Pearl in the Mist

13

False Accusations

My homeroom teacher had just begun to read the day's announcements when a messenger arrived from Mrs. Ironwood's office with the order for me to appear immediately. I glanced at Gisselle and saw that she looked just as confused and as curious about it as everyone else. Without a word I left and walked quickly down the corridor. When I reached Mrs. Ironwood's office, I found Mrs. Randle standing in the inner-office doorway, a tablet in her hand.

"Come right in," she said, stepping back to let me enter.

With my heart pounding so hard I thought it would crack open my chest, I walked into Mrs. Ironwood's office. She was seated behind her desk, her back rigid, her lips pursed, her eyes more filled with fury than I had ever seen them. She had her hands on the desk, palms down over some documents.

"Sit down," she commanded. She nodded at Mrs. Randle, who stepped in after me and then closed the door. Mrs. Randle then moved quickly to a seat beside the desk and put her notepad down. Her hand was poised with her pen clutched in her fingers.

"What's wrong?" I asked, not able to stand the long, ominous silence that had fallen over me.

"I can't recall summoning another student to my office as frequently in so short a time as I have had to summon you," Mrs. Ironwood began, her dark eyebrows knitted together. She glanced at Mrs. Randle for confirmation and Mrs. Randle nodded slightly, closing and opening her eyes at the same time.

"That's not my fault," I said.

"Hmmm," Mrs. Ironwood muttered. She looked at Mrs. Randle as though the two of them heard voices I didn't hear "It's never their faults," she said with a smirk, and Mrs. Randle nodded again, closing and opening her eyes as before. She resembled a puppet, the strings of which were in Mrs. Ironwood's hands.

"Well, why have you sent for me?" I asked.

Before replying, Mrs. Ironwood pulled her shoulders back and up even straighter and firmer. "I have asked Mrs. Randle in here to take notes, since I am about to commence a formal expulsion hearing."

"What? What have I done now?" I cried. I looked at Mrs. Randle, who this time kept her eyes down. I returned my gaze to Mrs. Ironwood, who was staring at me with such intensity, I thought I felt her gaze pass through me like a beam of heat.

"What haven't you done? is more like it." She shook her head and looked down at me from the height of her contempt. "Right from the start, from the background on you that your stepmother so frankly confessed, from the arrogance and disdain you exhibited during our initial conference, from your attitude about our rules, violating the off-grounds restrictions almost immediately, from the manner in which you defied my wishes, I knew your attendance at Greenwood was a mistake of gargantuan proportions and destined for horrible failure.

"Punishments, warnings, even friendly advice did little or no good. Your kind rarely changes for the better. It's in your blood to fail."

"Exactly what am I being accused of doing?" I fired back defiantly.

Instead of replying immediately, she cleared her throat and put on her pearl-framed reading glasses. Then she lifted the papers under her hands to read from them.

"This is to formally commence step one of the expulsion procedure as outlined in the governing bylaws of Greenwood School as set down by the board of directors. ′The student under question,′ " she read, and looked over her glasses at me, ″ ′one Ruby Dumas, has, on the date described herein, been summoned to be informed of her hearing and to hear the charges levied against her by the administration of Greenwood Schools.

" 'Number one,′ " she began in an even more authoritative voice, " ′she has willfully and knowingly trespassed on a well-designated off-limits location on the Greenwood campus and remained at this location after curfew.′ "

"What?" I cried, looking again at Mrs. Randle, who had her head lowered and was scribbling rapidly on her notepad. "What location?"

" ′Number two, she has willfully and knowingly participated in immoral behavior on school property while under school supervision. ′ "

"Immoral behavior?"

" ′The above charges will be levied and adjudicated at a formal expulsion hearing this afternoon at four P.M. in this office.′ ″

She lowered the papers and then her glasses.

"I am to instruct you as to our procedure. A panel consisting of two faculty members and your student body president, Deborah Peck, will hear the charges and the proofs and render judgment. I will oversee the proceedings, of course."

"What charges? What proofs?"

"I've read you the charges," she said.

"I haven't heard anything specific. Where am I supposed to have gone that's off-limits on the campus? The mansion? Is that what this is about?" I demanded. Her cheeks reddened as she shot a quick glance at Mrs. Randle and then looked at me.

"Hardly," she replied. "You were seen at the boathouse after hours."

"Boathouse?"

"Where you went to have an illicit rendezvous with an employee, Buck Dardar."

