Brooke (Orphans 3)

Before we left the store, she bought me a half dozen more skirt-and-blouse outfits, three more pairs of shoes to complete the outfits, a necklace, three pairs of earrings, and a beautiful pinky ring--a gold band with a variety of baguettes. She then made an appointment for me to have my hair trimmed and styled by her beautician the day before she would enroll me at Agnes Fodor.

When we returned home, my charm lessons began, although she told me that every moment I spent with her would be like being in charm school. She was right.

As we rode in the limousine, she instructed me on how I was to sit. She demonstrated her posture, the way she held her head, and how she kept her legs either pressed tightly together or crossed properly.

"We're going to meet many different people over the next few days, Brooke. Whenever I introduce you to someone, don't say 'Hi.' I know young people today always use that, but you want to sound cultured.

Always respond with 'Hello. I'm glad to meet you: And always look at the person, have direct eye contact so the person feels you are paying attention to him or her and not looking over their shoulder at some gorgeous man. You can shake hands. It's proper, but you will be introduced to some of our European acquaintances as well, and they have the habit of kissing cheeks. For now, follow my lead. If I do it, you'll do it. First, put your right cheek to the right cheek of the person you're greeting, and then pull back slightly and do it again with your left cheek. Most of them like to do what is called air kissing."

"Air kissing?"

"Yes, you really don't press your lips to someone's face. You kiss the air, smacking your lips loudly enough to sound like a kiss. You'll get the hang of it," she promised with a smile.

It all sounded so silly to me. Actually, it reminded me of some of the rules Billy Tompson had come up with when I was ten and we were forming our secret club at the orphanage. He had a specially designed handshake that started with the pressing of thumbs, and he also had secret passwords. Maybe cultured, sophisticated people simply had their own club.

"I hate 'okays,' too, another big teenage word these days. When someone says, 'How are you?' you reply, 'Very well, thank you,' or 'Fine, thank you.'

"All this," she explained, "is really going to be important when the judges do their little interviews. They'll be judging you on poise and charm."

"What judges?"

"The contest judges. Aren't you listening?" she asked with irritation in her voice.

"I'm listening, but when will I be in a contest?"

"Well, of course, I don't want to enter you in anything before you're ready, but I think in about six months," she replied.

"Six months! What contest is that?"

"It's not one of the most prestigious, but it's a good one to cut your teeth on," she said. "It's the Miss New York Teenage Tourist Pageant held in Albany. The winner gets awarded scholarship money, not that you need that, and represents the state in a number of advertising promotions, print displays, and even a video. I'd like you to win," she said firmly.

Win? I wouldn't have the nerve to set foot in the door, much less go up on a stage, but Pamela had that determined look on her face that I had already come to recognize, and when that look came over her, it was better not to contradict her.

My education in what I now thought of as Proper Behavior for Blue Bloods continued as soon as we arrived home each day. The first afternoon was set aside for table etiquette. Suddenly, the dining room became a classroom.

"Sit straight," she instructed, and demonstrated. "You can lean slightly against the back of the chair. Keep your hands in your lap when you're not actually eating so you don't fidget with silverware. I hate that, especially when people tap forks on plates or the table. Rude, rude, rude. You may, as I'm doing now, rest your hand or your wrist on the table, but not your whole forearm. Don't, absolutely don't, put your hands through your hair. Hairs often float off and settle on dishes and food.

"If you have to lean forward to hear someone's conversation, you can put your elbows on the table. In fact, as you see when I do it, it looks more graceful than just leaning over stupidly. See?"

"Yes," I said, and then she made me do everything she had instructed.

"Teenagers," she said, again pronouncing the word as if we were primitive animals, "often tip their chairs back. Never do that. Of course, you know to put your napkin on your lap, but you should, out of courtesy, wait for the hostess to put hers

there first. Since I'm the hostess of this house, at any of our dinners, wait for me. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Don't flap it out, either. I hate that. Some of Peter's friends wave their napkins so hard over their plates that they blow out the candle flames. They're so crude.

"Just like with the napkin," she said when Joline began serving our food, "you don't begin eating until the hostess begins.

"The first day you were here, you didn't know which piece of silverware to use first. Always start with the implement of each type that is farthest from the plate.

"Now, watch how I cut my meat, how I use my fork, and how I chew my food. Don't cut too big a piece. Chew with your mouth closed, and never talk with food in your mouth. If someone asks you a question while you're chewing, finish chewing and then reply. If your dinner partner is sophisticated, they will know to wait.

"At Agnes Fodor, you will see that the girls follow these rules of etiquette, Brooke. I don't want you to feel inferior in the school dining room. If you make a mistake, don't dwell on it, understand?"

"Yes," I said. I was never so nervous eating. In fact, my nerves were so frazzled, the food bubbled in my stomach, and I didn't remember tasting anything.