Free The End is Now by Rob Stennett

always
     say, “Amy, you’re paying for the packaging and advertising. Do you know how much those Superbowl commercials cost? Millions,
     that’s how much. And that’s all you’re getting with name brands. A fancy ad. It’s not like the chips taste any different.”
    But that’s where Jeff was wrong. Doritos did taste better than Mr. Cheesy’s Chips. Tide did protect the color in their clothes
     much better than the generic black and white laundry detergent. They were saving a couple of pennies, and for that, the price
     they had to pay was high — stale tasting chips and faded, colorless clothes.
    Every time Amy checked out at the register, she couldn’t help but think that the groceries she was buying were simply helping
     her to sustain life rather than groceries that would allow them to celebrate life and enjoy their food. And that’s why on
     that day Amy broke down and bought the name-brand ice cream. Not just any name-brand ice cream — she bought Ben and Jerry’s.
     For the price of a tiny pint of Ben and Jerry’s, Amy knew she could buy a giant gallon of the generic ice cream that comes
     in the big plastic tub. But she didn’t care. She wanted to buy something for her son to celebrate his bravery. She wasn’t
     willing to do that with the ice cream in the cheap plastic tub.
    As Amy was standing in the checkout line with her Ben and Jerry’s and the rest of her groceries, her cell phone rang.
    “Excuse me,” Amy told the cashier. “Hello.”
    “Mrs. Henderson, we need you to come to Jefferson. There’s been an incident with your son.”
    “My son isn’t at school.”
    “Actually he is. I’m staring at him right now. He’s right outside the principal’s office.”
    “He’s what?”
    “He made quite the bold statement today at school. He said it was a prophecy, but we’re having to treat it like a bomb threat.”
    “I don’t understand how prophesying and a bomb threat are even in the same category.”
    “They’re in the same category, Mrs. Henderson, because any threat towards students, teachers, or school property must be treated
     with the utmost severity.”
    Amy didn’t even think about what she was doing as she left the store with her phone pressed against her ear. But before she
     knew it, she was in her car driving toward Jefferson. As she drove she tried to explain, “He wasn’t threatening. He was prophesying.
     He saw something last night in the cornfield.”
    “I’m sure he did,” the receptionist said. “You can discuss that with the principal. And he’s ready to discuss all of that
     whenever you get here.”
    “Fine. I’m ready to discuss a few things with
him
too. I’m almost there.”
    The first person she saw at the school was Will. Where should she start? Should she lay into him because of his irresponsibility,
     lying, manipulating, and recklessness? He had told her, “I’ll stay right here.” He said, “I promise.” And she leaves the house
     for a few minutes to get some groceries and expensive ice cream, and he’s sitting in the principal’s office for making threats
     to the school? Amy was in shock that Will would do this. She was TNT dynamite, her fuse was lit, and right before she was
     about to explode — she looked closely at her son.
    His face was splotchy and his eyes were puffy. Her anger evaporated. Suddenly it was clear her boy was hurt and needed his
     mother. She gently grabbed his face and asked, “What happened?”
    “They — ” Will said and then trailed off. It seemed to be all he could manage.
    “They what? Interrogated you? Accused you of making a bomb threat? Said you were going to jail? What did they say honey?”
    “They laughed at me. They wouldn’t even listen. I was just trying to save them,” Will said.
    “The principals laughed at you?”
    “The kids at lunch. They called him cornface and then said a bunch of stuff about me. But that’s not even what bothered me.
     They wouldn’t listen, Mom. They thought