Ruby

16

Fitting In

A few days later, the holidays ended and school resumed. Despite everyone's assurances, including Beau's solemn promise to be at my side as much as he could, and Nina's giving me another good luck charm, I couldn't help but be apprehensive and terribly nervous about entering a new high school, especially a city high school.

Beau came by to pick up Gisselle and take her to school, but on this, my first school morning in New Orleans, both Daphne and my father were going to accompany me to registration.

I let Gisselle choose the skirt and blouse I was going to wear, and once again, she decided she would borrow one of my new outfits until she had gotten Daphne to buy her a dozen or so of her own.

"I can't save you a seat near me in any of our classes," she told me before rushing down to meet Beau. "I'm surrounded by boys, any one of whom would die rather than move. But don't worry. We'll save you a place right next to us in the cafeteria lunch hour," she added breathlessly. She was hurrying because Beau had honked twice and, thanks to her she said, they had been late for school three times this month with a week's detention hovering as punishment on the next tardiness.

"Okay," I called after her. So nervous I felt numb down to my fingertips, I gazed at myself one more time in the mirror, and then went down to wait for my father and Daphne. That was when Nina slipped me my good gris-gris, another section of a black cat's leg bone. Of course, the cat had to have been killed exactly at midnight. I thanked her and stuffed it deep into my pocketbook, alongside the piece of bone Annie Gray had given me. With all this good luck, how could I go wrong? I thought.

A few moments later, Daphne and my father came down the stairs. Daphne looked very chic with her hair brushed back and braided. She wore gold hoop earrings and had chosen to wear an ivory-colored cotton dress that had a belt just under her bosom, long sleeves with frilly cuffs and a high neck. In her high heels and carrying a small parasol that matched her dress, she looked more like a woman dressing for an afternoon lawn party than a mother going to a high school to register her daughter for classes.

My father was full of smiles, but Daphne was very concerned that I begin school in New Orleans with the correct attitude.

"Everyone knows about you by now," she lectured after we got into the car and drove down the driveway. "You've been the topic of conversation at every bridge game, afternoon tea, and dinner in the Garden District as well as other places. So you can expect the children of these people will be curious about you, too.

"The thing to remember is that now you carry the Dumas name. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says to you, keep that in the forefront of your thoughts. What you do and what you say reflects on all of us. Do you understand, Ruby?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean Mother," I said quickly. She had begun to grimace, but my speedy correction pleased her.

"It will be fine," my father said. "You'll get along with everyone and make new friends so quickly your head will spin. I'm sure."

"Just be sure you choose the right friends, Ruby," Daphne warned. "Over the last few years, a different class of people has found their way into this district, some without the breeding or background that Creoles of good standing possess."

A flutter of panic crisscrossed my chest. How would I know how to distinguish a Creole of good breeding from anyone else? Daphne sensed my trepidation.

"If you have any doubts, check with Gisselle first," she added.

Gisselle attended and now I was to attend the Beauregard School, named after a Confederate general about whom few of the students knew or cared to know much. A statue of him standing with his sword drawn and held high had fallen victim to an army of vandals over the years, some of it terribly stained, some of it chipped and cracked. It stood at the center of the square in front of the main entrance.

We arrived just after the first bell announcing the start of the day had rung. To me, the redbrick school looked immense and austere, its looming three floors casting a long dark shadow over the hedges, the flowers, sycamore, oak, and magnolia trees. After we parked and entered the building, we found our way to the principal's office. There was an outer office with an elderly lady serving as secretary. She seemed overwhelmed by the pile of paperwork, the ringing of phones, and the demands of other students who paraded up to her desk with a variety of problems. Her fingers were stained blue from running off multiple copies of messages and announcements on the mimeograph machine. She even had a streak of ink along the right side of her chin. I was sure she had arrived looking prim and proper, but right now strands of her blue-gray hair curled out like broken guitar strings and her glasses perched precariously at the bridge of her nose.

When we entered, she looked up, took in Daphne, turned away from the students and immediately began to primp her hair back until she saw the stains on her fingers. Then she sat down and quickly dropped her hands under her desk.

"Good morning, Madame Dumas," she said. "Monsieur." She nodded at my father who smiled and then she flashed a smile at me. "And this is our new student?"

"Yes," Daphne said. "We have an eight o'clock appointment with Dr. Storm," she added, glancing at the wall clock which had just struck eight.

