And We Are Heroes

1.3 ; maria

"So darken your clothes and strike a violent pose. Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me."
chapter i ; part iii

    Maria Guzman saw what Mr. McCleod had written in the agenda box on the whiteboard and groaned. Inside the classroom, the desks were arranged in pod formation, a depressing contrast to the usual orderly rows.
    Mr. McCleod clapped his hands together, shouting "Attention! Attention! Get in groups of five! Five! Groups of five!"
    Maria slid into an empty desk at an empty table group and waited. She hated choosing groups, especially when she knew she'd be doing most of the work. Eventually people would fill in her group.
    Two girls finally settled into the table group, eyeing Maria warily as they gossiped with each other.
    "Alright, alright," Mr. McCleod said. "Settle down. Settle down. The instructions are in front and get started. Go. Go, get started."
    He then passed by Maria's table group, shaking his head at the size of their group. The classroom door swung open and Jamal Bhatia barreled in, hyperventilating. "SorryI'mlateMr.McCleodIlockedmyselfoutofmycarI'msorry."
    The teacher shook his head again, like anything that fell remotely out of line was completely shameful. "Fill in for this group that didn't follow my clear directions. Clear. Clear directions." He spun in a circle, inspecting the room with his hawk eyes to see who else was out of order. "There are exactly thirty students in this class. Thirty. I counted." His eyes stuck to one cluster at the opposite end of the room that seemed somewhat bigger than usual. "You! Usurper! Brady Simmons! Over here! In this group and follow the rules! The rules, Simmons! Follow the rules!"
    Maria slid down in her seat. If there was a contest for most obnoxious white boy, Brady would win. But of course, she thought, the point of the contest would be moot. Brady was so annoyingly ignorant he made everyone else seem like saints.
    Jamal high-fived Brady as he sauntered to the group, tossed his floppy black hair, and jumped over the bar side of the desk to sit rather than just walking around like a sane person. They did some weird, thoroughly unentertaining handshake and cackled to themselves.
    "Hey," Brady said, staring at Maria's arm with wide green eyes. "What's that tattoo say? Is it in Spanish? Are you a Mexican?"
    "No," she said. "It's in Ohlone. It says, 'In winter we may suffer but in spring we will bloom.' "
    Brady shrugged. "Whatever. You're an Injun, then. Same difference. You're all anti-American illegals anyway."
    Maria's eyes bulged. "Excuse me?"
    "Isn't there like some Congress vote or something happening? Like should we expand the Injun Reservations?" Brady smirked. "I say get rid of 'em. We don't need to keep supporting lazy Amish savages."
    Maria punched him.