Opening
A homemade robot breaks the silence in a fractured home as two teens try to outrun heartbreak at the same party. Jack Masselin reaches for something real while his family splits apart, and Libby Strout chooses her own story—one kiss, one confrontation, one brave yes at a time.
What Happens
Chapter 106: Jack
Jack can’t wait for Christmas. He sneaks the robot he built into his little brother’s room—a squat, clanking contraption he christens the Shitkicker—and lets it roll toward the door of Dusty’s room. Their house has been tight with silence ever since their dad’s affair came out and Dusty shut down, angry and unreachable. The robot brakes in the doorway and booms its mission: to “kick your ass.” Dusty laughs for the first time in days.
Jack claims he’s programmed the Shitkicker with “magic” so it can always find Dusty. The truth is sadder and smarter: the bot calls everyone Dusty, a joke with a sharp edge given Jack’s face blindness. The Shitkicker spins up the Jackson 5 and bounces to the beat; Dusty starts moving too, and then Jack joins them. For a minute, the room holds only music and brothers, and the heaviness lifts.
Chapter 107: Jack
Jack writes a two-line list: “Top 2 Things I Miss About Libby.” The first—“The way I feel when I’m with her. Like I just swallowed the sun and it’s shooting out of every pore.” The second—“Everything.” He lets the list stand as confession: he misses Libby wholly, fiercely, without defense.
Chapter 108: Jack
Four days later, Jack gears up for a party at Dave Kaminski’s house, another night of keeping his image intact. Before he can leave, his parents summon the brothers for a “serious talk.” Their dad rambles his love; Dusty cuts through it—are they getting a divorce? Their mom, quiet and tired, says they’re separating for a while to work on things.
Logistics swirl—where will they live, when will they see whom—while Jack drifts to the perimeter. He feels pressed against invisible glass, watching his own family from the outside. The floor gives way beneath what used to hold him up.
Chapter 109: Libby
Jayvee drives; Libby rides shotgun; Bailey Bishop floats the idea of Dave’s party. Libby says yes—she has nothing to lose—and then turns, calm and direct, to an old wound: Why didn’t Bailey defend her in fifth grade, when Moses Hunt and the others bullied her on the playground?
Bailey apologizes without excuses. She says she felt awful and didn’t know how to help, that her friendship now is real. Libby accepts it, and they hug. At the wall-to-wall party, Libby spots Mick from Copenhagen, and Dave nods at her in a way that reads like a small, public apology. The air shifts.
Chapter 110: Jack and Libby
Upstairs, Jack and Caroline Lushamp end up in a bedroom. Instead of their usual script, Jack tries to talk—real questions, real answers—but the conversation thuds. Caroline is glossy on the surface and empty underneath, and Jack realizes their thing is theater. He blinks and for a second sees Libby in Caroline’s place. When Caroline declares she’s finally ready to have sex, Jack surprises himself by asking why now. The question is a no. She shoves him off the bed, furious.
Downstairs, Libby dances with Mick. It feels nothing like dancing with Jack. A slow song pulls them close, and later Mick leads her to an empty room and asks if he can kiss her. Libby says yes partly because he isn’t Jack. The kiss is awkward—her leg cramps, his technique is showy, her thoughts wander—but she kisses him again. For a moment, she isn’t a headline or a tragedy. She’s a girl at a party, choosing what happens next.
Character Development
Jack and Libby push against the roles that have kept them safe. He steps out of performance and into honesty; she steps into spaces she once denied herself and rewrites her past.
- Jack Masselin: Rejects the hollow script with Caroline and faces the collapse at home. The robot for Dusty reveals his ingenuity and tenderness; the party forces him to admit he wants connection that sees him back.
- Libby Strout: Claims agency—calling out Bailey, accepting an apology, going to the party, and choosing a kiss for herself, not for anyone else’s narrative.
- Caroline Lushamp: Functions as a foil—style without substance—clarifying what Jack actually needs.
- Bailey Bishop: Shows remorse and growth, transforming a childhood failure into an adult friendship.
- Dusty Masselin: Briefly reemerges from anger; the laugh with the Shitkicker hints at healing.
Themes & Symbols
Seeing past surfaces becomes the point. Jack tries to see Caroline and finds nothing to hold; with Libby, he feels fully recognized. That contrast frames the theme of Seeing Beyond Appearances, where performance falls away and authenticity matters. Libby’s night out—Dave’s nod, Mick’s kiss, Bailey’s apology—signals a community starting to see her as more than a body or a story.
Separation intensifies Loneliness and Isolation. Jack watches his family break from behind metaphorical glass and feels equally distant in a crowded party and a crowded bed. Libby’s kiss answers emptiness with experiment, a momentary bridge. Meanwhile, her choices advance Self-Acceptance and Body Image: she doesn’t wait for permission to belong; she practices belonging.
The Shitkicker robot symbolizes repair and resistance. Jack can’t fix his parents or his prosopagnosia, but he can invent joy on purpose—proof of his creative love and the kind of problem-solving that actually changes a room.
Key Quotes
“Top 2 Things I Miss About Libby… 1) The way I feel when I’m with her. Like I just swallowed the sun and it’s shooting out of every pore. 2) Everything.”
Jack’s list strips away bravado. The solar image captures how Libby lights him from inside, and “Everything” admits there’s no part of his life untouched by her absence.
“On the outside… face pressed to the glass that divides us, looking in.”
This image defines Jack’s disconnection—at home, at parties, in relationships that don’t see him. The glass suggests proximity without access: close enough to watch, too far to matter.
“Kick your ass.”
The Shitkicker’s crude mission cracks Dusty’s anger and lets laughter back in. Humor becomes a tool for love, and the line turns a fight into a dance.
“Are you ready?” “Why now?”
Caroline’s offer meets Jack’s question, and the script collapses. His refusal to perform marks a turning point from image to intimacy.
Why This Matters and Section Significance
These chapters reset the board. Jack loses the two structures propping up his performance—his family’s stability and his relationship with Caroline—and chooses honesty over popularity. Libby reframes her past, accepts real friendship, and chooses experiences for herself. Apart at the same party, they each test life without the other and discover the same truth: substitutes don’t work. The near-miss makes their eventual reunion feel inevitable—and earned.