07-24-2013, 01:22 PM
"I know it's bullpoo. Maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe we won't even notice that anything is different."
As they approached the school, it became obvious that things would be different. There was at least a dozen adults in white lab coats surrounding the school - they were even checking students' bags as soon as they stepped on school property. After your bag was checked, they stamped your hand with "PASS". Ella noticed one boy, a 15 year old named Issac getting his bag checked.
The worker, a larger man, pulled out a bottle of Qwik-Death. "This yours, young man? I'm afraid you'll be getting a FAIL."
"NO! No, it's not mine. Honest! I have no clue how it got there. Please, you can take it and throw it out. It's not mine!" Issac cried.
The man grabbed Issac's hand, as Issac struggled to get away. He stamped a big red FAIL on the boy's hand and called over another worker, "We got another one." He turned back to Issac and said, "Don't worry. We'll get you help."
Issac screamed, "IT WASN'T MINE! I SWEAR IT WASN'T!" as they pulled him away and into a large, windowless van. Ella saw at least three others inside when they shoved Issac in.
Ella didn't have anything to hide, but she was definitely terrified.