The little girl shook her head, her blonde pigtails swinging, tears welling in her large blue eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Mrs. Henderson knelt beside her, speaking softly so the other children couldn’t hear. “Are you feeling sick, honey?”

Emily’s lower lip quivered. She hugged her backpack tighter and shook her head again. “It hurts to sit,” she finally admitted, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Mrs. Henderson’s brow furrowed with concern. “Would you like to go see the nurse?”

Another emphatic headshake. Emily was now visibly trembling. “It was big and thick, teacher,” Emily suddenly whispered, her voice barely audible. “And it scared me.”

A chill ran down Mrs. Henderson’s spine. In fifteen years of teaching, she had learned to trust her instincts when something felt profoundly wrong. Right now, alarm bells were ringing, loud and insistent.