Pearl in the Mist

  "Good morning, dear," she said.

  "What's happened, Mrs. Penny? Where's Abby?"

  "Mrs. Ironwood just called to tell me that her parents will be stopping by later today to pick up her things," she said in one gasp and sighed.

  "Then she's all right? They've found her?"

  "Apparently she went into the city last night and called them. Now she'll be leaving the school. She would have been expelled for going off the school grounds in the middle of the night anyway," she added.

  "Oh, she would have been expelled, Mrs. Penny, but not for running off," I said, shaking my head, and fixing my angry gaze on our housemother. "That wouldn't have been Mrs. Ironwood's true reason?'

  Mrs. Penny lowered her eyes and shook her head sadly. "We never had such problems," she muttered. "It's so troubling?' She looked up and quickly gazed around the room. "Anyway, I know how you girls are always bunching your things it. tether. I wanted you to separate whatever is yours from whatever is hers so that they can come and go quickly as possible. This won't be pleasant for anyone, especially for me" she added.

  "I imagine not. All right. I'll take care of it," I promised, and began sorting things out, packing Abby's things in her suitcases and boxes so it would be that much easier for her parents, the tears dripping of my cheeks as I worked.

  By the time the girls had returned from breakfast, I had most everything organized and was sitting dumbly on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor. Gisselle paused in the doorway, Samantha right behind her.

  "What's going on?" she demanded, looking at the packed suitcases and boxes. "Mrs. Penny wouldn't say a word."

  I raised my head slowly, my eyes bloodshot.

  "Abby's parents are coming for her things. She's leaving Greenwood. Are you satisfied now?" I demanded sharply. Samantha bit down on her lower lip and shifted her eyes away quickly.

  "It's better for all concerned," Gisselle said. "It would have happened eventually anyway."

  "If she had to leave, she should have left because she wanted to, not because she was

  embarrassed by you and your followers in front of the whole student body and all those boys," I complained.

  "It's the risk someone like that takes when she tries to be one of us," Gisselle replied, without a note of contrition in her voice. She was so self-satisfied, so confident, it made me sick to my stomach.

  "I don't want to talk about it anymore," I said and turned away from her.

  "Fine with me," she said and had Samantha wheel her away.

  But early in the afternoon, just before Abby's parents arrived, Samantha came to my door alone. She had left Gisselle in the lobby with the others and come back to fetch something for her.

  "What do you want?" I demanded sharply.

  "Gisselle wanted me to get a record out of the box stored in Abby's closet," she said meekly. "She's loaning it to one of the girls from B quad."

  I turned my back as she came into the room and knelt down to search through the boxes on the closet floor. She quickly located what she wanted and started out. Then she stopped in the doorway and turned back to me.

  "I'm sorry about Abby," she said. "I didn't expect something like this would happen."

  "Well what did you expect would happen when someone is exposed like that in front of all those people? And why? What did she ever do to you or to any of the other girls to deserve that?"

  Samantha looked down.

  "How did my sister find out about her?" I asked after a moment. "Did she listen at the door to our conversations?" Samantha shook her head. "Well, how then?"

  Samantha gazed to her right first before turning back to answer.

  "When she came in here to get something else of hers that Abby was keeping in her closet, she looked at her letters from her parents," Samantha revealed. "But please don't tell her I told you. Please," she begged, real fear in her eyes.

  "Why, what will she reveal about you?" I asked sharply. Samantha's anxiety made her eyes wide and her otherwise cherry cheeks white.

  "You shouldn't have told her anything about yourself you didn't want anyone to know," I chastised.

  Samantha nodded, that piece of advice coming too late. "Anyway," she said. "I'm sorry about Abby."

  I wasn't in a forgiving mood, but I saw she was sincere, so I nodded. She stood there a few more moments and then hurried away.

  Shortly afterward, Abby's parents arrived.

  "Mrs. Tyler," I cried, jus ping to my feet when she and her husband appeared in the doorway. "How's Abby?"

