When chapel was over, Ibby walked with her friend Winnie Waguespack to the streetcar stop on St. Charles Avenue. As they were waiting, Annabelle drove by in a shiny blue Mustang convertible and shot the finger at them.
“I think that was meant for me.” Ibby kicked the ground with her saddle oxford shoe as the streetcar pulled up. “I don’t know what her problem is.”
“Don’t let her get to you, Ibby,” Winnie said in the syrupy Mississippi accent she’d inherited from her mother even though she’d grown up in New Orleans. “No one likes Annabelle. I don’t know who she thinks she is.”
Ibby handed a dime to the streetcar conductor and found a seat next to a window. Winnie slid in next to her.
“You know, Annabelle’s daddy gave her that blue Mustang for her birthday last year,” Winnie said, unleashing a mop of curly brown hair from a clip.
Ibby muttered, “I don’t even have my driver’s license yet.”
“Why not?” Winnie asked. “I got mine a year ago, when I turned fifteen.”
Ibby shrugged. “Fannie won’t let me. I guess she figures I’ll stay out of trouble that way.”
“Well, it’s not all that great really,” Winnie said. “I think Mama got me my license so I could run all her errands for her after school, so don’t feel so bad. By the way,” she added, “I hear Annabelle got a horse for her sixteenth birthday, a few weeks ago.”
Ibby looked at Winnie. “A horse? Really?”
“That’s what I hear,” Winnie giggled. “Can you imagine? I don’t know how her father affords it, being an accountant and all. Still”—she sighed—“it must be nice, being an only child. I can’t imagine what it’s like not having to share a bedroom with three sisters and a bathroom with four brothers. And I’d give anything not to have to change my little sister’s diapers.”
“It’s not all it’s cut out to be, being an only child,” Ibby remarked.
Winnie smiled a little too sweetly. “Bless your heart, I forgot.”
They were good friends, but the one thing that bugged Ibby about Winnie was that she had a way of saying things that sounded like one thing but meant something totally different. Ibby was pretty sure Winnie was trying to be nice, but it still came out sounding condescending.
“Must be hard not having any parents.” Winnie patted her hand.
Ibby pulled her hand away. “I have a grandmother . . . and a mother . . . somewhere.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” Winnie shook her head and turned away.
Ibby let the awkward silence pass by staring out the open window. It had begun to drizzle, a warm rain that left the sidewalks steaming and the air sticky. She reached through the window and let the raindrops pool in her hand, wondering what it must be like to have a big family like the Waguespacks.
When she turned back around, she noticed the young hippie couple sitting just across the way. The man’s long hair draped over the shoulders of his loose-fitting shirt, where a peace sign dangled from a leather necklace. He had his arm around a young woman in a halter top and batik skirt who was leaning casually against his chest.
It must be nice to be so free, Ibby thought as she watched them.
By the time the streetcar reached Jefferson Avenue, the rain had all but evaporated into a thin mist rising from the street.
“Here’s my stop,” Ibby said.
Winnie tugged on her skirt as she got up. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s all right.”
Winnie tugged on her skirt again. “Listen. My parents are throwing a birthday party for me in a couple of weeks. You’ll get an invitation in the mail. Want to come shopping with me to pick out a dress?” Winnie went on. “We can go down to Canal Street, to D. H. Holmes and maybe Maison Blanche, too, if we have time.”
Most of Ibby’s friends went shopping together on Saturdays, but they’d never asked Ibby because they knew Doll made most of her clothes.
“Sure,” Ibby said. “Thanks for asking.”
Ibby got off the streetcar and headed down Jefferson Avenue toward Prytania Street. Clouds left over from the earlier rain blanketed the sky, trapping the humidity beneath them. Ibby heard a low rumble in the distance. She glanced up at the sky. Thunder in New Orleans was sneaky. Just when you thought it was gone, it came up behind you and let out a big clap that resonated through your whole body. She’d never heard thunder like that before she came to New Orleans. It used to scare her. Not anymore. A lot had changed in the last four years. For one, she wasn’t a shy twelve-year-old anymore.