Read Online Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake by Jennifer Allison - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Allison
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you’d have an unusually high tolerance for sunshine and crucifixes if you’re a vampire attending a Catholic girls’ school.”
Tiara’s mouth twitched as she suppressed an urge to giggle. “Well—don’t you wonder why my room is so
dark
!”
Gilda shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Some people like it dark.” Secretly, she was very curious indeed.
Tiara sat down on her bed and gulped down the last bit of her soda. “My mom told me I could decorate my room any color I wanted, so I picked black because I thought it would be cool. I’ll never admit this to her, but sometimes it’s kind of depressing in here.”
“You should put some glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling,” Gilda suggested. “And maybe add a disco ball.”
“That sounds cheesy.”
Gilda breezed past Tiara toward an oblong, full-length mirror that perched on a pedestal. “Is this the mirror where you first saw the ghost?”
Tiara nodded.
In the dim light, the two girls peered into the mirror, gazing at the yellowed, shadowy features of their faces and the spiky silhouette of Tiara’s hair. Gilda couldn’t help but think that in the tomblike atmosphere of Tiara’s room, it seemed entirely plausible that if she stared into the mirror, she might see someone else’s face instead of her own reflection.
“Have you ever considered bleaching your hair?” Tiara whispered, instantly breaking the somber mood.
“Excuse me?” Gilda noted that Tiara’s habit of constantly switching from one topic or activity to another was not at all helpful for a psychic investigation.
“I just think it would look cool if we bleached a couple streaks in your hair.”
“I prefer wigs,” said Gilda, thinking that her mother would ground her for several weeks if she came home with bleached hair. “That way, I’m not stuck with a single look.”
“Nobody wears wigs.”
“By senior year, we’ll all be wearing wigs. They’re due for a comeback.” Gilda couldn’t understand why people who could afford high- quality wigs didn’t seize the opportunity to wear them more often. She herself owned several costume wigs that she sometimes used for disguises.
Tiara covered her short hair with her hands and scrutinized her face in the mirror. “How do you think I’d look with long, platinum-blond hair?”
“Fantastic, of course. Who
wouldn’t
look amazing with long platinum hair?”
Tiara grinned. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could go to school with different hair every day of the week?”
“There would be no such thing as a bad hair day.”
“Gilda,” said Tiara, impulsively grabbing Gilda by the shoulders, “we have to start this wig trend right away!”
“Okay. But what about the school uniform?”
Tiara swatted the air dismissively. “McCracken’s big secret is that she needs every bit of our money to keep her in pink fingernail polish. So as long as your parents are paying your sky-high tuition, believe me, there’s no way she’ll kick you out of school for wearing a wig. You might get a detention, but that’s about it.”
“Well, I’m on scholarship, so I guess I’m not adding much to Mrs. McCracken’s fingernail polish budget.”
“Oh.”
Gilda noticed that something in Tiara’s face changed. It was a momentary flinch, a tiny raising of the eyebrows, as if she now regarded Gilda in a different light and placed her in a new mental category—a category labeled “Girls on Scholarship.”
Gilda felt irritated to sense evidence of a secret snobbery lurking beneath Tiara’s rebellious exterior. She also realized Tiara was steering her psychic investigation off track. “Listen, Tiara, I have to be home soon, so do you want to try a seance or not?”
“How do we do it?”
Gilda thought for a moment. “It helps to have an object that has some personal connection with the spirit, and I usually use a Ouija board, too. We can try using this mirror, since this is where you saw the image of the ghost’s face.”
Gilda
Tiara’s mouth twitched as she suppressed an urge to giggle. “Well—don’t you wonder why my room is so
dark
!”
Gilda shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Some people like it dark.” Secretly, she was very curious indeed.
Tiara sat down on her bed and gulped down the last bit of her soda. “My mom told me I could decorate my room any color I wanted, so I picked black because I thought it would be cool. I’ll never admit this to her, but sometimes it’s kind of depressing in here.”
“You should put some glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling,” Gilda suggested. “And maybe add a disco ball.”
“That sounds cheesy.”
Gilda breezed past Tiara toward an oblong, full-length mirror that perched on a pedestal. “Is this the mirror where you first saw the ghost?”
Tiara nodded.
In the dim light, the two girls peered into the mirror, gazing at the yellowed, shadowy features of their faces and the spiky silhouette of Tiara’s hair. Gilda couldn’t help but think that in the tomblike atmosphere of Tiara’s room, it seemed entirely plausible that if she stared into the mirror, she might see someone else’s face instead of her own reflection.
“Have you ever considered bleaching your hair?” Tiara whispered, instantly breaking the somber mood.
“Excuse me?” Gilda noted that Tiara’s habit of constantly switching from one topic or activity to another was not at all helpful for a psychic investigation.
“I just think it would look cool if we bleached a couple streaks in your hair.”
“I prefer wigs,” said Gilda, thinking that her mother would ground her for several weeks if she came home with bleached hair. “That way, I’m not stuck with a single look.”
“Nobody wears wigs.”
“By senior year, we’ll all be wearing wigs. They’re due for a comeback.” Gilda couldn’t understand why people who could afford high- quality wigs didn’t seize the opportunity to wear them more often. She herself owned several costume wigs that she sometimes used for disguises.
Tiara covered her short hair with her hands and scrutinized her face in the mirror. “How do you think I’d look with long, platinum-blond hair?”
“Fantastic, of course. Who
wouldn’t
look amazing with long platinum hair?”
Tiara grinned. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could go to school with different hair every day of the week?”
“There would be no such thing as a bad hair day.”
“Gilda,” said Tiara, impulsively grabbing Gilda by the shoulders, “we have to start this wig trend right away!”
“Okay. But what about the school uniform?”
Tiara swatted the air dismissively. “McCracken’s big secret is that she needs every bit of our money to keep her in pink fingernail polish. So as long as your parents are paying your sky-high tuition, believe me, there’s no way she’ll kick you out of school for wearing a wig. You might get a detention, but that’s about it.”
“Well, I’m on scholarship, so I guess I’m not adding much to Mrs. McCracken’s fingernail polish budget.”
“Oh.”
Gilda noticed that something in Tiara’s face changed. It was a momentary flinch, a tiny raising of the eyebrows, as if she now regarded Gilda in a different light and placed her in a new mental category—a category labeled “Girls on Scholarship.”
Gilda felt irritated to sense evidence of a secret snobbery lurking beneath Tiara’s rebellious exterior. She also realized Tiara was steering her psychic investigation off track. “Listen, Tiara, I have to be home soon, so do you want to try a seance or not?”
“How do we do it?”
Gilda thought for a moment. “It helps to have an object that has some personal connection with the spirit, and I usually use a Ouija board, too. We can try using this mirror, since this is where you saw the image of the ghost’s face.”
Gilda
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