Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Yes,” the class answered collectively.

  “Great!” he beamed. “So, let’s start with overall thoughts on the chapter.” He looked around the room, waiting for someone to raise their hand and begin the discussion. After several long, silent seconds, Becca’s hand went up.

  “Becca.”

  “I thought it was interesting that the author told us that Thomas Ankell really didn’t like anything about the America before the revolution. He didn’t even want to save it. He didn’t have any plans to even start the revolution. He hoped America would fall.”

  “Excellent starting point,” Mr. McDermott said. “This is a detail many have wondered about since this book was made public. Do you think that it’s true that he hoped the United States would collapse? Or do you think that the author’s making that up for the sake of good storytelling? A fighting for the greater good sort of narrative?”

  A girl raised her hand.

  “His feelings actually make sense to me, in a way.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he was so unhappy with the state of the country that he didn’t see any way to save it,” the girl elaborated. “He ended up rebelling because he had to create a whole new system. The old one had to fall.”

  “That’s a very good point, Jessica,” Mr. McDermott agreed. He saw another hand in the back of the room. “Yes, Kevin?”

  “I’m confused about something,” he started. “The author says that there are some controversial things about Thomas Ankell’s life. Is it just that he didn’t like America, or…”

  “No, no,” Mr. McDermott laughed brokenly. “In the next few chapters, you will read some things that will make your eyebrows raise, that’s for sure. Drug abuse, teen pregnancy, and intense violence.” He sat on his desk. “But this does bring up another very good point. Do you all agree with Jessica? That Thomas Ankell wanted to create a new system?”

  Taylor raised her hand. “I didn’t really get that impression when I was reading it,” she disagreed. “I mean, there is a line—” she flipped through her book.

  “Quoting!” Mr. McDermott grinned, also opening his book. “Quoting is good.”

  “It’s this line, where he says: ‘I hate this country. I hope it destroys itself and burns itself to the ground. It deserves it.’ To me, that doesn’t sound like he wanted to rebuild anything. It said earlier in the chapter that he didn’t understand the government, and that meant he didn’t have any ideas for a better system when the revolution started.”

  “Excellent point!” Mr. McDermott said. “And, actually, this is a perfect lead into what I wanted to talk about today. The author makes a point to start out this book by saying that Thomas Ankell did not know anything about politics. Did anyone notice the way the author talks about the Ankell family?”

  “They’re repeatedly called ordinary and typical,” one boy answered.

  “Exactly. The author makes a point to stress that Ankell came from perfectly ordinary roots. This holds true to the American notion of the self-made man who makes his own way in the world. This sort of description of the family and the background of Ankell eludes to other great historical narrations of pre-Second Revolution American heroes, like Benjamin Franklin, which I think you all read a few years ago.

  “So, why do you think this language was used in this first chapter to introduce Ankell’s background?” Mr. McDermott asked. “If Ankell hated America and the Washington System, why would the narrative of his heroism be told in the same fashion as older American heroes who founded the very system he wanted to tear down?”

  No one answered immediately.

  One girl raised her hand in the middle of the room. I recalled that she was a Commish Kid, and a nasty one, at that, but I could not remember her name.

  “Yes, Karmen?”

  “It’s true that he didn’t like what the government was doing, but when he was running the revolution, he was fighting for the ‘true American Spirit,’ and he rallied the people by talking about the founding fathers of America and how the American Spirit used to be one of the most powerful ideals in the world.”

  “Perfect,” Mr. McDermott praised. “We must understand that Ankell became immortalized with the other American heroes because he fought mostly for the American Spirit and America as a whole. He looked at America as if the country was a person and, as we look further into the book, you will find one of his speeches where he talks about the ‘Life of America’ as if America was a human being, and not a philosophical idea of a country.

  “Now, what do you think about the way the state of the world is described in this chapter? Why do you think the author chose to include that section? Greg?” he motioned to a boy who had his hand raised in the back of the room.

  “Well, this was written after Ankell died, so the state of the world had changed drastically between the time he was a boy and the time he died. The Second Revolution sent the rest of the world into a similar revolutionary state.”

  “It absolutely did. Yes, Karmen?”

  “Going off of what Greg said, it also seemed to me like the author is trying to say that Ankell’s idea of revolution was brought to the world at the right time. All leading countries were ready for a change and, since America is a powerhouse with a lot of political influence, when Ankell organized the Second Revolution, it wasn’t just a revolution of Americans, but it allowed the whole world to rally behind change, and to bring change to their own countries.”

  “You mean that everything was really all about timing?” Mr. McDermott pressed.

  “Well, it just seemed that way from the way the author elaborated on the subject.”

  “No, that is an excellent point. It was all about timing. If Thomas Ankell had tried to launch that revolution at any other time, it would have never gotten off the ground. This is absolutely true.”