"What? Who saw me?"

"A member of this faculty, a well-respected, long-time member of this faculty, I might add."

"Who? Can't I know the name of my accuser?" I demanded when she hesitated.

"Mrs. Gray, your Latin teacher. So there is no question she would be able to recognize you," she concluded.

I shook my head. "When?"

She looked at the papers as if it was a great effort to do so and said, "You were seen entering the boathouse at seven-thirty last night."

"Last night?"

"And you remained after curfew," she added. "The remaining details of Mrs. Gray's testimony will be given at the formal hearing."

"It's a mistaken identity. I couldn't have been in the boathouse at seven-thirty last night. Just call Buck in here and ask him," I advised.

She smirked. "Don't you think I had enough sense to do just that? He was called in here first thing this morning, and he did write out a confession," she said, holding up another document, "corroborating what our eyewitness saw."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "He's mistaken or he's lying. You'll see when he comes to the hearing and sees me and realizes . . ."

"Buck Dardar is no longer on these grounds. He has been relieved of his duties and he has already left the school," she said.

"What? He's been fired because of these false charges against me? But that's not fair."

"I assure you," she said, smiling coldly, "he thought my offer to him was quite fair. You girls are all under age. If not for the potential scandal, I would have turned him over to the police."

"But this isn't true. Just ask your aunt where I was last night."

"My aunt?" She pulled herself in like an accordion. "You want me to involve Mrs. Clairborne in this loathsome and vulgar affair? How dare you suggest such a thing. Is there no bottom to the depth of your immorality?"

"But I was at the mansion last night, and I was back in the dorm well before the curfew."

"I assure you," Mrs. Ironwood said slowly, "Mrs. Clairborne would never consent to give such testimony." She looked so confident and smug about it.

"But then just call Louis . . . ″

"A blind man? You want to bring him into this too? Are you out to disgrace this distinguished family? Is that your motive? Some sort of sick Cajun jealousy?"

"Of course not, but this is all a mistake," I cried.

"That's for our panel to decide at four o'clock. Be here on time." She closed her eyes and then opened them. "You can bring someone to speak in your defense." She paused and leaned forward, a curt smile on her lips. "Of course, if you want to avoid all this unpleasantness, you can confess and admit to these charges and accept your expulsion."

"No," I said, infuriated. "I want to face my accusers. I want everyone who is party to these lies to have to look into my eyes and understand what they're doing."

"Suit yourself." She sat back again. "I knew you would be defiant to the end, and I had little hope of making things easier for your family, even after the tragedy your stepmother has just recently endured. I feel sorry for you, but you are probably better off returning to your own kind."

"Oh, there's no question I'm better off doing that, Mrs. Ironwood," I said. "My kind doesn't look down on people just because they don't happen to be rich or descendants of some noble family. My kind don't plot and connive," I snapped. My tears were hot under my lids, but I kept them locked in my eyes so as not to give her the satisfaction of seeing me brought down. "But I won't be paddled out of here in a canoe built out of fabrications and hateful deceit."

She gazed at Mrs. Randle, who quickly looked down at her notepad again.

"For the record," Mrs. Ironwood dictated, "let it be noted that the student, Ruby Dumas, denies all charges and wishes to go forward with the formal hearing. She has been informed of her rights—"

"Rights? What rights do I have here?" I said with a sarcastic laugh.

"She has been informed of her rights," Mrs. Ironwood repeated pointedly. "Do you have all this, Mrs. Randle?"

"Yes," she replied quickly.

"Let her sign the notes as prescribed by the bylaws," Mrs. Ironwood said. Mrs. Randle turned her pad toward me and pushed it closer, handing me a pen at the same time.

"You sign right here," she instructed, pointing to a line drawn at the bottom of the page. I plucked the pen out of her fingers and started to sign.

"Don't you want to read it first?" Mrs. Ironwood asked.

"What for?" I said. "This is all a well-rehearsed play, with the outcome predetermined."

"Then why continue it?" she demanded quickly.

Yes, I wondered, why continue it? Then I thought about Grandmère Catherine and about all the times she was called to face the hardest of challenges, the unknown, the dark; and how she always went willingly to do battle for what was right and what was good, no matter how terrible the odds against her success were.

"I will continue it so that all those who are part of this conspiracy can face me and have me lay heavy on their consciences," I replied.

