"I will not," Vicki retorted. "It's just smart to get a head start," she told me. And then she looked down at Gisselle, who wore a smirk almost as disdainful as the one on Jacqueline's face. "Welcome."
"Thank you."
"Which is our room already?" Gisselle moaned.
"Right this way, dear," Mrs. Penny said and directed us to the open doorway. The moment Daddy wheeled Gisselle in she wailed.
Two single beds were side by side separated by a night table. There was a closet on the right and a closet on the left. Adjacent to the beds, with just enough room between the bed and them for Gisselle's wheelchair, were two dark wood dressers, the wood matching the bed frames and headboards. At the right of the doorway was a small vanity table with a mirror a quarter of the size of the one we had in our rooms in New Orleans. The windows were above the headboard and had the same plain cotton curtains. The walls were covered with a simple flower-pattern wallpaper and otherwise unadorned. The floors were uncovered hardwood.
"This is too small! How are we going to share this?
There's not enough room in here for my things, let alone Ruby's too."
"I'm glad someone else thinks so," Jacqueline chorused from behind us.
"Now don't you fret, dear," Mrs. Penny said. "I have storage space you can have."
"I didn't bring my things to put them into storage. I brought them to use."
"Oh dear," Mrs. Penny said, turning to Daddy.
"It'll be all right," he assured her. "We'll bring in what is most necessary first, and then—"
"Everything is most necessary," Gisselle declared unrelentingly.
"Maybe she can put some of her things in Abby's room too," Mrs. Penny suggested. "Abby's by herself," she added.
"Who's Abby? Where is she?" Gisselle demanded.
"She hasn't arrived yet. She's our other new girl," Mrs. Penny said, directing herself to Daddy, who nodded. "Whatever, don't you worry your little heart, dear. Mrs. Penny is here to make things work and keep her girls happy. I have been doing it for a long time," she said, smiling. Gisselle turned away and pouted.
"Let me start bringing their things in," Daddy said. "Do you want me to help, Daddy?" I asked.
"No. Stay with your sister," he said, raising his eyebrows. I nodded, and he left with Mrs. Penny.
Jacqueline, Kate, Samantha, and Vicki gathered in our doorway.
"Why did you bring so much?" Vicki asked. "Didn't you know you don't need a big wardrobe? We wear uniforms."
"I will not wear a uniform!" Gisselle screamed.
"You have to," Kate said and followed it with a short laugh.
"I don't have to. I can't. I have special problems," Gisselle declared. "I'm sure my father will arrange for my wearing my own clothing, and there just isn't enough closet space in here for all my things. They'll have to remain in the trunks, taking up the little space we have."
Vicki shrugged. "You don't spend all that much time in your room anyway," she pointed out. "Most of the time we're out here doing our work."
"Most of the time you are," Jacqueline said. "Not us. So what part of Louisiana are you girls from?"
"New Orleans," I said. "The Garden District."
"That's beautiful," the doll-like Samantha said. "My daddy took me there last year when we visited New Orleans. Maybe I walked right past your house."
Gisselle turned her wheelchair so she could look more directly at the girls.
"And where are you all from?"
"I'm from Shreveport," Jacqueline said. "Chubs is from Pineville, and Vicki is from Lafayette."
"My father and I live in Natchez," Samantha said. "What happened to your mother?" Gisselle asked. "She was killed two years ago in a car accident," she replied and bit down on her lower lip quickly, all of her dimples evaporating.
"That's how I got crippled," Gisselle said angrily. It was as if she believed all the accidents were the fault of cars and not people. "If you're from Mississippi, how come you're going to school here?" Gisselle asked.
"My father's family is from Baton Rouge."
"Everyone's room is this small?" Gisselle asked, looking around.
"Yes," Jacqueline said.
"How come this Abby gets her own room?" Gisselle demanded.
"It's the way it worked out," Kate said and laughed. "The luck of the draw, maybe."
"Or maybe no one wants to room with her. We haven't met her yet either," Jacqueline said.
"You don't think she's . . ." Kate began.
"No," Jacqueline said. "They don't let them into Greenwood, no matter who protests. This is a private school," she added with some pride.
"Well, she'd better get here soon," Vicki said. "We've got to go to the orientation assembly in an hour."
"What orientation assembly?" Gisselle asked quickly.
"Didn't you read the first page in your packet? The Iron Lady always has a getting-to-know-you and getting-to-know-her assembly."
"Where she reads us the riot act," Jacqueline added. "Fire and brimstone."
"Iron Lady?" I said.
"When you hear and see her, you'll know why we call her that," Jacqueline replied.
"They're not serious about all these stupid rules listed in here, are they?" Gisselle asked, holding up the packet.
"She is, and you had better pay attention to the demerits. Chubs can tell you about that," Jacqueline said, nodding at Kate.
"Why?" I asked.
"I got ten last year and had to wash out the bathrooms for a whole month," she complained. "And don't let anyone tell you girls are neater than boys. They leave the bathrooms disgusting," she said,
"You won't ever see me washing any bathrooms," Gisselle said.
"I doubt she would punish you that way," Vicki said.
"Why?" Gisselle demanded sharply. "Because I'm in a wheelchair?"
"Of course," Vicki said, undaunted. Gisselle considered a moment and then smiled. "Maybe this isn't so bad then. Maybe I can get away with a lot more than the rest of you."
"I wouldn't count on it," Jacqueline said.
"Why?"
"After you meet the Iron Lady, you'll see yourself."
"It's not all bad," Samantha said, "This is a good school. And we have fun."
"What about boys?" Gisselle inquired. Samantha blushed. She seemed frozen at the border separating childhood and adolescence, someone shocked and confused by her own sexuality. Later, I would discover that she was overly protected and spoiled by her father.
"What about them?" Vicki asked.
"Do you ever get to meet any?" Gisselle spelled it out.
"Of course. At the socials. Boys from proper boys' schools are invited. We have a dance once a month."
"How peachy! Once a month, just like a period," Gisselle quipped.
"What?" Samantha said, her little heart-shaped face in shock. Kate giggled and Jacqueline smirked.
"A period," Gisselle repeated. "You know what that is, or haven't you gotten yours yet?"
"Gisselle," I cried, but not before Samantha's face had turned bright crimson as the other girls laughed.
"Oh, how nice," Mrs. Penny said, following Daddy and our driver in with some of our things, "the girls are already getting along. I told you everything would be all right," she said to Daddy.
3
Getting Along
A half-hour before we all had to leave for the main building to attend Mrs. Ironwood's assembly, Abby Tyler and her parents arrived. I thought she was the prettiest of us all. About my height; but slim with dainty features like Audrey Hepburn, Abby had turquoise eyes and thick ebony hair, the strands brushed straight to her shoulders. Her rich, dark complexion was almost mocha, suggesting she had spent a great deal more time than the rest of us at the beach.
She spoke with a soft, melodic voice, her accent clipped and different, with some French intonation, obviously influenced by her mother's side. When she smiled at me, I felt there was something sincere about her. Like us, she was tentative and unsure of herself, being a Greenwood student for the first time.