  Mr. McDermott went to the front of the room and turned on the projection screen to show a map of America divided up into the six regions. “I hope you all know what this map is,” he teased. “This is what America used to look like.” He clicked a button on his computer and an older map of America came up. The fifty states that used to compile America were outlined in relation to the current regions. “One of the greatest things Ankell did with the revolution was denouncing the idea of the United States. He claimed that America was no longer united as one and that the name was inappropriate. He stated that Americans needed to fight for America as a whole, not for their particular states with hopes that it would change the entire country as well.

  “For the first several months of the revolution, this idea was considered preposterous, and many unified with their states, forming state divisions of the revolution. I know no one is familiar with this map, so I will explain it to you. In the book, the horrible state of affairs started with Texas. This,” he pointed, “is Texas.” He pointed to the former state of California. “This is where Ankell is from, and this,” he pointed to Washington D.C., “is where the former capital was.” He motioned across the map. “Does it make sense why the revolution started in the western states?”

  “Because the government was so far away…” I murmured before I could help myself. As teachers often did, Mr. McDermott heard my comment all the same.

  “What was that?”

  “The government was too far away from the states on the west coast,” I repeated louder.

  “Absolutely right,” Mr. McDermott said. “Ankell claimed that western representatives were too far away from their home states and they could not relate to their constituents at all, particularly with the sheer amount of corruption in Washington.”

  He explained the order of states that committed to the Second Revolution before class was finished and ended class by telling us that he would discuss the workings of the Washington System with us throughout the week in order to understand the root of the Second Revolution.

  I had never expected to learn that the bringer of the Third Revolution, the man Americans idolized as a hero, h
ad been so angry toward his own country. I supposed the motives of some heroes had to remain secret to preserve the image presented to the public.

  After class it was difficult not to think about what life must have been like before the Second Revolution. I tried to imagine the deep-seated hatred in the American people, and relate that anger to the known facts of the bloody Second Revolutionary War.

  I found myself flipping back and forth between the pages in my personal sketchbook during art class, turning over those dark thoughts. I looked over a picture of an angel soaring above the clouds, waving his flag to rally the people. Then I turned to one of my favorite sketches. It depicted the face of a man with eyes so full of emotions it was hard to believe all those feelings could be experienced at once. To me, the pictures were connected to the Second Revolution. The man was America, full to the brim with anger, sadness, and general frustration about his own helplessness. The angel was flying high above all of it to rally people toward a better future.

  I was not sure why the imagery was speaking so strongly to me. The war had already been won. America was at peace. But I felt as if all that anger and pain was still burning in my chest.

  * *** *

  The week progressed quickly—too quickly. All too soon the subject of Archangel came up again.

  My friends agreed to make me up once more. Our shopping trip was set for Saturday and, before I could complain about it, my friends told me I had no choice but to join.

  Soon, the problems that Ankell faced before the Second Revolutionary War seemed insignificant compared to the problem I was facing Friday at Archangel. I was worried that Jill and I would be at odds over Devon, and I wanted to keep my friends more than I wanted a boyfriend, but I had no idea how to tell Jill that I was not interested in the boy.

  I spent much of my time with my friends silently trying to find an opening to pull Jill aside and talk to her, but I could never find the right moment.

  As I was mulling over the conundrum during lunch on Wednesday, tuning out the conversation around me, Taylor cut Becca off mid-sentence.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned, her eyes focused down the hall. “They’re doing their rounds.”

  “Who?”

  “Bitch Squad Alpha,” Jill growled, her gaze following Taylor’s. I craned my head around Becca and saw three girls walking toward us. One of them I recognized as Karmen.

  Becca turned to me, her expression pained.

  “Brace yourself.”

  “Oh, Jill,” Sarah Henderson, who was flanking Felicity Hanks on the right, greeted. The girls seemed perfect, even in the same uniform. Their hair and nails were impeccably kept and their makeup smoothed out all imperfections on their skin.

  “Hi, Sarah,” Jill greeted quietly.

  “I haven’t seen you since the summer trip.”

  “Even then you didn’t see her, Sarah,” Felicity said, her tone lofty and cold. “She was too busy hanging out with Devon and Todd. Clark was with them for the first few days, remember?”

  “Oh, of course,” Sarah agreed. “Jill, did you understand the chemistry homework?”

  “Uh…yeah, kind of.”

  “Awesome. I need to copy it before class. Show up a few minutes early, okay?” Before Jill could protest, Sarah reached down and pat her on the head with a cold smile. “Thanks, you’re such a pal.”

  “Who’s this?” Felicity nodded to me, taking a few steps closer. She leaned down, inspecting me. “A new girl.”

  “That’s Lily Sandover. I told you about her,” Karmen answered. “She’s in my Lit class.”

  “This is her?” Felicity barked a laugh. “You’re the Sandover kid? The Commission has been talking about whether or not to accept your family into the Commission.” She looked me over once more and pouted. “How disappointing. I thought with all the wonderful things everyone says about your father that you wouldn’t be so plain.”

  The words stung more than I should have let them, but it was already difficult being the new girl in school.

  “Well, if you do get into the Commission, be careful,” Felicity snorted. “There are a lot of perverted old men in there who really like the wide-eyed, innocent school-girl look.”

