Fluctuat nec Mergitur

Chapter 8

Trump won the election last November. I'm not allowed to vote because I'm underage, and even if I was of age, I still couldn't, because I've got a green card.

​​​Trump has said things that have crossed the line. The minute I learned of his existence and all the awful things he's said, he crossed my line and invaded all my boundaries. He made fun of a disabled reporter. He called his thirteen year old daughter a piece of ass. He's sexist, racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, and now he's the president of the United States.

Nothing too bad happened in this first year so far, besides appointing a self-proclaimed climate criminal the head of the EPA, an Islamophobe with ties to Russia a right-hand man in national security, and an anti-Semite as Chief Strategist, but I'm pretty sure all hell is about to break loose for America.

Before the election, there were rumors about putting ID badges on Muslims, just like they did in World War II to the Jews. And now it's actually happening, and not just Muslims. I'm fucking sticking yellow stars on one of my shirts right now. Since the Star of David is two triangles put together, one yellow and the other black, because I'm two part trash: a Gypsy and a Jew. I can't believe this.

"Is this even legal?" Lauren said cheerfully, glueing a pink triangle to one of her jackets. "I don't think it's legal."

"I'm pretty sure Trump has his ways of slithering through shit like that." I scoffed. I love my life. Apparently it's now 'necessary' to tag people as a potential threat based on arbitrary shit like ethnicity, religion and sexuality. Just like they did in WWII. Apparently it's funny to label people as if they were objects. I'm finding it hilarious.

"This is why America is so stupid." My voice rose higher with every word. "I should never have - never mind."

"You said it." Lauren grinned, pulling on the jacket she'd been working on. "My favorite part about this is that it's rather humiliating. I like to think how I'll look out in public."

"It makes you look bad, and it makes me look awful." I rolled my eyes. "At least there's less of a chance to get shot in the street or being the random lucky winner to get sent to a concentration camp."

"Max!"

"What? I'm just saying, you know, it could be worse. It could be 1942. Arbeit macht frei." I shrugged. It could be much, much better too.

"MAX!" Lauren's jaw dropped.

"What?" I said, my voice louder than intended.

"Don't - don't say that! I don't want to hear that." She looked a little defeated.

"That's cause you haven't lived your whole life hearing that." I shook my head. "Everywhere you go. At least I won't have had to hear any tarot card jokes till now."

"Good Lord, I'm so glad I don't have to go to school in this." She took off the jacket. "I'm glad I don't have to go to school anymore at all. Little high school kids are so immature."

"It's okay, because I'm scary." I looked at my four tattoos. "People don't hang around to talk to me, at least."

"Gee, maybe if you were a little friendlier, they would."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I don't think I even care anymore." I shrugged. "I'll beat them up, I'll get kicked out of school, and maybe I can work normal hours."

"Oh, Max." Lauren sighed. "At least you can change."

"Why are you making it sound like I can pick and choose ethnicity?" I paused my work, nearing do finishing. "Whoops, I drew the short straw!"