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"Which is our room already?" Gisselle moaned.

"Right this way, dear," Mrs. Penny said and directed us to the open doorway. The moment Daddy wheeled Gisselle in she wailed.

Two single beds were side by side separated by a night table. There was a closet on the right and a closet on the left. Adjacent to the beds, with just enough room between the bed and them for Gisselle's wheelchair, were two dark wood dressers, the wood matching the bed frames and headboards. At the right of the doorway was a small vanity table with a mirror a quarter of the size of the one we had in our rooms in New Orleans. The windows were above the headboard and had the same plain cotton curtains. The walls were covered with a simple flower-pattern wallpaper and otherwise unadorned. The floors were uncovered hardwood.

"This is too small! How are we going to share this?

There's not enough room in here for my things, let alone Ruby's too."

"I'm glad someone else thinks so," Jacqueline chorused from behind us.

"Now don't you fret, dear," Mrs. Penny said. "I have storage space you can have."

"I didn't bring my things to put them into storage. I brought them to use."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Penny said, turning to Daddy.

"It'll be all right," he assured her. "We'll bring in what is most necessary first, and then--"

"Everything is most necessary," Gisselle declared unrelentingly.

"Maybe she can put some of her things in Abby's room too," Mrs. Penny suggested. "Abby's by herself," she added.

"Who's Abby? Where is she?" Gisselle demanded.

"She hasn't arrived yet. She's our other new girl," Mrs. Penny said, directing herself to Daddy, who nodded. "Whatever, don't you worry your little heart, dear. Mrs. Penny is here to make things work and keep her girls happy. I have been doing it for a long time," she said, smiling. Gisselle turned away and pouted.

"Let me start bringing their things in," Daddy said. "Do you want me to help, Daddy?" I asked.

"No. Stay with your sister," he said, raising his eyebrows. I nodded, and he left with Mrs. Penny.

Jacqueline, Kate, Samantha, and Vicki gathered in our doorway.

"Why did you bring so much?" Vicki asked. "Didn't you know you don't need a big wardrobe? We wear uniforms."

"I will not wear a uniform!" Gisselle screamed.

"You have to," Kate said and followed it with a short laugh.

"I don't have to. I can't. I have special problems," Gisselle declared. "I'm sure my father will arrange for my wearing my own clothing, and there just isn't enough closet space in here for all my things. They'll have to remain in the trunks, taking up the little space we have."

Vicki shrugged. "You don't spend all that much time in your room anyway," she pointed out. "Most of the time we're out here doing our work."

"Most of the time you are," Jacqueline said. "Not us. So what part of Louisiana are you girls from?"

"New Orleans," I said. "The Garden District."

"That's beautiful," the doll-like Samantha said. "My daddy took me there last year when we visited New Orleans. Maybe I walked right past your house."

Gisselle turned her wheelchair so she could look more directly at the girls.

"And where are you all from?"

"I'm from Shreveport," Jacqueline said. "Chubs is from Pineville, and Vicki is from Lafayette."

"My father and I live in Natchez," Samantha said. "What happened to your mother?" Gisselle asked. "She was killed two years ago in a car accident," she replied and bit down on her lower lip quickly, all of her dimples evaporating.

"That's how I got crippled," Gisselle said angrily. It was as if she believed all the accidents were the fault of cars and not people. "If you're from Mississippi, how come you're going to school here?" Gisselle asked.