“Old music is sin, is it not?” the dark-haired woman at the front of the room asked.

“Yes, Miss Chase,” the children chorused.

“You must learn from Jeremy’s mistake. His… misguided actions are not to be emulated by anyone in my class, correct?”

“Yes, Miss Chase,” came another obedient response.

“Good. Now, what do Jeremy’s actions teach you?”

Twenty-four hands shot to the air at the same time. The teacher picked on a placid blond girl at the front. Rachel dropped her hand immediately.

“It teaches us that we will get punished for listening to old music, which is unfair, as my mom says,” she replied.

Rachel sighed. For that stupid of an answer, the girl deserved the punishment she would surely receive.

The teacher’s eyes flashed. “Wrong. You will stay after class. I will speak with your mother later about her… influence. Rachel, can you give me the answer?”

“It teaches us that old music is sin. We must learn from Jeremy’s mistake. We must not emulate his actions,” Rachel carefully recited what she had been told not two minutes prior.

The teacher beamed a rare smile. “Good job. You all may go to recess, except for Candace,” she said, referring to the blond girl who had given an incorrect answer.

Single-file, hands by sides, mouths shut and chins up, the obedient nine-year-olds marched out. Rachel received an approving look as she walked through the doorway.

The class seemed to collectively exhale as they reached the outdoor area of the school. Several brown benches lined a small grassy area, which was manicured to the point of looking artificial.

“I liked that class. I learned that old music is sin, and we should learn from Jeremy’s mistake,” a redhead from next to Rachel said – her name was Amanda, or maybe Abigail.

Rachel nodded her head in agreement, as did several others.

“Really? I thought it was silly. Old music isn’t sin. I listen to it at my house, and in old music, they talk about whatever they want.  It’s better than that junk we have to listen to now. The lyrics Miss Chase suggested? They’re crazy! I mean, who would sing about the importance of white shoelaces and sleeping by nine o’clock?” This outrageous comment came from a little boy with hair slightly longer than regulation and red shoelaces.

Rachel glanced down at hers, and everyone else’s, pristine white ones. She looked back up at the boy scornfully. “Of course you would say that. You’re one of them.”

“One of who?” he challenged.

“Those…liberals, is what my daddy calls them, I think. Liberals. People who don’t like our country, who want it to change, who want to be more free. You’re crazy. We are free,” Rebecca gave him another scornful look.

“What do you mean, free? We’re not free! The only “correct” answers in class is stuff said exactly the same as the teacher! We don’t learn anything! My mom calls it brainwashing,” he said proudly, emphasizing the last word to show off his supposedly superior knowledge.

“You’re wrong. So is your mom. You’re just like those other kids – what were their names… oh, Jeremy and Candace. You’re crazy. You should leave everyone alone,” Rachel remained stubborn in her beliefs.

“I don’t b–” the boy Rachel had been talking to cut himself off when he saw his teacher running towards them.

“KIDS! KIDS, COME ON! Follow me! We’re going to hide! COME ON!” She frantically pushed some kids towards the school building.

“What?” seemed to be the general consensus amongst the students.

“What’s going on?” Amanda-maybe-Abigail asked.

“No time to explain. COME ON, you lazy cows!” She starting herding them like sheep over to the building.

Seemingly starting to understand that something important was going on, the confused fourth-graders started sprinting, which Rachel was not prepared for. She and Liberal-kid were left in the dust as the teacher slammed the door shut after their classmates and locked it, not noticing she had left two pupils outside.

“HIDE! HIDE!” Rachel screamed, starting to make a break for the trees in the corner of the yard.

“No. Don’t run! My dad was talking about this…it’s–it’s the revolution! Come on, let’s join, let’s be free!” Liberal-kid (perhaps Josh was his name, but she couldn’t be too sure) exclaimed, tugging on Rachel’s arm.

“Don’t touch me! You’re insane, I tell you. Insane! I’m not going anywhere, and definitely not for some stupid revolution. We are fine the way were are, and no–” Rachel was stunned into silence as about a dozen adults came charging into their schoolyard, guns in hand.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m Jonathan Ranyard and my dad’s Archie Ranyard! Don’t shoot!” the boy yelled, waving his arms and jumping as if that would pacify them.

The woman in front rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, kid, we don’t shoot children.”

The man next to her, who seemed to be the person in charge, set his gun down and held his hands in front of him. “See? We ain’t gonna kill you. I know your daddy – Archie Ranyard’s been helping us out a lot. You two can come with us. We gonna go to the Revolution base after freeing all those kids and taking the teachers hostage. They’re brainwashing y’all, you see? And this horrible government of ours ain’t gonna stop if all the young ones are getting brainwashed from before they can talk properly.”

“Yes! We are being brainwashed! I wanna join this Revolution. Can I?” Jonathan asked excitedly.

The woman laughed. “Maybe in a few years, kid. We don’t need a bunch of little kids getting shot all over the place.”

Jonathan pouted, but still had a maniacal glint in his eyes as he turned to Rachel, which sparked her out of her reverie. “I’m not going with you!” she yelled. “I am free already! You guys are crazy. Our country’s good just the way it is!”

The woman kneeled in front of Rachel. “Surely you don’t mean that, hon. They’ve been brainwashing you, see? Making you think what they think. They’re not letting you be you; you’re not free.”

“I’m not going.” Rachel plopped herself down on the manicured grass and crossed her arms. “Liberals are what you are, and Liberals are crazy and should be in jail. That’s what Miss Chase said last month.”

“Oh, just take her anyway. It doesn’t matter whether she wants to or not. Orders are not to take any kids hostage and to leave none behind,” the man ordered, tilting his head towards Rachel as if she couldn’t hear.

“No. Take me hostage. Take me with Miss Chase. That’s what I want,” Rachel insisted.

Seemingly ignoring her, the woman turned to the man: “Look, Charles, I know orders are orders, but the boss also said whatever you do, don’t become like those we’re trying to overthrow. I’m not going to force her.”

Charles considered both Rachel and the woman next to him. “Fine.” He turned to Rachel. “Outta curiosity, what in tarnation makes you think you’re actually free? I mean, I know you’re just a little kid, but still, don’t you realize?”

Rachel’s stubborn attitude that had pervaded throughout the entire scene suddenly seemed to melt into confusion. “My teacher told me I’m free. The president told us we’re free. My parents told me I’m free. Of course I’m free.”