Mrs. Randle's eyes widened with surprise and a little appreciation, appreciation she was sure Mrs. Ironwood did not see.

"You can return to your classes now," Mrs. Ironwood said. "You have been told to appear at four. If you should fail to appear, you will be judged in absentia."

"I have no doubt of that," I said and got up. My legs wanted to wobble, but I closed my eyes and willed a stream of hard, cold strength from my proud heart down through my veins and to the bottoms of my feet. With my shoulders straight and my head high, I turned and walked out of Mrs. Ironwood's office, not faltering until I set myself down in my desk in my first class and realized just what it was that was about to happen now. A kind of paralyzing numbness gripped me.

I moved like a zombie throughout the day. I told no one about my meeting with Mrs. Ironwood and what I had been accused of and what that meant, but I didn't have to whisper a word to a living soul. As soon as Deborah Peck was informed she would be sitting in on an expulsion hearing, the news wove its way through every corridor and every classroom faster than an eel in the swamp going after its supper. By midafternoon, everyone knew and everyone was talking about me. Just before my last class period, Gisselle cornered me in the hallway, first to chastise me for not coming directly to her with my problem, and then to express her pleasure because if I were forced out of Greenwood, so was she.

"I didn't tell you just because of the way you're acting right now, Gisselle," I said. "I knew how you would gloat and be pleased."

"Why are you bothering with the hearing? Let's just call Daphne and tell her to send the limousine."

"Because it's a pack of lies, that's why, and I don't intend to let the Iron Lady get away with it, if I can help it," I replied. "I won't be driven out of here on a rail, tarred and feathered."

"Well you can't stop it, and you're just being Cajun stubborn and Cajun stupid. You don't go to that hearing, Ruby," she ordered. "Did you hear what I said? You don't go"

"Let me go to my class, Gisselle. I don't want to add a lateness to everything else and give her any more reason to pick on me," I said, starting around the wheelchair.

She seized the sleeve of my blouse. "Just don't go, Ruby."

I pulled my arm free.

"I'm going," I said, my eyes so full of fire my cheeks felt singed.

"You're wasting your time," she called after me. "And it's not worth it! This place isn't worth it!" she screamed. I walked faster and entered the art room just at the bell. One look at Miss Stevens's face told all: She knew and she was very upset for me. She was so upset she put the others to busy work and pulled me aside at the rear of the room, where she asked me to tell her everything.

"I'm not guilty, Miss Stevens. These are trumped-up charges. I couldn't have been at the boathouse last night. Mrs. Gray is mistaken."

"Why couldn't you be?" she asked.

I told her about my visit with Louis.

"Only they say Mrs. Clairborne won't testify for me and they won't let Louis do it either," I explained.

She shook her head, her eyes dark with troubled thoughts. "I can't see Mrs. Gray as part of any underhanded conspiracy to have you thrown out of Greenwood. She's a fine woman, a very kind person. Don't you get along with her in class?" she asked.

"Oh yes. I think I have an A-plus in her class."

"She's been like a mother to me," Miss Stevens said, "advising me, helping me right from the start. She's a churchgoing lady too."

"But I wasn't there, Miss Stevens! Honest. She has to be mistaken."

Miss Stevens nodded, thoughtful.

"Maybe she'll realize that and recant her testimony."

"I doubt it. Mrs. Ironwood looked too pleased and too assured of herself, and with Buck already fired and gone, it's going to be my word against Mrs. Gray's and that fiction they made Buck sign," I moaned.

"Why is Mrs. Ironwood so adamantly against you?" Miss Stevens wondered.

"Because of Louis, mainly, but she never liked me from the start and made that perfectly clear the first time we met in her office. My stepmother put a dark cloud over me here immediately. I don't know why she would do that, except to make sure my stay here would be horrible. She wants me to fail, to look bad, just so she will have reason to get rid of me . . . and Gisselle," I said.

"You poor dear. Do you want me to come to the hearing with you and testify about your talents and success?"

"No. That won't matter, and it would only bring you into this dirty mess. I just want to go there and spit back in all their faces."

Miss Stevens's eyes filled with tears. She hugged me and wished me well and then returned to the front of the class to give instruction, but I heard nothing and saw nothing. After school I returned to the dorm, floating in a daze and not even remembering the walk. As soon as I was back in my room, I began to pack some of my things. When Gisselle arrived, she was ecstatic.

"You've decided to take my advice and give up? Good. When is the limousine coming?"

