Landry 02 Pearl in the Mist (17 page)

"That's where Chubs will camp out, won't you, Chubs?" Gisselle quipped as soon as we set eyes on the dessert table.
Katie blushed. "I'm going to be a good girl tonight and not overdo it."
"How boring," Gisselle replied.
We all passed through the entryway, the eyes of the chaperones sweeping up from our feet to our hair, while off to the left Mrs. Ironwood stood glaring analytically at each and every one of her wards to be sure she was properly attired. The faculty surrounded her and mingled around their own refreshment table.
Chairs for the Greenwood girls had been set up on the left side of the gymnasium and chairs for the Rosewood boys on the right. Just like the other girls, we headed directly for the punch bowl first, got our cups to hold and sip, and found places on our side of the gymnasium as we waited for the arrival of the Rosewood boys. A little before eight o'clock, Suzzette Huppe, a girl from Quad A in our dorm, came rushing in to announce that the Rosewood buses had driven up. All of us lowered our voices in anticipation as the Rosewood boys began entering in an orderly fashion.
They were all dressed in their dark blue blazers and matching slacks. On the breast pocket of each blazer was the Rosewood insignia, a gold
embroidered shield with Latin words that Yield said meant "Excellence is our tradition." The design was supposedly the original Rosewood
family
emblem that originated in England.
The boys were all well groomed, their haircuts nearly identical. Just like the girls of Greenwood, the boys of Rosewood gathered in small cliques. They gazed across the gymnasium floor nervously. Some who recognized girls they had met before at previous socials waved. Then they all huddled around the punch bowls as we had and filled their cups. The sound of laughter and conversation rose as the last group of Rosewood boys streamed into the ballroom.
"There's Jonathan." Jackie indicated with a nod. We all gazed at a tall, dark-haired, handsome boy who seemed to be the center of his group. He was tan with broad shoulders, and he looked like a heartthrob movie star. It was easy to understand why he was so popular with the Greenwood girls. But he stood, spoke, and moved as if he knew it. Even from across the gymnasium, I could sense that Southern arrogance that some aristocratic young men inherited. As his eyes swept the Greenwood girls, he smiled
disdainfully, muttered something to his pals that caused them all to laugh, and then stood back expectantly, as if this whole social were being given in his honor.
Then everyone grew silent as Mrs. Ironwood went to the podium to welcome the Rosewood boys.
"I don't see any reasons to remind you all that you are the young women and young men of distinguished families who are attending two of the most highly respected schools in the state, if not the country. I'm sure you will all behave properly and leave as you have arrived: proud and deserving of the honor and respect your families enjoy. In exactly one hour we shall interrupt the dancing so we can all partake in the wonderful and delicious foods our Greenwood chefs have prepared for this occasion."
She nodded at the orchestra leader, who turned to his musicians and started the first musical number. Those Rosewood boys who were familiar with a girl or two at Greenwood started across the floor to ask them for a dance. Gradually other boys built up their courage and began to approach the girls. When Jonathan Peck started toward us, we all assumed he was going to approach Abby, just as Gisselle had suggested; but he surprised us all by stopping in front of me and asking for a dance. I glanced at Abby, who smiled, gazed at Gisselle, who wore a gleeful expression, and then accepted Jonathan's hand. He took me out to the center of the floor before placing his right hand on my hip and holding my left up at the classic ballroom level, even with my chin. With the perfect precision of a schooled dancer, he began to move and turn me to the rhythm and beat, holding that confident look in his face, his eyes fixed on mine.
"I'm Jonathan Peck," he said.
"Ruby Dumas."
"I know. My sister has told me all about you and your twin sister, Gisselle."
"Really? What did she tell you?"
"Only nice things," he said with a wink. "As you probably know by now, Rosewood and Greenwood are practically sister and brother schools anyway. We Rosewood boys usually get to hear all the nitty-gritty about the girls of Greenwood. You girls can't hide anything from us," he added smugly and glanced back at Gisselle, whom I noticed, already attracted the interest of half a dozen Rosewood boys. But what surprised ue more was Abby. She was standing off to the side. None of the Rosewood boys had asked her to dance; nor did any who were around Gisselle, laughing and joking, show any interest in her. Even Katie had been asked to dance.
