Page 22 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

This will be a concern for all children affected. But first, we need to contain the outbreak.

"And have you visited anyone recently? Perhaps traveled outside Saltford Bay?"

Between fits of laughter, Millie explains that her father took her to visit her grandmother in Glimmerdale last weekend. That explains it. Glimmerdale had reported several cases of Pixie-Pox in the local newspaper.

"It's definitely Pixie-Pox." I stand, turning to Maeve. "The incubation period is typically seven days, which aligns with her visit to Glimmerdale. We need to identify and isolate all children who've had close contact with these initial cases."

Maeve nods. "I've already started a list. The school secretary is calling parents of all the symptomatic children as well as their contacts. We have ten cases so far, but almost a hundred contacts."

I want to groan, but I refrain. A hundred contacts is an almost unmanageable number of potential cases.

"Good." I move to examine the next child, Zinnia Sparkletoes, whose pink hair cycles through rainbow colors as she giggles.

For the next thirty minutes, Maeve and I work in tandem, examining each child and documenting symptoms. I notice how naturally she calms the children who become frightened, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur that somehow cuts through their hysteria.

"Your hair will return to normal once the laughing fits subside," I explain to a particularly worried boy whose head is currently a shocking lime green. "It's temporary."

"Everyone will return to normal soon," Maeve adds with a smile that seems to instantly relax the child. "Dr. Reizenhart is here to make sure you all get better quickly. Let's get your temperature now, okay?"

As we reach for the same thermometer, our hands brush. That same electric current shoots up my arm, and I pull back as if burned. Maeve's intake of breath tells me she felt it too.

Still, I don't say anything. Neither does she.

"The parents will need detailed care instructions," I say, focusing intently on my notes. "Pixie-Pox runs its course in seven to ten days, but proper home care is essential to prevent complications."

Maeve nods. "I'll prepare information packets."

"Good." I clear my throat. "The affected children will be contagious for approximately two weeks. With the incubation period being seven days, we have a chance of containing this before it causes too much damage. All we have to do is—"

The classroom door bangs open, interrupting me mid-sentence. Principal Braggstone fills the doorframe, his massive troll frame castinga shadow over half the room. I notice that he doesn't step into the room himself.

Scared of catching the disease, are you?

"The parents are here," he announces. "They are demanding answers. Some are quite upset."

"We should talk to them together." Maeve sighs, brushing hair from her face. "Present a united front."

I nod, gathering my notes. As we prepare to leave the classroom, Principal Braggstone steps closer to Maeve, lifting a hand to her shoulder, then pulling it away before it comes into contact.

"You're handling this beautifully, Maeve," he says, his tone dropping to what I assume he considers intimate. "I knew I could count on you."

Something hot and unwelcome flares in my chest as Maeve shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. Before I can analyze this reaction, I hear myself speaking.

"Nurse Callahan and I are currently exposed to the pathogens. I hope your vaccination is current for Pixie-Pox. Adult trolls with the disease have the most unpleasant symptoms. Usually, it's reduced to persistent flatulence but sometimes it can last up to a month of positively putrid odors."

My words have the intended effect and Principal Braggstone covers his mouth with his palm instantly, then takes a hasty step back. He leads us through the corridors to the school entrance, where at least twenty parents have assembled, their faces masks of worry and impatience.

A slender pixie man with lavender-colored wings, dark hair, and violet eyes steps forward from the crowd. He wears an expensive suit andcarries himself with the confident authority of someone accustomed to being heard.

"Dr. Reizenhart, I presume?" He extends his hand. "Rylan Primrose. Millie's father. These parents have asked me to speak on their behalf."

I shake his hand briefly. "Mr. Primrose."

"What exactly is happening to our children?" he asks, his voice carrying to the anxious crowd behind him. "The school called about some kind of outbreak?"

"Your children are exhibiting symptoms consistent with Pixie-Pox." I step forward, addressing the assembled parents. "Pixie-Pox is a highly contagious viral infection. All ten children currently in quarantine exhibit the symptoms consistent with the disease."

A murmur runs through the crowd and a woman sobs audibly.