"I'm just preparing for what I know is inevitable, Gisselle. I'm still attending the hearing, which will begin in an hour. Do you want to come along?"

"Of course not. Why would I do such a thing?"

"To be with me."

"You mean to be embarrassed with you. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll wait here and start packing my things too. Thank goodness we'll be able to tell this place and everyone in it good riddance," she said, not caring that some of the girls would overhear.

"I won't be so happy about it, Gisselle. Daphne will have some other torment awaiting us. You'll see. We'll be shipped off to another school, a worse place, just as she threatened."

"I won't go. I'll tie myself to my bed!"

"She'll have the movers pack the bed too. She's determined."

"I don't care. Anything is better than this," she insisted, and spun away to begin her packing. I returned to my own packing and then took the time to fix my hair so I would look as presentable and as self-assured as I could.

I started back to the school at a quarter to four. Many of the girls in the dorm were downstairs in the lounge talking about me. They grew silent when I appeared and watched me leave, some going to the windows to stare out as I paraded up the path, my head high. I had taken nothing with me, but I made sure Nina's good gris-gris, the dime on a string, was around my ankle.

The sky had turned ominously gray, the thick overcast moving quickly to block out any sight of blue until the world looked dark and dreary, reflecting the way I felt in my heart. There was even a surprising chill in the air, so I hurried into the building.

At this time of the day, there were few students wandering about the halls. Those who were there stopped whatever they were doing to stare and then whisper as I made my way down the corridor toward Mrs. Ironwood's office. The door to her inner office was closed and Mrs. Randle was not at her desk. I took a seat and waited, watching the clock tick closer and closer toward four. At exactly four the door to the inner office was opened. Mrs. Ironwood herself stood there, a look of both disappointment and disgust on her face when she saw me waiting.

"Come in and take your seat," she ordered, and pivoted to return to her desk.

The room furniture had been rearranged so that it appeared more like a courtroom. A chair for witnesses had been placed to the left of Mrs. Ironwood's desk. Mrs. Randle, who was there to record the hearing, sat at a small table to the right of the desk. To the left of what would be the witness chair sat the panel of judges: Mr. Norman, my science teacher; Miss Weller, the librarian; and Deborah Peck, who wore a smirk of satisfaction that made my stomach churn with anger. I was sure she would be on the phone to her brother the moment this had ended. Mrs. Gray sat to the left on the settee, looking very unhappy and very troubled.

There was a seat for me, the accused, facing the desk, which Mrs. Ironwood indicated with a nod for me to take. I did so quickly, my eyes fixed on the panel. I was determined not to look frightened or guilty, but my chest felt as if I had swallowed a clump of swamp mosquitoes, all of which buzzed and bit around my pounding heart.

"This formal hearing to determine whether or not to expel student Ruby Dumas will commence," Mrs. Ironwood began. She put on her glasses to read the charges once again. While she read, I felt everyone's eyes on me, but I didn't change expression. I kept my eyes fixed on her, my back straight, my hands comfortably in my lap. "Do you plead guilty or not guilty to these charges?" she asked in conclusion.

"Not guilty," I said. My voice threatened to crack, but I held it together. Mrs. Ironwood straightened up.

"Very well. We shall continue then. Mrs. Gray," she said, turning to the small-framed, dark-brown-haired lady with soft blue eyes. I knew that up until now she had been very fond of me, often complimenting me on my class work. She looked like she had a broken heart and was doing something terribly painful to her, but she stood up, took a deep breath, and went to the witness chair.

"Please describe to the panel what you know and what you have seen, Mrs. Gray," Mrs. Ironwood instructed.

Mrs. Gray glanced at me quickly and then directed herself to the three who were to pass judgment. "Last night at approximately seven-twenty, seven twenty-five, I was returning from having dinner with Mrs. Johnson, the dorm mother at Waverly. I had left my car in the faculty parking lot and walked. When I rounded the turn, I saw someone hurrying toward the lake and the boathouse, moving surreptitiously through the shadows. Curious because I knew it had to be one of our students, I turned down the path to the lake."

She paused to take a deep breath and swallow.

"I heard the door of the boathouse open. I heard what was definitely female laughter, and then I heard the door close. I went down to the dock and continued. When I reached the boathouse, I paused because the window was open and I had a clear view of what was going on inside."

