Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake (22 page)
Read Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake Online
Authors: Jennifer Allison
You never left me your phone number, so how could I call you?!
How did everything go in Pennsylvania? Your hair looks good!
We’re almost finished reading
Hamlet
in Panty’s class, and now we’re going to read
Antigone.
It’s about a girl who wants to bury her dead brother.
I’m pretty sure “the Triplets” are in a big fight, because lately, I only see Ashley and Britney passing notes to each other, and Lauren has started sitting on the other side of the room. Maybe they’re all getting sick of looking exactly alike.
I’ve been writing for
The Petunia.
I’m also writing a play for “Our Lady Arts Day.” (I’m going to post an audition notice in the freshman locker room this week.) You should be in it!
Tiara began writing furiously. A minute later, she dropped a wad of paper over her shoulder while pretending to nod with interest as Ms. Peebles pointed to the location of the brain stem on a diagram.
I’m growing my hair out, and it’s kind of at an awkward stage right now. I’m thinking of dyeing it again. Maybe I’ll try our platinum blond wig idea. If that doesn’t look good, I’ll just go bald. Ha ha.
Pennsylvania wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think I learned a lot about myself. Some of the kinds in my group kept writing poems about killing people. We played this “trust” game where you have to let yourself fall back into the arms of other people in your group, and they’re supposed to catch you. I couldn’t do it for weeks, but then I finally just did it, and when those other kinds actually caught me instead of letting me get killed, it was such a good feeling. We’ll have to do that game sometime, maybe by the lake. Ha ha.
Did they stop buying toilet paper for the freshman locker room? Things have gone downhill since I’ve been gone!
I will definitely be in your play! I love acting, but since I’ve been gone so long, I didn’t get to audition for the drama club’s play. So count me in!
“Gilda?”
Gilda was horrified to realize that Ms. Peebles was staring at
her. She had completely lost track of the class discussion while reading Tiara’s note.
“Gilda, what would your answer be?”
To Gilda’s annoyance, Tiara actually turned halfway around in her chair to peer at her, as if she shared Ms. Peebles’s irritation and impatience.
Gilda remembered hearing some talk of the brain and the nervous system before she had started passing notes to Tiara. “How about neurotransmitters?” she ventured.
“How about them?”
The other girls shared amused smirks.
“Who can get along without them?”
Ms. Peebles scribbled out another detention and slapped it down on Gilda’s desk. “We’re talking about the mystery of consciousness and what really happens when a person goes into a coma.”
“Well,
that
sounds interesting.”
“Yes,” said Ms. Peebles. “Had you been paying attention, you might have learned something.”
“
Thanks a lot
!” Gilda whispered into the back of Tiara’s neck.
As Ms. Peebles began to distribute homework assignments, Tiara tossed one last note over her shoulder:
I’m trying to do letter in school, so don’t distract me, obay!
Gilda scribbled one last note:
Excuse me, but you’re the one who started passing notes in the first place!
P.S. I’m glad you’re back. You should sit at my lunch table today. We could use some new blood over there. Between “the Triplets” on one side and the “Straight-A Club” on the other, it’s all I can do to stay awake while I eat my macaroni and cheese.
See you at auditions for my play!
Walking down the hallway after class, Gilda felt a bitter surge of adrenaline as she glimpsed Priscilla Barkley striding toward her. Priscilla chatted with another senior, but as the two drew closer, she eyed Gilda warily.
She wonders if I’m scared
, Gilda thought. Catching Priscilla’s eye, Gilda forced herself to smile cheerfully and wave as if she were in an exuberant mood. “Hey, Priscilla!”
Priscilla responded with a tight, prim smile, but her green eyes scrutinized Gilda with sober intensity.
She’s the one who’s watching me
, Gilda thought.
W
hy is it set in a nunnery in Transylvania?” Wendy frowned at the pages spread before her. She and Gilda sat on a leather couch in the Choys’ immaculate living room. Mrs. Choy hated clutter, and no stray toys, books, video games, or magazines filled the room as they did at the Joyce household. Aside from a stuffed Elmo doll propped in a chair, there was virtually no evidence that Wendy’s two-year-old brother, Terrence, lived in the house.
At the moment, Terrence was busy sticking mailing labels all over Gilda’s script.
“Cut it out,” said Wendy.
“It’s okay,” said Gilda. “I like stickers.”
“Dickers!” yelled Terrence with sudden glee. “Dickers!”
“Be quiet!” Wendy snapped.
“DICKERS!”
“Here.” Gilda handed Terrence a page of her math homework. “Put some stickers on that.”
Terrence took Gilda’s math homework and his mailing labels and sat down on the carpet to begin a new project.
“What’s the deal with all the face slapping in this script?”
said Wendy, turning her attention back to Gilda’s play. “And then a
ghost
gets beaten up and dragged across the floor?”
“It’s a metaphor. The girls think they can control the ghost, but then she springs back to life and kills
them
. It shows they’re overwhelmed by the situation.”
Wendy leaned back in her seat and clasped her knees to her chest. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to stage this little play for the school, and when those girls see it they’ll be so consumed with guilt, they’ll run down to the headmistress’s office to confess?”
“Either that, or they’ll freak out and reveal themselves by accident. I’m just putting the pressure on them.”
Wendy wrinkled her nose with skepticism.
“Sea urchins?”
“Excuse you?”
“You say the ghost is covered in ‘sea urchins.’ Do those even live in freshwater lakes?”
