“Out loud,” I reminded him quietly. “No, you’ll be divided into groups, and then you’ll hang out with one group all day, Hunter.” I didn’t know if the Red Ditch kindergarten had the same schedule as the higher grades, but I was sure it would last past lunch, anyway. “Your dad will bring you in the morning, and someone will come get you in the afternoon.” Who? I wondered, and then remembered Hunter was listening to me. “Your dad will fix that,” I said. “Look. This room is the Seal Room. See the big picture of the seal? And that room is the Pony Room.”

“Is there a pony?” Hunter was an optimist.

“I don’t think so, but I bet there are lots of pictures of ponies in the room.” All the doors were open, and the teachers were inside, smiling at the children and their parents, doing their best to seem welcoming and warm. Some of them, of course, had more of a struggle doing this than others.

The Pony Room teacher, Mrs. Gristede, was a nice enough woman, or at least that was what my quick look told me. Hunter nodded.

We ventured into the Puppy Room and met with Miss O’Fallon. We were back in the hall after three minutes.

“Not the Puppy Room,” I told Remy, speaking very quietly. “You can designate, right?”

“Yeah, we can. Once. I can say one room I definitely don’t want my kid to be in,” he said. “Most people use that option in case the teacher is too close to the family, like a relative, or if the families have had some quarrel.”

“Not the Puppy Room,” Hunter said, looking scared.

Miss O’Fallon looked pretty on the outside, but she was rotten on the inside.

“What’s wrong?” Remy asked, his voice also on a confidential level.

“Tell you later,” I murmured. “Let’s go see something else.”

Trailed by Remy, we made visits to the other three rooms. All the other teachers seemed okay, though Mrs. Boyle seemed a little burned-out. Her thoughts were brisk and had an edge of impatience, and her smile was just a bit brittle. I didn’t say anything to Remy. If he could turn down only one teacher, Miss O’Fallon was the most dangerous.

We went back to Mrs. Gristede’s room because Hunter definitely liked the ponies. There were two other parents there, both towing little girls. I squeezed Hunter’s hand gently to remind him of the rules. He looked up at me, and I nodded, trying to encourage the boy. He let go of my hand and went over to a reading area, picking up one of the books and turning the pages.

“Do you like to read, Hunter?” Mrs. Gristede asked.