---
Back in the yard, time grew long and thin. The little clock over the south door slid its one hand forward the width of a fingernail. Fizz finished a grand tale about the Great Cabbage knight War (which was not real) and a poem about a spoon (which was barely a poem) and took three more compliments with great dignity.
"Soft as a cloud!"
"Bright as a coal!"
"Braver than my brother!"
"All true," Fizz said, very modestly.
The clerk came out at last with a tall board. Two guards set it on a frame. The clerk tapped the wood for quiet. A hush ran out like a ripple on a pond.
"Names and numbers," she said. "Written round. If your name is here, form a line by the north steps. If not, you may stay to watch or you may go home. Do not shout. Do not push."
She stepped aside.
Students surged, then checked themselves. The row folded and unfolded in that polite way crowds learn to move when they want to pretend they are not eager. Fingers traced lines. Eyes raced.