"Of course, madame. I'll inform him you have arrived," she said, rising. She knocked on the inner office door and then created just enough of an opening to slip herself into the principal's office, closing the door quietly behind her.

The students who had been there retreated from the office, their eyes fixed on me so intently, I felt as if I had a wart on the tip of my nose. After they left, I gazed around at the shelves of pamphlets neatly organized, the posters announcing upcoming sporting and dramatics events, and the posted lists of rules and regulations for fire drills, air-raid drills, and accepted behavior in and out of classes. I noted that smoking was expressly forbidden and that vandalism, despite the condition of the Beauregard statue, was an offense punishable with expulsion.

The secretary reappeared and held the door open for us as she declared, "Dr. Storm will see you now."

Three chairs had been arranged for us in front of the principal's desk. I felt like I had swallowed a dozen live butterflies and envied Daphne for her poise and self-assurance as she led the way. The principal rose to greet us.

Dr. Lawrence P. Storm, as his nameplate read, was a short, stout man with a round face, the jowls of which dipped a half inch or so below his jawline. He had thick, rubbery lips and bulging dull brown eyes that reminded me of fish. Later, Daphne, who seemed to know everything about anyone in any position of importance, would tell me he suffered from a thyroid condition but she assured me he was the most impressive high school principal in the city with a doctorate in educational philosophy.

Dr. Storm wore his pale yellow hair brushed flat with a part in the center. He extended his puffy small hand and my father took it quickly.

"Monsieur Dumas and Madame Dumas," he said, nodding to Daphne. "You both look well."

"Thank you, Dr. Storm," my father said, but Daphne, who wasn't hiding her discomfort over having this duty, went right to business.

"We're here to register our daughter. I'm sure you know the details by now," she added.

Dr. Storm's bushy eyebrows rose like two caterpillars nudged.

"Yes, madame. Please, have a seat," he said, and we all sat down. Immediately, he began to shuffle papers. "I have had all the paperwork prepared in anticipation of your arrival. I understand your name is Ruby?" he said, looking at me for the first time.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Dr. Storm," Daphne corrected.

"Dr. Storm," I said. He held a tight smile.

"Well now, Ruby," he continued. "Let me welcome you to our school and say that I hope it will be a truly enjoyable and productive experience for you. I have managed to place you in all of your sister's classes so that she can help you catch up. We will make an attempt to get her transcripts from her previous school," he said, turning to my father, "and any information you can provide to expedite the matter will be appreciated, monsieur."

"Of course," my father said.

"You did attend school this year, did you not, Ruby?" Dr. Storm asked.

"Yes, Dr. Storm. I always attended school," I added pointedly.

"Very good," he said, and then clasped his thick hands together on the desk and leaned forward, his body gliding up into his suit jacket to fill out the shoulders. "But I expect you will find this educational experience somewhat different, my dear. To begin with, the Beauregard School is considered one of the best in the city, one of the most advanced. We have the finest teachers and we have the best results."

He smiled at my father and Daphne and continued.

"Needless to say, you have a rather unique situation here. Your notoriety, the events of your past, have, I am sure, preceded you. You will be the subject of a great deal of curiosity, gossip, etc. In short, you will be the center of attention for some time, which, unfortunately, will make your adjustment that much more difficult.

"But not impossible," he quickly added when he saw the panic written on my face. "I will be available to counsel you and aid you in any way possible. Just come by this office and ask for me whenever you like." His rubbery lips stretched and stretched until they were as thin as pencils and the corners were sharply drawn into his plump cheeks.

"This is your schedule," he said, handing me a sheet of paper. "I have asked one of our honor students, who happens to be in all of your classes, too, to guide you about today." He turned to my father and Daphne.

"It's one of the responsibilities of our honor students. I thought about asking Gisselle, but decided that might just bring more attention to the both of them. I hope you agree."

"Of course, Dr. Storm."

"You understand why we don't have the papers you would ordinarily need for a registration," Daphne said. "This situation has just fallen on us."

"Oh, certainly," Dr. Storm said. "Don't worry about it. I’ll take whatever information you have and follow it up like a Sherlock Holmes until we have what we need."

He returned his gaze to me and sat back in his seat.

