Sighing, she turned back to her own table. The leader of the goths, a girl in junior year called Amelia Thompson, was in the middle of a lecture that made the younger students at the table lean forwards to catch every single word. Ivy had realised that Amelia was Queen Bee of this group as soon as everyone had crowded around her in the cafeteria line, asking her opinion on what was the right lunch to eat on a Monday.
I never knew that goths could have Queen Bees, Ivy thought glumly, as she looked around the pale, rapt faces. Just one more thing I was wrong about!
Amelia was an absolute blueprint for everything a goth should be, from the silver rings in the braided strands of her hair to the heavy black boots, the pale skin and the little kilt she was wearing. It was all Classic Goth – and she clearly knew it. Ivy listened in disbelief as Amelia lectured those around her:
‘Goths never, ever tan, so don’t get careless just because it’s turning into fall. Just because there are clouds doesn’t mean that you’re safe. Don’t ever go out without sunblock!’ Smiling, she pulled out a tube from her black shoulder bag. ‘Personally, I like SPF50, for maximum protection. I even put it on when it’s raining!’
Speechless, Ivy could only stare. Is she for real?
‘Now, as for clothing . . .’ Amelia leaned forwards, her expression turning intent. ‘You should all have at least three shades of black in your wardrobe – matt black, faded black and grey-black.’
The girl across from Ivy pulled out a notepad and started scribbling notes, looking panicked. All around the table, Ivy could see goths studying their own clothes with worried expressions. They’re probably trying to figure out if they’re wearing matt black or faded black! Ivy rolled her eyes, fighting back a snicker.
But Amelia’s next words made her blood run cold.
‘Most of all, I cannot overstate just how important it is to avoid associating with non-goths.’ Amelia looked grimly around the table, holding each person’s gaze in turn. She tried to catch Ivy’s eye, but Ivy had developed a sudden and urgent interest in her food tray. ‘Maybe you’ll be tempted. Maybe some will seem OK. But a true goth will never fall for that trap!’
What?! Ivy’s mouth fell open. This was going way too far.
Ivy had always loved being a true goth herself, but she would never dictate to anyone else how they should dress or behave. Being a Goth was all about creativity and imagination, not falling into line! And no friendships with non-goths? By those rules, Ivy shouldn’t have anything to do with her own sister, one of the kindest human beings she knew!
No way am I following that rule, she thought grimly. If Amelia thinks she can tell me what to do, she can –
Brendan nudged her elbow, and Ivy shook herself, making sure a death-squint did not come over her face. She met his eye and could read the expression on his face straight away: Don’t let them see what you’re thinking.
This was Ivy’s first day at a new school. She didn’t want to make enemies – not yet. It wouldn’t be fair to Brendan or Sophia to draw the fire of the most popular girl in school.
And it’s sure not happening so far. Ivy’s mouth twisted. Amelia had announced at the beginning of lunch that Ivy would be sitting on her left. At the time, Ivy had shrugged and agreed, not realising exactly what an ‘honour’ it was supposed to be. Now, she could feel admiring glances aimed her way from all around the cafeteria. They made her hunch her shoulders with irritation.
These people really are crazy. I’m not supposed to be popular!
Beside her, Amelia had launched into her opinions of the Pall Bearers’ latest album, Ivy’s favourite. At least we can agree on one thing, Ivy thought. We both know that the Pall Bearers totally suck, in the best way possible!
As if she’d heard Ivy’s thought, Amelia shot her a sudden look. ‘That’s it!’ she said. ‘That’s why you seemed so familiar. You’re that girl who got up on stage and sang at their summer show in Franklin Grove!’
‘What?’ Ivy frowned. ‘I didn’t –’
‘You didn’t realise anyone would remember?’ said Brendan, grabbing her left hand under the table and squeezing.
Sophia reached over to grab her other hand. ‘How could anyone forget something so memorable?’ she asked firmly.
Ivy stared at them both. ‘But –’
‘Yup, that was Ivy,’ Brendan told Amelia. ‘She was picked right out of the crowd.’
