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Off to the right were the long tables for the buffet that had been prepared by all the chefs in all the dorms. One table was dedicated to desserts and was covered with a variety of sweets and party breads ranging from almond tarts and brownies with caramel icing to old-fashioned pumpkin bread and one muffins. There were crepes and French market do uts, sheets of pralines, and pecan crisps.

"That's where Chubs will camp out, won't you, Chubs?" Gisselle quipped as soon as we set eyes on the dessert table.

Katie blushed. "I'm going to be a good girl tonight and not overdo it."

"How boring," Gisselle replied.

We all passed through the entryway, the eyes of the chaperones sweeping up from our feet to our hair, while off to the left Mrs. Ironwood stood glaring analytically at each and every one of her wards to be sure she was properly attired. The faculty surrounded her and mingled around their own refreshment table.

Chairs for the Greenwood girls had been set up on the left side of the gymnasium and chairs for the Rosewood boys on the right. Just like the other girls, we headed directly for the punch bowl first, got our cups to hold and sip, and found places on our side of the gymnasium as we waited for the arrival of the Rosewood boys. A little before eight o'clock, Suzzette Huppe, a girl from Quad A in our dorm, came rushing in to announce that the Rosewood buses had driven up. All of us lowered our voices in anticipation as the Rosewood boys began entering in an orderly fashion.

They were all dressed in their dark blue blazers and matching slacks. On the breast pocket of each blazer was the Rosewood insignia, a gold

embroidered shield with Latin words that Yield said meant "Excellence is our tradition." The design was supposedly the original Rosewood family emblem that originated in England.

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The boys were all well groomed, their haircuts nearly identical. Just like the girls of Greenwood, the boys of Rosewood gathered in small cliques. They gazed across the gymnasium floor nervously. Some who recognized girls they had met before at previous socials waved. Then they all huddled around the punch bowls as we had and filled their cups. The sound of laughter and conversation rose as the last group of Rosewood boys streamed into the ballroom.

"There's Jonathan." Jackie indicated with a nod. We all gazed at a tall, dark-haired, handsome boy who seemed to be the center of his group. He was tan with broad shoulders, and he looked like a heartthrob movie star. It was easy to understand why he was so popular with the Greenwood girls. But he stood, spoke, and moved as if he knew it. Even from across the gymnasium, I could sense that Southern arrogance that some aristocratic young men inherited. As his eyes swept the Greenwood girls, he smiled

disdainfully, muttered something to his pals that caused them all to laugh, and then stood back expectantly, as if this whole social were being given in his honor.

Then everyone grew silent as Mrs. Ironwood went to the podium to welcome the Rosewood boys.

"I don't see any reasons to remind you all that you are the young women and young men of distinguished families who are attending two of the most highly respected schools in the state, if not the country. I'm sure you will all behave properly and leave as you have arrived: proud and deserving of the honor and respect your families enjoy. In exactly one hour we shall interrupt the dancing so we can all partake in the wonderful and delicious foods our Greenwood chefs have prepared for this occasion."

She nodded at the orchestra leader, who turned to his musicians and started the first musical number. Those Rosewood boys who were familiar with a girl or two at Greenwood started across the floor to ask them for a dance. Gradually other boys built up their courage and began to approach the girls. When Jonathan Peck started toward us, we all assumed he was going to approach Abby, just as Gisselle had suggested; but he surprised us all by stopping in front of me and asking for a dance. I glanced at Abby, who smiled, gazed at Gisselle, who wore a gleeful expression, and then accepted Jonathan's hand. He took me out to the center of the floor before placing his right hand on my hip and holding my left up at the classic ballroom level, even with my chin. With the perfect precision of a schooled dancer, he began to move and turn me to the rhythm and beat, holding that confident look in his face, his eyes fixed on mine.

"I'm Jonathan Peck," he said.

"Ruby Dumas."

"I know. My sister has told me all about you and your twin sister, Gisselle."

"Really? What did she tell you?"

"Only nice things," he said with a wink. "As you probably know by now, Rosewood and Greenwood are practically sister and brother schools anyway. We Rosewood boys usually get to hear all the nitty-gritty about the girls of Greenwood. You girls can't hide anything from us," he added smugly and glanced back at Gisselle, whom I noticed, already attracted the interest of half a dozen Rosewood boys. But what surprised ue more was Abby. She was standing off to the side. None of the Rosewood boys had asked her to dance; nor did any who were around Gisselle, laughing and joking, show any interest in her. Even Katie had been asked to dance.

"For instance," he continued, "I know you fancy yourself an artist, right?"

"I don't 'fancy' myself anything. I am an artist," I fired back.

His smile widened and he threw his head back with a short and what I thought artificial laugh. "Of course. You are an artist. How rude of me to imply otherwise."

"And what are you, besides a walking encyclopedia about the nitty-gritty details on the girls of Greenwood?" I snapped. "Or is that your only ambition?"

"Wow! Susan was right. You and your sister are two ball of fire."

"Be careful then," I warned. "You might get burned."

This brought another peal of laughter from him. He winked and smiled at his companions and twirled me a little more firmly, but I didn't lose my poise. Having danced at a Cajun fais dodo more than a dozen times in my life, I had no trouble keeping my balance and looking graceful in Jonathan Peck's hands.

"This is going to be a very interesting night," he predicted as the first number came to an end. "I'll call on you again," he promised, "but first I have a few fans to please."

"Oh, don't strain yourself," I said. My stern retort stunned him for a moment. I turned and left him standing there and hurried back to Abby's side.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing the flush in my cheeks.