Rumbles of murmurs around the room as that particular argument hit a nerve, just as I'd expected. Not too many southerners wanted to hear about gun control. They needed to understand that locking up descendants and outcasts from the Clann who might or might not be dangerous was the exact same thing.
I shook my head. “History’s full of people who were afraid of new technologies or abilities they couldn’t understand, so they called it dark magic and started burning people at the stake. But we should be smarter as a species by now. Why not give these outcasts the chance to learn how to develop control over their abilities and use them to improve all our lives instead?”
“Or—” Mr. Sherman began.
“Or we could just do exactly like we're already doing,” Kyle said. “Get rid of the problem.”
“By banning books about magic and throwing anyone who's different into prison?” I said, beyond all hope of keeping my voice calm at this point as the blood rushed to my head and made my eardrums feel like they were going to explode. He was talking about our fellow students, our neighbors and friends, people like Aimee.
How in the world could Hayden be friends with idiots like this? Kyle was beyond narrow minded, beyond anything I'd ever seen. And I'd thought my mother was inflexible. At least she wanted to help the 'delusional' Clann members and outcasts with psychotherapy, not kill them!
Mr. Sherman raised his hands palms out. “Okay, guys, let's take this down a notch. Of course we're going to be a little nervous now with all this terrorist talk. But what about the positives? I think Tarah’s on to something here. What if these Clann people did have magical abilities that could be used for good, such as healing cancer, or controlling the rain to help areas hit by drought or flooding, or even the ability to freeze bank robbers in their tracks without anyone getting hurt?”
Kyle snorted. “This ain't a comic book we're talking about here. They’re demon worshippers, not Superman.”
Breathe, Tarah, I told myself yet again. Just do like Mom taught you and breathe slowly and deeply.
Mr. Sherman frowned. “All I'm saying is, even if there are many others out there with the same type of special abilities as Simon Phillips demonstrated and described, there's no reason to assume the worst would happen. We should try to see the positive potential in the situation too. Like Tarah said, just because two Clann outcasts might have caused harm doesn't mean all of them will, any more than everyone who owns a gun will use it to rob and murder. Now, I've heard that instead of being imprisoned, these descendants and outcasts are actually being sent to internment camps created specifically for this situation—”
“Yeah, that's the rumor,” Kyle said. “But I think that's dumb, even dumber than sending them to a regular prison would be. Why bother locking them up at all? Then the taxpayers, the ones who followed the law in the first place, are stuck with the bill of feeding and housing the freaks. Better just to shoot them all and let God sort them out.”
Shoot them all and let God sort them out?
I gripped my desk with both hands, afraid if I let go that I might do something stupid, as my entire body vibrated with a level of fury I'd never felt before.
Hayden
I didn’t know what to flip out about first…the fact that the entire country had just gone on a witchhunt for the Clann, or that Tarah was obviously one of them.
All those years we were best friends, playing Medieval Times with Damon in the woods behind our houses and at school during recess, she'd never once given any hint that she was different. But obviously Tarah must have developed her ability to do magic of some kind. Otherwise why get so worked up about it now?
Her being a descendant or outcast would certainly explain a lot of other things too.
Was that the reason she'd stopped hanging out with Damon and me, because she'd started to develop weird abilities that made her feel like a freak and she couldn't hide them from us anymore? If so, then I clearly never knew her as well as I’d believed.
From what little I did know, it seemed like these Clann people tended to specialize in working with only one or two of the elements...fire, water, earth, wind. What elements could Tarah work with? And how had she managed to hide what she could do while at school?
“Let's stay with the possibility of those internment camps,” Mr. Sherman said. “I've heard enough rumors about them in the news to think it's probable they're actually being built. Which leads us to this week's assignment. A thousand word essay, due on Friday, comparing today's Clann internment camps to the Japanese-American internment camps that were used after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor as well as the concentration camps where the Nazis sent the Jews during World War II.”
A chorus of groans rang out as Mr. Sherman listed all the subtopics to be covered in our papers. The subpar conditions in the Jewish and Japanese-American camps, and ways that the modern internment camps might be better or worse due to the United States’ Patriot Act and the unique powers Clann descendants and outcasts might have. The financial loss as a result of being imprisoned. The moral and ethical considerations of our current government's segregation of Clann people. The possible physical and psychological consequences.
But it was hard to focus on the details of the assignment. While he spoke, Mr. Sherman flipped through pictures of the Jewish and Japanese-American camps on the computerized projector. And I kept thinking about the people I knew who might already be labeled by the government as Clann terrorists. People like Aimee, who must have been sent to one of the new internment camps along with her family.
And people who were still free, but might not be for long. Like Tarah.
The bell rang, and I had to fight the urge to run to my AP English class, eager to get my mind on something else for awhile. Something that wouldn't make my stomach roll and my gut knot up.
But then Ms. Brown announced our newest assignment, the movie Schindler's List, and I realized just how long a week it was going to be.
Because the movie was too graphic to be shown at school, Ms. Brown had us watch it at home that night on the school's On Demand website, then write a five hundred word essay summarizing how Oskar Schindler grew from a selfish, opportunistic entrepreneur into a selfless savior of a thousand persecuted Jews.
Mom tried to make me come down for dinner halfway through the movie. But no way could I eat. Every Jew hiding under a bed or inside a piano from the Nazis, every prisoner forced to work in their labor camps, every woman who was shoved into the gas chambers to be turned into dust and ashes, could have been Tarah being sent to her death.