"Of course," I said. She smirked.

"Didn't you read the section in the handbook concerning the proper behavior at school socials?" she asked us. "Naturally, smoking or drinking anything alcoholic is strictly forbidden, but there is also an acceptable and unacceptable way to dance. It specifically says that there should be a clear inch or so between you and the boy when you're on the dance floor."

"I didn't read that," Abby said.

"It's in there. Check the footnotes."

"Footnotes!" I moaned and then laughed. "What are they afraid will happen on a dance floor?"

"I don't know," Vicki said, "but that's the rule. You're not supposed to leave the gym with a boy alone either, but a lot of girls get around that by leaving separately and then meeting someplace outside," Vicki said. "Anyway, the dance lasts two and a half hours exactly, after which Mrs. Ironwood announces it has come to an end and stops the music. The boys are told to board their bus and the girls are told to return to their dorms. Some girls escort the boys they've met to the bus, but Mrs. Ironwood is out there watching to see how they say goodbye. Passionate kissing is strictly forbidden, and if she should catch a girl permitting a boy's hands to wander, that girl will get a note about it and some demerits, which might prohibit her from attending the next social."

"Mrs. Ironwood should come to one of the fais dodos in the bayou," I whispered to Abby, who laughed.

Vicki frowned.

"Anyway," she concluded, "the refreshments are usually very good."

"Sounds like . . . loads of fun," Abby said, and we giggled so much that Vicki went back to her reading.

But despite the rules and restrictions and the promise of being followed by Mrs. Ironwood's eagle eyes and the eyes of other teachers on duty, excitement over the social continued to build all week long.

Gisselle, who was normally bitter about the fact that she couldn't get up and dance, was quite enthusiastic about all this party preparation. Her devoted followers gathered around her more often and more closely to listen to her experienced advice about boy-girl relations. She obviously enjoyed tutoring them in the ways of a coquette, describing the things she did to tease and torment and draw a boy's attention. On Thursday and Friday night, she actually sat in the lounge and instructed Jacki, Samantha, and Katie on how to walk, turn their shoulders, flutter their eyelashes, and how to find ways to brush their bosoms against the arms and chests of the boys they fancied. Vicki stood in her doorway scowling, but listening and observing like someone who wished she could enter a forbidden world; while Abby and I kept off to the side, smiling but saying nothing to bring on one of Gisselle's nasty tirades.

Then on Saturday morning, just before I went off to help set up the decorations, Gisselle surprised me by wheeling into our room to talk to Abby. Samantha was at her side.

"It's none of my business, I know, but you really ought to wear your hair down and pin the sides up so that more of your forehead and face are visible. We all voted and agree you are the prettiest, Abby," she said. "You have the best chance to be chosen queen of the dance tonight, and that would make us all very proud."

For a moment Abby was speechless. She looked at me and I looked back, smiling and shaking my head: What was my sister up to now? I wondered.

"Here," she said, offering Abby a white silk ribbon. "This would look perfect in your ebony hair."

Hesitantly, Abby took the ribbon. She studied it for a moment, as if she expected it would explode in her hands, but it was nothing more than a pretty silk ribbon.

"Are you going to wear something blue or pink?" Gisselle followed.

"I was thinking of my dark blue dress. It's one that definitely meets the skirt-length requirement," she added, laughing.

"Nice choice," Gisselle said. "What about you, Ruby?"

"I thought I'd wear the Kelly green."

"Then so will I. We'll be real twins on Saturday night," she added. "Why don't we all go over to the gymnasium together and enter as a unified quad?"

Abby and I looked at each other again, suspicion and surprise still in both our faces.

"Okay," I said.

"Oh," Gisselle said after she had started to turn her wheelchair. "I almost forgot. Susan Peck has been telling her brother about Abby. He's very anxious to see and meet her," she added. "You remember everyone talking about Jonathan Peck, how they all drool over him every time Rosedown is brought to Greenwood for a social."

"Susan?" Abby said. "I don't think she's said a word to me since I've been here."

"She's shy," Gisselle explained. "But Jonathan's not," she added with a wink. We watched her turn her chair and then waited as Samantha took over and wheeled her out.

"What was all that about?" Abby asked.

