"It's not fair," I said. "Why take it out on her? It's not fair. She was a wonderful teacher. Don't you want good teachers? Don't you care?"
"Of course I care, and I care about your insolence too," she said. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and stood there. She seemed to soften. "The conduct of faculty affairs is none of your business, but I will tell you that Miss Stevens was not fired. She resigned."
"Resigned?" I shook my head. "She would never . . ."
"I assure you, she resigned." The homeroom bell rang. "That was the final bell. You're late for homeroom, two demerits," she snapped, then spun around and went back into her office, closing the door behind her and leaving me confused and lost in her wake.
"You'd better get to your homeroom, mademoiselle, before you make things even worse for yourself," Mrs. Randle warned.
"She wouldn't resign," I insisted, but I turned and walked back to my homeroom.
Later in the day, however, I tapped into the line of gossip and learned that Miss Stevens had indeed resigned.
She had been accused of immoral behavior and given the opportunity to resign and not be charged and dragged through a nasty hearing. The word was that one of the students had come forward and confessed to having been seduced by Miss Stevens. No one knew who the student was, of course, but I had my suspicions.
Gisselle couldn't have looked more satisfied, and Mrs. Ironwood had gotten her pound of flesh.
17
A Waking Nightmare
During the days that followed, I resembled a somnambulist. I walked the corridors and grounds of Greenwood, my eyes focused on nothing, my gait slow. I barely heard anyone speaking to me or around me. I didn't know whether the sun was shining or not. One afternoon I was surprised to arrive at the dorm and discover I was wet, that it had rained and I hadn't even been aware of it.
Every day that I returned to the dorm after classes I hoped I had a message from Miss Stevens, but there were never any. I imagined she was afraid of getting me into any trouble; she was that considerate. I felt so. sorry for her, driven away by the most scurrilous, foul lies. I knew that even though Mrs. Ironwood had let her resign, she would find ways to paint Miss Stevens with the stain of immoral behavior and hurt her chances to find another job.
Finally, one afternoon when I returned, I did find a letter, but it was from Louis.
Dear Ruby,
I'm sorry it took so long for me to write to you, but I didn't want to attempt it until I could do it entirely myself. What you are reading now is a letter written solely by me, with me seeing every single letter and word I put down. Finally, I no longer have to depend on anyone to do the simplest of tasks for me. I don't have to trust anyone with my secret thoughts or put aside my embarrassment and ask for the most basic favors. I am whole again, and once again, thanks to you.
The doctors tell me my eyesight has restored itself nearly one hundred percent. I'm doing some eye muscle exercises and wearing corrective lenses for the time being. But I don't spend that much of my day doting on myself anymore. No, I spend most of it at the conservatory, where I am working with the greatest music teachers in the world, I am sure. And they are all impressed with me.
Tonight I will be giving a recital at the school's hall, and besides all the teachers and their wives, there will be dignitaries from the city. I'm trying not to be nervous, and do you know what helps me overcome it? Thinking about you and the wonderful talks we used to have.
And guess what? They are going to let me play some of your symphony. As I play I will think about your laughter and your soft voice encouraging me. I do miss you a great deal and look forward to seeing you again. Or should I say, see you completely for the first time?
I received a letter from my grandmother, and as usual, she included some news about the school. Why did the art teacher, Miss Stevens, resign? Wasn't she your favorite teacher at Greenwood? All Grandmother says about it is that she was quickly replaced.
Write back when you have a chance, and good luck with your school exams.
As always,
Your dearest friend, Louis
I put his letter aside and tried to compose a reply that wouldn't reveal how depressed and unhappy I was, but every time I began to explain why Miss Stevens was gone, I broke out in tears and those tears fell on the stationery. Finally I just jotted off a quick note, claiming I was in the middle of exams and would write him in more detail soon.
Meanwhile, it wasn't until the middle of the second week that I heard from Beau. He apologized for not calling me.
