the lower galerie. Two little girls were on it, both with golden brown pigtails and dressed in identical pink dresses and black leather saddle shoes. I imagined they were sisters, and my mind started to create a fantasy in which I saw myself and Gisselle growing up together in such a home with Daddy and our real mother. How different it all could have been.
"Just a little farther," Daddy said and nodded toward a hill. When he made another turn, the school came into view. First we saw the large iron letters spelling out the word GREENWOOD over the main entrance, which consisted of two square stone columns. A wrought-iron fence ran for what looked like acres to the right and to the left. I saw some buttonbush along the foot of the fence, its dark green leaves gleaming around the little white balls of white. Along a good deal of the fence were vines of trumpet creepers with orange blossoms.
From both sides of our car we could see rolling green lawns and tall red oak, hickory, and magnolia trees. Gray squirrels leapt gracefully from branch to branch as if they could fly. I saw a red woodpecker pause on a branch to look our way. There were stone walkways with short hedges and fountains
everywhere, some with little stone statues of squirrels, rabbits, and birds.
An enormous garden led to the main building-rows and rows of flowers, tulips, geraniums, irises, golden trumpet roses, and tons of white, pink, and red impatiens. Everything looked trimmed and manicured. The grass was so perfect it looked cut by an army of grounds workers armed with scissors. Not a branch, not a leaf, nothing appeared out of place. It was as if we had ventured into a painting.
Above us the main building loomed. It was a two-story structure of antique brick and gray-painted wood. Dark green ivy vines worked their way up around the brick to frame the large panel windows. A wide stone stairway led up to the large portico and great front doors. There was a parking lot to the right with signs that read RESERVED FOR FACULTY and RESERVED FOR VISITORS. Right now the lot was nearly full of cars. There were parents and young girls meeting and greeting each other, old friends obviously renewing friendships. It was an explosion of excitement. The air was full of laughter, the faces full of smiles. Girls hugged and kissed each other, and all began talking at once.
Daddy found a spot for us and the van, but Gisselle was ready to pounce with a complaint.
"We're too far from the front, and how am I supposed to get up that stairway every day? This is horrible."
"Just hold on," Daddy said. "They told me there is an approach built for people in wheelchairs."
"Great. I'm probably the only one. Everyone will watch me being wheeled up every morning."
"There must be other handicapped girls here, Gisselle. They wouldn't build an entryway just for you," I assured her, but she just sat there scowling at the scene unfolding before us.
"Look. Everyone knows everyone else. We're probably the only strangers at the school."
"Nonsense," Daddy said. "There's a freshman class, isn't there?"
"We're not freshmen. We're seniors," she reminded him curtly.
"Let me go find out how to proceed first," Daddy said, opening his door.
"Proceed home, that's how," Gisselle quipped. Daddy waved to our van driver, who pulled up alongside our car. Then he went to speak to a woman in a green skirt and jacket who was holding a clipboard.
"All right," Daddy said, returning. "This is going to be easy. The gangway is off right there. First you go to registration, which is being held in the main lobby, and then we'll go to the dormitory."
"Why don't we go to the dormitory first?" Gisselle demanded. "I'm tired."
"I was told to bring you here first, honey, so you can get your information packet about your classes, a map of the grounds, that sort of thing."
"I don't need a map of the grounds. be in my room all the time, I'm sure," Gisselle said.
"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Daddy replied. "I'll get your chair out,
"Just a little farther," Daddy said and nodded toward a hill. When he made another turn, the school came into view. First we saw the large iron letters spelling out the word GREENWOOD over the main entrance, which consisted of two square stone columns. A wrought-iron fence ran for what looked like acres to the right and to the left. I saw some buttonbush along the foot of the fence, its dark green leaves gleaming around the little white balls of white. Along a good deal of the fence were vines of trumpet creepers with orange blossoms.
From both sides of our car we could see rolling green lawns and tall red oak, hickory, and magnolia trees. Gray squirrels leapt gracefully from branch to branch as if they could fly. I saw a red woodpecker pause on a branch to look our way. There were stone walkways with short hedges and fountains
everywhere, some with little stone statues of squirrels, rabbits, and birds.
An enormous garden led to the main building-rows and rows of flowers, tulips, geraniums, irises, golden trumpet roses, and tons of white, pink, and red impatiens. Everything looked trimmed and manicured. The grass was so perfect it looked cut by an army of grounds workers armed with scissors. Not a branch, not a leaf, nothing appeared out of place. It was as if we had ventured into a painting.
Above us the main building loomed. It was a two-story structure of antique brick and gray-painted wood. Dark green ivy vines worked their way up around the brick to frame the large panel windows. A wide stone stairway led up to the large portico and great front doors. There was a parking lot to the right with signs that read RESERVED FOR FACULTY and RESERVED FOR VISITORS. Right now the lot was nearly full of cars. There were parents and young girls meeting and greeting each other, old friends obviously renewing friendships. It was an explosion of excitement. The air was full of laughter, the faces full of smiles. Girls hugged and kissed each other, and all began talking at once.
Daddy found a spot for us and the van, but Gisselle was ready to pounce with a complaint.
"We're too far from the front, and how am I supposed to get up that stairway every day? This is horrible."
"Just hold on," Daddy said. "They told me there is an approach built for people in wheelchairs."
"Great. I'm probably the only one. Everyone will watch me being wheeled up every morning."
"There must be other handicapped girls here, Gisselle. They wouldn't build an entryway just for you," I assured her, but she just sat there scowling at the scene unfolding before us.
"Look. Everyone knows everyone else. We're probably the only strangers at the school."
"Nonsense," Daddy said. "There's a freshman class, isn't there?"
"We're not freshmen. We're seniors," she reminded him curtly.
"Let me go find out how to proceed first," Daddy said, opening his door.
"Proceed home, that's how," Gisselle quipped. Daddy waved to our van driver, who pulled up alongside our car. Then he went to speak to a woman in a green skirt and jacket who was holding a clipboard.
"All right," Daddy said, returning. "This is going to be easy. The gangway is off right there. First you go to registration, which is being held in the main lobby, and then we'll go to the dormitory."
"Why don't we go to the dormitory first?" Gisselle demanded. "I'm tired."
"I was told to bring you here first, honey, so you can get your information packet about your classes, a map of the grounds, that sort of thing."
"I don't need a map of the grounds. be in my room all the time, I'm sure," Gisselle said.
"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Daddy replied. "I'll get your chair out,
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