"And what was going on inside?" Mrs. Ironwood asked when Mrs. Gray hesitated. She closed her eyes, bit down on her lower lip, and then took another breath and resumed.

"I saw Buck Dardar wearing only his briefs, embracing a girl. When he pulled back a bit, I had a full view of the girl."

"And who was this girl?" Mrs. Ironwood demanded quickly.

"I saw Ruby Dumas. Naturally, I was shocked and disappointed. Before I could utter a sound, she unbuttoned her white blouse and began to take it off. Buck Dardar embraced her again."

"What was she wearing at this point?" Mrs. Ironwood asked.

"She was . . . half nude," Mrs. Gray said. "She wore only her skirt."

I saw Deborah Peck's mouth drop open. Miss Weller shook her head in disgust. Mr. Norman only closed his eyelids a bit but kept his face frozen, his lips unmoving, his eyes directed at Mrs. Gray.

"Go on," Mrs. Ironwood instructed.

"I was so astonished and disappointed, I felt weak and nauseated," Mrs. Gray said. I turned away and hurried up the path,"

"After which you called me to make your report. Isn't that true?"

Mrs. Gray looked at me and nodded.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't me, Mrs. Gray," I said softly.

"Quiet. You will have your time to speak," Mrs. Ironwood snapped. "You can leave now, Mrs. Gray," she said, nodding.

"I'm sorry. I had to tell what I saw," she said to me as she stood up. "I'm very disappointed."

I shook my head, my tears building behind my lids.

"After this report was made to me," Mrs. Ironwood began as soon as Mrs. Gray had left, "I called Buck Dardar to this office early in the morning. I confronted him with Mrs. Gray's testimony and I took out Ruby Dumas's file and showed him her picture so he could confirm that the girl Mrs. Gray reported with him in the boathouse was indeed Ruby Dumas. I will now read his sworn and signed statement.″

She picked up a document.

" 'I, Buck Dardar, do hereby admit that on the occasion noted and on a number of previous occasions,' " she read, raising her eyebrows and looking at the panel, " 'I did have intimate relations with Ruby Dumas. Miss Dumas came to my quarters on at least a half dozen previous occasions to flirt and offer herself to me. I confess to accepting her advances. On the occasion cited, Ruby Dumas arrived at the boathouse at seven-thirty and she didn't leave until after nine-thirty. I do regret my involvement with this student and accept the punishment rendered by Mrs. Ironwood on this date.'

"As you can see," she concluded, handing the document to Miss Weller, "he has signed it."

Miss Weller gazed at the paper, nodded, and then passed it to Mr. Norman. He glanced at it and handed it to Deborah, who held it the longest before returning it to Mrs. Ironwood. Looking as satisfied as a raccoon with its belly full, she sat back in her chair.

"You may offer your defense now," Mrs. Ironwood said.

I turned toward the panel. "I don't doubt that Mrs. Gray saw someone go to the boathouse last night at seven-thirty, and I know she believes she's telling the truth, but she is mistaken. I was not in there. I was—"

"I'll tell them where you were," we heard. I spun around in my chair to see Miss Stevens leading Louis through the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Ironwood demanded.

I think I was just as shocked as she was. Louis, in a jacket and tie, his hair brushed neatly, nodded.

"I'm here to testify for the defendant" He smiled in my direction. "Ruby Dumas," he said. "May I?"

"Of course not. This is a school matter and I—"

"But I have information pertaining to the case," he insisted. "Is that the witness chair?" He nodded in the right direction.

Mrs. Ironwood threw a furious, hot glance at Miss Stevens and then looked at the panel, all of whom were looking at her and waiting.

"This is highly irregular," she said.

"What's irregular about it? This is a hearing, and a hearing is the place to bring evidence, is it not?" Louis asked. "I'm sure you want to get at the truth," he added with a smile.

Everyone looked from Louis to Mrs. Ironwood. Louis moved toward the chair when she was silent. He sat down and pulled himself up comfortably.

"My name is Louis Turnbull. I am Mrs. Clairborne's grandson, and I reside in the Clairborne mansion, as it is known." He turned in Mrs. Ironwood's direction. "Do I have to give my age, occupation?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Louis. You have no business being here."

"I have business being here," he replied firmly. "Now then, as I understand it, the issue is whether or not Ruby Dumas was at the boathouse last night at seven-thirty and after, correct? Well, I can assure the panel she wasn't. She was with me. She arrived at seven-fifteen and remained until nine o'clock."

