It's expected. Don't think you can tell my parents
anything they don't know and get me in trouble," she
warned.
"I don't want to get you in trouble. I was just .
surprised. I've never done that."
"Haven't you ever gone to a dance and enjoyed
yourself, or don't they have such things in the bayou?"
she asked with disdain.
"Yes. We call them fais dodos," I told her. "But
we don't stay out all night."
"Fais dodos? Sounds like a good old time, twostepping to the sounds of an accordion and a
washboard." She smirked and continued to climb the
stairs toward me.
"They're usually nice dances with lots of good
things to eat. Was the ball nice?" I asked.
"Nice?" She paused on the step just below me
and laughed again. "Nice? Nice is a word for a school
party or an afternoon tea in the garden, but for a
Mardi Gras Bail? It was more than nice; it was
spectacular. Everyone was there," she added, stepping
up. "And everyone ogled me and Bean with green
eyes. We're considered the handsomest young Creole
couple these days, you know. I don't know how many
of my girlfriends begged me to let them have a dance
with Beau, and all of them were dying to know where
I had gotten this dress, but I wouldn't tell them." "It is a very pretty dress," I admitted.
"Well, don't expect I'll let you borrow it now
that you've stormed into our lives," she retorted,
gathering her wits about her. "I still don't understand
how you got here and who you are," she added with