"For instance," he continued, "I know you fancy yourself an artist, right?"
"I don't 'fancy' myself anything. I
am an artist," I
fired back.
His smile widened and he threw his head back with a short and what I thought artificial laugh. "Of course. You are an artist. How rude of me to imply otherwise."
"And what are you, besides a walking encyclopedia about the nitty-gritty details on the girls of Greenwood?" I snapped. "Or is that your only ambition?"
"Wow! Susan was right. You and your sister are two ball of fire."
"Be careful then," I warned. "You might get burned."
This brought another peal of laughter from him. He winked and smiled at his companions and twirled me a little more firmly, but I didn't lose my poise. Having danced at a Cajun
fais dodo
more than a dozen times in my life, I had no trouble keeping my balance and looking graceful in Jonathan Peck's hands.
"This is going to be a very interesting night," he predicted as the first number came to an end. "I'll call on you again," he promised, "but first I have a few fans to please."
"Oh, don't strain yourself," I said. My stern retort stunned him for a moment. I turned and left him standing there and hurried back to Abby's side.
"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing the flush in my cheeks.
"He's obnoxious, more arrogant than a cottonmouth snake, and probably just as poisonous. I bet he has mirrors on every wall in his room."
Abby laughed. Another number began and I was approached by a different boy, one somewhat on the shy side, which I thought was a welcome change. The boys who were around Gisselle remained, one rushing of to get her another glass of punch. Once again, when I looked back from the dance floor, I noted that all of the girls in our quad had been asked to dance but Abby. Left alone for the second time, she looked uncomfortable but tried to keep her happy demeanor, smiling and nodding at me.
"I'm sorry," I told the boy with whom I was dancing, "but my ankle's started to ache. I sprained it a few days ago. Why don't you ask my girlfriend to continue?" I nodded in Abby's directioh. The boy, a redhead with a splatter of freckles on both his cheeks, gazed at her and then shook his head quickly.
"That's all right," he said. "Thanks." He let go of me and hurried back to his companions.
"What happened?" Abby asked when I returned to her side.
"I trust have twisted my ankle out there before. It started to ache, so I asked to stop dancing." I didn't tell her about the boy's refusal to ask her to dance.
"The music's very good," she said, swinging to the rhythm.
Why weren't any of these boys coming over to her? So many of them stood on the other side of the gymnasium looking anxious to ask a girlto dance. I glanced at Gisselle, who threw her head bad to laugh at something one of the boys had told her. She took his hand and pulled him down so she could whisper something in his ear that lit his eyes like Christmas lights. His face turned crimson, and then he grinned nervously at his friends. Gisselle looked over at us and flashed a smile full of self-satisfaction.
At the start of the third number, I felt confident someone would ask Abby to dance, especially when two boys headed directly for us. But one veered off to ask Jackie to dance and the other approached me instead.
"No, thank you," I said. "I have to rest a sprained ankle. But my friend's free," I added, tilting my head toward Abby. He gazed at her and, without a word, turned and hurried down the line to ask someone else.
"Did I put on the wrong perfume or
something?" Abby wondered.
My heart began to flutter as a small panic began in the base of my stomach and climbed its way into my breast. Something was going on here, something very strange, I thought, and I looked toward my sister again. She looked smug and content. Dance after dance, boys would approach me, and if I refused and suggested they ask Abby, they flew off muttering excuses and approached someone else. It not only amazed me but annoyed me how the girl who was beyond a doubt one of the prettiest, if not
the
prettiest, in the school could go this long without being asked to dance. Just before the break for refreshments was announced, I pulled Gisselle's wheelchair aside.
"Something's going on here, Gisselle," I told her. "Not one boy has asked Abby to dance and none will if I suggest he ask."
"Really? How remarkable," she said.
"You have a way of keeping your ear to the wall, Gisselle. What's going on? Is this some sort of practical joke, because if it is . ."
"I don't know anything about any practical jokes. No one's asked me to dance either, you'll notice, but I don't see you being so concerned about my feelings," she snapped back.
"But you look like you're having a good time. All those boys. . ."
