Freak the Mighty tells the unlikely story of the friendship that develops between Max, a frighteningly tall (and in his own opinion, unintelligent) eighth grader and his new neighbor, a boy named Kevin. Kevin—whom Max calls “Freak” for most of the novel—has Morquio syndrome, which means that he has dwarfism and he suffers from a number of related health issues. But Freak is also the smartest person Max has ever met. As the boys get to know each other, develop their friendship, and come up with the persona they call Freak the Mighty—that is, Freak on Max’s shoulders, who possesses their combined height, strength, and brainpower—the novel suggests that meaningful friendship isn’t as simple as just liking or spending time with someone. Rather, friendships are valuable when they help friends to feel deeply appreciated, understood, and to discover who they are—or who they want to be.
When Max starts his story, he implies that he’s never had a friend before. This is because almost everyone is afraid of him due to his height and because of the fact that his father, who’s known around town as “Killer Kenny,” murdered Max’s mother (Annie) when Max was little. Because Max looks like Kenny, most people treat Max with caution and fear. To many, he’s simply not friend material. In addition to the fact that others ostracize Max, he also intentionally ostracizes himself. He lives with his grandparents, Grim and Gram, and though they’d like Max to live upstairs, Max insists on living in the basement, which he calls “the down under.” Max tries so hard to isolate himself because he so fully believes in his lack of intelligence and he’s sure that he’s going to become violent one day—but this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t secretly desire friendship. Being isolated is lonely and difficult, but it’s much easier than trying to make friends. Freak, too, is isolated due to his physical disabilities—but like Max, he also desires friendship. When the boys cross paths, they both bring something to the table that the other doesn’t have. The first time the boys meet, Max is able to use his height to rescue Freak’s ornithopter (a motorized bird) from a tree, and Freak introduces Max to the power of storytelling and of imagination. After Freak leaves Max’s room that first day, Max cries of happiness. Human connection, this emotional reaction suggests, is absolutely necessary to a fulfilling life.
The boys come up with their shared persona of Freak the Mighty on the Fourth of July, when Freak can’t see the fireworks due to his height and so Max picks Freak up and sets him on his shoulders so that he can see. As the boys begin to spend more and more time as Freak the Mighty, they both become increasingly confident and close, as Freak the Mighty gives both of them qualities they don’t have on their own. For the first time in Max’s life, he gets to feel smart, as being Freak the Mighty lets him “borrow” Freak’s brain. Freak is in charge while they’re Freak the Mighty: he tells Max where to go and what to do by pulling on his hair and kicking him gently, which gives Max a sense of comfort and pride in his abilities. For Freak’s part, he finally gets to see the world from up high and enjoy a type of mobility and freedom he doesn’t ever get on his own two feet, where he normally walks with the help of crutches and leg braces. As Freak the Mighty, Max in particular gets to feel proud of who he is for the first time. The experience of allowing Freak to dictate his movements helps Max to trust himself, which in turn makes him willing to follow Freak into all manner of questionable situations—and get them back out again thanks to his strength and size, combined with Freak’s quick thinking. Together, the boys are able to go on adventures that neither could’ve gone on alone, which adds richness to both their lives as well as increases their affection for and trust in each other.
Moreover, as the novel progresses, both Max and Freak are able to help shared acquaintances and friends think about the boys differently. While Max scares many people at first, a number of people, from Grim and Gram to Max and Freak’s school principal, are able to see that Max isn’t actually a terrifying person as they watch Max interact with Freak. Rather, the way that Max behaves around Freak drives home for them that Max is a generous and sensitive individual. Max is also able to help others shift or tweak the way they think about Freak. Above all else, Max honors Freak’s dignity and he tries not to do anything that makes Freak seem or feel pitiable or weak—and so when others suggest that Freak is a “poor boy” or that he struggles a lot, Max pushes back. Through this, he encourages others to focus on all the things that Freak can do, something that transforms Freak in the minds of others from a “poor boy” to a fully-fledged person who lived a full, if tragically short, life (Freak dies from heart complications related to Morquio syndrome at the end of the novel). Through this mutually enriching friendship, and specifically through writing Freak the Mighty’s story (the novel itself) in the year after Freak dies, Max is able to honor Freak’s memory. Further, he’s able to convey the power of friendship to afford others dignity, inspire confidence, and encourage kindness for all.