"Because you are unfamiliar with our rules and regulations and because you will find we do things differently here, imagine, I have had this pamphlet prepared for you," he said, and held up a packet of stapled papers. "It describes everything—our dress codes, behavior codes, grading systems, in short, what is and what is not expected of you.

"I'm sure," he continued, smiling widely again, "that with your home and your family, none of this will prove difficult for you. However," he added, turning firm, "we do have our standards to maintain and we will maintain them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dr. Storm," he corrected this time himself.

"Dr. Storm."

He smiled again.

"Well then, no sense in keeping her from starting." He rose from his seat and went to the door. "Mrs. Eltz," he said. "Please send for Caroline Higgins." He returned to his desk. "While she is in class, we can go through whatever you have in terms of information about her and I will take it from there. Please be assured," he added, narrowing his eyes, "that whatever you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence."

"I imagine," Daphne said in an icy voice, "that we won't be telling you anything you don't already know."

Daphne's regal posture and aristocratic tone was like water thrown on a budding fire. Dr. Storm appeared to shrink in his chair. His smile was weaker, his retreat from an important administrator to educational bureaucrat well underway. He stuttered, fumbled through some forms and documents, and looked relieved when Mrs. Eltz knocked on the door to announce Caroline Higgins's arrival.

"Good, good," he said, rising again. "Come along then, Ruby. "Let's get you started." He escorted me into the outer office, welcoming the distraction and the temporary reprieve from Daphne's demanding gaze.

"This is Ruby Dumas, Caroline," he said, introducing me to a slim, dark haired girl with a pale complexion and a homely face with glasses as thick as goggles that made her eyes seem grotesquely large. Her thin mouth turned down-ward at the corners, giving her a habitually despondent appearance. She flicked a tiny, nervous smile and extended her slight hand. We shook quickly.

"Caroline already knows what has to be done," Dr. Storm said. "What's first, Caroline?" he asked as if to test her. "English, Dr. Storm."

"Right. Okay, girls, precede. And remember, Ruby, the door to my office is always open for you."

"Thank you, Dr. Storm," I said, and followed Caroline into the corridor. As soon as we took a half-dozen steps away, she stopped and turned, this time, smiling wider and looking happier.

"Hi. I might as well tell you what everyone calls me so you don't get confused. . Mookie," she revealed.

"Mookie? Why?"

She shrugged.

"Someone just called me that one day and it stuck like flypaper. If I don't respond when someone calls me that, he or she just doesn't try again," she explained with a tone of resignation. "Anyway, I'm really excited about being your guide. Everyone's been talking about you and Gisselle, and what happened when you were just babies. Mr. Stegman is trying to discuss Edgar Allan Poe, but no one's paying attention. All eyes are on the door and when I was called to come get you, the class started buzzing so much, he had to shout for quiet."

After hearing that preamble, I was terrified of entering the room. But I had to. With my heart pounding so hard that I could feel the thump reverberating down my spine, I followed Mookie, half listening to her description of the school's layout, which corridors were where, where the cafeteria, the gym, and the nurse's office were, and how to get to the ball fields. We paused at the doorway of the English classroom.

"Ready?" she asked.

"No, but I have no choice," I said. She laughed and opened the door.

It was as if a wind had blown into the room and spun everyone's head around. Even the teacher, a tall man with coal black hair and narrow, dark eyes, froze for a moment, his right forefinger up in the air. I searched the sea of curious faces and found Gisselle sitting in the far right corner, a smirk on her face. Just as she had said, she was surrounded by boys, but neither Beau nor Martin were in this class.

"Good morning," Mr. Stegman said, regaining his composure quickly. "Needless to say, we've been expecting you. Please take this seat," he said, indicating the third seat in the row closest to the door. I was surprised there was a desk available that close to the front, but I discovered I was sitting right behind Mookie and imagined it had been prearranged.

"Thank you," I said, and hurried to it, carrying the notebooks, pens, and pencils Daphne had made sure I had.

"My name is Mr. Stegman," he said. "We already know your name, don't we, class?" There was a titter of laughter, all eyes still glued to me. He reached down and picked two textbooks off his desk. "These are yours. I've already copied down the book numbers. This is your grammar book." He held it up. "I suppose I should remind some of you as well. This is the grammar book," he said, and there was more relaxed laughter. "And this is the literature book. We are in the middle of discussing Edgar Allan Poe and his short story, 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue,' a story everyone was supposed to have read over the holidays, I might add," he said, raising his eyes at the class. Some looked very guilty.