Ohhh! Now Ivy remembered. Olivia had gone to the concert disguised as Ivy to use Ivy’s set of free tickets, as a favour to Brendan and Sophia while Ivy was at school in Transylvania. Unfortunately for Olivia, she’d been chosen at random to sing in front of the audience. She’d been photographed in her Ivy-guise, desperately trying to look comfortable while singing the words ‘I hate you’ in front of thousands of goths!
Poor Olivia. Ivy bit back a laugh at the thought of her prim, pink-loving sister in that situation. The fact that they were identical twins could be useful . . . but their twin-switches did sometimes get them both into trouble!
‘That’s right,’ Ivy said, gathering herself. ‘That was me. I sang with the Pall Bearers.’
Amelia stared at her, her expression suddenly open and vulnerable. ‘Was it amazing?’
‘It was . . . awesome,’ Ivy muttered, and picked up her burger to hide her expression.
At least that wasn’t much of a lie. It really would have been awesome, if only she hadn’t been trapped at Wallachia Academy!
She had never been so glad to hear the bell signalling the end of lunch. The moment it sounded, she leapt to her feet, carrying her tray – and collided hard with a blonde bunny in a baby pink mini-dress. Ivy’s tray tilted and spilled edible carnage all over her deep grey dress.
‘Oh no!’ The bunny girl gasped, jumping backwards. She clapped one hand to her mouth and stared at Ivy with stricken eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Ivy shrugged. ‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
The bunny girl gave a squeak of panic and took another step backwards. ‘No, no, no. I didn’t say that! I never said that!’ She swallowed hard, pulling out her wallet and handing it to Ivy with trembling fingers. ‘I’ll reimburse you for any damage to your clothes, I promise. Please –’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Ivy gently pushed the wallet away. ‘It was my fault, remember?’
‘No, it wasn’t your fault. Please!’ There were beads of sweat popping up on the bunny girl’s forehead now, as she darted a look at the table of watching goths. ‘Let me buy you lunch tomorrow.’
Ivy winced. ‘You really don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, I do. I really do.’ She forced a five-dollar bill into Ivy’s hands. ‘Please, just take it!’ With a wail of panic, she turned and fled for the door.
Ivy stared at the crumpled bill in her fingers and shook her head helplessly. She couldn’t wait to get out of the crowded cafeteria. The moment she’d finished clearing up the mess, she hurried out with Sophia and Brendan on either side. Once they were safely out of hearing range of the others, she hissed, ‘This is ridiculous! I thought being the new girl would be difficult, but I had no idea being a bunny would be even harder! What is wrong with this school?’
Sophia just shook her head, looking shell-shocked.
Brendan sighed. ‘It’s different, that’s for sure.’
Ivy gritted her teeth. ‘The ceilings might as well be the floors. It’s that upside down. I don’t like –’
‘Hey, wait up!’ It was Amelia, calling out behind them as she stepped out of the cafeteria, surrounded by a group of black-clad girls.
Ivy sighed as she watched the group move. Amelia strode forward confidently, but every girl around her did a funny kind of crab-walk, keeping one eye on Amelia with every step, and trying to copy her every move. Maybe they were trying to do it without looking super-obvious . . . but as it was, it was still very noticeable.
With both eyes on Amelia, the girl beside
her walked straight into a locker. Crash!
Ivy cringed, but Amelia didn’t even look around at the noise. She aimed straight at Ivy, forcing Sophia to step aside. ‘Well done!’ She tucked her hand into Ivy’s arm, lowering her voice confidentially. ‘I saw how you handled that tricky situation in the cafeteria. Bunnies have a tendency to turn up at the most unwelcome moments, don’t they?’
‘Uh . . .’ Speechless, Ivy tried to edge away, but there was no room.
‘You were very gracious about it,’ Amelia said. ‘I’m impressed. You chose not to give that silly girl a hard time, even though she deserved it.’
‘What?’ Ivy spluttered. ‘It was an accident! It could have happened to anyone.’
Amelia smiled thinly. ‘Trust me, you don’t have to cover for her.’