"I had to attend a family gathering and was away for the entire weekend," he claimed. Then he added, "You can't imagine how Daphne carried on about New Year's Eve when she met my parents at a restaurant last night. She made it sound as if we were all part of an orgy."
"I can imagine."
"Why do you sound so down? Is it because you miss me, because if you do. ."
"No, Beau," I said, and I told him about Miss Stevens. "You think it was Gisselle?"
"I'm positive it was Gisselle," I said. "She once threatened to do the exact same thing if I revealed the secret about her not being crippled anymore."
"Did you confront her?"
"Naturally, she denies it," I said. "It doesn't matter now. The damage has been done, and she has won what she wanted: I hate it here."
"Complain to Daphne," he suggested. "Maybe she'll let you come home."
"I doubt it," I said. "It doesn't matter anyway. I just do my work and plod on. I'm not doing much artwork. The new teacher is nice, but he's not Miss Stevens."
"Well, be up there this weekend," Beau promised.
"Saturday, late in the morning."
"Okay."
"Ruby, I hate to hear how sad you are. It makes me sad too," he said.
I was crying, but I didn't let him hear. I nodded, caught my breath, and told him I had to go finish up some homework.
He did drive up on Saturday, and the sight of him getting out of his car in front of the dorm put some sunshine in my heart. I had gone into the dorm kitchen and prepared a picnic lunch of po'boy sandwiches and apple juice. When the other girls set their eyes on him, they expressed their approval with cheers and giggles. With a blanket folded under my arm, I rushed out to meet him and go off to another part of the campus.
"Daphne was supposed to send permission for Gisselle and me to leave the campus on weekends, but she didn't," I explained, "so we can't leave the grounds."
"It's all right. It's nice here," he said, looking around.
We walked around the campus and then spread the blanket on the lawn. We both lay back on our hands and looked up at the blue sky with its puffs of creamy white clouds and talked softly. Our talk wasn't of much at all at the start. He rattled on about some of his friends back in New Orleans, the prospects for the upcoming baseball season, and his-college plans.
"You've got to get back to your art," he told me. "Miss Stevens would be very upset, I'm sure."
"I know. But right now everything I do is mechanical. I feel like a robot, getting up, getting dressed, going to school, doing my homework, studying, going to sleep. But you're right," I told him. "I do have to get back to what is most important to me."
I sat up. He played with a blade of grass and then tried to tickle me with it. I was very self-conscious about everything we did, however. We were in plain view of everyone. There was no privacy for us at Greenwood, and I could imagine even Mrs. Ironwood gaping out of a window watching us, just waiting for us to do something she considered wrong.
We ate our sandwiches, talked some more, and then went for another walk. I showed him parts of the school itself, the library, the auditorium, and cafeteria. All the while I felt we were being watched, being followed. I didn't want to take him back to my dorm. I was happy we had been able to avoid Gisselle. We ended up walking toward the Clairborne mansion. Beau thought it was an impressive old house, especially because of how it was set back, with woods between the house and the school.
&n
bsp; It was getting late, so we started back toward the dorm and his car, but on the way, we spotted a path that went deeper into the woods, and Beau thought we should explore and see where it would take us. I was reluctant at first, still having this sense of being watched. I even looked behind and around us, studying the pockets of shadows created by the late-afternoon sun, but I saw no one nor heard anyone. So I let him pull me along. We went farther and farther into the small wooded area until we heard the distinct sound of water rushing over rocks. When we came around a turn, there it was: a small but vigorous little stream that had created a waterfall.
"It's very pretty here," Beau said. "You've never been here before?"
"No, and no one's mentioned it."
"Let's sit awhile. I'm in no rush to go back to New Orleans anyway," he said. I didn't like the way he said it.
"Your parents know you've come up here to see me, don't they, Beau?"
"Sorta," he said, smiling.
"What's that mean, `sorta'?"
"I said I was going for a ride," he replied with a shrug. "Just a ride? But you drove all the way to Baton Rouge!"
"It's a ride, isn't it?" he said, laughing.
