"I'm getting bored with him anyway," she said. "Maybe I’ll let you have him. Later on, you can do something nice for me," she added. "Hurry up and come down."

I watched her leave the room and then I shook my head and wondered why any boy would like a girl who treated his affection so lightly she could give it away at a whim and look for someone else.

Or was she pretending to give away something she was already losing? And more important, was it something I wanted?


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.