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"Really only one," I confessed.

"One?" She stared at me a moment. "Well, it must have been a very hot and heavy romance then. Was it?"

"We cared a great deal for each other," I admitted.

"How much is a great deal?" she pursued.

"As much as we could, I suppose."

"Then you did it with him? Went all the way?"

"What?"

"You know. . . had sexual intercourse."

"Oh, no," I said. "We never went that far."

Gisselle tilted her head and looked skeptical.

"I thought all Cajun girls lost their virginity before they were thirteen," she said.

"What? Who told you such a stupid thing?" I asked quickly. She pulled back as if I had slapped her.

"It's not so stupid. I heard it from a number of people."

"Well, they're all liars then," I said vehemently. "I'll admit that there are many young marriages. Girls don't go off to work or go to college as much, but--"

"SO it's true then. Anyway, don't keep defending them. They bought you when you were only a day or so old, didn't they?" Gisselle flared. I shifted my gaze away so she couldn't see the tears in my eyes. How ironic. It was she who had been bought and by a Creole family, not a Cajun. But I could say nothing. I could only swallow the truth and keep it down, only it kept threatening to bubble up and flow out of my mouth on the back of a flurry of hot words.

"Anyway," Gisselle continued in a calmer tone, "the boys will expect you to be a lot more

sophisticated than you apparently are."

I looked at her fearfully.

"What do you mean?"

"What did you do with this one devoted boyfriend? Did you kiss and pet at least?" I nodded. "Did you undress, at least partially?" I shook my head. She grimaced. "Did you ever French kiss. . . you know," she added quickly, "touch tongues?" I couldn't remember if that had ever happened. My hesitation was enough to convince her it hadn't. "Did you let him give you hickeys?"

No.

"Good. I hate them, too. They suck until they're satisfied and we're the ones who walk around with these ugly spots on our necks and breasts."

"Breasts?"

"Don't worry," she said, getting up. "I'll teach you what to do. For now, if Martin or anyone gets too demanding, just tell him you're having your period, understand? Nothing turns them off as fast as that.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go look at the things Mother bought you. I'll help you decide what to wear tonight."

I followed her back to the house, my footsteps on the patio a lot more unsure, my heart beating with a timid thump. Gisselle and I were so identical we could gaze at each other and think we were looking into mirrors, but on the inside, we were more different than a bird and a cat. I wondered what, if anything, we would find to draw us together so we could become the sisters we were meant to be.

.

Gisselle was surprised by many of the things Daphne had bought me. Then, after she gave it some thought, her surprise turned to jealousy and anger.

"She never buys me skirts this short unless I throw a tantrum, and these colors are always too bright for her. I love this blouse. It's not fair," she wailed. "Now I want new things, too."

"Daphne told me she wanted to buy things that were different from the things you had. She thought you wouldn't like it if we had identical clothes to go along with our identical faces," I explained.