A leaden silence fell over the room, making the tick-tock of the grandfather clock seem much louder than it was. "Isn't that the issue?" Louis pursued.

"Very well. If you wish to carry on like this: How can you be sure of the exact time?" Mrs. Ironwood challenged. "You are blind." She gave the panel a look of superiority.

Louis turned to the panel as well. "I have, it is true, been suffering with an eyesight problem. But of late, I have made significant progress," he said, then glanced toward me and smiled. He turned toward the grandfather clock in the corner of the office. "Let's see. According to my cousin's office clock, it is now four-twenty . . . two," he said. He was exactly right. I looked at the panel. All of them were impressed.

"Of course, I can have you verify all of this by calling in our butler, Otis, who greeted Mademoiselle Dumas and saw her out at the end of the evening. He also served us tea while she visited. So you see, there is no physical way for her to have been at the boathouse last night at seven-thirty, eight, eight-thirty, nine," he chanted.

"A well-respected member of my faculty says otherwise, and I have a signed confession—"

"Please go out to the car and ask Otis to come in," Louis said to Miss Stevens.

"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Ironwood countered quickly.

"But if my testimony is under some doubt . . ." He turned toward Mrs. Ironwood. "If need be, I'm sure I can convince my grandmother to corroborate my testimony too."

She stared at him. The fury that built in her face had turned her cheeks red and spread down her neck, making it crimson as well.

"You're not doing anyone any good, Louis," Mrs. Ironwood muttered.

"Except Mademoiselle Dumas," he said.

She bit down on her lower lip and then sat back, swallowing her rage.

"Very well. Under the circumstances, with this contradiction of facts, I don't see how we can ask our panel to render a clear judgment. I'm sure you all agree," she said. Mr. Norman, Miss Weller, and Deborah, her eyes wide, all nodded.

"Accordingly, I am declaring this hearing ended without concluding the question. I want to emphasize that this is not to say that the student in question has been exonerated. It's merely a declaration that a clear conclusion is not possible at this time."

She looked at me.

"You are dismissed," she said. Then she turned away, her frustration causing her to fume so intently, I thought I saw smoke come out of her ears. My heart was pounding so hard, the thumping echoing in my ears, I was sure everyone in the room heard it as clearly. "I said, the hearing is ended," Mrs. Ironwood snapped when I didn't get up quickly. I stood up.

Louis rose and walked out with me and Miss Stevens.

"Why did you bring him, Miss Stevens?" I asked as soon as we were out of the inner office. "Mrs. Ironwood is so angry she's liable to take it out on you."

"I thought about it and decided I couldn't lose my best artist," she said, smiling. "Besides, once Louis heard what was happening to you, I couldn't have kept him away, could I, Louis?"

"Absolutely not," he said, smiling.

"And your eyesight is so improved, Louis!" I exclaimed. "You read the time to the minute."

He smiled again, and Miss Stevens laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Louis anticipated being challenged with his eyesight and asked me the exact time just before we entered the office," Miss Stevens explained.

"I knew if I was off a minute or so it would still be impressive," he said.

"But you weren't. You were right on the minute," I cried. I hugged him. "Thank you, Louis."

"It was fun. I've finally done something for someone else," he said.

"And you'll probably get in trouble with your grandmother for it," I said.

"It doesn't matter. I'm tired of being treated like a child. I can make my own decisions and answer for my own actions," he declared proudly.

We continued down the hallway toward the exit, the three of us holding hands. Suddenly I burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Louis asked, a smile of anticipation on his face.

"My sister, Gisselle. I can't wait to tell her and see the expression on her face."

"What!" Gisselle shrilled. "You're not expelled from Greenwood?"

"The hearing ended without conclusion, thanks to Louis and Miss Stevens. You should have been there, Gisselle," I said, so full of self-satisfaction my cheeks glowed shamelessly. "You would have so enjoyed the look on Mrs. Ironwood's face when she had to swallow her hard words and threats."

"I wouldn't have enjoyed it. I thought we were going home! I even packed most of my things!"

"We are going home soon . . . for the holidays," I sang, and left her burning with almost as much frustration as Mrs. Ironwood.