He turned back to me.

"For now, you'll just have to listen, but I'd like you to read it tonight."

"Oh, I have read this story, sir," I said.

"What?" He smiled. "You know this story?" I nodded. "And the main character is . . ."

"Dupin, Poe's detective."

"Then you know who the killer is?"

"Yes, sir," I said, smiling.

"And why is this story significant?"

"It's one of the first American detective stories," I said.

"Well, well, well . . . seems our neighbors in the bayou aren't as backward as some of us had anticipated," he said, glaring at the class. "In fact, some of us fit that description more," he said. It seemed to me he was looking at Gisselle. "I sat you across the room from your twin sister because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to tell the difference, but I see I will," he added. There was a lot of laughter this time. I was afraid to look back at Gisselle.

Instead, I looked down, my heart still thumping, as he continued his discussion of the story. Every once in a while, he gazed my way to confirm or reaffirm something he had said, and then he assigned our homework. I turned very slowly and looked at Gisselle. She wore this pained expression, a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

"You made a big hit with Mr. Stegman," Mookie said when the bell rang. "I'm glad you read, too. Everyone makes fun of me for reading so much."

"Why?"

"They just do," Mookie said. Gisselle caught up with us, her flock of girlfriends and boyfriends around her.

"There's no sense introducing you to everyone now," she said. "You'll just forget their names. I'll do it at lunch." Two of her girlfriends groaned and some of the boys looked disappointed. "Oh, all right. Meet Billy, Edward, Charles, and James," she catalogued so quickly I wasn't sure what name belonged to whom. "And this is Claudine and this is Antoinette, my two best friends," she said, indicating a tall brunette and a blonde about our height.

"I can't believe how much you two look alike," Claudine remarked.

"They are twins you know," Antoinette said.

"I know they're twins, but the Gibsons are twins, too, and Mary and Grace look a lot different."

"That's because they're fraternal twins and not identical," Mookie said somewhat pedantically. "They were born together, but they came from separate eggs."

"Oh, please, give us a break, will you, Miss Know-it-all," Claudine said.

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Mookie pleaded.

"Next time we need a walking encyclopedia, we'll call you," Antoinette said. "Don't you have something to look up in the library?" she added.

"I'm supposed to show Ruby around. Dr. Storm assigned me."

"We're reassigning you. Get lost, Mookie," Gisselle said. "I can take my sister around if I want."

"But—"

"I don't want her to get into any trouble, Gisselle," I said. "It's all right." Mookie looked grateful, former life, but no one laughed because everyone was more interested in hearing my stories. Finally, she got up in a huff and declared she was going out for a cigarette.

"Who's coming?" she demanded.

"There's not enough time," Beau said. "And besides, Storm's patrolling the grounds himself these days."

"You were never afraid before, Beau Andreas," she said, flashing her furious eyes at me.

"I'm older and wiser," he quipped. Everyone laughed, but Gisselle pivoted and marched a few steps away before turning around to see who was following. No one had gotten up.

"Suit yourself," she said, and headed for two boys at another table. Their heads lifted in unison when she smiled at them. Then, like bait cast off the fishing boat, she drew them off to follow her outside.

At the end of the day, Beau insisted on taking me home. We waited for Gisselle at his car, but when she didn't show up immediately, Beau decided we would leave without her.

"She's just making me wait for spite," he declared.

"But she'll be so angry, Beau."

"Serves her right. Stop worrying about it," he said, insisting I get in. I looked back when we drove away and thought I saw Gisselle coming out of the doorway. I told Beau, but he only laughed.

"I'll just tell her I thought you were her again," he said, and sped up. With the wind blowing through my hair, the warm sunlight making every leaf, every flower look bright and alive, I couldn't help but feel good. Nina Jackson's cat bone had worked, I thought. My first day at my new school was a big success.

And so too were the days and weeks that followed. I quickly discovered that instead of Gisselle's helping me to catch up, I was helping her, even though she had been the one attending this school and these classes. But this wasn't what she let her friends believe. According to the stories she told each day at lunch, she was spending hours and hours bringing me up-to-date in every subject. One day she giggled and said, "Reviewing everything because of Ruby, I'm starting to do better."

