It was Annie Gray, the quadroon girl who had ridden on the bus with me to New Orleans and used voodoo magic to help me find my father's address. She recognized me immediately, too.

"Ruby!" she called and waved.

"Huh?" Martin said.

"She knows you?" Beau asked.

Gisselle just stepped back, amazed.

"Hello," I called.

"I see you found your way about the city real good, huh?" I nodded, my throat tight. She looked back at the front door. "My aunt works here. I'm just helpin' her out some," she said. "But soon, I'm gettin' a real job. You find your daddy okay?" I nodded. "Hello, boys," she said.

"Hi," Martin said. Beau just nodded.

"I've got to get back inside," Annie said. "You just wait and see. I'll be singin' someplace real soon," she added, and hurried back up the steps. She turned in the doorway and waved and then disappeared within.

"I don't believe it. You know her?" Gisselle declared.

"I met her on the bus," I started to explain.

"You know a real prostitute," she followed. "And you said you didn't know what was here?"

"I didn't," I protested.

"Little miss goody-goody knows a prostitute," Gisselle continued, addressing herself to the boys. They both looked at me as if they had just met me.

"I don't really know her," I insisted, but Gisselle just smiled.

"I don't!"

"Let's go," Gisselle said.

We walked back quickly, no one speaking for quite a while. Every once in a while, Martin would look at me, smile, and shake his head.

"Where should we go to do it?" Beau asked after we all got back into his car.

"My house," Gisselle said. "My mother is probably off at a tea party and Daddy is surely still at work."

"To do what?" I asked.

"Just wait and see," she said. Then she added for the boys, "She probably knows all about it anyway. She knows a prostitute."

"I told you, I don't really know her. I just sat on a bus with her," I insisted.

"She knew you were looking for your daddy. Sounds like you two knew each other real well," Gisselle teased. "You didn't work together someplace, did you?" she asked. Martin spun around, his face full of laughter and curiosity.

"Stop it, Gisselle," I snapped.

Beau pulled away from the curb and shot down the street, leaving her laughter falling behind us.

Edgar greeted us all at the doorway when we returned to the house.

"My mother at home?" Gisselle asked him.

"No, mademoiselle," he replied. She threw a conspiratorial glance at Martin and Beau and then we followed her up the stairway to her room.

"What are we doing?" I asked when she cast off her beret and opened the windows as wide as they would go. Beau flopped on her bed and Martin sat at the vanity table smiling stupidly at me.

"Close the door," she ordered. I did so slowly. Then she nodded at Martin who dug into his pocket and produced what to me looked like the cigarettes Grandpère Jack often rolled for himself.

"Cigarettes?" I said, a bit surprised and even a bit relieved. I knew some kids in the bayou who had started smoking when they were ten or eleven. Some parents didn't even mind, but most did. I never liked the taste nor the feeling that my mouth was turning into an ashtray. I also hated the way some of my school friends' clothing reeked of the smoke.

"Those aren't cigarettes. They're joints," Gisselle said.

"Joints?"

Martin's smile widened. Beau sat up, his eyebrows raised, a look of curiosity about me on his face. I shook my head.

"You never heard of pot, marijuana?" Gisselle asked.

I made a small O with my lips. I had never actually seen it this close up, but I did know of it. There were some small shack bars in the bayou in which such things were supposedly taking place, but Grandmère Catherine had warned me about ever going near them. And some of the kids at school talked about it, with some supposedly smoking it. But no one I had been friendly with did.

"Of course, I've heard of it," I said.

"But you never tried it?" she asked with a smile. I shook my head.

"Should we believe her this time, Beau?" she asked. He shrugged.

"It's the truth," I insisted.

"So this will be your first time," Gisselle said. "Martin." He got up and passed one of the cigarettes to each of us. I hesitated to take mine.

"Go on; it won't bite you," he said, laughing. "You'll love it."

"If you want to hang out with us and the rest of my friends, you can't be a drip," Gisselle said.

I looked at Beau.

"You should try it at least once," he said.

Reluctantly, I took it. Martin lit everyone's and I took a quick puff on mine, blowing the smoke out the moment I felt it touch my tongue.

"No, no, no," Gisselle said. "You don't smoke it like a cigarette. Are you pretending or are you really this dumb?"

