Gilda Joyce: The Bones of the Holy by JENNIFER ALLISON

house.
    Stepping out of the car, Gilda felt a distinct tickle in her left ear. It’s the house I pictured in my mind when I tried on Mom’s ring! Gilda felt simultaneously proud of her psychic abilities and frightened by the implications of her premonition, remembering the cold, ominous feeling that had accompanied it.
    â€œEugene! Hello there!” A woman, who wore her white hair pulled back in a bun, and a girl, who appeared to be about twelve years old, approached on the sidewalk as Gilda, Mrs. Joyce, and Eugene climbed out of the car. The woman wore a long sundress with a shawl. Her willowy, feminine silhouette contrasted with the girl’s rumpled Bermuda shorts, deep tan, and tousled black hair. The girl had earbuds in her ears; she was listening to music on an iPod. “We haven’t seen you in quite a while,” said the woman, while eyeing Gilda’s plumed hat with interest.
    â€œWell, I’ve been right here,” said Eugene. “Mary Louise, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Patricia.”
    Mary Louise’s eyebrows flew up with surprise. “My goodness, Eugene,” she exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were engaged! How surprise–I mean, how wonderful !” Mary Louise now turned her full, inquisitive attention to Mrs. Joyce and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Patricia.”
    â€œOh, and this is Patty’s daughter, Gilda,” Eugene added.
    â€œNice to meet you, too, Gilda,” said Mary Louise. “We’re Eugene’s next-door neighbors. This is my daughter, Darla; she’s in the seventh grade.”
    Darla looked impatient. “Mom, I’m going to be late for rehearsal.”
    â€œDarla, please say hello to Mr. Pook, and to his fiancée and Gilda.”
    â€œHello,” said Darla. She shot Gilda a quick smile.
    â€œHey,” said Gilda.
    â€œNice to meet you, Darla,” said Mrs. Joyce.
    Something strange happened as Darla looked directly into Mrs. Joyce’s eyes and shook her hand. Her brown eyes registered a spasm of confusion, as if she were about to exclaim in fright or surprise, but then stopped herself. She quickly looked away.
    That was weird, Gilda thought. You’d think Darla had just seen a ghost.
    Eugene seemed oblivious to the strange interaction between Darla and Mrs. Joyce. “How are those kids treating you over at the school these days, Mary Louise?”
    â€œIt’s a mix, you know,” said Mary Louise, who was an elementary school teacher. “We have some families going through difficult times.”
    Gilda noticed that Darla again searched Mrs. Joyce’s face as if trying to gauge whether it matched some phantom in her memory.
    â€œWe’re also doing a unit on the Civil Rights era, and it’s awkward to bring up that pain,” Mary Louise continued. “Some of the kids have parents who are still afraid of the Klan when they walk around at night; others actually have a family member who was in the Klan back in the days of segregation. Some of them have grandparents who wanted Martin Luther King arrested when he visited our city. In my opinion, they shouldn’t be made to feel bad; I mean, it isn’t the child’ s fault their family didn’t know any different back then.”
    â€œYou teachers are always stirrin’ up trouble,” said Eugene.
    It was a joke, but Gilda sensed that he was at least half serious.
    â€œMom, I’m going to be late,” said Darla.
    â€œIf you’ll excuse us, Darla has a dance rehearsal to attend. She goes to a performing arts school.”
    â€œDoesn’t that sound nice, Gilda?” said Mrs. Joyce.
    Gilda thought it did indeed sound nice, but her mother’s transparent attempt to generate excitement about moving to Florida annoyed her.
    As Darla and her mother said good-bye and turned to head down the sidewalk, Darla glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. Joyce once more, her