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"I hid for a while until the rain slowed some and then I got ride into the city and called my parents."

"Oh, Abby, I'm so sorry. It's so unfair. My sister is more horrible than I ever h lined. I found out she snooped into your things and read some letters frou your parents."

"That doesn't surprise me. Anyway, it wasn't all just her doing, I'm sure," Abby said. "Although she did seem to relish her part, didn't she?" she added. I nodded. She smiled at me and got out of the car. "Let's take a little walk," she suggested.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked.

"Enroll in the public school. In a way this was a good thing. My parents have decided to stop trying to ignore who I am and who they are. No more moving all around the country, no more pretending to be someone I'm not." She gazed around at the campus. "No more fancy schools."

"I've had my fill of fancy schools too."

"Oh no, you're doing well here, Ruby. All of our teachers like you and you have a great relationship with Miss Stevens. You'll do great things with your artwork. Take advantage of the opportunities and ignore the rest."

"I don't like being in a place where there is so much hypocrisy. Grandmere Catherine wouldn't want me here."

Abby laughed. "From the way you described her to me, I think she'd tell you to dig in like a clam, shut yourself off from the phonies like an oyster, and clamp down on what you want like an alligator. Besides," Abby said in a whisper, "you know how to get the bad gris-gris off you. My mistake was last night, when I didn't wear the blue skirt with the good gris-gris sewn in." She winked and we laughed. It felt good, only I realized I wouldn't be hearing her laughter anymore; I wouldn't be having our girl-to-girl

talks anymore, and we wouldn't be sharing our dreams and fears anymore. Gisselle was right to have been jealous: Abby had been the sister I never had, the sister Gisselle, despite our identical faces, would never be.

"I wish there was something more I could do for you," I moaned.

"You've done a lot. You've been a good friend, and we can still be good friends. We'll write to each other. Unless Mrs. Ironwood has your mail screened," she added.

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"I'll tell you what you can do for me," Abby said, suddenly animated. "Next time you're called into Mrs. Ironwood's office, for any reason, see if you can find one of her hairs lying about on the desk or floor. Put it in an envelope and send it to me andI'll gi ve it to a momma to use to make a doll into which I can stick pins."

We laughed, but Abby wasn't just kidding. Behind us, her parents were completing loading the car. We paused and watched them a moment.

"I'd better get going," she said.

"I'm glad I got a chance to see you."

"It's really why I came along," she revealed. "Goodbye, Ruby."

"Oh Abby."

"No tears or you'll start me crying and give Gisselle and her friends just what they want," she said with defiance. "They probably all have their noses to the windows right now, watching us."

I looked back at the dorm. I swallowed my sobs down quickly and nodded. "Probably," I said.

"Don't get too involved with Louis," she warned, her eyes small and thoughtful. "I know you feel sorry for him, but there are a great many ghosts wandering through the Clairborne family's dreams."

"I know. I won't."

"Well. ."

We hugged quickly and she started toward the car. "Hey," she called back, smiling. "Don't forget to say goodbye to Mr. Mud for me."

I laughed. "I will."

"I'll write as soon as I can," she promised.

Her father slammed the trunk closed and her mother got into the car. She got in also and her father sat behind the wheel. Then he started the engine and pulled away. As they went by, Abby turned to wave. I waved back until the car was gone. Then, with a chest that felt full of cement, I returned to the dorm and my half-emptied room.

The remainder of the day felt like a period of mourning. Last night's storm had passed, but it had left thick, long clouds behind it, clouds that hovered threateningly above Baton Rouge and the surrounding area well into the night. I went to dinner mainly because I hadn't eaten anything all day. The girls were quite exuberant and loud, some still discussing Abby, but most were on to other things as if Abby hadn't even existed. Gisselle certainly was. She was waxing on and on about boys she had known who were so handsome they made Jonathan Peck look like Frankenstein's monster. According to what she was telling everyone, she had dated practically every heartthrob in America.

Disgusted and emotionally exhausted, I retreated from dinner as soon as I was able and sat alone in my room. I decided to write a letter to Paul. It went on for pages and pages as I described all that had happened, all that Gisselle had done.