  “I wouldn’t be concerned, Felicity,” Becca assured with a cold grin. “Your father won’t interest her. She won’t take his attention away from you.”

  “Ah, Becca.” Felicity turned to Becca as I blinked incredulously at my friend’s bold words. “I thought the summer would soften you, but I guess even a debilitating illness can’t cure you of being a cunt.”

  “Call me that again,” Becca challenged, standing for the confrontation. We were all on our feet shortly after.

  Taylor stood between them. “Let’s not start a fight.”

  “Keep your nose out of this, fat ass!” Karmen snapped.

  “What the hell is your problem?!” Jill bellowed as Taylor backed away, hurt.

  “She just wishes she could eat whatever she wanted without having to stick her fingers down her throat afterward,” Becca bit back. “Don’t take it personally, Taylor. Remember, she has to have Luke do all her homework for her, and Todd still beat him on the exam. Your boyfriend is the best in the school.”

  “Please.” Karmen rolled her eyes. “Luke, Ray, and Vince can beat Todd any day.”

  “Not according to the Board of Education,” Becca taunted.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” a voice asked. The boy coming down the hallway appeared to be a senior, his tall, lanky frame accented by the navy blazer, his thick curly hair falling to the side of his dark brown eyes.

  “Just dealing with some trash,” Felicity quipped, glaring at us.

  “Why are you even bothering?” the boy sneered, putting his arm around Felicity’s shoulders. “They’re just nobodies.”

  “Not all of them,” Sarah corrected, motioning to me. “This is the Sandover girl.”

  “Oh…” The boy scanned me. After evaluating every inch, he chuckled. “She’s gonna get eaten alive.”

  The group of Commish Kids walked away. Once they were out of sight, I let out a long breath, my heart thundering inside my ribcage. Becca ground her teeth together.

  “I hate those bitches.”

  “More importantly,” Jill started, smacking my arm as I resumed my spot between her and Becca, “why the hell didn’t you tell us that you’re going into the Commission?!”

  “Nothing’s official!” I protested quickly. “I mean, it’s a little early for my dad to get appointed to something like the Commission of the People, right? We just got here.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Taylor said, shaking her head. “They’re always on the lookout. It only takes one thing to catch the attention of Dana Christenson and you’re in.”

  I hesitated.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything,” I murmured. “I guess I just don’t want to believe that it will really happen…” I turned to them, smiling weakly. “I don’t want to be a Commish Kid,” I whined with a broken laugh.

  Jill put her arm around me.

  “It’s okay, you can still be our friend.”

  “Of course,” Taylor agreed. “It just means that we won’t see you as much…”

  “And that we have to be careful what we say around you…” Jill added.

  “And that you have to be on the balcony of Archangel instead of with us…”

  “You know, amazingly, this is not comforting,” I groaned.

  Chapter Ten

  I was a little worried at how easily the taunting words of the Commish Kids had gotten under my skin. I continuously mulled over the warnings about the Commission and how I would be “eaten alive,” unable to keep the phrase from repeating in my head for days after the confrontation.

  In many ways I was thankful to go to Archangel, as it allowed me to get my mind off of everything else. That Friday, the only problem I allowed myself to think about was Devon and Jill.

  After being dressed in a far-too-tight dress and covere
d in makeup, we took a taxi to Club Archangel. The wide-eyed look from the taxi driver finally convinced me that the shopping trip the following day was a necessity—I could not let my friends dress me anymore.

  Once inside Archangel, we found a table under the balcony again.

  “Okay, tonight, you will participate in the activity that is called creeping,” Taylor teased.

  “I know what creeping is,” I laughed.

  “Now you get to practice it,” Becca said. “At one point, you’ll get up and dance your way to the various sides of the club and listen to any gossip you can. If they’re talking about anything interesting, stick around and listen in. Just dance close to whoever you’re eavesdropping on.”

  “That seems pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe a little, but most people are surprisingly oblivious. Everyone knows that people do it, but if the conversation’s interesting, people stop noticing things they should,” Taylor told me with a shrug. “We’ll all take turns tonight and then we’ll meet up here and compare notes.”

  I did not know what would be considered interesting gossip, but I agreed to eavesdrop around the club, thought I was not sure how I was going to hear gossip when I could barely hear my friends over the thumping of the music.

  I sipped the water Jill had brought from the bar and watched people dance in the flashing lights, feeling less out-of-place, despite still not wanting to be at the loud club. My realization at how much more relaxed I felt made me believe that, maybe, I could handle the weekly trips to Club Archangel.

  When the boys arrived, they greeted me as though I had always been one of the group. I saw Clark looming around the back of the table again and realized I could ask him about my family joining the Commission of the People. He must have seen the realization in my expression because his eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

  “I have to go,” he whispered before rapidly retreating.

  “I’m going do my creeper rounds,” I blurted, following him. I wove through the dancing students until I was able to grab Clark’s arm as he tried to disappear into the crowd. He jumped and turned to me, his eyes wide with anxiety.