I shook my head in denial. "I would never . . ."
"Come get your trophy," Gisselle screamed into the microphone.
Abby stood in front of me, even straighter and taller than she usually did, looking for all the world like a beautiful princess. "Won't worry, Ruby," she said, "its okay. I had already decided to tell my parents that they must stop living a lie. I relish each and every part of my ancestry and never again will I hide any of it." She walked across the room and out the door.
"I guess she didn't like our trophy," Gisselle quipped. There was a roar of laughter that continued even after I had run from the ballroom after her. I flew into the hallway and hurried to the side door that just closed behind my friend. By the time I was outside, she was halfway across the campus, her pretty head held high, walking into the darkness.
"Abby! Wait!" I called, but she didn't stop. By now she was crossing down to the driveway that led to the road away from the school. I started in that direction too, when I heard my named called.
"Ruby Dumas."
I turned to see Mrs. Ironwood standing behind me in the pool of illumination from the lights above the doorway of the school.
"Don't you dare set foot off the grounds of this school," she warned.
"But Mrs. Ironwood, my friend . . . Abby . . . ″
"Don't you dare."
I turned and looked in Abby's direction, but all I could see was darkness now, darkness and deep shadows that reached back and extended deep enough to drape over my own broken heart.
9
A Friend in Need
1'd advise you to get yourself back to your social," Mrs. Ironwood warned. She had stepped up and now hovered behind me like a hawk about to pounce. The sky had turned stormy and foreboding in the distance, heralding rain and wind. For a moment I continued to stare into the darkness of the road, hoping to see Abby reappear, but I saw nothing. I stood like an island with the sea eddying around me, so miserable and unhappy. "Did you hear what I said?" she snarled.
With my head down, I turned back toward the building and walked past Mrs. Ironwood without so much as glancing at her
"Never have I seen such behavior," she continued, following me and chanting. "Never. Never. Never have one of my girls so openly embarrassed the school."
"How could having a bright, beautiful, and kind student like Abby ever be an embarrassment? I hope she will be proud of her heritage, just like I am of my Cajun past," I shot back. She hoisted her shoulders and glared down at me with her stone-cold eyes. Silhouetted against the increasingly foreboding sky, she had become as ominous and as dark as one of Nina's voodoo spirits.
"When people go where they don't belong, they only make problems for themselves," she declared with her imposing, authoritative tone.
"Abby belongs here more than anyone else," I cried. "She's the smartest, nicest . . . ″
"This is not the time nor the place to discuss such matters, and anyway, it is no concern of yours," she spit out, using her words like tiny knives to cut away my complaints. "Your concern should be about yourself and your own behavior. I thought I made that quite clear the last time we had a talk."
I stared at her a moment as a terrible anger washed over me. Grandmère Catherine had taught me to respect my elders, but surely she had never anticipated me having to show a woman like Mrs. Ironwood respect. Her age and her position shouldn't shield her from justifiable criticism, I thought, even if it came from someone as young as I was, but I bit down on my lower lip to keep my fiery words locked inside my mouth.
The Iron Lady seemed to enjoy my struggle to keep control. She glared back at me, waiting, hoping to see me become insubordinate so she could justify a harsher punishment, perhaps even have me expelled and keep me from ever seeing Louis again, which, I suspected, had become her real motive.
I swallowed back my tears and fury, spun away from her, and returned to the ballroom, where I found the last dance in progress. Most of the girls glanced my way with interest, most with smiles on their faces. Whatever they uttered to their male companions brought laughter. It sickened me to see such joviality after what had been done to Abby.
Over by the tables, Gisselle held court, surrounded now by more followers and admirers, including Jonathan Peck. Her laughter was so shrill it could be heard over the music.
"I bet that's the first time a girl's turned down the Greenwood dance trophy," she said as I approached, more for my benefit than anyone else's. There was more laughter.
"Oh, here's my sister. Give us a report, Ruby. Where's the quadroon gone?"
"Her name is Abby," I fired back. "And thanks to you she left."
"What do you mean, thanks to me? All I did was read the results of the vote, and why would anyone run off after winning?" Gisselle asked with an expression of utter innocence. The others nodded and smiled, gleefully anticipating my response.
"You know very well why, Gisselle. You did a very mean thing tonight."
"Don't tell me you condone the presence of mixed bloods at Greenwood," Jonathan remarked. He pulled his shoulders back and pressed down the sides of his hair with his palms as if he were standing in front of a mirror instead of a dozen admiring females. I turned on him.
"What I don't condone is the presence of cruel and vicious people at Greenwood, nor do I condone the presence of snobs and arrogant young men who think they're somehow God's gift when in truth they're more in love with themselves than they could ever be with anyone else," I retorted.
Jonathan's face flushed red. "Well, I see where you stand when it comes to associating with people of a lower class. Perhaps you're in the wrong place too," he said, looking to the young men and women who had gathered around us for support. Almost all nodded in agreement.
"Maybe I am," I said, hot tears burning under my eyelids. "I'd rather be in a swamp surrounded by alligators than here with people who look down on other people because of their family background."
"Oh, stop being such a goody-goody," Gisselle complained. "She'll get over it."
I drew closer to her, my eyes so filled with fury that the girls around her parted to make way. Hovering over her chair, I folded my arms under my breasts and spit my question down at her.
"What did you do, Gisselle? Listen with your ear to our door?"
"You think I'm so interested in your private talks? You think there's anything you've done that I haven't read about or seen?" she replied, reddening under my accusation. "I don't have to put my ear to the door to know what goes on between you and your quadroon friend. But," she said, smiling and sitting back, "if you would care to confess, to describe what it was like sleeping beside her . . ."
"Shut up!" I screamed, unable to hold back my flood of emotion. "Shut your filthy mouth before I—"
"Look how she's threatening her crippled sister," Gisselle cried, cringing dramatically. "You see how helpless I am, how helpless I've been. Now you all know what it's like to be a crippled twin and have to live day in and day out watching your sister have fun, go wherever she wants, do whatever she wants."
Gisselle covered her face in her hands and began to sob. Everyone glared at me angrily.
"Oh, what's the use?" I moaned, and turned away just as the music came to an end.
Mrs. Ironwood was immediately at the microphone. "It looks like a storm's brewing," she advised. "The boys should move right to the waiting buses and the girls should head back to their dorms immediately."
Everyone started toward the exits, but Miss Stevens hurried to my side.
"Poor Abby. What they did to her was horrible. Where did she go?" she asked.
"I don't know, Miss Stevens. She ran down the driveway and down the road. I'm worried about her, but Mrs. Ironwood wouldn't let me go after her."
"I'll get into my jeep and see if I can find her," Miss Stevens promised. "You go back to the dorm and wait for me."