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About midweek, the excitement over our first social, the Halloween dance, began building. It was practically the only subject the girls wanted to discuss at dinner. I was surprised to learn that costumes weren't permitted. Abby and I were discussing it when we saw Vicki sitting in the lounge, reading a biography of Andrew Jackson. We asked her about the prohibition . Annoyed with the interruption, she looked up from her reading and shifted her glasses back on the bridge of her nose.

"Because some of the costumes girls chose to wear at past Halloween dances were deemed inappropriate dress, it was decided there wouldn't be any costume ball as such," she explained.

"Oh, too bad," I said, just imagining some of the costumes Miss Stevens and I could have created. I had remained after school all week to help Miss Stevens, who had been given the assignment to decorate the gymnasium. We drew and cut out pumpkins and witches, goblins and ghosts. On Saturday, she and I and some members of the school's social committee would put everything up in the gymnasium, along with crepe paper streamers, Japanese lanterns, and tons of tinsel.

"So then what should we wear?" Abby asked Vicki.

"You can wear what you want, but I'll warn you that anyone whose clothes are too sexy or too revealing will be stopped at the gym door."

"Really?"

"Yes. Mrs. Ironwood stands off to the side and either nods or shakes her head when we enter, and then the teacher on duty, usually Mrs. Brennan or Miss Weller, our librarian, admits or refuses to admit you. If you're refused admittance, you have to go back to your dorm and change into something considered more appropriate.

"Inappropriate dress includes anything that reveals even a smidgen of cleavage, a skirt that shows your knees, or a blouse or sweater that is too tight around your bosom. One time last year a girl was sent back because she wore a blouse too thin. It revealed the outline of her bra."

"Why don't we just dress in our uniforms and forget it," Abby suggested with disgust. "Or is that considered a costume?"

"Some girls do wear their uniforms."

"You're kidding?" I said. "To a dance?"

Vicki shrugged, and I wondered if she hadn't been one to have worn her uniform.

"What is the dance like?" Abby asked.

"The boys gather on one side of the gym and we on the other. Just before or just after the music starts, they cross and ask us to dance. They must ask properly, of course."

"Of course," I said. She smirked.

"Didn't you read the section in the handbook concerning the proper behavior at school socials?" she asked us. "Naturally, smoking or drinking anything alcoholic is strictly forbidden, but there is also an acceptable and unacceptable way to dance. It specifically says that there should be a clear inch or so between you and the boy when you're on the dance floor."

"1 didn't read that," Abby said.

"It's in there. Check the footnotes."

"Footnotes!" I moaned and then laughed. "What are they afraid will happen on a dance floor?"

"I don't know," Vicki said, "but that's the rule. You're not supposed to leave the gym with a boy alone either, but a lot of girls get around that by leaving separately and then meeting someplace outside," Vicki said. "Anyway, the dance lasts two and a half hours exactly, after which Mrs. Ironwood announces it has come to an end and stops the music. The boys are told to board their bus and the girls are told to return to their dorms. Some girls escort the boys they've met to the bus, but Mrs. Ironwood is out there watching to see how the

y say goodbye. Passionate kissing is strictly forbidden, and if she should catch a girl permitting a boy's hands to wander, that girl will get a note about it and some demerits, which might prohibit her from attending the next social."

"Mrs. Ironwood should come to one of the fais dodos in the bayou," I whispered to Abby, who laughed.

Vicki frowned.

"Anyway," she concluded, "the refreshments are usually very good."

"Sounds like . . loads of fun," Abby said, and we giggled so much that Vicki went back to her reading.

But despite the rules and restrictions and the promise of being followed by Mrs. Ironwood's eagle eyes and the eyes of other teachers on duty,

excitement over the social continued to build all week long.

Gisselle, who was normally bitter about the fact that she couldn't get up and dance, was quite enthusiastic about all this party preparation. Her devoted followers gathered around her more often and more closely to listen to her experienced advice about boy-girl relations. She obviously enjoyed tutoring them in the ways of a coquette, describing the things she did to tease and torment and draw a boy's attention. On Thursday and Friday night, she actually sat in the lounge and instructed Jackie, Samantha, and Katie on how to walk, turn their shoulders, flutter their eyelashes, and how to find ways to brush their bosoms against the arms and chests of the boys they fancied. Vicki stood in her doorway scowling, but listening and observing like someone who wished she could enter a forbidden world; while Abby and I kept off to the side, smiling but saying nothing to bring on one of Gisselle's nasty tirades.

Then on Saturday morning, just before I went off to help set up the decorations, Gisselle surprised me by wheeling into our room to talk to Abby. Samantha was at her side.

"It's none of my business, I know, but you really ought to wear your hair down and pin the sides up so that more of your forehead and face are visible. We all voted and agree you are the prettiest, Abby," she said. "You have the best chance to be chosen queen of the dance tonight, and that would make us all very proud."