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Scarecrow

All at once, I begin to feel nauseous and dizzy and confused, even though I'm no longer drunk. Was that ever going away? Has one drink doomed me to a life of torment? The crowd continues shoving eachother and I have no idea why until I see the figure of a man standing very still in front of the projector screen.

"Almost a month ago, this protest began with a warning," the speakers boom, leaving a chill down my spine as the genderless voice speaks out to everyone. "An act of revenge against one of the many bullies who plagued our school. Marcos Smith has suffered because of his actions." This causes hoots of rejoice to echo around me. There is a pause before the speaker continues. "Our ongoing distractions from class have gained the attention of our faculty, and yet, they would rather spend time interrogating students than addressing the hostility within their very classrooms. Well, to that I say: Down with them." More cheers ring out as I attempt to squeeze out of the mixture of bodies. "Down with the backwards administration. Down with their reluctance to disrupt the false peace at Summerfield. Down with it all."

The voice pauses again while students cheer louder than ever. It hits me that this is not a pre-recorded speech. This is live. "School is not supposed to generate an environment of anxiousness and struggle, but our supervisors believe that it should continue on that way. Change will never happen unless it is forced. Mr. Adair and his fellow workers have made that glaringly obvious." That's when I see who exactly is standing in front of the projector screen. Or, what exactly. Oddly enough, a scarecrow dressed in Mr. Adair's signature cardigan is smiling at the audience. "Today, during out first ever meeting, we will burn this scarecrow as a symbol towards our faculty. We will stop at nothing to discontinue the threat of bullying, even if it calls for an entire school wide protest. You, as members of the Rising Unification of Ecoterrorits, are part of the sollution. We are the change that this school needs. So, I welcome you to watch as we burn this scarecrow and simultaneously claw at our administration's defenses. Remember, faithful followers; Malice eventually decimates."

The screen stops displaying the waveform as a torch is raised up by someone who is unidentifiable, because they are dressed completely in black and wearing a mask that looks sort of like one of those fencing helmets. On the other side of the stage, another figure dressed identically raises a torch as well. There is more cheering as the flames move onto the scarecrow and immediately ignite it in a fiery hold. It honestly makes me a bit sad to watch the thing hunch over, almost like a human being, and coil up in the flames. The fire is so large that I can feel it from feet away. Then, something very strange happens. Something horryfingly strange. Both people dressed in black toss their lit torches into the crowd and everyone watching screams. I see as teens- students, people I know- flee desperately. One girl has literally caught on fire. But, amidst the screaming is the lingering noise of cheers. They almost sound identical and, if I had been standing anywhere else, perhaps I wouldn't have seen the torch either and had only heard cheering.

The torch is tossed further back by the crowd, like a beach ball at a concert, until, of course, it passes me and catches onto my sweater. Fire coils itself around my arm and I do nothing. I just watch it dance, completely frozen. That is until the boy beside me dumps his entire bottle of water on my arm.

"Shit, are you okay," he yells over the crowd. I don't respond, because tears have began to brim in my eyes. My sweater sleeve is almost completely burnt off and the skin underneath is red and charred. It hurts like nothing I have ever felt before. And, surrounded by screaming and fire and bodies, the only thing I can think is that I finally understand why Elio does it all. For once, I feel human. I am reminded that I exist, because I can feel it coating my entire arm. I run off quickly, gasping down the air around me as I struggle not to scream in pain. I look back at the crowd to find that the girl who was once on fire is now dripping wet and sobbing. The torches are no longer ignited, but the scarecrow burns on. My arm is yelling in anguish and I poke at the raw skin. With a wince, I crumple to the ground and cry. Like, full on cry. When was the last time that happened?