The Sky Is Falling by Caroline Adderson

side. Then an orange square, then a red.
    UNCLE PETER ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT
ANARCHISM !
    1. What is Anarchism, Uncle Peter?
Why, that’s a good question! Let Uncle Peter tell you. Anarchism is the name of a political philosophy based on the rejection of any form of compulsory government.
    2. What a funny word, Uncle Peter!
Yes, Sonny. It’s derived from a Greek word meaning “without rulers.”
    3. How can I tell if someone is an Anarchist?
Judge people by their actions, not their appearance. Above all, beware of men in suits.
    4. But Uncle Peter! My daddy wears a suit!
See #3.
    UNCLE PETER ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT ANARCHISM ! (PART TWO)
    1. Uncle Peter! I’m only eight years old How can I be an Anarchist?
It’s never too early to start living by the principles of Anarchism, Sonny! The first thing you must do is identify the authority figures in your life.
    2. What are authority figures, Uncle Peter?
The people bossing you around. Mommy. Daddy. Big brother or big sister. Teacher. Principal. These are the most likely culprits. At this stage of your life, they stand in for “compulsory government.”
    3. Then what, Uncle Peter?
Question everything they say. If they say, “Eat your peas,” you say, “Why?”
    4. Uncle Peter, what if they answer, “Because I said so”?
You say, “That’s not a good enough answer.”
    5. Uncle Peter, do Anarchists often get spankings?
Yes.
    UNCLE PETER ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT ANARCHISM ! (PART THREE)
    1. Uncle Peter, how can I be a good Anarchist at school?
The same way you are a good Anarchist at home: question authority.
    2. Dear Uncle Peter, can you give me an example?
Certainly, Sonny. Never turn in your homework.
    3. Why not, Uncle Peter?
Because homework is simply a tool for authority to extend its control of children outside of school.
    4. But I’ll fail, Uncle Peter!
You won’t. You’ll take the test and ace it.
    5. What else can I do, Uncle Peter?
Take this crane to school and show it to your classmates.
    In the morning I woke to find a whole paper mat of squares at my door. I read them while I was eating my toast in my room. By the time I’d finished folding them into cranes, Pete’s music had come on (The Doors) and, with the men jockeying for the bathroom, the day’s fresh disputes began.
    â€œZed!” Pete called to me later as I was coming down the stairs. “Did you see what I put under your door?”
    â€œYes.”
    He stepped out of the kitchen, peanut butter jar in hand, and, taking the spoon out of his mouth, asked, “What did you do with them?”
    â€œI turned them into birds.”
    He threw his head back and let loose a peanutty peal that filled the hall. “Did you read them?”
    I’d barely recovered from mid-terms and now I sensed another test. He’d stopped Dieter from reading what he’d written, but I settled on the truth. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd?”
    I zipped my jacket, hefted my texts onto my back. “You really want my opinion?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI laughed.”
    I thought he might be offended, but he looked pleased.
    Pete had a suit! At supper, it induced a fit of giggling in Sonia every time she looked at him. “What?” he asked, deadpan. “It’s Halloween.”
    â€œWhat are you supposed to be?” I was innocent enough to ask.
    â€œA capitalist,” Sonia told me.
    Pete smirked as he margarined his bread. “You can say that again.”
    We were still eating when the first chorus sounded. “Trick or treat!” Pete got up, plucked Reagan’s face off the wall, snugged it over his own, and tucked his hair in.
    Dieter: “You should have said you were dressing up. I would have been Margaret Thatcher.”
    â€œYou’ll scare them,” Sonia said.
    Reagan: “That’s the whole idea.” The mask distorted his voice. He didn’t even sound like