The truth was I ended up doing homework for both of us and as a result, her homework grades did improve. Our teachers wondered aloud about it and gazed at me with knowing glints in their eyes. Gisselle even improved on her test grades because we studied together.

And so my adjustment to the Beauregard School went along far easier than I had imagined it could. I made friends with a number of students, especially a number of boys, and remained very friendly with Mookie, despite Gisselle's and her friends' attitude toward her. I found Mookie to be a very sensitive and very intelligent person, far more sincere than most, if not all, of Gisselle's friends.

I enjoyed my art lessons with Professor Ashbury, who after only two lessons, declared that I had an artistic eye, "The perception that lets you distinguish what is visually significant and what is not."

Once word of my artistic talents spread, I attracted even more attention at school. Mr. Stegman, who was also the newspaper adviser, talked me into becoming the newspaper's art editor and invited me to produce cartoons to accompany the editorials. Mookie was the editor, so we had more time to spend together. Mr. Divito asked me to join the glee club and the following week, I let myself get talked into auditioning for the school play. That afternoon, Beau appeared too, and to my surprise and secret delight, both he and I were chosen to play opposite each other. The whole school was buzzing about it. Only Gisselle appeared annoyed, especially at lunch the following day when Beau jokingly suggested that she become my understudy.

"That way if something happens, no one will know the difference," he added, but before anyone could laugh, Gisselle exploded.

"It doesn't surprise me that you would say that, Beau Andreas," she said, wagging her head. "You wouldn't know the difference between pretend and the real thing."

Everyone roared. Beau flushed and I felt like crawling under the table.

"The truth is," she snapped, poking her thumb between her breasts, "Ruby has been my understudy ever since she came wandering back from the swamp." All of her friends smirked and nodded. Satisfied with her results, she continued. "I had to teach her how to bathe, brush her teeth, and wash the mud out of her ears."

"That's not true, Gisselle," I cried, tears suddenly burning behind my eyelids.

"Don't blame me for telling these things. Blame him!" she said, nodding toward Beau. "You're taking advantage of her, Beau, and you know it," she said, now in a more sisterly tone. Then she pulled herself up and added with a sneer, "Just because she came here thinking it was natural for a boy to put his hands in her clothes."

The gasps around the table drew the attention of everyone in the cafeteria.

"Gisselle, that's a horrible lie!" I cried. I got up, grabbed my books and ran from the cafeteria, my tears streaming down my cheeks. For the remainder of the day, I kept my eyes down and barely spoke a word in class. Every time I looked up, I thought the boys in the room were leering at me and the girls were whispering to each other because of what Gisselle had said. I couldn't wait for the end of the day. I knew Beau would be waiting for me by his car, but I felt horribly self-conscious about being seen with him, so I snuck out another entrance and hurried around the block.

I knew my way around enough not to get lost, but the route I took made the trip back home much longer than I had anticipated, and I felt like running away, even returning to the bayou. I strolled down the wide beautiful streets in the Garden District and paused when I saw two little girls, probably no more than six or seven, playing happily together on their swing set. They looked adorable. I was sure they were sisters; there were so many similarities between them. How wonderful it was to grow up with your sister, to be close and loving, to be sensitive to each other's feelings, to comfort each other in sadness, and to reassure each other when childhood fears invaded your world.

I couldn't help but wonder what sort of sisters Gisselle and I would have been like had we been permitted to grow up together. In my put-away heart of hearts, I was positive now that she would have been a better person growing up with me and Grandmère Catherine. It made me so angry. How unfair it was to rip us apart. Even though he didn't know I existed, my Dumas grandfather had had no right to decide Gisselle's future so cavalierly. He'd had no right to play with peoples' lives as if they were no more than cards in a bourré game or checkers on a checkerboard. I couldn't imagine what it was that Daphne had said to my mother to get her to give up Gisselle, but whatever it was, I was sure it was a dreadful lie.

And as far as my father went, I sympathized with him because of the tragedy involving my uncle Jean, and I understood why he would take one look at my mother and fall head over heels in love, but he should have thought more about the consequences and he shouldn't have let my sister be taken away- from our mother.

Feeling about as low and miserable as I imagined I could, I finally arrived at our front gate. For a long moment, I gazed up at the great house and wondered if all this wealth and all the advantages it would bring to me was really any better than a simpler life in the bayou. What was it Grandmère Catherine saw in my future? Was it just because she wanted me to get away from Grandpère Jack? Wasn't there a way to live in the bayou and not be under his dirty thumb?

