"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."