Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake (15 page)
Read Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake Online
Authors: Jennifer Allison
When Gilda got home, she found a letter waiting for her in the mailbox. There was no return address, but something looked familiar about the chicken-scratch handwriting.
Dear Dilda,
You’re probably wondering where I am. Well, I’m somewhere in Pennsylvania. At the moment, I have no phone, no e-mail nothing except a pen and paper. I’m at a “treatment program for wayward teens,” and now I’m on, like, five different kinds of medication, so if I seem a little different when I finally get back home, that’s partly why.
You’re probably wondering what happened when I left school.
My parents wanted to send me to a boarding school
Mrs. McCracken wanted to kick me out of Our lady for too many “disruptions”); but I told them that I’d run away if they sent me there. Anyway, they changed their minds and convinced Mrs. McCracken to let me come back as soon as I finish this program “to everyone’s satisfaction.” McCracken probably realized the school needs my tuition money.
My psychiatrist thinks I’m “very suggestible,” and I supposedly have a hard time distinguishing fantasy from reality. Once I got the idea that ghosts were after me, I guess I just took it to the extreme. Sometimes I would just feel compelled to do something as if someone else was telling me to do it. Like when I found a dead fish lying next to the aquarium in our living room, I really felt that someone told me to pick it up and take it to school. It’s hard to explain, but like I said, I’m getting better now.
Anyway, I know you’re interested in ghosts, and I wanted to apologize, because I probably was not a very forthcoming and honest subject for your research. How example, when that glass broke against the mirror, that was because of me. I didn’t really mean to do it, it was just an impulse I couldn’t resist. I’m trying to become more honest with people. I don’t see as many weird things now.
I didn’t lie about
everything,
though. How example, it turned out that my dad was having an affair with one of the maids who used to clean our house, and the maid got really jealous of my mom. SHE was actually
throwing tomatoes and eggs at things in our house! My mom caught her doing it and some other things, too. Are my parents staying together? Who knows? My life is just so crazy, Dilda! Anyway, if you ask me, I have a couple pretty big apologies coming my way, since my parents were both so sure I was the reason for all of these weind occurrences.
Hope we can still be friends.
Tiara
Dear Dad,
I’m glad Tiara’s okay, but I have to ask myself: what kind of person toys with a séance by throwing a glass against a wall? I know I’ve stretched the truth from time to time, but I would never do anything like that. I feel sorry for Tiara, but I’m almost glad she isn’t around at the moment. She’s the kind of person who says something just to get a reaction, and then you waste all this energy believing her and trying to help her only to find out that it was all made up.
Dad, if you have any insight into what’s really going on at Our Lady of Sorrows, try to send me a message!
Looking forward to hearing from you, Gilda
G
ilda looked up at stars that gleamed in a clear, black sky. All around her, a flat sheet of white snow covered the frozen lake.
Her father sat next to her in the warm, yellow glow of a campfire.
I feel completely happy right now
, she thought.
“I’m thinking of doing some ice fishing,” her father said.
A familiar car appeared on the surface of the lake—Brad Squib’s black SUV, rolling quickly toward them. Brad stepped out of the car and approached, carrying his fishing pole.
“You’re on thin ice,” said Gilda’s father.
“It’ll hold,” said Brad nonchalantly.
Gilda wished that Brad and his car would crash through the ice and disappear forever. “He’s ruining everything,” she whispered. Her father looked sad.
Gilda’s father pointed to a spot across the lake where black, leafless trees surrounded the shadowy ruins. There was also a person—someone who stood eerily still, like a statue.
Gilda awoke and reached for the dream journal she kept by her bed. Her dreams sometimes contained information that
aided her investigations, and dreams in which her father appeared were of particular interest. As her
Psychic’s Handbook
noted:
If you dream of a dead individual, it may mean that you have actually made contact with him or her. Pay careful attention to such dreams—not only to the words exchanged, but also to details of the surroundings and the general feeling or mood of the dream landscape.
Gilda wrote in her journal:
This dream reflects my annoyance with Brad Squib. But there’s something else, too. It seems pretty weird that I had a dream about a frozen lake, when that’s exactly where Dolores died. Dad pointed at something I was supposed to look at—something in the ruins on the other side of the lake.
Gilda decided that after school she would sneak down to the lake to check out the ruins.
Standing on the bridge overlooking Mermaid Lake, Gilda watched trees that swayed in colors of crimson, gold, and tangerine. The birds were gathering to plot their winter escape—a sight that always made Gilda feel melancholy: it meant that winter lurked just around the corner. There was a chill in the air and she wished she had worn a warmer jacket.
As Gilda tiptoed silently across the bridge, she glimpsed something sparkling in the mud at the edge of the water. She felt a familiar tickle in her left ear as she knelt down to pull the shiny object from the dirt.
It was Danielle’s charm bracelet.
What had Danielle been doing by the lake? Gilda put the bracelet in her pocket and made a mental note to ask Danielle about it. She turned to head toward the crumbling stone walls of the miniature castle.
