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"Shh," Vicki said.

"Good afternoon, girls, and welcome back to Greenwood for what I expect will be another successful year for all of you." She paused, put on her glasses, and opened her folder.

Then she looked up, seemingly turning our way and gazing directly at us. Even from this distance, I could see how steely cold her eyes were. She had thick eyebrows and a firm mouth set in a jaw that seemed made of granite.

"I would like to begin by first welcoming all of the girls who are with us for the first time. I know that the rest of you will do whatever you can to make their arrival and familiarity with our school smooth and easy. Remember, once all of you were new girls.

"Next, I would like to introduce three new faculty members. Teaching freshman English, Mr. Risel," she said and gazed to her right, where some of the faculty were seated. A tall, lean, blond-haired man of about forty rose and nodded at the assembly.

"Teaching advanced French, Monsieur Marabeau," she said in a perfect French accent. A short, stout, dark-haired man with a dark mustache stood up and bowed to the assembly.

"And finally, our new art instructor, Miss Stevens," she said with a little more sternness in her voice than I had detected when she'd introduced the previous two.

An attractive brunette who couldn't be much more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine stood up. She had a warm, friendly smile, but she looked

uncomfortable in her tweed suit and high-heeled shoes.

"Wait until she hears about your paintings and finds out how talented you are," Gisselle quipped. All of the girls in our row turned toward her, but Mrs. Ironwood shifted her gaze our way too. I could feel the sting of her reproach.

"Shh," Vicki warned.

"Now to review our rules of behavior," Mrs. Ironwood continued, her eyes still fixed in our direction. My heart was pounding, but Gisselle just glared back.

"As you know, we expect everyone to be serious about her work. Consequently, a grade-point average of less than C-plus will not be tolerated. If any one of you should fall beneath that acceptable threshold, you will lose all of your social privileges until you bring your average up."

"What social privileges?" Gisselle asked, again a little too loud. Mrs. Ironwood raised her gaze from her folder and glared our way. "I expect you to remain quiet while I am speaking. At Greenwood respect for teacher and staff is required. We do not have time for, nor will we tolerate, insubordination in class or in any classroom situation. Is that perfectly clear?"

Her words echoed in the deathly quiet hall. No one moved, not even Gisselle. Even though Mrs. Ironwood continued in a lower voice, her consonants were so sharp I thought she could slice the air between us with her words.

"I would advise you all to turn to page ten in your orientation booklets and memorize the rules set down. You will note when you read the list that the possession of any alcoholic beverage or any drug on campus will result in your immediate expulsion. Your parents know that means they forfeit the tuition. Loud music, smoking, or any act of vandalism carries severe punishments and high numbers of demerits.

"Last year I was a little more lenient than I should have been when it came to our dress codes. Unless you have prior approval, you are to wear our uniform, keep it clean and well pressed, and abstain from using cosmetics. Looking attractive at

Greenwood means being clean and neat, not painting your face."

She paused and smiled coolly.

"I am pleased to announce that we will have as many dances this year as we had last. There were only one or two instances of inappropriate behavior, and those offenders were dealt with quickly before they ruined things for everyone else. We expect you to behave in a proper manner when you have guests visiting on visiting days. And remember: While your guests are on this campus, they are to obey our rules and regulations the same as if they were students here. That goes for the male guests as well as the female," she emphasized.

"I remind you," she said slowly, pulling her shoulders back and looking toward the ceiling at the rear of the auditorium, "you are all Greenwood girls now, and Greenwood girls are special. To the newcomers, I recommend that you memorize our slogan: A Greenwood girl is a girl who considers her body and her mind to be holy, and a girl who knows that what she does reflects upon us all. Be proud you are Greenwood girls and make us proud you are one of us.

"Those who have to be issued uniforms and shoes, proceed directly to the commissary in the basement. Everyone, study your schedule, note your times to be at class. Remember, one lateness is a single demerit. The second lateness is four, and the third is six."

"I can't get demerits for being late," Gisselle muttered. "Not moving around in this wheelchair."

Some of the girls who overheard her glanced her way and then looked quickly at Mrs. Ironwood, who once again seemed to be fixed on us coldly, as a butcher bird in the bayou. The long pause caused a ripple of discomfort to pass through the assembly. I felt like I was sitting on a hill of ants and couldn't wait for Mrs. Ironwood to look in a different direction. Finally, she did.

"Our enrollment has gone up, but our classes are still small enough for all of you to get the individualized instruction you need to be successful, if you work up to your full capacity. Good luck to you all," she concluded, then took off her glasses and closed her folder. She glared our way one more time and then marched off the stage. No one moved until she had left the auditorium. Then the girls, many of whom who had held their breaths, broke out in loud chatter as they got up to leave.

"Thanks a lot," Gisselle said, spinning around on me, her eyes full of fire.

"For what?"

"For bringing me to this little hellhole." She spun herself around in her chair, pushing other girls out of her way. Then she looked back. "Samantha," she called.

"What?"

"Push me back to the dorm while my sister goes for her pretty new outfit," she ordered and laughed. Samantha jumped to do her bidding and we all left the auditorium, following behind her as if she had just been appointed queen.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Landry Horror