§ § § - October 31, 1982
"So the party was not all bad," Frida said consolingly to Leslie on the way to the MacNabb house. "You won a prize for the most original costume."
"I'm glad you got the one for prettiest costume," Leslie said softly. "Even if you did have to share it with Michiko."
Frida laughed a little. "I don't mind. Michiko had such a lovely costume, and she looked so graceful. Myeko thought quickly when she sent Camille away. Without that, it would have all ended, and no one would have a good time. This way it did not destroy the party for everyone else." She sighed and sat back in her seat. "But I don't want to see Camille in school tomorrow."
"Me either," Leslie murmured emphatically. After that both girls remained silent till Leslie dropped Frida off at Julie's house; then she headed home, her mind replaying the horrible scene with Camille over and over, like an endless film loop.
Tattoo actually jumped back a bit when she entered the main house. "Sacre bleu," he blurted out. "You look like a ghost." Leslie's second dose of potion was in the process of wearing off.
"Sorry," she murmured with a faint smile at him.
"That's okay." Tattoo had relaxed and now peered closely at her. "Something went wrong," he deduced. "You don't look very happy. Don't tell me, someone had a better costume than you did."
Leslie shook her head, unable to respond to his gentle teasing. "No, it was a lot worse than that."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Tattoo asked.
She shot him a grateful look. "Could we? I was hoping it wasn't too late. Otherwise I'd never have gotten any sleep tonight for thinking about it."
"Well, sit down," Tattoo urged, gesturing at one of the two club chairs that sat in front of Roarke's desk. "Go ahead, tell me about it."
She sat and began her tale, slowly at first, then with increasing emotion. By the time she wound up the story, she was shaking with outrage. Tattoo's dark eyes were round with disbelief. In French he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse; then he focused on Leslie. "Let me get this straight. She hates Swedish people because her sister got raped? I don't get it."
"I suppose a Swedish guy must have done it," Leslie said, shrugging. "Tommy said Lauren knows about it and she'll tell us if we ask. I guess now I understand why Camille's always been so hostile to me and downright cruel to Frida. But geez, I didn't even know she had a sister. I've never seen her."
"Andrea was sort of famous around here," Tattoo recalled, "because she's the first student from Fantasy Island to attend Harvard. It even got written up in the paper when she was accepted there. She hasn't been back to the island since she left to start her freshman year, and there's never been any news of her since then. I guess the family wanted to keep things quiet, and I don't blame them. The only thing is, now that Camille's spilled the beans, the secret will get out, and there's going to be a lot of trouble."
"I don't even want to go to school tomorrow," Leslie said. "The kids at the party last night were all on Frida's side, but there's a lot of them who weren't there, and there are bound to be some who agree with Camille. Someone's going to blab and all hell will break loose after that."
§ § § - November 1, 1982
On the bus the next morning, Lauren finally filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle. "Yeah, Andrea got raped," she said. "It happened about halfway through her freshman year, right before the Christmas break. My aunt and uncle didn't want anyone hearing about it, and they knew if Andrea came home for Christmas, the Fantasy Island Chronicle would be all over her asking how her first year at Harvard was going. They swore all of us, both Camille's family and mine, to secrecy.
"Andrea knew who did it. It was a Swedish exchange student, and she knew his name and everything. She pressed charges right away, and they arrested the guy. But you know how the courts are. Andrea's a senior now and the case is just now about to go to trial. She's never been back for Christmas or the summer break or anything, just because my aunt and uncle are so paranoid about keeping this whole thing under wraps. And of course, she has to stay in Boston and testify at the trial now. No telling how long it'll last, but if it goes fast enough, she might come home for Christmas. She'll have only one more semester after this."
"Well, one thing's for sure," Myeko remarked. "After last night, the whole school's gonna hear about it, and by the end of the day everybody on the island will know."
"That doesn't explain why Camille has been carrying on the way she has," Michiko said.
