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.
"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 halfdozen 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 al
ready 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."
"You were never afraid before, Beau Andreas," she said, flashing her furious eyes at me.
"I'm older and wiser," he quipped. Everyone laughed, but Gisselle pivoted and marched a few steps away before turning around to see who was following. No one had gotten up.
"Suit yourself," she said, and headed for two boys at another table. Their heads lifted in unison when she smiled at them. Then, like bait cast off the fishing boat, she drew them off to follow her outside.
At the end of the day, Beau insisted on taking me home. We waited for Gisselle at his car, but when she didn't show up immediately, Beau decided we would leave without her.
"She's just making me wait for spite," he declared.
"But she'll be so angry, Beau."
"Serves her right. Stop worrying about it," he said, insisting I get in. I looked back when we drove away and thought I saw Gisselle coming out of the doorway. I told Beau, but he only laughed.
"I'll just tell her I thought you were her again," he said, and sped up. With the wind blowing through my hair, the warm sunlight making every leaf, every flower look bright and alive, I couldn't help but feel good. Nina Jackson's cat bone had worked, I thought. My first day at my new school was a big success.
And so too were the days and weeks that followed. I quickly discovered that instead of Gisselle's helping me to catch up, I was helping her, even though she had been the one attending this school and these classes. But this wasn't what she let her friends believe. According to the stories she told each day at lunch, she was spending hours and hours bringing me up-to-date in every subject. One day she giggled and said, "Reviewing everything because of Ruby, I'm starting to do better."
The truth was I ended up doing homework for both of us and as a result, her homework grades did improve. Our teachers wondered aloud about it and gazed at me with knowing glints in their eyes. Gisselle even improved on her test grades because we studied together.
And so my adjustment to the Beauregard School went along far easier than I had imagined it could. I made friends with a number of students, especially a number of boys, and remained very friendly with Mookie, despite Gisselle's and her friends' attitude toward her. I found Mookie to be a very sensitive and very intelligent person, far more sincere than most, if not all, of Gisselle's friends.
I enjoyed my art lessons with Professor Ashbury, who after only two lessons, declared that I had an artistic eye, "The perception that lets you distinguish what is visually significant and what is not."
Once word of my artistic talents spread, I attracted even more attention-at school. Mr. Stegman, who was also the newspaper adviser, talked me into becoming the newspaper's art editor and invited me to produce cartoons to accompany the editorials. Mookie was the editor, so we had more time to spend together. Mr. Divito asked me to join the glee club and the following week, I let myself get talked into
auditioning for the school play. That afternoon, Beau appeared too, and to my surprise and secret delight, both he and I were chosen to play opposite each other. The whole school was buzzing about it. Only Gisselle appeared annoyed, especially at lunch the following day when Beau jokingly suggested that she become my understudy.
"That way if something happens, no one will know the difference," he added, but before anyone could laugh, Gisselle exploded.
"It doesn't surprise me that you would say that, Beau Andreas," she said, wagging her head. "You wouldn't know the difference between pretend and the real thing."
Everyone roared. Beau flushed and I felt like crawling under the table.
"The truth is," she snapped, poking her thumb between her breasts, "Ruby has been my understudy ever since she came wandering back from the swamp." All of her friends smirked and nodded. Satisfied with her results, she continued. "I had to teach her how to bathe, brush her teeth, and wash the mud out of her ears."
"That's not true, Gisselle," I cried, tears suddenly burning behind my eyelids.
"Don't blame me for telling these things. Blame him!" she said, nodding toward Beau. "You're taking advantage of her, Beau, and you know it," she said, now in a more sisterly tone. Then she pulled herself up and
added with a sneer, "Just because she came here thinking it was natural for a boy to put his hands in her clothes."
The gasps around the table drew the attention of everyone in the cafeteria.
"Gisselle, that's a horrible lie!" I cried. I got up, grabbed my books and ran from the cafeteria, my tears streaming down my cheeks. For the remainder of the day, I kept my eyes down and barely spoke a word in class. Every time I looked up, I thought the boys in the room were leering at me and the girls were whispering to each other because of what Gisselle had said. I couldn't wait for the end of the day. I knew Beau would be waiting for me by his car, but I felt horribly self-conscious about being seen with him, so I snuck out another entrance and hurried around the block.
I knew my way around enough not to get lost, but the route I took made the trip back home much longer than I had anticipated, and I felt like running away, even returning to the bayou. I strolled down the wide beautiful streets in the Garden District and paused when I saw two little girls, probably no more than six or seven, playing happily together on their swing set. They looked adorable. I was sure they were sisters; there were so many similarities between them. How wonderful it was to grow up with your sister, to be close and loving, to be sensitive to each other's feelings, to comfort each other in sadness, and to reassure each other when childhood fears invaded your world.
I couldn't help but wonder what sort of sisters Gisselle and I would have been like had we been permitted to grow up together. In my put-away heart of hearts, I was positive now that she would have been a better person growing up with me and Grandmere Catherine. It made me so angry. How unfair it was to rip us apart. Even though he didn't know I existed, my Dumas grandfather had had no right to decide Gisselle's future so cavalierly. He'd had no right to play with peoples' lives as if they were no more than cards in a bourre game or checkers on a checkerboard. I couldn't imagine what it was that Daphne had said to my mother to get her to give up Gisselle, but whatever it was, I was sure it was a dreadful lie.