‘I’m not “covering” for anyone.’ Ivy gritted her teeth. ‘Why would it matter? It’s not important.’
‘You see how good she is?’ Amelia glanced back at her admirers. ‘She’s so cool, she doesn’t even have to bother giving bunnies a putdown!’ She gave Ivy a wink as she squeezed her arm, then released it. ‘Don’t worry. You and I both know what the truth is.’
‘Uh . . . uhhhhrgh . . .’ Ivy opened and closed her mouth like a fish as Amelia sauntered off down the hallway, followed by her group of admirers, who kept one eye on her and the other on the lockers.
Ivy swung round to her friends. ‘Did that just happen?’ she demanded.
Sophia shook her head, her eyes glazed with shock. ‘This school . . .’
Brendan said nothing.
Together, they turned to walk towards history class . . . and bunnies scattered all around them, crashing into each other in their desperation to make space for the three goths.
Ivy felt sick as she finally realised the truth. It’s bad enough that the goths are the popular crowd at Franklin Grove High . . . but are they the bullies as well?
Whew. We finally made it here! Olivia let out a sigh of relief as she stepped on to a crowded London street with Jackson by her side. It had taken serious convincing to talk her parents into letting her wander the streets of London in disguise with Jackson, and she wasn’t sure which they were more worried about: her physical safety in the big foreign city, or her emotions from spending so much time with her famous ex-boyfriend!
They had finally made it out of the hotel, though, with Olivia’s long brown hair pinned up beneath a floppy hat, her blue eyes hidden behind heart-shaped sunglasses. She had her cell phone tucked safely in the pocket of a freshly-bought pair of baggy, shapeless jeans from a store just down the road.
Her parents had finally relented when she’d convinced them that the trip was ‘essential’ research for the movie – but even then, they’d only agreed on the condition that she call them every fifteen minutes and be back at eight-thirty p.m. She’d never had such an early curfew back home!
They were a world away from Franklin Grove, though, as they walked into the vibrant, colourful Borough Market. Stalls rose up on every side, selling everything from fruits and vegetables to French patés, goggle-eyed fish and Indian curries. The voices of the traders echoed all around the market, calling out to passers-by.
They might as well have been speaking a foreign language, for all that Olivia could understand!
‘Watch out, mate, ya nearly knocked me off me plates!’
‘I’m not trying to rob ya of your bees . . .’
‘Get on the dog to yer trouble. She’ll sort ya right out!’
‘Yer bees are safe with me!’
Olivia’s head whirled. She whispered to Jackson: ‘Do people in London actually own so many bees that they have to worry about people stealing them? And, do they actually have bees on them – like, in their coat pockets, or something? Won’t they get stung?’
Jackson grinned underneath the shade of his baseball cap. ‘Think about it. “Bees and honey” . . . rhymes with . . .?’
‘Money!’ Olivia gasped. ‘That makes so much more sense.’
‘Yup. Just like dog means phone,’ Jackson explained. ‘Because “phone” rhymes with “dog and bone”. It’s called Cockney rhyming slang.’
Olivia looked around the market with fresh eyes. ‘I don’t know how anyone can have a normal conversation in this city!’
‘Now you know why I’ve been having trouble.’ Jackson smiled. ‘I was hoping to learn an accent, not a whole second language!’
Olivia couldn’t help but laugh – until she felt his hand take hers. For a moment she stopped breathing, even as her fingers instinctively returned the pressure that came from his. The feeling of their hands together was so familiar and right, it was almost painful.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. He’s just trying to make it easier to guide me through this crowd. With so many people shoving for position, holding hands was the only way Jackson could make sure they didn’t lose each other in the crush.
It still feels romantic, though, she admitted to herself.
‘Oh no,’ Jackson groaned. ‘They’re here!’
Olivia looked around, but she didn’t recognise anyone in the sea of faces. ‘Who? Where?’
‘Hurry!’ Jackson pulled her with him through the crowd and down a narrow side street.
As the sounds of the noisy market receded, Olivia heard a dull, two-tone alarm sound going off nearby. Without stopping, Jackson dug his phone out of his pocket. It was flashing red.
