Pearl in the Mist (Landry 2)

Beau was one of the most sought-after boys in our school, as handsome as a soap opera star. He merely had to turn his blue eyes on a girl and smile to make her heart pitter-patter so fast she lost her breath and said or did something foolish. He was tall and well built, one of our school's football stars. I had given myself to him and he had pledged his deep love for me.

Before I'd arrived in New Orleans, he was Gisselle's boyfriend, but she loved to tease and torment him by flirting and seeing other boys as well. She never realized how sensitive and serious he could be. All boys were the same to her anyway. She still saw them as playthings, not to be trusted and not worthy of loyalty. Her accident hadn't slowed her down, either. She still couldn't be in the company of young men and not torment them with a twist of her shoulder or a whispered promise to do something outrageous when and if she and the young man were ever alone.

"I don't have a collar around Beau," I told her. "He can do what he wants when he wants," I said with such nonchalance it made her eyes widen.

Disappointment flooded her face.

"You don't mean that," she insisted.

"And he doesn't have a collar around me, either. If being apart for a while causes him to find another girlfriend, someone he likes better, than it was probably meant to be anyway," I said.

"Oh you and your damned faith in Destiny. I suppose you'll tell me Destiny meant for me to be a cripple for the rest of my life, won't you?"

"No."

"What, then?" she demanded.

"I don't want to speak badly about the dead," I said, "but you and I know what you and Martin were doing the day of the accident. You can't blame Destiny."

She folded her arms under her breasts and fumed.

"We promised Daddy we would go and give the school a chance. You know how things are here now," I reminded her.

"Daphne doesn't hate me as much as she hates you," she retorted, her eyes flaming.

"Don't be so sure of that. She's eager to get both of us out of her life. You know why she resents us: We know she really isn't our mother and that Daddy was more in love with our mother than he could ever be with her. As long as we're around, she can't escape the truth."

"Well, she didn't resent me until you arrived," Gisselle flared. "After that my whole life went downhill, and now I'm being carted off to some girls' school. Who wants to go to a school where there are no boys?" she cried.

"It says in the brochure that the school arranges dances with a boys' school from time to time," I said. The moment the words left my lips, I regretted them. She was always eager to pounce on any opportunity to point up her paralysis.

"Dances! Can I dance?"

"I'm sure there are many other things for you to do with a boy at Greenwood on the days they're permitted to visit."

"Permitted to visit? It sounds dreadful, like a prison." She started to cry. "I do wish I was dead. I do, I do."

"Come on, Gisselle," I pleaded. I sat on her bed and took her hand in mine. "I promised you I would do everything I could to make it easier for you, help you with your homework, whatever you need, didn't I?"

She pulled her hand back and ground her eyes dry with her small fists before peering over them at me. "Everything I want?"

"Everything you need," I corrected.

"And if the school is terrible, you will side with me against Daddy and insist we come home?"

I nodded. "Promise."

"I promise, but it has to be really terrible and not just hard with rules you hate."

"Promise on . . . on Paul's life."

"Oh, Gisselle."

"Go on or I won't believe you," she insisted.

"All right, I promise on Paul's life. You're absolutely dreadful sometimes, you know."

"I know," she said, smiling. "Go tell Wendy I'm ready to get up and get washed and dressed for breakfast."