"Don't ask me. My sister is more mysterious than an owl peering out from behind Spanish moss in the swamp. You never know what you'll find until you drift by, and by then it's usually too late."

Abby laughed.

"Nice ribbon, though," she said, then tied it in her hair and gazed at herself in the mirror. "I think I will wear it."

As the day wore on, the air of excitement became contagious. Girls from all the quads were coming around to see each other, show off a new dress, pair of shoes, bracelet, and necklace, or just talk about hairstyles and makeup. At the socials the Greenwood girls were permitted to indulge in makeup, as long as they didn't go overboard and, as the handbooks said, "appear clownish."

Gisselle and Samantha's room took on more importance as the girls from the other quads paid visits, as if to pay homage to someone whom everyone now accepted as the most experienced girl in the dorm. Despite her handicap, Gisselle sat back confidently and arrogantly in her chair and approved and disapproved garments, hairstyles, even makeup, as if she had been in charge of costumes and makeup at some Hollywood studio all her life.

"This is a school full of social retards," she whispered to me later when we met in the hallway. "One girl thought an orgasm had something to do with mining zinc. Get it? Oregasm."

I had to laugh. In a way I was happy Gisselle was really enjoying herself. I had feared that as the social between Greenwood and Rosedown drew closer and closer, she would become more and more depressed and bitter; but the exact opposite had happened, and I felt relief. I myself wasn't looking to find a new boyfriend or anything, but I was eagerly anticipating the distraction the dance would provide. What I was really looking forward to, of course, was Beau's arrival the following weekend. I was determined not to do anything to endanger that visit, a visit I had been anticipating for so long.

Late in the afternoon after I had returned from helping put up the decorations, Daddy called. Gisselle spoke to him first and talked so long and so much about the dance, he had to laugh about her when I took the phone and began speaking.

"I'll be up to see you girls on Wednesday," he promised. Despite his happiness over Gisselle's apparently settling down at Greenwood, there was something in his voice that put a heaviness in my chest and made my heart thump.

"How are you, Daddy?" I asked.

"I'm fine. A little tired, maybe. I've been running around too much. We've had some business problems I've had to fix.”

"Maybe you shouldn't make the trip up to see us then. Maybe you should just rest, Daddy."

"Oh no. I haven't seen my girls for some time now. I can't neglect them," he said, laughing, but the laughter was followed with a stream of coughing. "Just a stubborn chest cold," he said quickly. "Well, enjoy yourselves. I'll see you soon," he concluded before I could pursue him and his health any further.

I was troubled by our conversation, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. The hours were ticking by. We were all getting ready to shower, and dress, and fix our hair. Fun was so rare at Greenwood that everyone wanted to hoard it and cherish it and make it into something greater than it was. I couldn't blame them. I felt that way myself.

As Gisselle had unexpectedly requested, the girls from our quad all left the dorm together to go to the gymnasium. Gisselle was ready at seven-thirty. With Samantha pushing her at the forefront, we walked to the main building, our voices full of excitement. Everyone—even Vicki, who ordinarily neglected her coiffeur and clothes—looked very pretty. Seeing ourselves day in and day out dressed in the Greenwood uniform, we welcomed the dramatic changes in style, material, and color. It was as if we had all gone into our respective dormitories as dull-colored caterpillars so identical we looked like clones and emerged as monarch butterflies, each unique and beautiful.

Thanks to Miss Stevens and our committee, the same could be said about our gymnasium. The decorations and the lights, the streamers and the tinsel transformed it into a dazzling ballroom. The six-piece orchestra was set up in the far left corner, all the musicians in black tie and tuxedos. At the head of the room was a small desk and podium with a microphone for Mrs. Ironwood to make her announcements and declarations, and from which the queen of the dance would be declared and crowned. The trophy, a golden Greenwood girl twirling on a pedestal, glittered from its place at the center of the small table.

Off to the right were the long tables for the buffet that had been prepared by all the chefs in all the dorms. One table was dedicated to desserts and was covered with a variety of sweets and party breads ranging from almond tarts and brownies with caramel icing to old-fashioned pumpkin bread and one muffins. There were crepes and French market donuts, sheets of pralines, and pecan crisps.