the con­cept, and Ralph’s despair deep­ens as they refuse to com­mit ful­ly to keep­ing the fire alive. The chap­ter cul­mi­nates in a clash between the rem­nants of civil­i­ty rep­re­sent­ed by Ralph and Pig­gy and the vio­lent sav­agery of Jack’s tribe, embody­ing the novel’s cen­tral con­flict between order and chaos.

In this chap­ter of “The Bread­win­ner,” Par­vana and her friend Shauzia embark on an unusu­al and grim task: dig­ging up bones in a war-torn sec­tion of Kab­ul to sell for mon­ey. Despite Par­vana’s ini­tial hes­i­ta­tions about the moral­i­ty of their actions, Shauzia insists that their pri­ma­ry goal is finan­cial sur­vival. As they make their way to the aban­doned grave­yard, they encounter dev­as­ta­tion in the form of ruined build­ings and graves dis­turbed by bomb blasts. The sight of crows scav­eng­ing among the bones high­lights the bleak­ness of their sur­round­ings.

Upon arrival, they learn about the bone bro­ker, a man who buys the bones from scav­engers like them­selves. While Par­vana is curi­ous about the pur­pose of the bones, Shauzia reas­sures her that their focus should be on earn­ing mon­ey. After ner­vous­ly begin­ning their work, the two girls dis­cov­er mul­ti­ple skulls, which they jok­ing­ly per­son­i­fy, even des­ig­nat­ing one as their “mas­cot.”

As they con­tin­ue dig­ging, they share a moment of lev­i­ty when dis­cussing the poten­tial reper­cus­sions of dis­turb­ing the dead, as well as the fear of land mines, which adds a lay­er of ten­sion to their grim activ­i­ty. They man­age to dig up a con­sid­er­able amount of bones and even­tu­al­ly meet with the bone bro­ker, who pays them a sub­stan­tial amount—more than Par­vana would typ­i­cal­ly earn in three days. This new­found wealth brings excite­ment and plans for fur­ther dig­ging the next day.

Reflect­ing on their actions under the brief sun­light that breaks through the clouds, Par­vana and Shauzia con­tem­plate the sig­nif­i­cance of their expe­ri­ence. They express a nos­tal­gic hope to remem­ber this day when they are old­er and wealthy, indi­cat­ing an under­stand­ing that their cur­rent actions are a stark con­se­quence of their dire cir­cum­stances.

By the end of the chap­ter, Par­vana care­ful­ly nav­i­gates her home­ward thoughts, deter­mined to hide a por­tion of her earn­ings to secure a lit­tle finan­cial free­dom for her­self. Despite her attempts to wash away the day’s grim imagery, the mem­o­ry of their unset­tling task lingers, sym­bol­ized by the sight of the grin­ning skulls. The chap­ter encap­su­lates the harsh real­i­ties of life dur­ing wartime, the resilience required to sur­vive, and the bit­ter­sweet moments of child­hood amidst tragedy.

In Chap­ter Ten, the pro­tag­o­nist con­fronts a dra­mat­ic and emo­tion­al series of events fol­low­ing her escape from a har­row­ing sit­u­a­tion. After a sweaty run and chaot­ic pub­lic trans­port jour­ney, she arrives at the Min­istry, only to be inter­cept­ed by Simel­lia, who seemed to have a plan. An urgent con­ver­sa­tion reveals that Arthur, a sig­nif­i­cant fig­ure in her life, has died, bring­ing forth an emo­tion­al break­down as her pan­ic and grief take hold.

Simel­lia, how­ev­er, sur­pris­es her by point­ing a gun at her, reveal­ing a shock­ing betray­al: she is the mole who has been leak­ing infor­ma­tion. This stark rev­e­la­tion leads to a con­fronta­tion about their moral choic­es, with Simel­lia assert­ing that the Min­istry’s grim future—a destroyed sub-Saha­ran Africa and an oblit­er­at­ed Europe—is the result of their actions and choic­es. The two women engage in a heat­ed exchange that spi­rals into phys­i­cal con­flict. Amidst the chaos, the pro­tag­o­nist seizes con­trol, wield­ing the gun as they con­tin­ue to dis­cuss the impli­ca­tions of their actions and the broad­er soci­etal col­lapse they are fac­ing.

The atmos­phere becomes tense as the Brigadier appears, empha­siz­ing the grim stakes at play. He sug­gests that they are trapped in a cycle of vio­lence and ret­ri­bu­tion. As the pro­tag­o­nist feels the weight of guilt con­cern­ing Arthur and the shad­owy future that lies ahead, she even­tu­al­ly unloads her gun at the time-door machine, trig­ger­ing alarms and omi­nous red lights, which fore­shad­ow pos­si­bly dire con­se­quences for them all.

In the ensu­ing con­fu­sion, Simel­li­a’s attempt to aid their escape leads to anoth­er dead­ly con­fronta­tion, as more Min­istry forces arrive. Escap­ing into the chaos, Simel­lia bursts forth with a gun point­ed at the pro­tag­o­nist while mak­ing a des­per­ate bid for sur­vival, under­scor­ing the para­noia that now dic­tates their lives. Fol­low­ing a tumul­tuous inter­ac­tion, they find them­selves back in a park­ing lot where Simel­lia, embrac­ing the futil­i­ty of their sit­u­a­tion, decides to cut ties, sug­gest­ing a pow­er­ful need to take con­trol of her nar­ra­tive mov­ing for­ward.

The pro­tag­o­nist returns home, reveal­ing her inner tur­moil as she grap­ples with mem­o­ries of the life and rela­tion­ships that have been irrev­o­ca­bly altered. Shock­ing­ly, she finds Gra­ham at her kitchen table—armed and accusato­ry. Their con­fronta­tion opens up ques­tions of trust, betray­al, and the rem­nants of love as she learns the extent of the Min­istry’s manip­u­la­tions woven through their very iden­ti­ties. Ulti­mate­ly, she is left reflect­ing on loss, regret, and the futil­i­ty of try­ing to impose order in a chaot­ic world framed by tem­po­ral dis­rup­tion and emo­tion­al wreck­age.