"A well-respected member of my faculty says otherwise, and I have a signed confession—"
"Please go out to the car and ask Otis to come in," Louis said to Miss Stevens.
"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Ironwood countered quickly.
"But if my testimony is under some doubt . . ." He turned toward Mrs. Ironwood. "If need be, I'm sure I can convince my grandmother to corroborate my testimony too."
She stared at him. The fury that built in her face had turned her cheeks red and spread down her neck, making it crimson as well.
"You're not doing anyone any good, Louis," Mrs. Ironwood muttered.
"Except Mademoiselle Dumas," he said.
She bit down on her lower lip and then sat back, swallowing her rage.
"Very well. Under the circumstances, with this contradiction of facts, I don't see how we can ask our panel to render a clear judgment. I'm sure you all agree," she said. Mr. Norman, Miss Weller, and Deborah, her eyes wide, all nodded.
"Accordingly, I am declaring this hearing ended without concluding the question. I want to emphasize that this is not to say that the student in question has been exonerated. It's merely a declaration that a clear conclusion is not possible at this time."
She looked at me.
"You are dismissed," she said. Then she turned away, her frustration causing her to fume so intently, I thought I saw smoke come out of her ears. My heart was pounding so hard, the thumping echoing in my ears, I was sure everyone in the room heard it as clearly. "I said, the hearing is ended," Mrs. Ironwood snapped when I didn't get up quickly. I stood up.
Louis rose and walked out with me and Miss Stevens.
"Why did you bring him, Miss Stevens?" I asked as soon as we were out of the inner office. "Mrs. Ironwood is so angry she's liable to take it out on you."
"I thought about it and decided I couldn't lose my best artist," she said, smiling. "Besides, once Louis heard what was happening to you, I couldn't have kept him away, could I, Louis?"
"Absolutely not," he said, smiling.
"And your eyesight is so improved, Louis!" I exclaimed. "You read the time to the minute."
He smiled again, and Miss Stevens laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Louis anticipated being challenged with his eyesight and asked me the exact time just before we entered the office," Miss Stevens explained.
"I knew if I was off a minute or so it would still be impressive," he said.
"But you weren't. You were right on the minute," I cried. I hugged him. "Thank you, Louis."
"It was fun. I've finally done something for someone else," he said.
"And you'll probably get in trouble with your grandmother for it," I said.
"It doesn't matter. I'm tired of being treated like a child. I can make my own decisions and answer for my own actions," he declared proudly.
We continued down the hallway toward the exit, the three of us holding hands. Suddenly I burst out laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" Louis asked, a smile of anticipation on his face.
"My sister, Gisselle. I can't wait to tell her and see the expression on her face."
"What!" Gisselle shrilled. "You're not expelled from Greenwood?"
"The hearing ended without conclusion, thanks to Louis and Miss Stevens. You should have been there, Gisselle," I said, so full of self-satisfaction my cheeks glowed shamelessly. "You would have so enjoyed the look on Mrs. Ironwood's face when she had to swallow her hard words and threats."
"I wouldn't have enjoyed it. I thought we were going home! I even packed most of my things!"
"We are going home soon . . . for the holidays," I sang, and left her burning with almost as much frustration as Mrs. Ironwood.
Just as word of the accusations and my hearing had swept through the school with the speed of a hurricane, so did the news of my not being expelled. The entire episode had an effect opposite to the one Mrs. Ironwood had anticipated, I was sure. Instead of making me a pariah in the eyes of the other students, I was suddenly cast as a heroine. I had withstood the fire and brimstone, the fury and power of our feared principal. I was the David who had battled our Goliath and survived. Wherever I went, the girls gathered around me to hear the details, but I didn't gloat, and I know they were disappointed in my answers.
"It wasn't very pleasant," I said. "I don't like to keep talking about it. A number of people were hurt by all this."
I thought about poor Buck Dardar, who had lost his job, and I bore no anger toward him for signing that false confession. I was sure he had been intimidated and had done it only under the dire threat of being arrested and disgraced. But Mrs. Gray remained a mystery, a mystery that wasn't to be solved until after I had attended her class the next day.
"Ruby," she called as soon as the bell to end the period rang.
I waited for the others to leave before approaching her. "Yes, Mrs. Gray?"
"I want you to know that I didn't make up my story," she said firmly and with such sincerity, I couldn't take my eyes off hers. "I am aware of the testimony Mrs. Clairborne's grandson gave at the hearing, but it doesn't change what I saw and what I said. I don't lie, nor do I conspire against anyone."
"I know, Mrs. Gray," I said. "But I wasn't there. Honest, I wasn't."
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I don't believe you." She turned away and I left with a heavy heart.
Mrs. Gray's face of firmness haunted me for the remainder of the day. It was almost as if Mrs. Ironwood had cast a spell over her and caused her to see what she wanted her to see and say what she wanted her to say. How I wished I had Nina with me for only a few minutes so she could concoct some voodoo ritual or charm to change things.
I recalled Grandmère Catherine once telling me about a man who had lost his five-year-old daughter in a boating accident in the swamp. Even though her body was recovered, he continued to believe she was lost out in the bayou, swearing he heard her calling to him at night and even swearing that he saw her from time to time.
"He wanted so much for it to be true," she told me, "that to him it was true, and no one could tell him otherwise."
Maybe Mrs. Gray didn't have that clear a view and wasn't as positive when she first told Mrs. Ironwood, and maybe Mrs. Ironwood convinced her it was I she had seen.
It continued to trouble me. On the way back to the dorm at the end of the day, I stopped to gaze down at the boathouse. If only I could find Buck, I thought, and get him to tell me the truth. Maybe I could get him to tell Mrs. Gray. I hated the fact that she continued to think so poorly of me.
I was surprised to find that Gisselle wasn't back in the dorm yet when I arrived, but Samantha appeared soon after to tell me Gisselle had been made to remain with Mrs. Weisenberg and review her terrible math scores. I knew she would be in a fury when she finally returned.
I had unpacked all the things I had packed just before the hearing and then peeked into Gisselle's room to see if she had done the same. Her room was a mess. In her frustration and rage, she had tossed everything out of her suitcase. Dresses, skirts, and blouses lay over chairs and the bed, and some garments were even on the floor. I started to pick things up, folding and hanging her clothing neatly. As I placed a silk white blouse with pearl buttons on a hanger, I paused, recalling some of Mrs. Gray's testimony.
Didn't she say the girl had unbuttoned her white blouse? I wore no white blouse; I wore only my Greenwood uniform. My eyes drifted down to Gisselle's shoes lined up on the floor of the closet. Something caught my eye. My heart began to pitter-patter as I knelt slowly and picked up the loafers, the bottoms and the sides of which were caked with mud. But how . . .
The sound of my sister's loud voice declaring her complaints about being kept after school preceded her arrival in the quad. I heard her ranting as Kate wheeled her down the corridor. I stood up, holding my breath. My mind was reeling with possibilities, thoughts that seemed too fantastic. Just before she was wheeled to the door of her room, I backed into the closet and closed the sliding door almost all the way.