CHAPTER 2 – Anthems of Rebellion

  The date was June 21st, 2025—the first official day of the meritocratic revolution. It was a sunny, cloudless day at Brighter Minds Academy, a prestigious private school for students aged four to eighteen. The grounds of the academy shimmered with golden light as students buzzed with excitement. Today was the st day of school before summer vacation, and the air was thick with anticipation for the season of freedom.

  Inside the sprawling, state-of-the-art auditorium, rows of students filled the space, their chatter creating a hum of energy. Younger students in the front rows bounced in their seats, barely able to contain their excitement, while older students slouched at the back. Some scrolled aimlessly on their phones while others threw paper airpnes across the room. On the stage behind the curtain, Chris Parsons, a studious thirteen-year-old with neatly combed hair and a slightly nervous demeanor, adjusted the microphone stand. Next to him, his nine-year-old sister Ruby Parsons fidgeted excitedly. Her bright red pigtails bounce as she buzzed with enthusiasm.

  Chris shuffled a pile of notes in his hands, muttering to himself under his breath,

  "Just stick to the script—locker cleanup, summer reading, end-of-year announcements. Nothing crazy."

  Ruby poked him in the ribs and grinned mischievously.

  "Oh, come on, Chris! This is your big moment! Do you really want to be the guy who reminds everyone about overdue library books? BORING! This is your chance to pnt the seeds of a revolution."

  Chris eyed her skeptically.

  "Revolution? Ruby, this is an end-of-year assembly! No one here is thinking about overthrowing dynasties or meritocratic ideals."

  He gestures toward the curtain.

  "They just want to know how long until the cafeteria serves cake."

  Ruby pced her hands on her hips, an exaggerated expression of disappointment crossing her face.

  "Chris, Chris, Chris. Let me ask you something. Who founded every revolution in history? Huh?”

  She taps him on the forehead.

  "Young thinkers. That’s who! Think about it—if you don’t say something provocative now, when will you?"

  Chris groaned. Ruby jumped up onto one of the stage props behind him and struck an exaggerated pose like an opera singer.

  "Chris Parsons—hero of the movement! The boy who brought positive liberty, meritocracy, and the downfall of the dynastic elites to the people!"

  Chris crossed his arms.

  "Ruby, half this school doesn’t even know what meritocracy means. The other half thinks it’s a video game."

  Ruby smirked, leaning down toward him.

  "Then it’s perfect. We’ll confuse and inspire them simultaneously."

  She raised her finger dramatically like she was decring a cosmic truth.

  "Wisdom through confusion!"

  Chris gave her a look.

  "Ruby, keep that finger down before you poke someone’s eye out."

  Still, her relentless enthusiasm finally cracked his resolve. He sighed and shrugged.

  "Fine. But if we get booed off the stage, I bme you. And you’re helping me clean out Mom’s conspiracy theory closet after school."

  Ruby clenched her fists triumphantly in the air.

  "Yes! Revolution, here we come! One dangerously confused audience at a time!"

  Moments ter, Chris and Ruby stepped onto the stage. The students’ chatter quiets slightly as curious eyes gnced their way. Chris walked with careful poise, clutching his notes tightly, while Ruby practically bounced toward the microphone, her energy almost too much for the room to handle.

  Chris cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence.

  "Good morning, students and faculty. Thanks for joining us on this... momentous st day of the school year!"

  A few cheers erupt from the younger students, but the older students stay slouched, only half-paying attention. Chris continued.

  "Before we all rush off to our vacations, let’s reflect on the importance of education and..."

  He pauses dramatically, shifting his gaze to the audience.

  "...the revolutionary science of living mathematics!"

  A hush fell over the room, followed by whispers rippling through the crowd like a startled flock of birds. The younger students grin and lean forward expectantly, while the older ones snap their heads up from their phones, blinking in confusion. A random older student whispered to her friend, "What's living mathematics?"

  Her friend shrugged her shoulders, still focused on Chris and Ruby.

  Ruby leaned toward the microphone; a sly grin pstered across her face.

  "You heard him, folks! Living mathematics. It’s not just about dividing fractions or counting your allowance. No, friends, it’s the key to understanding existence itself!"

  Another wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  One older student muttered, "What’s happening?"

  Another older student whispered, “Is this a prank?”

  Ruby continued undeterred; her voice spiced with pyful intensity.

  "Math isn’t something cold and boring, trapped in textbooks. It’s alive! It’s everywhere, woven into the very fabric of the cosmos. It’s designed not just to solve problems but to illuminate the mysteries of life! And, get this, not a single TikTok dance involved!"

  Some of the younger students giggled, while a few older ones whispered nervously. Chris quickly jumped back in, trying to steady the energy.

  "Speaking of enlightenment, let’s talk about privilege."

  His tone shifted to one of earnest conviction.

  "Living in a world that rewards dynastic elites and inherited wealth isn’t freedom. Real freedom comes from merit—when what you bring to the table is what matters most."

  Ruby grabbed the mic with an exaggerated gasp, pointing towards the back.

  "Yup, we’re talking about you, ‘Lucky Ivy League kid!’"

  She winked dramatically at a wealthy-looking student three rows back, who started slouching further into his chair, hoping no one would look his way, earning giggles from the crowd.

