Worn called to us, “Any who have a paper marked incorrectly, step forward now.” Amy and I stepped forward as one, and she stared at me. “Amy, your problem?”

“Mrs.Worn, my ink is supposed to be red, right? But it’s black.”
“BLACK INK!”
Worn screamed, and then promptly fell on her butt. She stared up at us, then hauled herself to her feet, then stuttered,
“C-carlie, your ink?” “It looks like blood…” “Black and blood for ink. Oh, no. Joseph! Go fetch the Doctor. Now, child, now.”

As Amy and I moved closer together, until we were shoulder to shoulder, staring at each other out of the corner of our eyes, Joseph ran out of the room, really moving. We stared at Worn as she threw herself into the nearest chair, then put her head in her hands, muttering, “Why me, oh, why me…” under her breath. All the other kids stared at us as we shifted uncomfortably on our feet, staring around. Then we heard footsteps running down the hall, and Joseph burst into the room a step ahead of the Doc, who yelled, “Who is it?”.