XANIYAH remained frozen in her seat for a few moments, staring at Dr. Kalmia Demos as though the woman would suddenly change her words, retract them, laugh and say it was only a test. But Dr. Demos’ face was a mask of iron, cold, resolute, unyielding. There was no jest in her words.

“Go,” the Dean repeated firmly, her voice cutting across the hushed room.

“I… I don’t belong there,” Xaniyah stammered, her voice trembling. “I have no business with the Specials.”

“Miss ...