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On the first Tuesday in May, the citizens close their blinds and send the fourth graders out to the sorting square. No one roughhouses or giggles as they line up alphabetically. Each child knows the seriousness of the day; each hopes they’ll return home by its end.

Beth stands behind Simon Brown, her mother’s words from the night before play over in her head as the first child is escorted inside. The children hold their breath, and even the wind is still.

Emma Abbott reemerges and sprints toward home, pale-faced. This repeats: disappear, reemerge, and flee. It’s Katie’s turn, then Aaron’s, Leah’s, Simon’s. As she’s led up the stone steps, she tries to ignore her mother’s warning. I dream in reds, she practices, I dream in reds.

Inside, four adults arranged in a crescent regard Beth and her shaking hands.

“Do you know why today is important, Beth?” the man with glasses asks.

Beth nods. They ask her questions about her family, her interests, and school. Her heart is a hummingbird trying to escape her throat.

“Do you dream at night, Beth?” asks the silver-haired woman. The girl nods. “What color do you dream in?”

“I dream in reds,” Beth says.

The bearded man stands. He makes a cup of something at a table Beth hadn’t noticed and hands it to her. Staring down into the depths of its red liquid, she’s told to drink it. Tears sting behind her eyes, then run in rivers down her cheeks as she looks up at them, trembling.

“What color do you dream in?” the brown-haired woman asks. Beth starts to sob and drops the cup; it shatters on the stone, splashes on her shoes. The question repeats from each adult, and Beth sinks down to the ground to grasp her knees, rocking back and forth as the question fills her head.

“I dream in purples and blues,” she whispers once, then again. The words come out of their own accord, louder and louder until she’s yelling them. The man with glasses holds up a hand and her voice cuts out like he’s flipped a switch.

“You’re very special, Beth,” the bearded man says. “It’s for that reason that you’re chosen.”

The girl isn’t sure what to do as they stand up. Before she can decide, they clasp her arms and drag her past their seats toward the back of the building.

“No need to be scared,” says the man with glasses. They pick her up and carry her down a set of stairs and into a hall.

Beth asks where she’s going, she says she wants to go home, she says she’s sorry for lying, she says she won’t do it again. She kicks and claws at them as they make their way down the hallway and toward the door at its end.

When it opens, Beth can only see darkness beyond it. The adults put her down and put their hands on her shoulders and the man with glasses squats down to try and calm her, stroking her hair until she stills.

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” he says.

Outside, Avery Carter waits for Beth to emerge and sprint toward home. A teacher puts a hand on her shoulder to lead her inside.