Don't Tells Us What To Do

"Don't tell us what to do. We already know," he hissed, spitting out the last word with distaste.
"Conform to society's stupid, stupid standards," the boy next to him snarled.
"Change who we are, how different we are, just so we don't stand out," the dark-haired boy on his other side said.
"And if we don't," the girl spat out, her words dripping with venom, "they call us freaks."
He turned to the one familiar face in this scary place. His brother. The one person he thought he could trust. The one person he did trust, despite him leaving.
And yet still he uttered the scary words of change. "And yet, we don't care. We are the freaks. The ones too different for society. And we are done with caring about how they see us, done with them judging our every movement. We are different."
As if under Seth's command, the other people surrounding Hayden all spoke as one, as if they had one mind, as if the same thoughts were running through their brains. "And we are the ones that will change the world."