“It’s a play, Wendy, not a biology project. Anyway, we can sort out the details during rehearsals.”
“We?”
“You’re my assistant director.”
Wendy opened her day planner. “Take a look at this, Gilda.” The entire month was blackened with music lessons, assignment deadlines, and music competitions. “There’s no way I can do all this.”
“You love being busy.”
“I hate it.”
“What if I help you babysit Terrence? Maybe you could squeeze in a couple rehearsals.”
Both girls suddenly realized something: Terrence was nowhere in sight.
“Uh-oh,” said Wendy. “If he’s quiet, he’s doing something bad.”
“But you told him to be quiet.”
“Still, he’s up to no good.”
“Terrence?” Wendy jumped up from the couch, looking worried. “Terrence!”
Just as Wendy and Gilda were ready to search the house, Terrence reappeared with a proud, silly grin plastered across his face. He was covered from head to toe in sanitary napkins he discovered in a box in Mrs. Choy’s bathroom. “Dickers,” he said, pointing joyfully to the feminine protection stuck to his head.
“Omigod.” Wendy was appalled. “This is one of the most embarrassing things he’s ever done.”
Gilda literally rolled off the couch in a seizure of laughter.
Wendy angrily plucked maxi pads from her little brother, who took obvious delight in making Gilda crack up.
“Dickers,” he said once more, catching Gilda’s eye and pointing to his head. She broke into another fit of giggles.
“Gilda!”
Gilda gasped for air. “What?”
“Don’t encourage him! So when are you planning to stage this play?”
“Next week.” Gilda wiped tears from her eyes.
“
Next week
?”
“It’s doable.”
“No!” Terrence protested as Wendy plucked the last few “stickers” from his body. “Leave on!”
“I just need to find actors, costumes, sets, and then I’ll be all set. Hey, maybe Terrence can be my costume designer!”
“All I can say is, you’d better get busy.”
“Dickers,” said Terrence.
“And Gilda,” said Wendy, “you’d also better think about what’s going to happen
after
you do this play.”
AUDITION NOTICE—OPPORTUNITY FOR TALENTED ACTORS
THE DROWNED AND THE DAMNED
Don’t miss this opportunity to showcase your dramatic range in the most mind-searing play ever to be performed at Our Lady of Sorrows.
PREFERRED: Actors with dancing, singing, martial arts, and tumbling skills. Photographic memories strongly preferred.
REQUIRED: Strong stomach for violence and evil. Ability to face the squalid underside of human nature.
AUDITION TODAY AFTER SCHOOL IN MR. PANTÉ’S CLASSROOM.
After school, Amelia and Sheila strolled into Mr. Panté’s classroom singing an enthusiastic, tone-deaf version of a Broadway show song together.
Gilda handed scripts to Amelia and Sheila, and to her relief, both girls immediately stopped singing, sat down at desks, and
began to read their scripts as if they had just been asked to prepare for a test.
“Can I just say one thing?” Tiara appeared and planted herself in the classroom doorway, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s my first week back at school, and I have SO MUCH HOMEWORK, IT’S INSANE!”
“Me, too,” Sheila complained. “I shouldn’t even be auditioning for this play I should be writing a history paper that was due three weeks ago.”
“But I
have
to be in this play.” Tiara sauntered into the room and picked up a copy of the script. “I can tell from the title it’s just so
me
.”
Amelia wrinkled her nose and squinted at the text of Gilda’s play through round glasses. “I thought this was supposed to be a musical.”
I knew she’d find something to complain about
, Gilda thought.
“Your audition sign said ‘dancing and singing abilities preferred.’”
“That’s right.” Gilda prayed that other people would show up to audition so she wouldn’t be stuck casting Amelia in the play. “It also said ‘martial arts and tumbling skills,’ and as you can see, there’s a fight scene.”
“But it’s not a
musical
, so I don’t see why we need to be able to sing.”
“You’re a great singer, Mimi-doo,” said Shelia, “so you don’t have to worry.”
“Mimi-doo?”
“That’s Amelia’s nickname,” Sheila explained.
Gilda had always wondered why Amelia, who was one of the
most studious girls in the freshman class, had become best friends with Sheila, who was commonly known to be failing most of her classes. Now she understood the attraction: Amelia needed someone to flatter and encourage her—someone who didn’t take herself seriously enough to pose a competitive threat.
Tiara squinted at the script with fierce concentration as she read. Finally, she slammed her hand down on top of the script. “Awesome play,” she declared. “Can I be the ghost?”
“Maybe,” said Gilda. “But I’m sure more people will show up to audition.”
“But everyone else is already in the drama club, rehearsing
The Rat-Catcher
,” said Amelia. “And I’m
also
auditioning for the part of the ghost, by the way.”
“Mimi-doo and I used to be in the drama club,” Sheila explained, “but Mr. Panté would only give us bit parts in the chorus, so we quit.”
Gilda wondered how she was going to stage the play with only three people in her cast. She could do away with the chorus of vampires and owls, but she would still need at least one more cast member, not to mention help with the technical details like lighting and curtains.
Tiara stood up and began to read the ghost’s monologue in a raspy voice: “The time has come / to rise from my watery grave / To haunt the ladies / Who drowned me in the lake….”
Gilda had to admit there was something compelling about the way Tiara read the lines, moving with a serpentine grace as she spoke. It was as if, for a moment, she ceased to be an ordinary teenager with odd, two-toned hair.
