I stare at the ticket.
Yellow?
The Sisters and Dr Turner think we do not know what the tickets mean, but of course we do. Of course. Yellow means extra doses of disgusting cod-liver oil. Yellow means only feeling the sunlight from a window.
Yellow means red is one step away.
"You're wrong," I say, and my voice is hard. "I'm getting better. I'm not like the really ill children. I only cough sometimes. I'd like the blue."