They were watching the Saturday-afternoon movie when Mr. Fergusson came to take her to Mrs. Deardorff’s office. It was a movie about manners called “How to Act at Dinnertime,” so she didn’t mind leaving. But she was frightened. Had they found out that she never went to chapel? That she saved pills? Her legs trembled and her knees felt funny as Fergusson, wearing his white pants and white T‑shirt, walked her down the long hallway, down the green linoleum with black cracks in it. Her thick brown shoes squeaked on the floor and she squinted under the bright fluorescent lights. The day before had been her birthday. No one had taken any notice of it. Mr. Fergusson, as usual, had nothing to say; he walked smartly down the hall ahead of her. At the door with the frosted glass panel and the words Helen Deardorff — Superintendent he stopped.