@disclose 7 November 2020 more from that month

Gilda Joyce Chapter 2

**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.