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"I do," he said cryptically. "I'm warning you. I'll drive you crazy until you visit me," he teased.

"All right," I said, laughing. "I'll come up on Sunday after dinner."

"Good. Maybe by then I'll make even more progress and surprise you by telling you the color of your hair and the color of your eyes."

"I hope so," I said, but after I hung up the phone, I felt a dark anxiety spiral its way up from the bottom of my stomach to my heart, where it settled like a dull ache. It was nice to have Louis feel that I was helping him, and it was flattering to think I could have such a dramatic impact on so serious a problem as blindness, but I knew he was putting too much importance on me and developing too much reliance on my company. I was afraid he would think he was falling in love with me and that he might even imagine that I was falling in love with him. Soon, I promised myself, soon I would tell him about Beau. Only now I was afraid it might shatter his delicate improvement; and his grandmother and his cousin, Mrs. Ironwood, would only have something else to blame on rue.

I returned to my room and to my work and buried myself in the reading, the notes, and the studies because it kept me from thinking about all the sad things that had occurred and the heavy burdens I had been left to bear. The next day all of my teachers were understanding and cooperative, the warmest being Miss Stevens, of course. Returning to her class was like coming out of a dark, summer storm into the brightness of sunlight again. I returned to my unfinished paintings and we made a tentative date to meet at the lake on the school grounds Saturday morning to start some new work.

Over the next few days, Gisselle continued to surprise me and the others with her new

independence. Except for Kate's wheeling her about at times, she took care of her own needs. She kept the door to her room shut tight whenever she was in there. Samantha, on the other hand, looked sad and lost. Whenever Gisselle was with Kate and Jackie, the three ignored her. She trailed after them like a puppy dog who had been kicked and driven from its home but had nowhere else to go. Obviously under Gisselle's orders, Jacki and Kate joined her and refused to acknowledge or speak to Samantha. They acted as if she were invisible.

"Why don't you try to make new friends, Samantha," I told her. "Perhaps you should even go to Mrs. Penny and request to be moved to a new quad."

She shook her head vigorously. The thought of making such a dramatic break, even under these coinditions, terrified the shy, insecure girl.

"No, it's all right. Everything will be all right," she said.

On Thursday night, however, I returned from the library with Vicki and found Samantha curled up in her bed, sobbing softly. I closed the door and hurried to her bedside.

"What is it, Samantha? What's my sister done now?" I asked in a tired voice.

"Nothing," she moaned. "Everything's fine. We're . . . friends again. She's forgiven me."

"What? What are you talking about? Forgiven you?"

She nodded, but kept her back to me, the covers tightly wrapped around her body. Something about her behavior triggered my darker suspicions. My heart began to beat quickly in anticipation when I put my hand on her shoulder and she jumped as if I had touched her with fingers of fire. "Samantha, what happened here while I was away?" I demanded. She simply cried harder. "Samantha?"

"I had to do it," she moaned. "They all made me. They all said I had to."

"Do what, Samantha? Samantha?" I shook her shoulder. "Do what?"

Suddenly she turned around and buried her face against my stomach while throwing her arms around my waist. Her body shook with sobs.

"I'm so ashamed," she cried.

"Ashamed of what? Samantha, you must tell me what Gisselle made you do. Tell me," I insisted, seizing her shoulders firmly. She sat back slowly, her eyes closed, and let her head fall back to the pillow. I realized she was naked under the blanket.

"She sent Kate in to tell me to come into her room. When I did, she asked me if I wanted to be part of the group again. I said yes, but she said . . . she said I had to do penance."

"Penance? What sort of penance?"

"She said that while she was away, I dreamt of being like her. I wanted to be her, and that was why I used her lipstick and her makeup and her perfume. She said I was so sexually frustrated, I even put on her panties, but I didn't," Samantha insisted. "Honest, I didn't."

"I believe you, Samantha. Then what

happened?" Samantha closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Samantha?"

"I had to take off my clothes and get into the bed," she blurted.

I held my breath, knowing what sort of sordid things Gisselle was capable of making her do.

"Go on," I said in a breathy whisper.

"I'm so ashamed."