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"Susan will personally escort you to your academic adviser, Mr. Bufurd, who happens to be our dramatics instructor as well. In fact, he has casting today for our final school production of the year, Our Town. Do you know it?"

"Very well," I said. "It's one of my favorites. We read it in tenth grade."

"That's very good," she said, obviously impressed. She rose and started around her desk, which was when I noticed she had a very bad limp. I guess I had a surprised look on my face. She paused.

"T

his isn't from an injury," she said. "I was born with a defect, one leg shorter than the other. It obviously reduced my chances to be in the Olympics;' she added. For a moment she kept her face serious and then smiled and I laughed. It was like cracking a wall of ice between us. "That and my height and size informed me at an early age that I would have to compensate in other ways, so I won a Fulbright, got my doctorate in education before I was thirty, wrote two well-received books on educational philosophy and became the headmistress of Dogwood.

"As I think you can appreciate and understand, Miss Arnold," she said with a sharp twinkle in her eyes, "disadvantages can be a good thing if they serve to motivate us to overcome them:'

I think I like her, I thought, and suddenly, I was no longer afraid of this place or the people in it.

The walk from the administrative building to the classroom was through a beautiful garden setting. The sunlight was still elbowing aside any cloud cover and bringing out the vibrant colors.

"You're from Washington, D.C.?" Susan asked as we walked. "Born there, I mean?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, you don't have to call me ma'am, honey. I'm just hired help," she said with a laugh. "I'm from Richmond, never got far away," she said.

"How long have you been working here?"

"Three and a half years. Mrs. Whitney's wonderful to work for, an elegant lady. I hope you like her," she said. "Everybody here's pretty nice. My mama was hoping I'd meet a handsome professor and get married, but that hasn't happened yet;' she said with a small giggle. Outside of the office, walking along with me, she suddenly didn't look all that much older.

A group of girls burst out of the classroom building and walked quickly toward the horse barn and ring, all seemingly talking at once. They were dressed in fancy riding outfits and they all looked younger than me. I was surprised to see other girls of color in the group. I heard what sounded like foreign accents, too.

"Those two are from France," Susan said, nodding at the last two in the group, "and the cute little redhead is from Brazil."

"Really? Their parents sent them here?"

"A huh. They're part of our exchange program. They live with families here and the girls from those families live with their families in France and Brazil."

Mama would surely be as impressed as I am, I thought, but definitely satisfied she had done the right thing. If I wasn't safe here, where would I be safe? I thought there must be a gigantic protective glass bubble over all this. Everyone looked like she was untouched by unhappiness, poverty, crime and even illness. There were no Jerads walking these pathways, no graffiti on the walls, no one selling drugs on every corner.

"Right this way," Susan said opening the door for me. We entered the classroom building. The first thing I noticed was there wasn't even a shred of paper on the floors. Outside the classrooms there were bulletin boards with neatly placed announcements. It was well lit, glistening, airy and warm. The bell that had rung to announce the end of one period was followed by the one to announce the beginning of the next. Susan led me past clean classrooms with desks that looked like they had just arrived from the factories. When I passed a doorway, the girls who could see me looked out with interest. What shocked me was how few students were in each room.

"Where is everyone?" I asked Susan. "Pardon?"

"There's only like ten girls in there and not more than eight or so in the last room."

"That's how big our classes are, honey. Mrs. Whitney doesn't like them to be much bigger than twelve."

"Twelve?" I shook my head. "That's how many were in my row at my old school. One of my classes had nearly fifty students in the room."

"Fifty? How can anyone teach that many at once?"

"They didn't," I said dryly.

"Here we are," she said. She knocked on the doorjamb. "Excuse me, Mr. Bufurd, Rain Arnold is here."

"Oh, fine, fine," I heard him say and walked around Susan to enter the classroom.

There were only eight students in this one and they all turned with one face toward me, a face full of curiosity. Mr. Bufurd looked like a man not much older than his mid twenties. He had long black hair, but trimmed and brushed neatly at the nape of his neck. What struck me was how green his eyes were. Even from the back of the room, I could see the vibrancy in them. They almost glowed because of the contrast to his dark complexion. He was just under six feet tall and I saw that his body was trim with a narrow waist and hips. He had a gentle smile on his soft, perfect lips.

Susan handed him my folder. He glanced at it while I waited and then looked up quickly.

"Welcome. Class," he said, "meet Rain Arnold. You can sit here for now, Rain," he said touching a vacant front row desk. I sat quickly. "I was just preparing the class for our study of Hamlet. You haven't read it yet, have you?" he inquired.