We hugged quickly and she started toward the car. 'Hey,' she called back, smiling. 'Don't forget to say goodbye to Mr. Mud for me.'
I laughed. 'I will.'
'I'll write as soon as I can,' she promised.
Her father slammed the trunk closed and her mother got into the car. She got in also and her father sat behind the wheel. Then he started the engine and pulled away. As they went by, Abby turned to wave. I waved back until the car was gone. Then, with a chest that felt full of cement, I returned to the dorm and my half-emptied room.
The remainder of the day felt like a period of mourning. Last night's storm had passed, but it had left thick, long clouds behind it, clouds that hovered threateningly above Baton Rouge and the surrounding area well into the night. I went to dinner mainly because I hadn't eaten anything all day. The girls were quite exuberant and loud, some still discussing Abby, but most were on to other things as if Abby hadn't even existed. Gisselle certainly was. She was waxing on and on about boys she had known who were so handsome they made Jonathan Peck look like Frankenstein's monster. According to what she was telling everyone, she had dated practically every heartthrob in America.
Disgusted and emotionally exhausted, I retreated from dinner as soon as I was able and sat alone in my room. I decided to write a letter to Paul. It went on for pages and pages as I described all that had happened, all that Gisselle had done.
'I don't mean to unload all my misery on you, Paul,' I wrote toward the end.
It wasn't until I started to fold the letter to put it in an envelope that I saw the stains from my teardrops.
The next morning I got up, dressed, and had my breakfast silently, barely looking or speaking to anyone except Vicki, who asked me if I was ready for our social studies test. We talked about it on the way to the main building. Throughout the day, I couldn't help but feel that everyone's eyes were on me. News about Abby had spread quickly, and it was only natural that the other girls would wonder and watch to see how I reacted and behaved. I decided not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me unhappy, something I was more easily able to do when I entered Miss Stevens's art class.
She taught her lesson and we all began our work. It wasn't until the bell rang to end the period that she came over to me to talk about Abby. I told her how Abby seemed relieved and even happier now that it was over.
She nodded. 'Whatever doesn't destroy you, makes you stronger. Hardships have a way of toughening us, if they don't kill us,' she said, smiling. 'Look at you and the hard things you've had to endure.'
'I'm not a tough person, Miss Stevens.'
'You're tougher than you think you are.'
I looked down at my desk. '1 was thinking about asking my father to take Gisselle and me out of Greenwood,' I said.
'Oh no. I'd hate to lose you. You're the most talented student I have, and probably ever will have. Things will get better for you. They have to,' she promised. 'Try not to think of the bad things. Lose yourself in your art. Make art everything,' she advised.
I nodded. 'I'll try.'
'Good. And don't forget, I'll be here for you whenever you need me.'
'Thank you, Miss Stevens.'
Buoyed by our little talk, I did turn from the dark and unhappy events to look forward to Daddy's arrival on Wednesday and Beau's arrival on Saturday. At least two of the people I loved most in the world would soon be with me and would bring rays of sunshine back into the world that had become dismal and gray.
And then when I returned to the dorm, I found that a letter had arrived from Paul, even before mine to him had been posted. His was full of optimism and happy news: how well he had been doing in school, how much his family's business had improved, and how his father was giving him more and more responsibility.
