"THE NEW REBELS" Part 1 (original fiction by Sondria)

“Okay, guys and gals, just line up in the order in which you hear your names called. The shot will take less than ten seconds and you’ll have an extra twenty minutes for break. Enjoy a flu-free winter!” Mr. Plummer dug in his ear and scratched his throat simultaneously as he waddled back to the huddle of administrators with his clipboard crammed underneath one of his armpits. His elbows were dry and rough and permanently white. They were the last things I saw before my sister Maya and me made a mad dash for the slides. Some kid was kneeling between the monkey bars and the fire pole. Idiot.
“Psst! They’re going to see you!” Maya whispered. She was one year younger (and bit more compassionate) than I was.
“Don’t look at us!” I hissed. “Then they’ll see us too!”
“Make sure they aren’t looking, then slide under here,” Maya offered. The boy looked from where the administrators were standing, to where the kids were lining up, to where the teachers were gossiping, then he slid to where we were.
“Who are you?” I was a believer in first things first.
“DJ”
“Why are you hiding, DJ?”
“My daddy told me to never, ever, let anybody stick anything in my arm. If I get sick, there’s a herb that’ll cure me.” I envied the certainty peppered with pride in his voice. “Why are you guys hiding?”
“We aren’t hiding,” Maya squinted. “We’re revolting!”
That night the school called both of our homes. DJ’s mother confirmed, that yes, D.J. was out of school that day. Maya and I were spanked; our parents were instructed to schedule flu shots for each of us immediately.
“I don’t know where that school thinks I’m supposed to get the money for that flu shot from, but you better pray to Mighty Jesus that you heifer’s don’t get sick…” my mother ranted while she prepared dinner. We never ended up getting sick, but we got into a shit-load of trouble.

We were warriors; extremely angry at something we couldn’t quite put our finger on. So we became wary of our peers, suspicious of our elders, and skeptical about our future.
“If that bitch even looks at me sideways I’m going upside her head.” Maya was standing with most of her weight on her left leg, staring into the back of some girl’s head like she was trying to burn a hole through it.
“Why don’t you just turn around, dude? If you weren’t looking at her, you wouldn’t know if she looked at you sideways or anyways.” Maya turned and looked at DJ incredulously.
“That bitch don’t decide what direction I look in! And if you got a problem with me talking about your little girlfriend, you better tell her to keep her eyes in her head!”

By high school, everyone thought Maya was our leader because she was beautiful. Her long, thick, hair was soft and springy, and she had the fortuitous combination of dark skin and tight eyes that made college boys call her China Doll. As time went on, and our senses matured, we knew that nothing Maya did was on accident. She was a born-leader who, at a very young age, could feign surprise and manufacture spontaneity.