"I'm just teasing them for my own amusement. You think I enjoy being trapped in this chair while everyone else gets to dance and move about the ballroom? Poor Abby . . poor, poor Abby," she said, turning down the corners of her mouth. "You've made her into your sister because she's a whole person with no handicap."
"That's unfair. You know that's not true. You're the one who wanted to change roommates and--"
The music stopped and Mrs. Ironwood announced the serving of refreshments. A great cheer went up and everyone began moving toward the tables.
"I'm hungry and I've promised those boys I'd sit with them and let them feed me," she said slyly. "You can go and sit with poor Abby." She whirled away and into the awaiting clump of Rosewood boys she had somehow turned into flypaper. They argued over which one of them would assume Samantha's assignment and wheel Gisselle across the floor. She turned back to flash a look of deep pleasure at me and then laughed shrilly and reached up to take another boy's hand while his companions hovered around her.
"My sister is being her infuriating self," I told Abby. Many of the boys were being perfect gentlemen and getting food for a Greenwood girl before they got any for themselves, but no one offered to get anything for Abby and me. Boys cleared a space for me at the food tables but they didn't for Abby. After we had gotten what we wanted, we found a table off to the side. No one joined us, not even the other girls from our dorm. We were left alone.
Mrs. Ironwood walked around the tables with Miss Weller, greeting some of the Rosewood boys, talking to some of the girls. When they came around toward our table, Mrs. Ironwood paused, glared our way, and then turned down another aisle.
"I don't have the measles broken out over my face or anything, do I?" Abby asked.
"No. You look . . beautiful."
She smiled weakly. Neither of us had a great appetite, but we ate just to fill the empty time. Way off to our right, Gisselle sat at a table with only boys. Whatever she was telling them had them in stitches. They couldn't do enough for her. She merely had to glance at something, and two or three of them would nearly fall over each other to get it.
"Was your sister always this popular with boys?" Abby asked enviously.
"As long as I've known her, yes. She has a way of appealing to a side of them that titillates. Who knows what sort of promises she's been making," I added angrily.
The social committee fanned out and handed the girls their ballots for queen of the dance. Two girls followed afterward with boxes into which we were to throw our choices.
"I bet Gisselle has everyone voting for her," I muttered.
"I'm voting for you," Abby said.
"And me, you."
We laughed, then filled out our ballots and deposited them.
After we had had some dessert, Abby and I went to the girls' room to freshen up. It was jammed with everyone gossiping and laughing, but the moment we walked in a great deal of the talk ended. It was as if we were pariahs, lepers who had the others terrified we might touch or infect them. We gazed thoughtfully at each other, wondering.
The second half of the evening proved no different from the first, only the longer I stood beside Abby, the less and less I was approached too. By the time the next-to-last musical number was played, Abby and I were the only ones not dancing. Just before the last dance of the night, Mrs. Ironwood went to the microphone once again.
"It is a tradition here at Greenwood, as most of you know, that at the end of a social event, especially at the end of a formal dance, the girls choose their queen of the dance. The social committee has tallied the votes and asked that I call up Gisselle Dumas to announce the results."
Abby and I looked at each other with surprise. When did Gisselle arrange this? I wondered. She backed herself away from her male admirers and wheeled herself across the floor to the sound of applause. Then she turned and faced the partygoers, a happy smile across her face. One of the members of the social committee then brought the results to Gisselle. The microphone was lowered so she could speak into it.
"Thank you for this honor," she said. "It's just peachy." She turned to the girl who had the results. "The envelope, please," she said, as if it were the Academy Awards. Everyone laughed. Even Mrs. Ironwood relaxed her lips into something of a smile, Gisselle tore open the folded paper and read it to herself. Then she cleared her throat.
"We have a somewhat surprising choice," she declared. "A first for Greenwood, according to what the committee has written here." She gazed at Mrs. Ironwood, who now looked more intense, more interested. "I shall read the winner's name and exactly what the committee has written after it." She looked our way. "The girls of Greenwood have chosen Abby Tyler," she declared.
Abby's eyes widened with surprise. I shook my head in wonder, but it was as if the first shoe had dropped. The room became silent. Abby started to stand up. My heart began to pound when I looked around at the faces of the other girls. They all seemed to be holding their breaths.