I press my face to the glass. A cluster of students blocks the entrance to the driveway. Eight, maybe ten kids stand in our way, holding up signs: CLONING IS A CRIME, AND SO ARE CLONES.

The Message

The shouts from the protesting students grow louder, and I unbuckle my seat belt, craning to get a better view. SAY NO TO CLONES, reads a second sign. NO SIMILARS HERE, reads a third. One girl seems to be leading the charge. She’s petite, with silver hair and a nose ring. I’ve never seen her before.

I think I’m going to be sick.

“Ollie?” I reach out and nudge him with my toe, then scramble to slip on my flip-flops. “Wake up. We’re here.”

He opens his eyes, furrowing his brow like he’s reaching for a memory.

“There were tacos. Thousands of them, as far as the eye could see.” He rubs sleep out of his eyes, then takes in the trees surrounding us. “And now, thanks to you, I’ll never know the sweet euphoria of slathering them with salsa and stuffing my face until the end of time.”

“Look.” I point out the window, ignoring his joke. I love that his sense of humor’s intact, but now’s not the time. Ollie follows my gaze, then opens his window so we can get a better view of what’s happening.

The chant hits our ears almost immediately.

“Say no to clones. Say no to clones. Say no to clones!”

It’s Madison Huxley’s rallying cry. But she graduated last year. I’d hoped she’d taken her bigoted anti-cloning views with her. I feel heat rising up my body, fury building within me at the sight of these students raising their signs higher in the air and joining together in unison in this offensive display.

I scan the grounds for a teacher. A parent. Someone to put a stop to this. But no one’s doing anything.

“I’m afraid we’re gridlocked,” our virtual driver tells us.

“You think?” I snap.

My father turns to reprimand me. “You don’t have to antagonize her, Emma.”

Great. He heard that interaction. So much for his noise-canceling headphones. But the admonishment dies on his lips when he notices the protest unfolding outside our car. His eyes widen, and his mouth settles into a thin line. “I’m calling the Darkwood board this afternoon. I’ve stayed silent for too long.”

“Do you think it will matter?” I counter. “Headmaster Ransom allowed rallies like this to go on all last year. What’s different now? Nothing, except for all the new laws banning clones from citizenship. Stripping them of their rights! And anyway, no one’s even stopping this… Let us out here,” I instruct our driver, cutting my dad off before he can respond. “I’m not going to sit and watch this,” I explain. “Ollie?”