Vicki went back into her room to tear everything apart again.
"This wasn't funny, Gisselle," I said.
She looked at Samantha and at me. "What wasn't funny?"
"Getting Samantha to take Vicki's report."
"I didn't get her to do anything. She did it herself. Didn't you, Samantha?" Gisselle's fixed gaze was enough. Samantha nodded.
"Give it back to her this minute," I said. Samantha reached under the sofa to pull out the report. There was a look of shock on her face. She knelt down and searched.
"It's not there," she said, surprised. "But that's where I put it."
"Gisselle."
"I don't know anything about it," she said smugly.
Suddenly we heard a scream from Vicki and Samantha's room. All of us rushed in to discover Vicki sitting on the bed, bawling. In her lap was her report, soaked.
"What happened?"
"I found it like this under the dresser," she cried. "Now I'm going to have to copy it all over." She looked at Samantha hatefully.
"I didn't do that," Samantha said. "Honest."
"Someone did."
"Maybe you did it yourself and you're trying to blame it on one of us," Gisselle accused.
"What? Why would I do that?"
"Just to get someone in trouble."
"That's ridiculous. Especially when you consider that I'm going to have to copy it over!"
"Then you'd better start before too much of the ink runs," Gisselle suggested. She turned her chair and the girls followed her out.
"Abby and I will help you, Vicki," I said.
"Thanks, but I’ll do it myself." She wiped her cheeks.
"Sometimes, when you rewrite, you make corrections anyway," Abby said.
Vicki nodded. Then she fixed her eyes on me coldly. "We never had things like this happen before," she said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll speak to Gisselle."
Later that night we had an argument about it. Gisselle insisted that she hadn't dipped the report in the toilet and even pretended to be hurt that I would accuse her of such a thing, but I didn't believe her.
The next day Gisselle surprised me with a suggestion.
"Maybe we shouldn't room together," she said. "We don't really get along all that well, and we can't really get to know other people if we see only each other most of the time."
"We don't see each other. I've hardly seen you all week," I said. "But that's not my fault."
"I didn't say it was. I just think it might be better if you roomed with Abby, who you've become close with, and I room with someone else."
"Who?"
"Samantha," she said.
"You mean Vicki doesn't want to room with her since the practical joke, don't you?"
"No. Samantha can't stand rooming with Vicki, who is so involved in her schoolwork, she doesn't even pay attention to personal hygiene."
"Now what are you saying?"
"Samantha said Vicki got her period two days ago but hasn't taken the time to get herself any sanitary napkins. She stuffs her panties with toilet paper," Gisselle replied and grimaced.
"I don't believe it."
"Well, why should I lie? Go ask her yourself. Go in there and ask her what she has in her panties. Go on!" she shrieked.
"Gisselle. All right, relax. I believe you."
"Just don't blame all this on Samantha," she said. "Well?"
"What?"
"Do you want to move in with Abby and let Samantha move in here or not?"
"But what about your special needs?"
"Samantha is willing to do everything I require her to do," Gisselle said.
"I don't know. Daddy might not like this."
"Of course he will like it. If it makes me happy," she added, smiling.
"I don't know how Abby would feel about it," I said softly, secretly loving the idea.
"Of course she'll love it. You two have become like . . . sisters," Gisselle said, her eyes fixed on me sharply. Was that jealousy and envy in her eyes or just plain hate?
"I'll talk to Abby," I said. "I suppose I could always move back if it doesn't work out. But what about all your other things, the things you insisted on bringing here? There might not be room enough for my things in Abby's room now."
"I'll have Mrs. Penny put some of it in storage just as she originally suggested," Gisselle replied quickly. Obviously, she would overcome any obstacle to get what she wanted. "Besides, you don't have that much anyway."
"I know why you want to get rid of me," I said sternly. "You don't want me nagging you about your schoolwork. Well, just because I'm in a different room, it doesn't mean I won't try to make sure you do well, Gisselle."
She sighed deeply.
"All right. I promise to work harder. Samantha happens to be a good student too, you know. She's already helped me with math a great deal."
"Did your homework for you is what you really mean. That won't help you learn it," I said. Gisselle rolled her eyes.
I had never told her about my meeting with Mrs. Ironwood on the first day of school. I thought that if she knew what had been said and how I had been given the responsibility of watching over her, she would go into a rage and demand to go home. But I was tempted to tell her about it now.
"If you do poorly, I’ll be to blame somehow," I said.
"Why? You'll do well. You always do well," she muttered.
"It's expected of me," I said, coming closer to describing my meeting with Mrs. Ironwood. Of course, Gisselle didn't understand.
"Well, I don't expect it! See, you do nag! I need a break. I need to be with different people too."
"All right, Gisselle. Calm down. You'll have all the girls in here."
"Are you going to go ask Abby?"
"Yes," I said. Maybe I shouldn't have given in so easily, but the prospect of escaping from her looked too good. I left and discussed the proposal with Abby, who was very happy about the idea.
That night we made the moves. Vicki, rather than being insulted, was obviously pleased to have a room all to herself. She even helped Samantha carry out her things. Of course, we had to inform Mrs. Penny, who looked very troubled about it at first, but she quickly changed her attitude when she saw how happy Gisselle was.
"As long as you girls all get along, I suppose your private arrangements don't matter," she concluded. "But don't forget, Gisselle: You, your sister, and Abby are going to Mrs. Clairborne's for tea tomorrow. We'll leave the dorm at one-fifty sharp. Mrs. Clairborne likes everyone to be right on time."
"I can't wait," Gisselle said. She flicked her eyelids and turned her shoulder. "I've already picked out my formal afternoon dress and matching shoes. Is light blue an acceptable color?"
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Mrs. Penny said. "Isn't this wonderful? How I wish I were a young girl again, just starting out, just experiencing everything. I suppose that's why I love my work. It gives me an opportunity to be a young woman over and over through you delightful girls."
The moment she was out of earshot, Gisselle slapped her hands together and began to imitate her, performing for her clique.
"How I wish I were a virgin again," she cried, "so I could experience lovemaking over and over."
Gisselle's fan club, as I had soon begun to label them, laughed and encouraged her. Then she drew them all into what had been our room to spin another tale of promiscuity to her faithful audience. I was glad to shut the door and retreat to the quiet of Abby's room, which had now become mine too.
That night we lay awake for hours, telling each other stories about our childhoods. She loved to hear about Grandmère Catherine and her work as a traiteur. I explained what a healer was to the Cajuns and the magic Grandmère could work to cure people of their minor ailments and their fears.
"You were very lucky to have a grandmother," Abby said. "I never knew any of my grandparents. Because of all the moving around we've done, I haven't had much contact with any of my family. Gisselle doesn't know how lucky she is," she added after a moment. "I wish I had a sister."
"You do now," I told her.
She was quiet for a long moment, swallowing her tears back, just like I was swallowing mine.