"Good luck," she said, smiling, I nodded and continued to follow Mrs. Harper. At the entrance to the principal's office, Mrs. Harper turned to Pamela.
"We'll be right back, Mrs. Thompson," she said, gazing at me and motioning for me to continue along with her.
She walked quickly, taking surprisingly long strides. I actually had to skip a step or two to catch up with her.
"This is Mr. Rudley's class, English. He'll be your homeroom teacher as well, so he has your schedule card," she explained as she opened the door.
Mr. Rudley, a tall man of about fifty with hair a shade darker than ash, looked up from the textbook in his hands. He was sitting on the edge of the front of his desk and jumped into a standing position as soon as he saw Mrs. Harper. The class, consisting of six girls, all turned and immediately stood. They gazed at me with interest.
"This is the new student I told you would be arriving today, Mr. Rudley," Mrs. Harper said. "Her name is Brooke Thompson?'
"Very good, Mrs. Harper, Welcome, Brooke. You can sit right here," he said, nodding at an empty desk to his right.
I quickly crossed the room and waited to take my seat. Mrs. Harper remained in the doorway.
"I would take it as a personal favor if you girls would help Brooke feel at home at our school. She has transferred in from a public school:' she added, turning down the corners of her mouth in obvious disapproval.
The girls looked at me. One of them, a thin blonde with blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her cheekbones, stared at me the most intently. I couldn't quite tell if it was a look of welcome or of warning.
"You'll see to it that she receives her schedule card, Mr. Rudley," Mrs. Harper said before stepping out and closing the door.
There was a moment of silence. Mr. Rudley nodded, and we all sat down. Then he went to his desk and found my card.
"Let's introduce ourselves, girls," he said to the class. "Margaret?"
"I'm Margaret Wilson. Pleased to meet you."
Before I could respond, the shorter, dark-haired girl behind her continued. "I'm Heather Harper, Mrs. Harper's niece," she added somewhat smugly.
"I'm Lisa Donald," said a girl with hair the color of rust and the greenest eyes I had ever seen. She looked older than everyone else because she had a bosom even fuller-looking than my fake one, as well as a more knowing, more sophisticated glint in her eyes.
"I'm Eva Jensen," a Scandinavian-looking blond girl said. Her face had hard, sharp features, and she was very thin.
"My name is Rosemary Gillian," said a girl with brown hair. She had a dimple in her cheek and a slightly cleft chin under thick, full lips. I thought she had an impish gleam in her eyes, especially the way she smiled at the other girls after she spoke.
"Helen Baldwin," said the girl who had first looked at me with great interest.
"Okay, that's it," Mr. Rudley said. He handed me a textbook. "I don't know what you did at your other school, but we're just starting Romeo and Juliet. Everyone reads a part. Some are reading two or three because there are only seve
n of us."
"Eight now," Rosemary pointed out.
"Exactly," Mr. Rudley said. "So, why don't you pick up the part of . . ."
"She can be Romeo," Heather Harper said. "I'm not comfortable being a man."
"He's just a boy, remember?" Lisa Donald corrected. "Mr. Rudley told us."
"That's correct. Romeo and Juliet are meant to be not much older than you people," he said.
"And anyway, Mr. Rudley told us a boy played Juliet in Shakespeare's days," Lisa continued, "so who reads what part isn't important."
"I think it is," Heather insisted. "I'd rather read Juliet. Why don't you read Romeo, then? Why should you be the one reading Juliet?"
"Mr. Rudley told me to read it," Lisa countered. "All right, girls. Brooke?"
"I don't mind reading Romeo," I said. I looked at the others. Heather had a smirk on her face.