  "She's just fine" Mrs. Viler said, her face firm, her lips tight. "My daughters got more grit in her than anyone else at this precious school," she added bitterly. Abby's father shifted his eyes from me quickly.

  "I must go to her, Mrs. Tyler. She must know I nothing to do with this horrible incident."

  Mrs. Tyler raised her eyebrows. "It was your twin sister who did the dirty work, as I understand," she said.

  "Yes, but we're two different people, even though we are twins, Mrs. Tyler. Abby knows that."

  I saw from the way she gazed at her husband that Abby had said that too.

  "Where are her things?" Mrs. Tyler demanded.

  "Everything's set aside. All of her things are there." I pointed to where I had organized everything. Her father looked grateful. "How can I talk to her? When can I see her?"

  "She's in the car outside," Mr. Tyler revealed.

  "Abby's here?"

  "She didn't want to come in here with us," her mother said.

  "I don't blame her," I said as I hurried past them and out. In the lobby the girls were keeping their comments under their breaths while Abby's parents were in the building. Even Gisselle's voice was subdued. I didn't pause to look at them. Instead, I rushed out the front door. I saw Abby sitting in her parents' automobile and hurried down the steps and over to it. She rolled down the window as I approached.

  "Hi," I said.

  "Hi. I'm sorry I kept running away from you last night, but I just couldn't stop once I had started. All I wanted to do was get out of there."

  "I know, but I was so worried about you. Miss Stevens went driving around looking for you, because Mrs. Ironwood wouldn't let me leave the grounds."

  She smirked and muttered, "The Iron Lady."

  "Where were you?"

  "I hid for a while until the rain slowed some and then I got ride into the city and called my parents."

  "Oh, Abby, I'm so sorry. It's so unfair. My sister is more horrible than I ever h lined. I found out she snooped into your things and read some letters frou your parents."

  "That doesn't surprise me. Anyway, it wasn't all just her doing, I'm sure," Abby said. "Although she did seem to relish her part, didn't she?" she added. I nodded. She smiled at me and got out of the car. "Let's take a little walk," she suggested.

  "What are you going to do now?" I asked.

  "Enroll in the public school. In a way this was a good thing. My parents have decided to stop trying to ignore who I am and who they are. No more moving all around the country, no more pretending to be someone I'm not." She gazed around at the campus. "No more fancy schools."

  "I've had my fill of fancy schools too."

  "Oh no, you're doing well here, Ruby. All of our teachers like you and you have a great relationship with Miss Stevens. You'll do great things with your artwork. Take advantage of the opportunities and ignore the rest."

  "I don't like being in a place where there is so much hypocrisy. Grandmere Catherine wouldn't want me here."

  Abby laughed. "From the way you described her to me, I think she'd tell you to dig in like a clam, shut yourself off from the phonies like an oyster, and clamp down on what you want like an alligator. Besides," Abby said in a whisper, "you know how to get the bad gris-gris off you. My mistake was last night, when I didn't wear the blue skirt with the good gris-gris sewn in." She winked and we laughed. It felt good, only I realized I wouldn't be hearing her laughter anymore; I wouldn't be having our girl-to-girl
talks anymore, and we wouldn't be sharing our dreams and fears anymore. Gisselle was right to have been jealous: Abby had been the sister I never had, the sister Gisselle, despite our identical faces, would never be.

  "I wish there was something more I could do for you," I moaned.

  "You've done a lot. You've been a good friend, and we can still be good friends. We'll write to each other. Unless Mrs. Ironwood has your mail screened," she added.

  "It wouldn't surprise me."

  "I'll tell you what you can do for me," Abby said, suddenly animated. "Next time you're called into Mrs. Ironwood's office, for any reason, see if you can find one of her hairs lying about on the desk or floor. Put it in an envelope and send it to me andI'll gi ve it to a momma to use to make a doll into which I can stick pins."

  We laughed, but Abby wasn't just kidding. Behind us, her parents were completing loading the car. We paused and watched them a moment.

  "I'd better get going," she said.

