Read Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake for Free Online

suntanned skin glowed. Their hair, whether blond or brunette, glistened with subtle gold highlights. Instead of the regular uniform, they wore polo shirts with khaki pants and high-heeled sandals. Their accessories were small, whimsical purses, delicate necklaces from Tiffany’s, and lattes and frappuccinos from Starbucks. Gilda gradually realized that these girls were the seniors.
    On the other end of the spectrum were the hapless freshmen who stood watching silently in their pink skirts. The few who knew one another from junior high gravitated together for safety. The others glanced around, shooting nervous smiles to anyone who looked in their direction—smiles that were calculated to appear delighted but instead looked like glassy-eyed stares of panic. Gilda hoped that she herself didn’t look quiteso overwhelmed.
I’m just here as an investigator
, she told herself.
I’m undercover, so I don’t have to fit in
.
    She reminded herself of something she had recently read in a book called
The Spy Next Door
:
    The undercover agent must become more than a person in disguise; he must become a true part of his surroundings, living the whole life of the scene he’s investigating—all the while keeping a portion of his mind separate and entirely secret. Few people have the mental stamina to go this deeply undercover.
    Gilda resolved that she would be one of the few who
could
go deeply undercover—a secret psychic detective in a Catholic girls’ school.
    Without warning, someone clobbered Gilda. It took her a second to realize that she was actually being
hugged
by a short, stocky girl who had most likely mistaken her for someone else. Should she hug the girl back just to be polite? “I don’t think we’ve met,” said Gilda, fighting an urge to duck under the girl’s meaty arm to free herself.
    “You
are
Gilda, aren’t you?” said the girl, abruptly releasing Gilda and peering at her through glasses that were too large for her round face. “Please tell me you are! Miss Underhill pointed you out to me.” The girl wore her hair in a puffy, hairsprayed bob that made Gilda think of a middle-aged politician’s wife.
    “You’re right; I’m Gilda.”
    “Whew! My name’s Marcie Dinklemeyer. I’m a sophomore, and—lucky you—I’m your big sister!” Marcie smiled at Gildawith rosy anticipation, as if she expected Gilda to jump up and down with excitement. “My job is to help you find your way around. I’ll also point out the rules so you don’t get too many detentions and stuff like that.”
    “Thanks.” Gilda already missed the freedom of being a completely anonymous stranger.
    “Can I be honest?” Marcie looked at Gilda imploringly. “The truth is that most of the big sisters
ditch
their freshman little sisters after the first day of school. It happened to me, and it’s so
wrong
. But I’m not going to do that to you, Gilda. I
promise
I won’t!”
    “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me.” Gilda instinctively recoiled from Marcie’s motherly attitude. For one thing, she hated being regarded as someone who needed help. For another thing, she had a gut feeling that Marcie was the type of person who would get in the way of a psychic investigation.
    “It’s almost eight-thirty, so we should head to the chapel,” said Marcie. “We meet there each morning for prayer and announcements.”
    “Uniform check!”
    A few feet ahead, Miss Underhill grabbed a girl by the arm and pressed a ruler against her leg. “An inch too short!” she declared. “See you in detention.” She pulled a little pad of paper from her pocket, scribbled a detention note, and thrust it at the girl like a police officer giving a speeding ticket.
    “But it’s the first day of school,” the girl protested.
    “Exactly.”
    “Watch out for Miss Underhill,” Marcie whispered, glancing down at Gilda’s skirt. “She hides behind corners, and then jumpsout with her ruler to measure your skirt. She gives about twenty