Just as word of the accusations and my hearing had swept through the school with the speed of a hurricane, so did the news of my not being expelled. The entire episode had an effect opposite to the one Mrs. Ironwood had anticipated, I was sure. Instead of making me a pariah in the eyes of the other students, I was suddenly cast as a heroine. I had withstood the fire and brimstone, the fury and power of our feared principal. I was the David who had battled our Goliath and survived. Wherever I went, the girls gathered around me to hear the details, but I didn't gloat, and I know they were disappointed in my answers.

"It wasn't very pleasant," I said. "I don't like to keep talking about it. A number of people were hurt by all this."

I thought about poor Buck Dardar, who had lost his job, and I bore no anger toward him for signing that false confession. I was sure he had been intimidated and had done it only under the dire threat of being arrested and disgraced. But Mrs. Gray remained a mystery, a mystery that wasn't to be solved until after I had attended her class the next day.

"Ruby," she called as soon as the bell to end the period rang.

I waited for the others to leave before approaching her. "Yes, Mrs. Gray?"

"I want you to know that I didn't make up my story," she said firmly and with such sincerity, I couldn't take my eyes off hers. "I am aware of the testimony Mrs. Clairborne's grandson gave at the hearing, but it doesn't change what I saw and what I said. I don't lie, nor do I conspire against anyone."

"I know, Mrs. Gray," I said. "But I wasn't there. Honest, I wasn't."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I don't believe you." She turned away and I left with a heavy heart.

Mrs. Gray's face of firmness haunted me for the remainder of the day. It was almost as if Mrs. Ironwood had cast a spell over her and caused her to see what she wanted her to see and say what she wanted her to say. How I wished I had Nina with me for only a few minutes so she could concoct some voodoo ritual or charm to change things.

I recalled Grandmère Catherine once telling me about a man who had lost his five-year-old daughter in a boating accident in the swamp. Even though her body was recovered, he continued to believe she was lost out in the bayou, swearing he heard her calling to him at night and even swearing that he saw her from time to time.

"He wanted so much for it to be true," she told me, "that to him it was true, and no one could tell him otherwise."

Maybe Mrs. Gray didn't have that clear a view and wasn't as positive when she first told Mrs. Ironwood, and maybe Mrs. Ironwood convinced her it was I she had seen.

It continued to trouble me. On the way back to the dorm at the end of the day, I stopped to gaze down at the boathouse. If only I could find Buck, I thought, and get him to tell me the truth. Maybe I could get him to tell Mrs. Gray. I hated the fact that she continued to think so poorly of me.

I was surprised to find that Gisselle wasn't back in the dorm yet when I arrived, but Samantha appeared soon after to tell me Gisselle had been made to remain with Mrs. Weisenberg and review her terrible math scores. I knew she would be in a fury when she finally returned.

I had unpacked all the things I had packed just before the hearing and then peeked into Gisselle's room to see if she had done the same. Her room was a mess. In her frustration and rage, she had tossed everything out of her suitcase. Dresses, skirts, and blouses lay over chairs and the bed, and some garments were even on the floor. I started to pick things up, folding and hanging her clothing neatly. As I placed a silk white blouse with pearl buttons on a hanger, I paused, recalling some of Mrs. Gray's testimony.

Didn't she say the girl had unbuttoned her white blouse? I wore no white blouse; I wore only my Greenwood uniform. My eyes drifted down to Gisselle's shoes lined up on the floor of the closet. Something caught my eye. My heart began to pitter-patter as I knelt slowly and picked up the loafers, the bottoms and the sides of which were caked with mud. But how . . .

The sound of my sister's loud voice declaring her complaints about being kept after school preceded her arrival in the quad. I heard her ranting as Kate wheeled her down the corridor. I stood up, holding my breath. My mind was reeling with possibilities, thoughts that seemed too fantastic. Just before she was wheeled to the door of her room, I backed into the closet and closed the sliding door almost all the way.

"Where's my sister?" Gisselle demanded.

"She was in your room," Samantha told her. "Straightening up your clothes."

Gisselle gazed in and smirked.

"Who asked her to? Anyway, she's not in here now." Samantha came up beside her and looked into the room. "Oh. She must have left when I was in the bathroom." "Great. I want her to know just what that horrible Mrs. Weisenberg made me do until I got the answers right."

"Should I look for her?" Samantha asked.

"No. I'll tell her later. I have to get some rest," she said, and wheeled herself into the room, slamming the door behind her. She sat for a moment, staring at her bed. Then she reached back and snapped the lock on the door. I held my breath. As soon as she had locked the door, she stood up without wobbling, without much effort.