"I'm not dumb," I said indignantly. I looked at Beau who had lain back on the bed and inhaled his marijuana cigarette with obvious experience.

"It's not bad," he announced.

"You inhale the smoke and hold it in your mouth for a while," Gisselle instructed. "Go on, do it," she commanded, standing over me with those stone eyes riveted. Reluctantly, I obeyed.

"That's it," Martin said. He was squatting on the floor and puffing on his.

Gisselle put on some music. Everyone's eyes were on me so I continued to puff and inhale, hold the smoke and exhale. I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but soon I had a very light-headed feeling. It was as if I could close my eyes and float to the ceiling. I must have had a very funny expression on my face, for the three of them started to laugh again, only this time, without even knowing why, I laughed, too. That made them laugh harder which made me laugh harder. In fact, I was laughing so hard, my stomach started to ache, and no matter how it ached, I couldn't stop laughing. Every time I paused, I looked at one or the other of them and started in again.

Suddenly, my laughing turned to crying. I don't know why it did; it just did. I felt the tears and the expression on my face change. Before I realized it, I was sitting there on the floor, my legs crossed under each other, bawling like a baby.

"Uh-oh," Beau said. He got up quickly and ripped the marijuana cigarette from my fingers. Then he dropped mine and what was left of his own down Gisselle's toilet.

"Hey, that's good stuff," Martin called. "And expensive, too," he added.

"You better do something, Gisselle," Beau said when he saw my crying hadn't ended, but in fact, had gotten worse. My shoulders shook and my chest ached, but I couldn't stop myself. "The stuff was too strong for her."

"What am I supposed to do?" Gisselle cried.

"Calm her down."

"You calm her down," Gisselle said, and sprawled out on her back on the floor. Martin giggled and crawled up beside her.

"Great," Beau said. He approached rue and took my arm. "Come on, Ruby. You'd better go lie down in your own room. Come on," he urged.

Still sobbing, I let him help me to my feet and guide me out the door.

"This your room?" he asked, nodding toward the adjacent door. I nodded back and he opened it and led me in. He brought me to my bed and I lay back, my hands over my eyes. Gradually, sobs grew smaller and wider apart until I was just sniveling. Suddenly, I started to hiccup and I couldn't stop. He went into my bathroom and brought out a glass of water.

"Drink some of this," he said, sitting down beside me and helping me to raise my head. He brought the glass to my lips and I swallowed some water.

"Thank you," I muttered, and then I started to laugh again.

"Oh, no," he said. "Come on, Ruby, get control of yourself. Come on," he urged. I tried to hold my breath, but the air exploded in my mouth, pushing my lips open. Anything and everything I did made me laugh again and again. Finally, I grew too exhausted, swallowed some of the water, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," I moaned. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I've heard of people having a reaction like that, but I haven't seen it before. You feel a little better?"

"I feel all right. Just tired," I added, and let myself fall back to the pillow.

"You're a real mystery, Ruby," he said. "You seem to know a lot more about things than Gisselle does and yet you seem to know a lot less, too."

"I’m not lying," I said.

"What?"

"I'm not lying. I just met her on the bus."

"Oh." He sat there for a while. I felt his hand brush my hair and then I sensed him leaning over to kiss me softly on my lips. I didn't open my eyes during the kiss, nor did I open them after, and later, when I thought about it, I wasn't sure if it really had happened or it had been just another part of my reaction to the marijuana.

I was sure I felt him stand up, but I was fast asleep before he reached the door and I didn't wake up again until I felt someone shaking my shoulder so vigorously, the entire bed shook along with it. I opened my eyes and looked up at Gisselle.

"Mother sent me up to get you," she complained. "What?"

"They're waiting at the dinner table, stupid."

I sat up slowly and ground the sleep out of my eyes so I could gaze at the clock.

"I must have passed out," I said, shocked at the time. "Yeah, you did, but just don't tell them why or anything about what we did, understand?" she said.

"Of course I won't."

"Good." She stared at me a moment and then her lips softened into a sly smile. "Beau seems to like you a lot," she said. "He was very upset over what happened."

I stared back at her, speechless. It was like waiting for the second shoe to drop and then she dropped it. She shrugged.