Head down, I walked up the steps and entered the house. It was very quiet, Daddy not yet back from his offices, and Daphne either in the study or up in her suite. I went up the stairs and into my room, quickly closing the door behind me. I threw myself on my bed and buried my face in the pillow. Moments later, I heard a lock opened and turned to see the door adjoining my room and Gisselle's opened for the first time. It had been locked from her side; I had never locked it from mine.

"What do you want?" I said, glaring up at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking repentant. It took me by such surprise, I was speechless for a moment. I sat up. "I just lost my temper. I didn't mean to say those terrible things about you, but I lied when I told you I didn't care about Beau anymore and you could have him. All the boys and some of my girlfriends have been teasing me about it."

"I haven't done anything to try and get him to choose me over you," I said.

"I know. It's not your fault and I was stupid to blame you for it. I've already apologized to him for the things I said. He was waiting for you after school."

"I know."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"I just walked around."

She nodded with understanding. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'll make sure no one believes the terrible things I said."

Still surprised, but grateful for her change of heart, I smiled. "Thanks."

"Claudine's having a pajama party at her house tomorrow night. Just a bunch of the girls. I'd like you to come with me," she said.

I nodded. "Sure."

"Great. You wanna study for that stupid math test we're having tomorrow?"

"Okay," I said. Was it possible? I wondered. Was there a way for us truly to become the sisters we were meant to be? I hoped so; I hoped so with all my heart.

That night after dinner we did study math. Then we listened to records and Gisselle told me stories about some of the other boys and girls in our so-called group. It was fun gossiping about other kids and talking about music. She promised she would help me memorize my part in the school play, and then she said the nicest thing she had said since I had arrived.

"Now that I've unlocked the door adjoining our two rooms, I want to keep it unlocked. How about you?"

"Sure," I said.

"We don't even have to knock before entering each other's rooms. Except when one of us has some special visitor," she added with a smile.

The next day we both did well on the math test. When the other students saw us walking and talking together, they stopped gazing at me with suspicious smiles. Beau looked very relieved, too, and we had a good play rehearsal after school. He wanted to take me to a movie that night, but I told him I was going to Claudine's pajama party with Gisselle.

"Really?" he said, concerned. "I haven't heard anything about any pajama party. Usually, we boys find out about those things."

I shrugged.

"Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment idea. Come by the house tomorrow afternoon," I suggested. He still looked troubled, but he nodded.

I didn't know that Gisselle hadn't gotten permission for us to go to Claudine's pajama party until she brought it up at dinner that night. Daphne complained about not enough notice.

"We just decided today," Gisselle lied, shifting her gaze at me quickly to be sure I didn't disagree. I looked down at my food. "Even if we knew, we couldn't tell you or Daddy before anyway," she whined. "You've both been so busy these last few days."

"I don't see any harm in it, Daphne," Daddy said. "Besides, they deserve some rewards. They've been bringing home some great school grades," he added, winking at me. "I'm very impressed with your improvements, Gisselle," he told her.

"Well," Daphne said, "the Montaigne's are very respectable. I'm glad you've made friends with the right class of people," she told me, and gave us permission.

As soon as dinner was over, we went upstairs to pack our bags. Daddy drove us the three blocks or so to Claudine's home, which was almost as big as ours. Her parents had already gone to some affair outside of the city and wouldn't be back until late. The servants had gone to their quarters so we had the run of the house.

There were two other girls besides Claudine, Gisselle, Antoinette, and I: Theresa Du Pratz and Deborah Tallant. We began by making popcorn and playing records in the enormous family room. Then Claudine suggested we mix vodka and cranberry juice, and I thought, oh, no, here we go again. But all the girls wanted to do it. What was a slumber party without doing something forbidden?

"Don't worry," Gisselle whispered. "I'll mix the drinks and make sure we don't have too much vodka." I watched and saw that she did what she promised, winking at me as she prepared the drinks.

"Did you ever have pajama parties in the bayou?" Deborah asked.

"No. The only parties I attended were parties held in fais dodo halls," I explained, and described them. The girls sat around listening to my descriptions of the food, the music, and the activities.

"What's bourse?" Theresa asked.

"A card game, sort of a cross between poker and bridge. When you lose a hand, you stuff the pot," I said, smiling. Some of the girls smiled.