And I realized my sister could walk!

I slid open the closet door slowly, without much sound, but she sensed my presence and turned. Her eyes widened in astonishment, but I was sure they weren't as wide as mine.

"What are you doing?" she gasped. "Spying on me?"

"You can stand and you can walk. Mon Dieu, Gisselle!" She sat herself back down in the wheelchair.

"So what?" she said after a moment. "I don't want anyone to know it just yet."

"But why? How long have you been able to stand and walk?"

"Awhile," she admitted.

"But why have you kept it a secret?"

"I get treated better," she confessed.

"Gisselle . . . how could you do this? All these people, everyone slaving over you . . . Could you walk before Daddy died? Could you?" I demanded when she didn't respond, but she didn't have to respond. I knew she could. "How horrible! You could have made him feel so much better."

"I was going to tell him as soon as we were permitted to go home and leave this terrible place, but as long as I had to stay here, I wasn't going to tell anyone," she said.

"How did it happen? I mean, when did you realize you could stand?"

"I was always trying to do it, and one day I just did." I sat down on her bed, my mind in turmoil.

"Oh, stop making such a big thing over it," she ordered. She stood up and walked to the closet. The sight of her walking so easily seemed so incongruous. It was as if I had fallen into a dream. At full height again and able to use her limbs, Gisselle appeared changed to me. It was as if she had grown taller and stronger while confined to her wheelchair. I watched her brush her hair for a few moments, everything I had suspected now rushing over me.

"It was you, wasn't it?" I cried, pointing at her.

"Me? Whatever are you talking about now, Ruby?" she asked, pretending ignorance.

"It was you who was with Buck Dardar that night, wasn't it? That's why your shoes are caked with mud. You snuck down there and—"

"So what? He was the only game in town, although I must admit, he was quite a good lover. I hated to see him go, but when you were accused of being there, I thought it was perfect. Finally we'd get out of here too. Then your own loverboy had to appear and get you off the hook. Crummy luck."

"Did Buck think you were me? Did you tell him your name was Ruby?"

"I did, but I don't know whether he believed it or not. Let's just say he was happy to pretend I was anyone I wanted to be as long as I appeared."

"How often . . . All those times you kept this door locked," I said, turning to her door. I looked at the window.

"That's right. I would crawl out the window and have my rendezvous. Pretty exciting, huh? I bet you wish you had thought of it now."

"I do not." I pulled myself up. "You're going to march out of here right now and tell the truth," I said. "Especially to Mrs. Gray."

"Oh, am I? Well I'm not ready to let people know I can stand and walk," she said, returning to her chair.

"I don't care if you're ready or not. You will tell," I assured her, but she didn't seem intimidated. She wheeled herself toward me and looked up at me with hard, cold eyes.

"I will not," she said, "and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll tell Mrs. Ironwood about you and your precious Miss Stevens. That oughta do her in for sure."

"What? What are you saying?"

She smiled.

"Everyone knows about pretty little Miss Stevens who's afraid of boys but who likes to be around girls," she said, smiling. "Especially you, huh?"

It was as if a match had been lit in my stomach. The flame of anger singed my heart and sent smoke into my brain. I gasped.

"That's a disgusting, terrible lie, and if you tell anyone such a thing . . . ″

"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret as long as you keep mine," she said. "Is it a deal?"

I stared down at her, my mouth open, but words not coming, my tongue numb.

"I take your silence to mean it's a deal. Fine." She turned and wheeled herself to the door to unlock it. "Now, I do need some rest before dinner. Oh, and thanks for straightening up my room. I have been too hard on myself, trying to be independent. I might call on you to do little things for me from time to time. As long as we stay here," she added.

"Of course, once we're gone from this place . . ."

"You're blackmailing me," I finally accused. "That's what you're doing."

"I'm just trying to get along as easily and as comfortably as I can. If you were a good sister and if you really cared about me, you would do what I want for a change."

"So you're going to stay in that wheelchair and let everyone think you're still crippled?"

"As long as it suits me," she said.

"I hope it suits you forever," I snapped, and marched to the door. "I feel sorry for you, Gisselle. You hate yourself so much, you don't even realize it."

"Just remember what I said," she retorted, her eyes small and spiteful. "I meant it."

I opened the door to get a breath of fresh air as much as to get away from my twin sister, whose vicious, selfish face, despite the resemblances, made it clear we were truly strangers.