Friendship ThemeTracker
Friendship Quotes in Freak the Mighty
It’s real easy, he doesn’t weigh much and I’m pretty sure I remember looking back and seeing him up in the wagon happy as can be, like he’s really enjoying the ride and not embarrassed to have me pulling him around.
But like Freak says later in this book, you can remember anything, whether it happened or not.
The deal this year is that I get to go with Freak, which Gram thinks is a good idea because she’s afraid he’ll get crushed or something, she actually thinks people are going to step on him, which just goes to show how brainless she can be sometimes, and scared of everything. I mean nobody steps on little kids down there, so why should they step on Freak?
Me rescuing Freak. What a joke, right? Except that’s how it must have looked from a distance, because they never knew it was Freak who rescued me—or his genius brain and my big dumb body.
By now I know what a quest is because Freak has explained the whole deal, how it started with King Arthur trying to keep all his knights busy by making them do things that proved how strong and brave and smart they were, or sometimes how totally numb, because how else can you explain dudes running around inside big clunky tin cans and praying all the time? Which I don’t mention to Freak because he’s very sensitive about knights and quests and secret meanings.
I can tell he really means it. This isn’t a pretend quest, or making houses into castles or swimming pools into moats. This is why we came here, so Freak could show me where he’s been. The place is important to him. I understand this much, even if I still don’t understand about bionics or what it means to be a human robot.
I’m standing up straight, as tall as I can, and I’m marching exactly like he wants me to, right and left, backwards and forwards, and it’s like music or something, like I don’t even have to think about it, I just do it, and all those kids chanting our name [...]
As a matter of fact I do know the answer—the reason Johnny Tremain got mad and hateful is because he burned his hand in a stupid accident—and I know about that because Freak has been showing me how to read a whole book and for some reason it all makes sense, where before it was just a bunch of words I didn’t care about.
[...] all I can think is they’re going to put me back in the learning disabled class. I’ve already decided I’ll run away if they do that [...] Anyhow, I don’t take Freak’s dictionary along because my hands are trembly and I might drop it, or Mrs. Addison might ask me a word and I’ll forget how to look it up and prove I’m still a butthead goon.
“It’s not me who had quite a day,” I say. “Kevin is the one. All he did was try and eat his lunch.”
Mrs. Addison gives me this look, and then she goes, “You’re going to be okay, Maxwell Kane. I’m sure of it now.”
She’s okay for a principal, but for some reason I still can’t make her understand that it’s not me who had a really bad Friday the Thirteenth.
The quiet is almost as big as he is. He’s as tall as me, only wider everywhere, and for some reason, maybe because we’re not far from Freak’s house, I’m thinking this weird thought: He doesn’t need a suit of armor.
The deal is, this is really two birthdays for the price of one, because Freak the Mighty is almost a year old.
[...] Freak says we can’t expect her to understand, because you can’t really get what it means to be Freak the Mighty unless you are Freak the Mighty.
“Don’t get me upset,” he warns. “I won’t have the time, so you’ll have to do it. Just write it all down like you’re talking. Put in all the fun we had, the cool things we did. Our adventures.”
“But you know I can’t write, Kevin.”
“It’s all in your head, Max, everything you can remember. Just tell the story of Freak the Mighty, no big deal.”
“I don’t think it was a lie, Maxwell, do you? I think he needed something to hope for and so he invented this rather remarkable fantasy you describe. Everybody needs something to hope for. Don’t call it a lie. Kevin wasn’t a liar.”
So I wrote the unvanquished truth stuff down and then kept on going, for months and months, until it was spring again, and the world was really and truly green all over. By the time we got here, which I guess should be the end, I’m feeling okay about remembering things.