  "Running the race of life with a golden crutch isn’t winning—it’s cheating!"

  The student in question turned beet-red as ughter broke out among his peers.

  Chris pushed forward, sensing his opportunity.

  "Democracy sounds great in theory. But too often, it’s a shiny box that hides corruption, compcency, and inaction. And capitalism?"

  Ruby interrupted with mock drama, throwing her arms wide.

  "BROKEN! Capitalism as we know it thrives on exploitation, rewarding the few while punishing the masses."

  By now, the auditorium is alive with reaction—some students chuckled, others whispered, and a few sat wide-eyed as if they’re witnessing a revolution in real-time.

  "Now," Chris says, raising his hand for quiet, "before we go too far into the weeds... let’s unite around something familiar. Please rise for the anthem."

  The students shuffled to their feet, unsure of what to expect. On stage, Ruby’s grin widened mischievously.

  "We made some slight adjustments to reflect our... ideals of freedom."

  When Ruby said this, the majority of the students' eyes got even wider, eyebrows raised even higher, whispers grew louder and more numerous. And now, even the teachers have begun shifting uncomfortably, having no idea what the siblings were about to sing.

  As their music teacher, Mrs. Davis, begins to py the Star-Spangled Banner on piano, Chris and Ruby begin their rewritten anthem with confidence.

  "O say can you see, by the dawn's early light,

  The chains of the past, in the struggle for right

  We stand against wrong, with our voices in might,

  For democracy’s end is our vision in sight.

  A new dawn we shall cim, for the people to stand,

  To dismantle the old while we rally the nd,

  No more thrones of the few, nor false god’s commands,

  Our freedom will rise through our own steadfast hands."

  "O say does that church, with its shadows of lies,

  Still prosper in silence while truth slowly dies?

  No longer shall faith be a tool for the rich.

  Their power declines as we rise from the ditch.

  Together we stand, with the courage to own,

  This vision we forge, for the weak and alone,

  For the children of kin, with their wealth made by the throne,

  We’ll tax every fortune until greed is outgrown."

  As the st note rings out, the room falls silent. For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

  From the back row, eleven-year-old Morris Cutler—a husky boy with a round face and short brown hair and gsses—raises his hand awkwardly.

  Chris pointed to him.

  "Yes, Morris, you have a question?"

  "Uh, yeah. So, are you saying we shouldn't believe in God and that we should become communists?"

  Morris’s question cut through the tension, eliciting giggles from the younger kids and some audible gasps from the teachers. Ruby stepped forward with her trademark grin.

  "Great question, Morris!"

  She puts her hands on her hips.

  "First and foremost, communism is like giving everyone a trophy whether they ran the race or not. Nice idea, bad execution. And second, about your ‘god’..."

  She pauses for dramatic effect, her voice dripping with pyful sarcasm.

  "Didn’t he have, like, a few thousand years to solve the world’s problems? If he can’t handle it, maybe it’s time for humans to take the wheel!"

  The crowd erupted into ughter, even some of the older students doubling over. But not everyone is impressed. From the back of the auditorium, Principal Evelyn Feinstein—a silver-haired, notoriously no-nonsense woman—rose to her feet.

  Her stern voice cut through the ughter like a knife.

  "Chris and Ruby Parsons, report to my office immediately after this assembly!"

  The ughter dies instantly. The students muttered among themselves, exchanging wide-eyed looks. Chris exchanged a gnce with Ruby, who responded with a mischievous wink.

  After the school bell rings, Chris and Ruby head toward Principal Feinstein’s office. Miss Kemper, Feinstein’s young and chipper assistant, greeted them with a knowing smile.

  "Good morning, kids," she says cheerfully.

  "Let me guess, anthem-reted trouble?"

  Ruby grinned.

  "You know us, Miss Kemper. Just two humble revolutionaries, doing our civic duty to create chaos!"

  Miss Kemper shook her head with a ugh.

  "The revolution can wait. Go on inside—she’s been waiting for you."

  Inside the office, Principal Feinstein sat behind her massive oak desk, her icy blue eyes narrowing as the siblings entered.

  "Chris. Ruby."

  Her voice is stern, charged with authority.

  "Do you two have any idea the kind of trouble you’ve caused today?"

  Ruby sat back in her chair and grinned.

  "Principal Feinstein... would chaos count as trouble?"

  Feinstein let out an exasperated sigh, but Chris spoke up with respect and politeness.

  "We just thought it might be nice to offer the student body an... alternative perspective."

  Feinstein leans forward, her fingers steepled.

  "Alternative perspective? Singing about overthrowing banks and tax policies isn't ‘perspective.’ It’s anarchy. I should suspend both of you—"

  Ruby cut in cheerfully, "But you won’t."

  Feinstein arches her brow.

  "Oh, really? Why not?"

  Ruby leaned forward, her face pure innocence.

  "Because deep down, even you were a little inspired."

  For a split second, the principal’s expression falters—just enough for Ruby to smirk.

  Maybe, just maybe, they had pnted their first spark.

  Chris then interjected.

  "Plus, it's the st day of school."

  Principal Feinstein scoffed at Chris's remark and her facial expression returned to one of annoyance.