SORROW
broken, a
had force
as if she
outht s
Our Lady of Sorrows
purchase
skirt (nc
on the
car), te
De ar Dad,
ritatior
for gir
Gi
Some time s I don t understand Mom at all.
I know she hates miniskirts , s0 why is she
so excited about the prospe ct oi her daugh-
ap
ter donning a Britne y Spears 0utiit and
Gil
going to a private school for 6irls?
ing nu
I know I m the one who wrote the applica-
drain
the C
tion essay and everything, but that was
little
when I thought there was no way they wouid
Our
give me a scholarship! The last thing I
Com
want iS to hang around a bunch of debu1
tantes who will probably give me the stink
entu
eye because I 1ive on the wrong side O
town.
its,
There is NO WAY I 'm going to Our Lady or
whi
SorroWS.
of
"Gilda, you should at least give this school a chance."
ing
Gilda slumped in the front seat of her mother's Oldsmobile
and fanned herself with the glossy brochure from Our Lady of
Th
wa
Sorrows School for Girls. T he air conditioner in the car was
broken, and in thee August humidity, the panty hose her mother
had forced her to wear with her skirt and blouse made her feel
as if she were sitting in a tropical swamp. Everything about the
outfit she was wearing the high-heeled, secretarial pumps
purchased at Payless Shoes, the polyester blend of her navy blue
skirt (not to mention her fear that there might be sweat stains
on the armpits of her blouse following the ride in a sweltering
car), felt just plain wrong. At the moment, Gilda felt intense ir-
ritation with her mother, the whole notion of a private school
for girls, and the entire world in general.
"Gilda you re being way too judgmental. Don't forget, I went
to a private school myself, and I am obviously no debutante.
Gilda knew that this was true; her mother was a hardwork-
ing nurse who wasn't afraid of things like needles, blood, and
drains clogged with hair. On the other hand, Gilda knew that
the Catholic school her mother had attended in Southfield had
little in common with the rarefied, exclusive atmosphere of
Our Lady of Sorrows in the Detroit suburb of Bloomfield Hills,
commony known as "one of the wealthiest communities in the
entire United States."
They passed a sign announcing the Bloomield Hills city lim-
its, and the neighborhood of well-groomed lawns through
which Mrs. Joyce had just driven suddenly became a landscape
O progressively larger, more elaborate houses.
"Who lives in these places? Gilda's mother wondered, slow-
ng down and gaping at an enormous white house with pillars.
e
The house seemed to peer down at Mrs. Joyce's aged, un-
f
washed car with disapproval.
1he giris who go to Our Lady ot SorrowS Iive in thes
ses
places. f the houses in this neighborhood seem to looR down their noo
The Jac
of nuns wb
Gilda thought, what will the girls at Our Lady of SorrOws be like
"Gilda, they don't give out many scholarships, so keep in mind
Throughe
was an eli
that this is a rare opportunity. Especially consIdernng the fars
nk
wished te
and eleg
that your grades from junior high were all over the place, I think
Our L
t was very nice of Brad to pull some strings and convince the
headmistress to consider your application so late in the summer
as
outstanC
ativity a
"Nobody asked Brad to pull any stringS. Brad Squib was
Mrs. Joyce's new boyfriend, and since Gilda tound him annov.
ing, she resented the fact that he had done something to help
her. Now she would have to display gratitude and apPreciation
rather than sullen grimaces when he was around. *Besides,"
she added, "plenty of total geniuses have gotten bad grades."
Gilda stopped fanning herself with the school brochure and
have co
W
1 fee
At im
paused to examine the image on its cover: a pretty girl sitting
mak=
next to a lake, gazing dreamily into the distance.
Nov
Wh
OUR LADY OF SORROWS
Our Lady of Sorrows provides a beautiful, stimulating
environment for girls who truly want to learn. The
school also provides structured discipline to protect girls
from potentially unhealthy influences.
Originally built as a country estate by automotive
tycoon Stanton Jackson and his wife, Martha, in the year
1900, the Castle House that is now Our Lady of Sorrows
reflects the Jacksons' passion for medieval and Renais-
OU
I've
T'm
sance architccture and the couple's love of the arts.
Surprise, beauty, and mystery are found at every turn.
tee
n these
The Jacksons willed part of their estate to an order
eir noses,
like?
of nuns who opened Our Lady of Sorrows in 1951.
Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Our Lady of Sorrows
was an elite finishing school for young women who
in mind
wished to improve their skills as future wives, mothers,
the fact
,I think
and elegant hostesses.
Our Lady of Sorrows has evolved into a school with an
ince
the
outstanding academic program that emphasizes both cre
ativity and the scientific method. Many of our graduates
mmer:
uib was
1 annoy
have continued their education at Ivy League colleges.
to help
eciation
What do students say about Our Lady of Sorrous?
Besides,"
rades."
I feel so at home here! Everyone is so nice all the time!
-Marcie
hure
and
"At my old school, I used to spend hours putting o
irl sitting
makeup and picking out clothes to wear every morning.
Now I can roll out of bed and get dressed in ten minutes!
Who knew I would love wearing a uniform!"
Eloise
latng
"I've been able to concentrate better on my studies with-
tect gurls
out having boys around all the time."
-Nichole
"You know " said Gilda, tossing the brochure aside, "since
T've never actually had a boyfriend, I find it a little strange that
m being locked away in a convent where lPll never get one."
T always found plenty of chances to meet boys when I was a
cenager at a girls' school," said Mrs. Joyce. "Probably too many"
seemed to
"That was because you were a tart. Ihe words so
come out before Gilda could stop them.
Her mother abruptly stepped on the brake and pulled
to the side of the road. "What did you just say to me?
er car
Gilda stared at her lap. "I didn t mean it. She had heard e sto-
ries about how her mother had smoked in the girls' athroom
and snuck out at night while her parents were asleep, but Gilda
bf
guessed that now was not the time to remind her mother
these facts.
Mrs. Joyce sighed with exasperation as she maneuvered
back onto the street, following a series of winding roads with
whimsical names like Butter Creek Road and Cherrybrook
Lane. Gilda scowled out the window at enormous houses
that sprawled on perfectly landscaped lawns. The surroundings
seemed more like a series of little kingdoms than a single
neighborhood.
Cherrybrook Lane ended abruptly, and Gilda found herself
peering through the windshield at a landscape of soaring pine
trees; it seemed that they had arrived at the edge of a forest.
She and her mother faced an iron gate that had been left open.
A small sign announced: OUR LADY OF SORROWS UPPER SCHOOL
FOR GIRLS. An arrow pointed to a long driveway that disap-
peared into the trees.
"I guess this is it." Mrs. Joyce drove slowly through the gate
and followed a curving drive where tall trees provided a mo-
ment of relief from the scalding sun.
As the car entered a sunny clearing, both Gilda and her
mother gasped.
Brad said it was interesting, but I had no idea it was
Tike this!said Mrs. Joyce, "No wonder they call it the Castle
House."
Gilda felt a rush ot adrenaline and a ticklish sensation in
her left ear that usually meant that she was about to have an
encounter with soOmething beyond the realm of the ordinary.
She knew that there was something very interesting indeed
about this school.
Our Lady of SorrOws appeared amidst the trees like an im-
age from a dream. The school looked nothing like the institu-
tional brick building where Gilda had attended junior high
school. It also looked nothing like the self-consciously pertect
houses in the surrounding Bloomfield Hills neighborhood.
Gilda actually hacd to blink several times to make sure that her
eyes weren't deceiving her. It was as if Mrs. Joyce's car had
slipped through a time portal into a medieval world.
"It looks just like a castle," Gilda breathed.
Instead of an ordinary roof, the enormous building had bat-
tlements and turrets that soared against the blue sky, Gilda half
expected to see a soldier wearing an iron helmet and carrying
a spear peering down at her from above. The stone walls were
laced with creeping vines that partially concealed arched, stained-
glass windows. Gilda sensed a brooding sadness about the build-
ing: there was something ominous about the weighty silence in
the air.
Mrs. Joyce parked in a small lot behind the school where a
nandul of expensive cars huddled together in a corner of shade,
then checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, fluthng her
hair. Gilda was already making her way toward the school as if
pulled toward it by an overwhelming magnetic attraction.
3
need to
"Wait! Mrs. Joyce called after Gilda. "Don't you nes
comb your hair first?"
Nope.
"Don't you want to make a good impression on the head.
mistress?
Gilda had already disappeared around the corner. Her mother
followed behind, wobbling a bit in the high heels she rarely wore.