Pearl in the Mist (Landry 2)

"The hearing ended without conclusion, thanks to Louis and Miss Stevens. You should have been there, Gisselle," I said, so full of self-satisfaction my cheeks glowed shamelessly. "You would have so enjoyed the look on Mrs. Ironwood's face when she had to swallow her hard words and threats."

"I wouldn't have enjoyed it. I thought we were going home! I even packed most of my things!"

"We are going home soon . . . for the holidays," I sang, and left her burning with almost as much frustration as Mrs. Ironwood.

Just as word of the accusations and my hearing had swept through the school with the speed of a hurricane, so did the news of my not being expelled. The entire episode had an effect opposite to the one Mrs. Ironwood had anticipated, I was sure. Instead of making me a pariah in the eyes of the other students, I was suddenly cast as a heroine. I had withstood the fire and brimstone, the fury and power of our feared principal. I was the David who had battled our Goliath and survived. Wherever I went, the girls gathered around me to hear the details, but I didn't gloat, and I know they were disappointed in my answers.

"It wasn't very pleasant," I said. "I don't like to keep talking about it. A number of people were hurt by all this."

I thought about poor Buck Dardar, who had lost his job, and I bore no anger toward him for signing that false confession. I was sure he had been intimidated and had done it only under the dire threat of being arrested and disgraced. But Mrs. Gray remained a mystery, a mystery that wasn't to be solved until after I had attended her class the next day.

"Ruby," she called as soon as the bell to end the period rang.

I waited for the others to leave before approaching her. "Yes, Mrs. Gray?"

"I want you to know that I didn't make up my story," she said firmly and with such sincerity, I couldn't take my eyes off hers. "I am aware of the testimony Mrs. Clairborne's grandson gave at the hearing, but it doesn't change what I saw and what I said. I don't lie, nor do I conspire against anyone."

"I know, Mrs. Gray," I said. "But I wasn't there. Honest, I wasn't."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I don't believe you." She turned away and I left with a heavy heart.

Mrs. Gray's face of firmness haunted me for the remainder of the day. It was almost as if Mrs. Ironwood had cast a spell over her and caused her to see what she wanted her to see and say what she wanted her to say. How I wished I had Nina with me for only a few minutes so she could concoct some voodoo ritual or charm to change things.

I recalled Grandmere Catherine once telling me about a man who had lost his five-year-old daughter in a boating accident in the swamp. Even though her body was recovered, he continued to believe she was lost out in the bayou, swearing he heard her calling to him at night and even swearing that he saw her from time to time.

"He wanted so much for it to be true," she told me, "that to him it was true, and no one could tell him otherwise."

Maybe Mrs. Gray didn't have that clear a view and wasn't as positive when she first told Mrs. Ironwood, and maybe Mrs. Ironwood convinced her it was I she had seen.

It continued to trouble me. On the way back to the dorm at the end of the day, I stopped to gaze down at the boathouse. If only I could find Buck, I thought, and get him to tell me the truth. Maybe I could get him to tell Mrs. Gray. I hated the fact that she continued to think so poorly of me.

I was surprised to find that Gisselle wasn't back in the dorm yet when I arrived, but Samantha appeared soon after to tell me Gisselle had been made to remain with Mrs. Weisenberg and review her terrible math scores. I knew she would be in a fury when she finally returned.

I had unpacked all the things I had packed just before the hearing and then peeked into Gisselle's room to see if she had done the same. Her room was a mess. In her frustration and rage, she had tossed everything out of her suitcase. Dresses, skirts, and blouses lay over chairs and the bed, and some garments were even on the floor. I started to pick things up, folding and hanging her clothing neatly. As I placed a silk white blouse with pearl buttons on a hanger, I paused, recalling some of Mrs. Gray's testimony.

Didn't she say the girl had unbuttoned her white blouse? I wore no white blouse; I wore only my Greenwood uniform. My eyes drifted down to Gisselle's shoes lined up on the floor of the closet. Something caught my eye. My heart began to pitterpatter as I knelt slowly and picked up the loafers, the bottoms and the sides of which were caked with mud. But how .. .

The sound of my sister's loud voice declaring her complaints about being kept after school preceded her arrival in the quad. I heard her ranting as Kate wheeled her down the corridor. I stood up, holding my breath. My mind was reeling with possibilities, thoughts that seemed too fantastic. Just before she was wheeled to the door of her room, I backed into the closet and closed the sliding door almost all the way.

"Where's my sister?" Gisselle demanded.

"She was in your room," Samantha told her. "Straightening up your clothes."

Gisselle gazed in and smirked.

"Who asked her to? Anyway, she's not in here now." Samantha came up beside her and looked into the room. "Oh. She must have left when I was in the bathroom." "Great. I want her to know just what that horrible Mrs. Weisenberg made me do until I got the answers right."

"Should I look for her?" Samantha asked.

"No. I'll tell her later. I have to get some rest," she said, and wheeled herself into the room, slamming the door behind her. She sat for a moment, staring at her bed. Then she reached back and snapped the lock on the door. I held my breath. As soon as she had locked the door, she stood up without wobbling, without much effort.

And I realized my sister could walk!

I slid open the closet door slowly, without much sound, but she sensed my presence and turned. Her eyes widened in astonishment, but I was sure they weren't as wide as mine.

"What are you doing?" she gasped. "Spying on me?"

"You can stand and you can walk. Mon Dieu, Gisselle!" She sat herself back down in the wheelchair.