"We're not that far away and yet it's like we live in another country," Deborah remarked.

"People aren't really all that different," I said. "They all want the same things—love and happiness."

Everyone was quiet a moment.

"This is getting too serious," Gisselle declared, and looked at Claudine and Antoinette, who nodded.

"Let's go up to the attic and get some of my Grandmère Montaigne's things and dress up like we lived in the twenties."

It was obviously something the girls had done before.

"We'll put on the old music, too," Claudine added. Antoinette and Gisselle exchanged conspiratorial glances and then we all marched up the stairway. From the doorway of the attic, Claudine cast out garments, assigning what each would wear. I was given an old-fashioned bathing suit.

"We don't want to see what each other looks like until we all come back downstairs," Claudine said. It was as if there were a prescribed procedure for this sort of fun. "Ruby, you can use my room to change." She opened the door to her very pretty room and gestured for me to enter. Then she assigned Gisselle and Antoinette their rooms and told Theresa and Deborah to go downstairs and find places to use. She would use her parents' room. "Everyone meets in the living room in ten minutes."

I closed the door and went into her room. The old-fashioned bathing suit looked so silly when I held it up before me and gazed in Claudine's vanity mirror. It left little really exposed. I imagined people didn't care so much about getting tans in those days.

Envisioning the fun we would have all parading about in old-time clothes, I hurried to get into the bathing suit. I unfastened my skirt, stepped out of it, and unbuttoned my blouse, quickly slipping it off. I started to get into the bathing suit when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?"

Claudine peeked in. "How are you doing?"

"Okay. This is going to be big on me."

"My grandmother was a big lady. Oh, you can't wear your bra and panties under a bathing suit. They didn't do that," she said. "Hurry up. Take everything off, get into the suit, and come downstairs."

"But . . ."

She closed the door again. I shrugged to my image in the mirror and unfastened my bra. Then I lowered my panties. Just as they were down to my knees, I heard muffled laughter. A flutter of panic made my heart skip. I spun around to see the sliding closet door thrown open behind me and three boys emerge, laughing hysterically, Billy, Edward, and Charles. I screamed and scrambled for my garments just as a flashbulb went off. Then I charged out the door, another flash following.

Gisselle, Antoinette, and Claudine emerged from her parents' suite, and Deborah and Theresa came up the stairway, big smiles on all their faces.

"What's going on?" Claudine asked, pretending innocence.

"How could you do this?" I cried. The boys followed me to the doorway of Claudine's room and stared out at me, laughing. They were about to take another picture. Panicking, I gazed around for another place to hide and charged through an opened doorway into another room, slamming the door behind me and shutting away their laughter. As quickly as I could, I put on my clothing. The tears of anger and embarrassment streamed down my cheeks and fell off my chin.

Still trembling, but awash in a terrible anger, I took a deep breath and came out to find no one. I took another deep breath and then walked down the stairs. Voices and laughter came from the family room. I paused at the doorway and looked in to see the boys spread out on the floor, drinking the vodka and cranberry juice and the girls around them on the sofas and chairs. I fixed my gaze on Gisselle hatefully.

"How could you let them do this to me?" I demanded.

"Oh, stop being a spoilsport," she said. "It was just a prank."

"Was it?" I cried. "Then let me see you get up and take off your clothes in front of them while they snap pictures. Go on, do it," I challenged. The boys looked up at her expectantly.

"I'm not that stupid," she said, and everyone laughed.

"No, you're not," I admitted. "Because you're not as trusting. Thanks for the lesson, dear sister," I fumed. Then I pivoted and marched to the front door.

"Where are you going? You can't go home now," she cried, charging after me. I turned at the door.

"I'm not staying here," I said. "Not after this."

"Oh, stop acting so babyish. I'm sure you let boys see you naked in the bayou."

"No, I did not. The truth is people have more morals there than you do here," I spit out. She stopped smiling.

"You going to tell?" she asked.

I just shook my head. ''What good would it do?" I replied, and walked out.

I hurried over the cobblestone streets and walks, my heart pounding as I practically jogged through the pools of yellow light cast by the street lanterns. I never noticed another pedestrian; I didn't even notice passing cars. I couldn't wait to get home and march up the stairway.

The first thing I was going to do was lock the door again between Gisselle's room and mine.