  "I'm glad I got a chance to see you."

  "It's really why I came along," she revealed. "Goodbye, Ruby."

  "Oh Abby."

  "No tears or you'll start me crying and give Gisselle and her friends just what they want," she said with defiance. "They probably all have their noses to the windows right now, watching us."

  I looked back at the dorm. I swallowed my sobs down quickly and nodded. "Probably," I said.

  "Don't get too involved with Louis," she warned, her eyes small and thoughtful. "I know you feel sorry for him, but there are a great many ghosts wandering through the Clairborne family's dreams."

  "I know. I won't."

  "Well. ."

  We hugged quickly and she started toward the car. "Hey," she called back, smiling. "Don't forget to say goodbye to Mr. Mud for me."

  I laughed. "I will."

  "I'll write as soon as I can," she promised.

  Her father slammed the trunk closed and her mother got into the car. She got in also and her father sat behind the wheel. Then he started the engine and pulled away. As they went by, Abby turned to wave. I waved back until the car was gone. Then, with a chest that felt full of cement, I returned to the dorm and my half-emptied room.

  The remainder of the day felt like a period of mourning. Last night's storm had passed, but it had left thick, long clouds behind it, clouds that hovered threateningly above Baton Rouge and the surrounding area well into the night. I went to dinner mainly because I hadn't eaten anything all day. The girls were quite exuberant and loud, some still discussing Abby, but most were on to other things as if Abby hadn't even existed. Gisselle certainly was. She was waxing on and on about boys she had known who were so handsome they made Jonathan Peck look like Frankenstein's monster. According to what she was telling everyone, she had dated practically every heartthrob in America.

  Disgusted and emotionally exhausted, I retreated from dinner as soon as I was able and sat alone in my room. I decided to write a letter to Paul. It went on for pages and pages as I described all that had happened, all that Gisselle had done.

  "I don't mean to unload all my misery on you, Paul," I wrote toward the end.

  But even to this day when I think of someone in whom I can confide my innermost feelings. I think of you. I suppose I should think of Beau, but there are things a girl would rather tell a brother than she would her boyfriend, I suppose. I don't know. I'm so confused right now. Gisselle is getting her way after all. I now hate it here and I am on the verge of calling Daddy and asking him to do the very thing she wanted me to do from the start--get us out of Greenwood. The only person I will miss will be Miss Stevens.

  On the other hand, I'm tempted to stay, here and put up with it, just so Gisselle won't get her way. I don't know what to do. I don't know what's right anymore. The good suffer and the bad don't so often, I wonder if the world is filled with more bad gris-gris than good. I miss Grandmere Catherine so; I miss her wisdom and her strength. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your visiting us in New Orleans during the Christmas holidays as you promised. I've already told Daddy, and he's looking forward to seeing you too. I think anyone or anything that reminds him of our mother fills him with an inner happiness and peace he will reveal only to us through his smile.

  Write soon.

  Love, Ruby

  It wasn't until I started to fold the letter to put it in an envelope that I saw the stains from my teardrops.

  The next morning I got up, dressed, and had my breakfast silently, barely looking or speaking to anyone except Vicki, who asked me if I was ready for our social studies test. We talked about it on the way to the main building. Throughout the day, I couldn't help but feel that everyone's eyes were on me. News about Abby had spread quickly, and it was only natural that the other girls would wonder and watch to see how I reacted and behaved. I decided not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me unhappy, something I was more easily able to do when I entered Miss Stevens's art class.

  She taught her lesson and we all began our work. It wasn't until the bell rang to end the period that she came over to me to talk about Abby. I told her how Abby seemed relieved and even happier now that it was over.

  She nodded. "Whatever doesn't destroy you, makes you stronger. Hardships have a way of toughening us, if they don't kill us," she said, smiling. "Look at you and the hard things you've had to endure."

  "I'm not a tough person, Miss Stevens."

  "You're tougher than you think you are."

  I looked down at my desk. "1 was thinking about asking my father to take Gisselle and me out of Greenwood," I said.

