Read Online Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake by Jennifer Allison - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Allison
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the day with FOOTBALL TICKETS!!!
Sure, it was NICE of him to take us to a University of Michigan football game, but he acted as if he was this outrageous hero. He seemed to think that all our problems would be solved if we would just sit down and watch some butt-slapping men wearing helmets.
ME : To be honest, Brad, I’ve never been that interested in football. I find it tobe a tedious, mind-numbing sport.
BRAD: Come on, Gilders. Lighten up a little!
MOM: Yes, Gilda. Try to enjoy life a little.
ME: YOU were never interested in football before.
STEPHEN: The problem is, Gilda just doesn’t understand football.
After that, Brad felt the need to educate me. He kept leaning over to shout things like, “NOW THEY’RE GOING INTO THE HUDDLE, GILDA!”
I made an effort to ask the dumbest questions I could think of (“Now that guy in the black and white–is he someone’s dad?” and stuff like that).
PEOPLE-WATCHING REPORT!:
I saw a girl from Our Lady of Sorrows at the game–one of the seniors. She stands out because she has wild curls and a really loud voice. I think her name is Nikki. She and her boyfriend kept standing up and screaming their heads off. I’m pretty sure they were gettingliquored up, too, which is kind of funny, since Nikki introduced the “Alcohol Awareness Club” on the first day of school.
AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT!:
I don’t mean to upset you, but when Mom and Brad were strolling together toward the stadium, I saw Brad stick his hand in the butt pocket of Mom’s jeans. You could tell they thought they looked like a fabulous couple, but the truth was, they looked like old people acting like seventh graders. I did my best to pretend I had never met them before in my life.
OTHER DISTURBING ISSUES:
I’m feeling paranoid about the idea that Dolores’s ghost could be “coming after me” because I yelled out her name on the bridge. So far, so good–but it’s starting to rain outside, and this is kind of spooky. I can imagine Dolores Lambert standing outside my window in the rain right now, just waiting for me.
Sitting behind the wheel of her new SUV, Nikki Grimaldi drove Highway 696 at an alarming speed and with a little too much confidence, given the steady sprinkling of rain that was now becominga heavy downpour. Her boyfriend, Dinkel, slept next to her in the passenger seat, wearing a sweatshirt that declared, M ICHIGAN K ICKS ASS . Every now and then, he let out a little snore.
As Nikki exited the highway, the Eminem song blaring on the radio became overwhelmed by static. Fiddling with the radio, she didn’t notice that the cars in front of her had stopped until it was almost too late.
Nikki slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision. She braced herself for a deluge of criticism from Dinkel, who woke up grumpy at the best of times, but to her relief, he only snorted in his sleep.
Creeping behind the line of backed-up cars, Nikki glimpsed a homeless person standing on the shoulder of the road, holding a cardboard sign.
Weird
, Nikki thought.
It’s a girl
.
Something else was strange. The girl stood motionless in the rain. She made no effort to approach car windows; instead, she appeared to focus very intently on Nikki’s car alone.
Why is she looking at me
? Nikki wondered.
I must be imagining it
.
But as Nikki drew closer to the stoplight, she could still feel the girl looking at her. She smelled something that reminded her of pine needles and the scent of a wet dog. She had the irrational sense that the girl was actually
inside
the car in some way.
Now the girl was right outside Nikki’s car window, and Nikki didn’t want to look; she didn’t want to see the girl’s sign, but something forced her to read the words:
Now she saw the girl’s face: the puffy cheeks, the blue eyes—so horribly familiar. The worst thing was that she was not sullen or angry; she was pleading and close to tears. She silently mouthed the words
Nikki … please
.
Nikki slammed her foot
Sure, it was NICE of him to take us to a University of Michigan football game, but he acted as if he was this outrageous hero. He seemed to think that all our problems would be solved if we would just sit down and watch some butt-slapping men wearing helmets.
ME : To be honest, Brad, I’ve never been that interested in football. I find it tobe a tedious, mind-numbing sport.
BRAD: Come on, Gilders. Lighten up a little!
MOM: Yes, Gilda. Try to enjoy life a little.
ME: YOU were never interested in football before.
STEPHEN: The problem is, Gilda just doesn’t understand football.
After that, Brad felt the need to educate me. He kept leaning over to shout things like, “NOW THEY’RE GOING INTO THE HUDDLE, GILDA!”
I made an effort to ask the dumbest questions I could think of (“Now that guy in the black and white–is he someone’s dad?” and stuff like that).
PEOPLE-WATCHING REPORT!:
I saw a girl from Our Lady of Sorrows at the game–one of the seniors. She stands out because she has wild curls and a really loud voice. I think her name is Nikki. She and her boyfriend kept standing up and screaming their heads off. I’m pretty sure they were gettingliquored up, too, which is kind of funny, since Nikki introduced the “Alcohol Awareness Club” on the first day of school.
AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT!:
I don’t mean to upset you, but when Mom and Brad were strolling together toward the stadium, I saw Brad stick his hand in the butt pocket of Mom’s jeans. You could tell they thought they looked like a fabulous couple, but the truth was, they looked like old people acting like seventh graders. I did my best to pretend I had never met them before in my life.
OTHER DISTURBING ISSUES:
I’m feeling paranoid about the idea that Dolores’s ghost could be “coming after me” because I yelled out her name on the bridge. So far, so good–but it’s starting to rain outside, and this is kind of spooky. I can imagine Dolores Lambert standing outside my window in the rain right now, just waiting for me.
Sitting behind the wheel of her new SUV, Nikki Grimaldi drove Highway 696 at an alarming speed and with a little too much confidence, given the steady sprinkling of rain that was now becominga heavy downpour. Her boyfriend, Dinkel, slept next to her in the passenger seat, wearing a sweatshirt that declared, M ICHIGAN K ICKS ASS . Every now and then, he let out a little snore.
As Nikki exited the highway, the Eminem song blaring on the radio became overwhelmed by static. Fiddling with the radio, she didn’t notice that the cars in front of her had stopped until it was almost too late.
Nikki slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision. She braced herself for a deluge of criticism from Dinkel, who woke up grumpy at the best of times, but to her relief, he only snorted in his sleep.
Creeping behind the line of backed-up cars, Nikki glimpsed a homeless person standing on the shoulder of the road, holding a cardboard sign.
Weird
, Nikki thought.
It’s a girl
.
Something else was strange. The girl stood motionless in the rain. She made no effort to approach car windows; instead, she appeared to focus very intently on Nikki’s car alone.
Why is she looking at me
? Nikki wondered.
I must be imagining it
.
But as Nikki drew closer to the stoplight, she could still feel the girl looking at her. She smelled something that reminded her of pine needles and the scent of a wet dog. She had the irrational sense that the girl was actually
inside
the car in some way.
Now the girl was right outside Nikki’s car window, and Nikki didn’t want to look; she didn’t want to see the girl’s sign, but something forced her to read the words:
Now she saw the girl’s face: the puffy cheeks, the blue eyes—so horribly familiar. The worst thing was that she was not sullen or angry; she was pleading and close to tears. She silently mouthed the words
Nikki … please
.
Nikki slammed her foot
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