She wore a narrow-cut dark suit, a thin slash of white shirt showing in the front. Her face was as sharp. She leaned forward as though she might strike either person sitting across from her: two children. The nameplate on her desk read "Principal Winter." "You," she pointed at the left child. "Speak."

"Well," it said, and Winter wondered how people discerned larval males and females. "Some of us were playing pirates, and Sammy said he was pirate king, and we had to give him our pirate loot or he'd take it."

"No," said Sammy, "I—"

"Silence," said Winter. "Proceed," she said to the first child.

"Um, I said no, and he pushed me. I pushed back, and Mr. Beecham grabbed us for fighting."

"Fine," said Winter. She looked at Sammy.

"We were just playing, and I didn't hurt Jenny, and that's how pirates work."

"Enough." The children stopped. "You," she pointed at Sammy, "have an overabundance of spirit. I am confiscating your soul for the rest of the school week." She plucked something from just over his head. Sammy's eyes dulled and his posture slumped. "You," she pointed at the other. "Continue defending yourself. Dismissed."

Sammy walked out, unprotesting.