"Oh, pooh," Lauren muttered. "You guys remember the crazy media circus that surrounded Andrea going off to Harvard?" The girls nodded. "Well, Camille's always kind of idolized Andrea anyway, but this sort of elevated her into godhood as far as Camille was concerned. I bet the newspaper coverage didn't hurt any, because the whole family got interviewed and had their picture in the paper. Well, once the rape happened and Andrea let the family in on the details, that did it. Camille was livid that someone could have done something like that to her wonderful sister, and she got kind of obsessed. And her hatred for the rapist grew into a hatred for all Swedes. She's been getting worse. You're only part Swedish, Leslie, but Camille didn't know that - and she still looked down her nose at you when you first came here. So I guess now she hates all whites. It's incredibly stupid, but she seemed to have it more or less under control till last night."
Maureen rolled her green eyes. "So now the lid's been blown off the pressure cooker, and somebody from the Chronicle will probably show up on the Ichinos' doorstep while they're eating supper tonight. Well, they have only Camille and her big prejudiced mouth to blame for that. There must have been 30 kids at your party last night, Myeko. Guaranteed, some of them'll talk."
"How many do you think will agree with Camille?" Leslie asked softly.
Her friends looked at one another. "I didn't think of that," Lauren mumbled.
"Maybe that's why Frida didn't come to school today," Michiko said. "I can't blame her. Camille insulted everything she is, everything she knows and holds dear. It would've made me sick, too."
"She seemed all right last night," Leslie protested. "Heck, she was trying to cheer me up. Maybe she had too much time to think about it after she got home, and it all just got to her. The only reason I'm here is because Tattoo was still at the main house when I got home, and he and I talked about it for awhile."
They all felt the bus lurch to a stop, and looked around to find themselves parked in front of the school. "Well, we're here," Maureen said. "Look, Leslie, if anything happens today, don't worry. We'll all stand by you, no matter what."
Fantasy Island High wasn't a big school, so everyone in the building knew what had happened by the end of the day. But very few students actually took sides; it was as if everyone was waiting to see how things would turn out. As usual lately, Camille avoided the other girls, and sat in the back of the bus on the way home. The other girls sat together and said very little.
When Leslie let herself into the main house, she saw Julie standing in front of Roarke's desk and Roarke himself looking concerned. Julie started to speak as Leslie entered, then broke off and turned in her direction when Leslie opened the door. "Oh, hi, Leslie."
"Hi, Julie," Leslie said. "Is Frida okay?"
"I understand she wasn't in school today," Roarke said, focusing on his ward. "Julie doesn't know what has happened, and says that Frida refuses to talk about it."
"I'll bet," Leslie said and sighed. "I talked with Tattoo about it last night, Mr. Roarke. Didn't he tell you?"
"No, Tattoo has been busy all day," Roarke replied. "Tell us what happened, Leslie."
So Leslie sat down and related the entire story to Roarke and Julie. Julie, whose emotions were an open book, looked more and more outraged the more she heard; Roarke's expression, on the other hand, was one of concern and reflection. When Leslie finished, Julie burst out, "How on earth could that girl say such horrible things about a sweet person like Frida?"
"Calm down, Julie," Roarke suggested and gazed at Leslie. "Have you or your friends seen Camille since then?" he asked her.
Leslie shook her head. "I think it's a case of mutual steering-clear. We avoid her, she avoids us."
"That certainly won't solve the problem," Roarke said.
"Well, then, what will?" Julie demanded.
"Shock treatment," Leslie said, half seriously, her voice lemon-sour. Julie raised an eyebrow at her, an amused expression creeping onto her face.
But Roarke murmured, "Perhaps you have something there, Leslie." He caught the gaping looks on both her face and Julie's, and amended, "In a manner of speaking, that is. Wait until this weekend; a special guest is arriving on the Saturday-morning plane, and with her help, we may be able to make Camille see the error of her ways."