"Oh Beau, you're going to get into trouble with them again, aren't you?"
"It's worth it to see you, Ruby." He stepped up to me to put his hands on my shoulders and bring his lips to mine. Here in the solitude of the woods, he felt free to be more affectionate. I couldn't help but be nervous, however. We were still on Greenwood grounds, and in my dark imagination, I envisioned the Iron Lady hovering behind a tree with a pair of binoculars. Beau sensed my agitation and felt the tension in my body.
"What's wrong? I thought you would be more anxious to see me," he said, with obvious disappointment.
"It's not you, Beau. It's me. I'm not comfortable here, even though you're beside me. I still feel . . . as my Grandpère Jack used to say, like I've stepped on the back of a sleeping alligator."
Beau laughed. "There's no one here but us and the birds," he said, kissing me again. "No alligators." He kissed my neck. "Let's put down our blanket and rest awhile," he coaxed.
I let him take the blanket out from under my arm and watched him spread it over a patch of grass. He sprawled out and beckoned to me. I looked around again, and when I hesitated, he reached up to take my hand and pull me down to him.
In his arms I did forget where I was for the moment. Our kisses were long and passionate. He moved his hands smoothly up my arms and over my breasts. Soon the rush of my own blood competed with the rush of the water over the rocks, the sounds from within me becoming as loud as the sounds without. I felt swept away by Beau's caresses, each kiss, each touch moving the dark sadness off my brow and chasing the gloom from my heart, until I was kissing him as hard and as passionately as he was kissing me. I felt his hands under my blouse, my garments moving away so that we would be closer, skin touching skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. I opened myself to him eagerly and he was there, touching me, holding me, chanting his love and his promises. From somewhere in the forest, I heard the sound of a woodpecker. His tap, tap, tap grew faster and louder, until it sounded as if he was tearing down the whole forest. The water rushed on beside us. My moans grew stronger and more frequent, until we both came crushing down on each other's hunger, satisfying one another with the surrender of our very being.
When it was over, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart was thumping so hard I thought I would faint. Beau was on his back, gasping with surprise.
"And I thought football was strenuous," he joked. Then he grew serious and gazed down into my eyes. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," I said, catching my breath, "but maybe we love each other too much for our bodies to bear."
He laughed. "I can't think of anyone whose arms I would rather die in," he replied, which brought a smile to my face.
We straightened up our clothing, brushed each other off, and started back through the woods. I had to admit I was feeling lighter and happier than I thought possible these past two weeks.
"I'm so glad you came up to see me, Beau. I hope you don't get into too much trouble."
"It was worth it," he said.
We said goodbye at his car, with some of the girls in the dorm watching us from the front window.
"I can't believe Gisselle hasn't planted herself in my face at least once today," Beau said.
"I know. But whatever she's up to, it's something nasty for someone, I'm sure." Beau laughed at my words. We kissed goodbye quickly, and then I stood there watching him drive off. I didn't turn to go into the dorm until his car was completely gone from sight. Then I bowed my head and strolled into the dorm.
"You'd better get a move on," Sarah Peters warned me after I entered the building.
"Why?"
"We just heard: Our dorm's been chosen for an unannounced inspection. The Iron Lady could be here any moment," she explained.
"Inspection? Inspection of what?"
"Anything. Our rooms, our bathrooms, anything. She doesn't need a warrant, you know."
When I arrived at the quad, I found all the girls in a frenzy, even Gisselle. They were cleaning and straightening up. Everyone's room looked well organized and neat. Samantha had done a pretty good job on ours.
"We'll be hit first," Vicki informed me. "She goes in alphabetical order."
"How was your visit with Beau?" Gisselle asked from her doorway.
I glared at her, the anger I felt still quite strong.
"Why, weren't you spying on us?" I asked. She laughed.—but nervously, I thought.
"I had much better things to do," she replied, then retreated to her room quickly.