Inside the ruins, sunlight streamed through the shell of an arched ceiling. Something about the place reminded Gilda of a late-afternoon movie she had once watched—a film set in a lonely English village where the sky was low and church bells tolled ominously. Gilda couldn’t remember the exact plot of the story, but there had been something about a woman who knew she would be killed at some point during a weekend.
Stop freaking yourself out
, Gilda reminded herself.
In one corner, she spied a wooden doorway with a plaque:
Martha Jackson Reading Room
a resting spot for ladies
Gilda was intrigued. Nobody had told her that the ruins contained a “reading room.” It made her think of an era in history when women wore petticoats and carried parasols—a time when girls powdered their noses and were encouraged to take afternoon naps.
She turned the doorknob and was stunned when the door swung open easily.
Almost as if someone wanted me to go inside
, she thought, with both excitement and trepidation.
Gilda had an eerie sense of having wandered into another time. She found herself in a small, cottagelike room that looked
like the kind of place a group of elegant ladies might meet to have tea and scones. Faded pink cabbage roses bloomed on the dusty chairs and curtains; china pitchers, teacups, and silver candlesticks cluttered a side table. She half expected to look up and find a group of women who wore dark red lipstick and old-fashioned waves in their hair sitting all around her.
Gilda picked up one of the china teacups and discovered something lying at the bottom—a ring with a heart-shaped, purple stone. She put the ring on her finger for a moment, then dropped it back into the teacup.
The room also contained a marble fireplace and a shelf stuffed with old books with titles like
The Compleat Gentlewoman; The Lady’s Guide to Ravishing Décor
, and
Pretty Is As Pretty Does: A Guide for Young Ladies
.
Gilda opened
Pretty Is As Pretty Does
and read: “By the time your husband comes home from work, make sure you’ve put on some powder and lipstick, and a figure-flattering frock. Who wants to look at a woman in dungarees and a stained apron after a long day at the office?”
Gilda was about to slam the book shut when something slipped from the pages—several yellowed, handwritten pieces of paper. At first, she thought it was simply an old homework assignment someone had forgotten. But as she skimmed the pages, she realized she had found something far more intriguing and mysterious. She sat down on one of the soft, flowered chairs and began to read.
THE LADIES OF THE LAKE GUIDE FOR PLEDGES
WHO IS A “LADY OF THE LAKE”?
She is beautiful and confident and she moves through her life with effortless success in everything she does. When she has a problem, she doesn’t worry, because she Knows she is never alone. She Knows that without even having to ask, her secret best friends (we call them “mermaids”) will be there to assist her in whatever way is needed.
THE LADIES OF THE LAKE IS A SACRED PACT FOR LIFE. IN SHORT, IF YOU MAKE IT INTO THE LADIES OF THE LAKE, YOU’RE “ALL SET.” YOU’VE GOT IT MADE FOR LIFE!
The Ladies of the Lake is a SECRET society. As a Pledge, you are a potential part of this group. As a Pledge, you also have a sacred duty to uphold the rules and regulations of the LADIES OF THE LAKE.
IF YOU DO NOT THINK YOU ARE UP TO THIS TASK, KINDLY STOP READING RIGHT NOW AND STOP WASTING OUR TIME.
If you are still reading, we assume that you genuinely want to become a member of the Ladies of the Lake.
MEMBERSHIP IS NOT GUARANTEED.
FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH RULES AND REGULATIONS WILL READ TO A PENALTY. REPEATED OFFENSES WILL RESULT IN MORE SEVERE PUNISHMENTS OR A FORFEIT OF YOUR OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME A FULL MEMBER OF THIS AWESOME CLUB.
MEMORIZE THE FOLLOWING
RULES AND REGULATIONS:
- The vow of silence. The Society MUST remain secret at all costs. Do not tell acquaintances, parents, boyfriends, or even pets about the Ladies of the Lake. Violation of this rule will merit the most severe punishment available.
- Your best friends are members of the Ladies of the Lake. They are your member one priority.
- PLEDGES do not speak unless spoken to.
- DON’T CALL US; WE’LL CALL YOU. You will receive instructions, invitations, and any messages necessary from us when the time is right.
- Your flaws are subject to scrutiny by the Society, which will make recommendations for improvement.
- Pledges do not eat cookies or brownies.
- A weekly essay documenting the joys of being a Pledge to the Ladies of the Lake should be submitted by 8:00 a.m. every Monday morning. NO LATE PAPERS ACCEPTED.
- Respond to all orders from members swiftly and cheerfully.
- Give your heart to the Ladies of the Lake.
- Bury all things you find dead.
As she contemplated “The Ladies of the Lake Guide for Pledges,” Gilda felt so excited, she could scarcely contain herself. Were the Ladies of the Lake currently in existence, or was the “Guide for Pledges” a remnant of some secret society from years past?
Gilda stashed “The Ladies of the Lake Guide for Pledges” into her backpack. She was certain she had found either a significant clue or, at the very least, a fascinating story for The Petunia.
