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"My father's family is from Baton Rouge."

"Everyone's room is this small?" Gisselle asked, looking around.

"Yes," Jacqueline said.

"How come this Abby gets her own room?" Gisselle demanded.

"It's the way it worked out," Kate said and laughed. "The luck of the draw, maybe."

"Or maybe no one wants to room with her. We haven't met her yet either," Jacqueline said.

"You don't think she's . . ." Kate began.

"No," Jacqueline said. "They don't let them into Greenwood, no matter who protests. This is a private school," she added with some pride.

"Well, she'd better get here soon," Vicki said. "We've got to go to the orientation assembly in an hour."

"What orientation assembly?" Gisselle asked quickly.

"Didn't you read the first page in your packet? The Iron Lady always has a getting-to-know-you and getting-to-know-her assembly."

"Where she reads us the riot act," Jacqueline added. "Fire and brimstone."

"Iron Lady?" I said.

"When you hear and see her, you'll know why we call her that," Jacqueline replied.

"They're not serious about all these stupid rules listed in here, are they?" Gisselle asked, holding up the packet.

"She is, and you had better pay attention to the demerits. Chubs can tell you about that," Jacqueline said, nodding at Kate.

"Why?" I asked.

"I got ten last year and had to wash out the bathrooms for a whole month," she complained. "And don't let anyone tell you girls are neater than boys. They leave the bathrooms disgusting," she said,

"You won't ever see me washing any bathrooms," Gisselle said.

"I doubt she would punish you that way," Vicki said.

"Why?" Gisselle demanded sharply. "Because I'm in a wheelchair?"

"Of course," Vicki said, undaunted. Gisselle considered a moment and then smiled. "Maybe this isn't so bad then. Maybe I can get away with a lot more than the rest of you."

"I wouldn't count on it," Jacqueline said.

"Why?"

"After you meet the Iron Lady, you'll see yourself."

"It's not all bad," Samantha said, "This is a good school. And we have fun."

"What about boys?" Gisselle inquired. Samantha blushed. She seemed frozen at the border separating childhood and adolescence, someone shocked and confused by her own sexuality. Later, I would discover that she was overly protected and spoiled by her father.

"What about them?" Vicki asked.

"Do you ever get to meet any?" Gisselle spelled it out.

"Of course. At the socials. Boys from proper boys' schools are invited. We have a dance once a month."