About half an hour later, Mrs. Ironwood did arrive, escorted by Mrs. Penny and Deborah Peck, who carried a clipboard and took down whatever notes and demerits Mrs. Ironwood imposed. The inspection began in Jacki and Kate's room and then went to Gisselle's. I expected to hear complaints, but Mrs. Ironwood emerged with a look of satisfaction on her face. She stepped into my doorway and gazed around the room.
"Good afternoon, girls," she said to Samantha and me. Samantha looked terrified, and she uttered a reply that was barely audible. Mrs. Ironwood went to one of the dressers and ran her fingers over the top. She looked at her fingers.
"Very nice," she said. "I'm glad you keep your rooms clean and consider them your home." She opened the closet door and peered in at our clothing, nodded, and then looked at my dresser. She stepped up to it and pulled open the top drawer, gazing in and nodding. "Well organized," she said. Samantha smiled at me. Then Mrs. Ironwood reached down and pulled open the third drawer. She stood there staring down for a moment and then turned to me.
"This is your dresser?"
"Yes," I said. She nodded, turned back to the drawer, reached in, and pulled out a pint bottle of rum. "Couldn't you hide this a little better?" she asked sarcastically.
My mouth dropped. I looked at Mrs. Penny, who gaped at me with surprise and disappointment. Deborah Peck had a faint smile on her lips.
"That's not mine."
"You just said this was your dresser. Other people put their things, in your dresser?"
"No, but . . ."
"Then this is yours," she said. She handed it to Mrs. Penny. "Dispose of this," she ordered. To Deborah she said, "Ten demerits." She glared at me. "Your punishment will be decided, and you will be told before the end of the day. Until then, you are confined to this room."
She turned and marched out. Mrs. Penny held the bottle in her hand as gingerly as she could, treating it like poison. She shook her head at me.
"I'm so ashamed of you, Ruby."
"It's not mine, Mrs. Penny."
"So ashamed," she repeated, then followed Mrs. Ironwood and Deborah out. As soon as they were gone, all the girls from the quad rushed to our door.
"What did she find?" Jacki asked.
"I'm sure you all know," I said dryly.
"Know what?" Gisselle asked, coming from behind.
"A
bout the rum you put in my drawer."
"See? There she goes again. My fault. I'm not the only one here, Ruby. And other girls from other quads could have gotten into your room. You're not the most popular girl on campus. Maybe someone's jealous of you."
"Someone?" I said, smiling.
"Or maybe," she said, her hands on her hips, "that was your bottle."
I laughed and shook my head.
"I wonder what she'll do to you," Samantha said.
"It doesn't matter. I don't care," I told her, and I meant it. I didn't.
Just before dinner Mrs. Penny arrived to inform me that I was to spend the evening scrubbing all the bathrooms at the school. The head custodian would be waiting with soap and water and a brush. I was to do it every Saturday night after dinner for a month.
I accepted my punishment with a quiet resignation that annoyed Gisselle and both surprised and impressed the other girls. They never heard a complaint from me, even when it meant I wouldn't be able to attend movies or go to a dance. I knew the head custodian, Mr. Hull, felt sorry for me, and he even began to do some of my work and have some of it completed before I arrived.
"These bathrooms never looked so good come Monday morning," he told me.
He was right. Once I realized I couldn't get out of the penalty without causing even more of a problem, I decided to attack it with enthusiasm. It made it bearable. I took out stains that were seemingly embedded, and I got the mirrors so shiny that there wasn't the smallest smudge on the glass. On my third Saturday, however, I found that someone had stuffed the toilets in one of the bathrooms and flushed and flushed so the water would run over the floors. It was a disgusting mess and Mr. Hull came in to assist me, mopping up first. Even so, the stench got to me, and I had to get some fresh air to stop from throwing up my supper.
Two days later, I woke up very nauseous and had to run into the bathroom to throw up. I thought I had a terrible stomach virus or had been poisoned by the cleaning fluids I had to dip my hands into to clean the bathrooms properly. When the nausea came over me again that afternoon, I asked to be excused from class and went to the school infirmary.
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