'Never mind. You do what all the girls are doing and worry about your graduation ceremony, not me,' she said.
I left the house, still feeling a cloud overhead because of what had happened to me the day before; but also feeling the excitement that came with the end of school. At school no one talked about anything else. The chatter in the classroom was so loud and furious, we sounded like a yard of hens clucking. Our teachers gave up on doing anything that even vaguely resembled education.
In the afternoon they took us out to the yard on the side of the building where a portable stage had been constructed so we could rehearse the graduation ceremony. A piano had been wheeled out for Mrs. Parlange, the school secretary, to play the processional. Our principal, Mr. Pitot, was going to accompany her on the accordion, too. Together with Mr. Ternant, who was the vocal, physical education, and math teacher, and who played the fiddle, Mr. Pitot would do a few Cajun pieces to entertain the audience of grandparents, parents, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, and friends before the speeches and the distribution of diplomas. Mr. Ternant was put in charge of the ceremony and lined us up according to height. He told us how to walk, hold our heads up high, and sit properly on the stage.
'I don't want to see anyone crossing his or her legs. And no gum chewing, hear? You all sit still, face forward, and look dignified. Every one of you is a representative of this school,' he lectured. Bobby Slater made a popping sound with his mouth. Many of us smiled, but no one dared laugh. Mr. Ternant glared fiercely for a moment. Then he explained what we had to do when we were called up.
'I want you to take the diploma in this hand'—he demonstrated—'and cross over to shake like this.'
He wanted us to then turn to the audience and make a small bow before returning directly to our seats.
I tried to concentrate on everything and listen carefully to all the instructions, but my mind kept wandering and returning to the incident at the lake. Yvette and Evelyn were too occupied with themselves and with their other friends to notice my distraction. I knew anyone who did notice me just thought it was my typical disinterest in things that interested them. It wasn't so. I wanted to be just as excited; I wanted to be just as young and silly and happy as they were. But every once in a while, Mr. Tate's face, just inches from mine, would flash across my eyes and I would gulp and moan softly to myself.
I was very quiet on the way home; however, Yvette and Evelyn were far more talkative than ever. A twilight gloom had pervaded my entire being, but even if I had wanted to talk, they didn't give me an opportunity to get in a word. It wasn't until we were about to part that they noticed me.
'What's wrong with you today?' Yvette asked. 'Graduation jitters?'
'A little,' I said. I could never even begin to tell them the true reason for my melancholy.
'Well, if you had a future waiting, you wouldn't be so jittery,' Evelyn declared pedantically. 'Now what are you going to do the day after tomorrow, sit on the side of the road at your stand and wait for some handsome prince to come riding along?'
Yvette laughed.
'Yes,' I said, smiling. 'That's exactly what I will do.' 'Well, you'll grow old waiting for a handsome prince in these parts,' Yvette said.
The two of them looked at each other in a way that told me they had been talking about me at length.
'Don't you even think about being with a man?' Evelyn asked, flashing a sly glance at Yvette.
'Of course,' I said, but with less enthusiasm than either of them would.
'You never talk about it when we talk about it,' Yvette added. 'We know you never been kissed,' she said, shifting her gaze to Evelyn, who smiled. 'Much less . . . touched.' They giggled.
'You two don't know everything about me,' I said, but in a sad, unfortunate tone of voice. It wiped the smiles off their faces for the moment. Yvette's eyes grew as small as dimes and glittered with suspicion.
'What have you been keeping secret?' Yvette said. 'Someone visit you in the swamps?'
I reddened.
'Someone has!' Evelyn declared. 'Look at her.'
'No.' Butterflies beat small wings of panic in my stomach.
'Who was it?'
'What did you do, Gabrielle Landry?'
'We always tell you everything that we've done,' Yvette said petulantly.
'Nothing.we’ve done nothing,' I insisted.
They laughed.
'Liar.'
'You better tell us, Gabrielle Landry or . . .'
'Or we'll make something up and tell everyone tomorrow before graduation,' Evelyn announced. Yvette nodded, happy for the plan. 'We'll claim you told us in secret. Everyone will believe us because they know we're friends and we talk on the way home from school every day.'
'That's right,' Yvette said. 'If we both swear to it, everyone will believe it.'
'But there's nothing to tell. I . . .'
'What?' Yvette demanded. She put her hands on her hips. Evelyn stared, anticipating. I took a deep breath. If they spread rumors about me tomorrow, they could ruin graduation for Mama.
'All right, I'll tell you, but you've got to swear to keep it secret.'
'We'll swear,' Yvette said.
