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"Oh, not for nearly a month. Didn't you read the social calendar in your packet?" Jacqueline said.

"A month? I told Daddy this was like being in a nunnery," she wailed at me. "What about getting into the city?" she quickly asked. The girls looked at each other.

"What do you mean?" Vicki said.

"Getting into the city. What's so hard to understand? You're going to be the valedictorian."

Vicki blanched.

"I . . well . . ."

"None of us ever left the campus on our own," Jacqueline said.

"Why not?" Gisselle demanded. "There must be places in the city to go where we can meet boys."

"For one thing, you have to have a permission form on file to be able to leave the campus on your own," Vicki explained.

"What? You mean I'm really a prisoner here?"

"Just call your parents and have them file the form," Vicki said with a shrug.

"What about the rest of you? Are you telling me none of you cared before?" No one spoke. "What are you all? . . Virgins?" Gisselle cried in frustration. Her face was as red as a steamed lobster claw.

Samantha's mouth dropped open. Kate stared with a half-amused, half-amazed smile on her face. Vicki remained nonplussed, but Jacqueline looked ashamed. Abby and I exchanged quick glances.

"Don't tell me you've been obeying all these dumb rules," Gisselle continued, shaking her head in disbelief. "Demerits can--" Vicki began.

"Ruin your chances to become a Tea Queen. I get it," Gisselle said. "There are more important things to pin on your walls than old tea bags," Gisselle snapped, then rolled her wheelchair across the room toward Vicki, who stepped back. "Like love letters. Ever get one?"

Vicki looked around and saw that all eyes were on her. She stammered for a moment.

"I . . I've got . . . to start my assigned reading for European history," she said. "See you later." She turned and walked quickly to her room. Gisselle spun around and fixed her gaze on Jacqueline.

"Last year a couple of the boys from Rosewood wanted to sneak into our dorm on a weekend night," she revealed. "And?"

"We didn't have the nerve," Jacqueline confessed.

"Well it's this year, and we have the nerve now," Gisselle said. She looked at me. "We'll show them how girls from New Orleans party. Right, Ruby?"

"Don't start, Gisselle. Please."

"Start what? Living? You'd like me to be an obedient little Greenwood girl and roll around quietly in my wheelchair with my mouth shut, my lap full of dried old tea bags, and my knees bound together, wouldn't you?"

"Gisselle, please . ."

"Who's got a cigarette?" she demanded quickly. Kate's eyes widened. She shook her head.

"Samantha?"

"No, I don't smoke."

"Don't smoke. Don't see boys. What do you girls do, read fan magazines and masturbate?"

It was as if thunder had shaken the dorm. I was so embarrassed by my sister's outburst I had to look down at the floor.

"All right," Gisselle continued, "don't worry. I'm here now. Things will be different. I promise. It just so happens," she said with a smile, "I smuggled in some cigarettes of my own."

"Gisselle, you'll get everyone in trouble, and the first day too," I protested.