‘We’ve been spotted,’ Jackson said. His face was grim. ‘It’s one of those JacksonWatch websites.’
‘Oh no.’ Olivia grimaced. Those sites weren’t just innocent fanpages – they tracked Jackson’s every move. ‘I thought you had Amy feeding them false information,’ she said.
Jackson’s manager, Amy Teller, was fiercely protective of her client, and usually ran interference so that he was only looking over his shoulder twenty-two hours a day.
‘Sometimes, they still get it right.’ Jackson shrugged. ‘Amy had my phone company hook up my cell, though, so I get alerted any time one of the sites has good info. I guess today they do.’
Instinctively, Olivia tightened her grip on his hand. ‘What now? Should we turn back and try to disappear into the crowd at the market?’
Jackson looked back and sighed. ‘Too late.’
When Olivia followed his gaze, she saw a cluster of teenage girls gathered at the top of the side street. All of them had their smartphones out, and they were whispering to each other as they looked around with narrow-eyed, predatory gazes.
They’re like vultures, Olivia thought, hunting for fresh meat! She knew that she should have been feeling tension and dread, but she wasn’t. She had to bite back a nervous giggle when she realised – here she was, in a romantic foreign city, in her very own caper. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her . . .
. . . And considering that my family is vampire royalty, she thought, that is saying something!
One of the girls let out a yelp as a tanned man wearing sunglasses walked past them. ‘Isn’t that the singer who’s going out with that soap star?’
Jackson squeezed Olivia’s hand. When she looked at him, she could see a rueful smile on his face – it may have been a weird, scary situation, but he looked like he was seeing the funny side. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘while they’re distracted.’
Olivia ran with him down the side street, struggling to keep up. He pulled her around a corner . . . and then stopped dead.
They’d come to an embankment overlooking the Thames. The river stretched before them, the sun was setting over London, and it would have looked dreamily romantic . . . if only it hadn’t been for the swell of a scream rising behind them.
They’d been spotted.
Olivia glanced back and echoed Jackson’s groan. A new group of teenage girls was thundering towards them.
‘Jackson!’
‘It’s really him!’
‘Wait for meeeee!’
Still looking over her shoulder, Olivia
nearly fell when Jackson yanked her forwards, dragging her to one side and then through a narrow doorway.
‘I’ve got an idea! Keep a lookout,’ he hissed. ‘Tell me if any of them see us here.’
Olivia crossed her arms like a bouncer and kept watch through the doorway. Behind her, she could hear Jackson in a whispered conversation with someone. ‘. . . if you can just help us . . .’ she heard, along with, ‘it’s her favourite play . . .’ The girls were at the far end of the street, peering down into the passing boats as if they thought Jackson might have jumped into one of them.
Olivia felt Jackson’s hand close firmly on to her arm as she was pulled backwards through another doorway, into an open-aired space crammed full of people. Men and women stood pressed together all around, but no one moved. No one spoke. All their eyes were fixed on something behind Olivia’s back.
Then a voice spoke, uttering words Olivia knew very well:
‘Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
‘Having some business, do entreat her eyes . . .’
Slowly, Olivia turned to face the stage.
There was a patch of purple-blue above their heads – a circular gap in the roof of the theatre invited the evening sky in. Tiers of seats rose in a semicircle around a stage, where actors in Elizabethan dress performed a scene she knew only too well: the famous ‘balcony scene’, where Romeo first courts Juliet.
Olivia knew exactly where they were, now. It had to be the famous, open-air Globe Theatre, where Shakespeare himself had performed. The conversation she’d half-overheard must have been Jackson talking to a doorman, bartering for late entrance to the show – a play that they had acted in together at school . . .
. . . where they had shared their first kiss.
I can’t be here, Olivia thought, as Romeo and Juliet fell in love on stage. I can’t pretend we’re just friends while we watch this!
But there was no way out. The standing-room audience was pressed tightly around her. And even if she got out, Jackson’s fans were stalking the streets outside the theatre.
13 Double Disaster - My Sister the Vampire Page 5