  "Oh no. I'd hate to lose you. You're the most talented student I have, and probably ever will have. Things will get better for you. They have to," she promised. "Try not to think of the bad things. Lose yourself in your art. Make art everything," she advised.

  I nodded. "I'll try."

  "Good. And don't forget, I'll be here for you whenever you need me."

  "Thank you, Miss Stevens."

  Buoyed by our little talk, I did turn from the dark and unhappy events to look forward to Daddy's arrival on Wednesday and Beau's arrival on Saturday. At least two of the people I loved most in the world would soon be with me and would bring rays of sunshine back into the world that had become dismal and gray.

  And then when I returned to the dorm, I found that a letter had arrived from Paul, even before mine to him had been posted. His was full of optimism and happy news: how well he had been doing in school, how much his family's business had improved, and how his father was giving him more and more responsibility.

  Although I still have time to take my pirogue and pole up the bayou to do some fishing at my secret spots. Yesterday I just lay back in the canoe and watched the sun turn red as it began to fall between the branches of the sycamores. The scattered light made the Spanish moss look like sheets of silk. Then the nutrias started to come out more boldly. The dragonflies did their ritualistic dances over the water, and the bream and white crappie rose and fell in the canals as if I, fishing pole and all, weren't even there. A snowy egret swooped down so low I thought it was going to land on my shoulder before it veered and went farther downstream.

  I turned to see a white-tailed deer poke its head through the branches of a cottonwood on shore and watched me drift for a while before disappearing in the willow.

  All of this made me think of you and our wonderful late afternoons together, and I wondered how it must be for you to live someplace else now, away from the bayou. It made me sad, until I remembered how completely you absorbed everything and then, with that wonderful artistic talent, brought it out again to last forever on some canvas. How lucky will be the ones who buy your paintings.

  Looking forward to seeing you, Paul

  His letter filled me with a delicious sort of happiness, the kind that mixed melancholy with joy, memories with hope. I felt aloof, above the fray. I must have had a smile of such deep satisfaction on my face that evening at dinner. I saw how Gisselle kept gazing at me with frus
tration.

  "What's wrong with you?" she finally demanded. All the girls around us who had been talking spiritedly stopped to look and listen.

  "Nothing. Why?"

  "You look stupid sitting there with that grin on your face, like you know something we don't," she said.

  I shrugged. "I don't," I said. Then I thought a moment and put down my fork. I folded my hands in front of me and fixed my gaze on all of them. "Except I know that many of the things you all think are so important, things like family lineage and great wealth, don't guarantee happiness."

  "Oh no?" Gisselle whined. "Then what does?"

  "Liking yourself," I said, "for who you really are and not what others want you to be." Then I got up and went back to my room.

  I reread Paul's letter, made a list of things I wanted to do before Daddy and Beau's visits, completed my homework, and went to sleep. I lay there with my eyes open, staring up into the dark ceiling and imagining I was in the pirogue with Paul, drifting. I thought I could even see the first star.

  In the morning I awoke filled with all sorts of plans for pictures I wanted to do under Miss Stevens's guidance. Her love of nature was as strong as mine, and I knew she would appreciate my visions. I washed and dressed eagerly and was one of the first at the breakfast table, something else that seemed to annoy Gisselle. I saw she was becoming more and more intolerant and impatient with Samantha too, snapping at her for not doing things fast enough for her.

  Our quad had cleanup duty again. Gisselle, of course, was excused from the chores, but she made it more difficult for me and the others by lingering at the table. It nearly made us all late for school, and I had an English test to take.

  I was ready for the test and eager to take it, but right in the middle of the exam, a messenger came into the room. She went right to Mr. Risel and whispered in his ear. He nodded, then looked out at the class and announced that I was wanted at Mrs. Ironwood's office.

  "But my exam . ." I muttered.

  "Just bring up what you've completed," he said. "But . ."

  "You'd better go quickly," he added, his eyes dark. What could she want now? I wondered. What could she possibly accuse me of doing this time?