Ink and Ivy

by Sara Martin

  “That’s wonderful, honey,” Dad said, his mouth half-full of roast potato. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Well done. Your hard work this year is paying off,” Mum said.

  “But that’s not all,” I continued. “Mr. Donaldson liked my story so much he’s going to feature it in his newsletter. All the local writers will see it.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Mum said, clearly ignorant to the gravity of the situation.

  “He’s had a book published, you know. He’s a respected author.” Actually, I had no idea whether he was respected or not, but it seemed like he would be.

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “What’s his book called? Do I know it?”

  “Uh…I’m not sure. But I’ll find out.”

  “Donaldson?” Mum furrowed her brow. “Can’t say I recall him. Anyway, that’s very good of him to be so supportive of his student’s work.”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” Dad said.

  “If his name is respected, maybe you could ask him to be a reference when you apply to university?” Mum suggested.

  “Well, I don’t see why not…” It hadn’t been the first thought to occur to me, but it was a good idea, nonetheless. He would definitely give me a good reference.

  After dinner, I received a text message from Lana. I think I know where we could find Mr. Donaldson’s book.

  I fired off a response. Really? Where?

  My phone buzzed with Lana’s reply. Lucky Books

  She had me there. I supposed it could be worth a try.

  6

  On Saturday, I drove into town to visit Lucky Books. As much as Lana had wished to accompany me, she was tied up with work once again. It was just as well. If Julian happened to be there, I wouldn’t be able to count on her for any semblance of subtlety.

  The store was nestled in a covered arcade, along with clothing boutiques, a toy store and a chocolate shop. I reminded myself Julian probably wouldn’t even be there. I had no idea what times he worked.

  I took a deep breath before pulling open the door to Lucky Books. It was a beautiful, yet crammed shop with floor to ceiling shelves on every wall. A spiral staircase led up to a second floor, where there were yet more books to browse and a small reading area. I scanned the room for signs of Julian. I didn’t see him.

  Somehow, I felt both relieved and a little disappointed. Okay, more than a little disappointed. I had to remind myself of the reason I was there—Mr. Donaldson’s book. It would’ve helped if I knew the title. The sheer volume of books overwhelmed me. I wasn’t sure where to begin my search and stood there cluelessly.

  “Need some help?”

  I knew that voice. It made the hairs on the back of my neck prick. I turned around. There he was, looking at me with intense green eyes. My heart pounded in my chest.

  “Julian,” I spluttered.

  He smiled, dimples in his cheeks, and I practically melted.

  “I was wondering when I’d see you here again,” he said.

  “Well, here I am.”

  “Looking for anything in particular?”

  “Yeah, I am actually. Do you have a book by Alfred Donaldson?”

  “Do you mean the local author?”

  “That’s right. He’s my English teacher.”

  “Oh, yeah. You go to Bridgeway High, don’t you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I don’t think we have that book, but I’ll check our database, though, just in case.” Julian went to the counter and typed away on a clunky old desktop computer.

  While I stood and waited, I noticed a bunch of flyers on the counter. They were also taped up and displayed around the store. The flyer had a photograph of an art gallery, overlaid with text.

  Neighbourhood Story

  Five local artists’ work on display at Nicholas Gallery

  June-July

  “Sorry, Ivy. No luck,” Julian said, pulling my attention back.

  “Oh. That sucks. I really hoped I’d find it here.”

  “Hmmm…” Julian bit his lip. “I wonder if Priscilla has this book? She’s Alfred’s friend. If she has it, I’m sure she’d let you borrow it.”

  “Really? That would be great.”

  Julian produced a pen and a piece of paper, which he passed across the counter. “Here. Write down your number. I’ll contact you if Priscilla has the book.”

  I wrote down my number and handed the paper back to him. “Thanks, Julian.”

  “It’s no problem.” He put the slip in his pocket.

  “I’m going to have a look around for a bit.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be right here.”

  “Thanks.”

  My eyes scanned the shelves as I slowly circulated the shop. Every time I visited a bookstore, I could never leave empty handed. A bad habit that I had no intention of breaking. Fortunately, the books here were so cheap. After a thorough browse, I chose a battered copy of A Room of One’s Own. I took it to the counter, wondering if Julian would make any judgements on me due to my reading taste.

  “This one please.” I placed the book on the counter.

  “That’ll be six dollars.”

  I handed over a five-dollar note and two fifty-cent coins.

  While Julian served me, my attention wandered to the art exhibition flyer again.

  “A few of my pieces will be on display for that exhibition. If you have time, you should come along.”

  “Oh, cool. Maybe I will.” I took a flyer and stored it in my bag.

  “Julian!” A shrill voice erupted from behind me.

  A tall girl waltzed in. She had strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Black liner rimmed her eyes with a cat-eye flick.

  Julian turned his attention to her. “Charlotte. What’s the matter?” There was a hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “It’s two o’clock.”

  “So?”

  “So, you said you’d take me out when you finished your shift!”

  “I can’t leave straight away. I need to finish up here.”

  Charlotte groaned. “All right. But hurry up.”

  “Sorry,” Julian returned his attention to me. He handed me my book in a brown paper bag. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in touch about the book.”

  The girl, Charlotte, eyed me as I left.

  I wondered if she were Julian’s girlfriend. My good mood turned down a notch. At least one good thing had emerged from this. Julian had my number.

  I stopped off at the chocolate shop before going home. I bought a few pieces of my favourite fudge. After that small indulgence, I felt much happier.

  For the rest of the day, I was glued to my phone, constantly checking to see if an unknown number popped up on the screen. I was lying on my bed when my phone finally buzzed. A message from Lana.

  Was he there?

  I texted, Yes

  Lana came back immediately. And?

  I rolled over onto my back, holding the phone above me. They didn’t have the book. Julian is going to contact me if Priscilla has a copy I can borrow.

  So, he has your number?

  I could sense the hopefulness in her message.

  I replied. Yes :)

  On Sunday night, I was in full chill-out mode, listening to music in my room and flipping through a magazine. I didn’t hear my phone go off, but I saw the screen flash. I immediately paused my iPod and checked my phone. One new message from an unknown number. My heart skipped.

  Hey, Ivy. It’s Julian. Priscilla has the book and you’re allowed to borrow it.

  I was in luck. So, I’d get to read Mr. Donaldson’s book after all. I replied to Julian’s message and saved his number into my contacts.

  When I arrived at Opulence the next afternoon, I wondered whether Julian would be around. Priscilla was with a customer, discussing the history of an antique dressing table. I looked around the shop while I waited for her. Eventually, the customer left and Priscilla came
to me at once. Dressed in a long slinky black dress, and her lips painted a deep red, she looked as witchy as ever.

  “Ivy, my dear. So nice to see you again.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to see you too.”

  “Have you recovered from your accident?”

  I ran my thumb over the scab on my wrist. “Yup. Well, slowly getting there at least.”

  “That’s good. You’re here to pick up Alfred’s book?”

  I nodded. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

  “Quite all right. Alfred is a dear friend. It’s wonderful you’re showing an interest in his work. Now, where did I put the book?” Priscilla’s eyes searched the room. “Ah. I think it’s in my bag. I’ll go get it.” She crossed the shop floor and went behind the beaded curtain. A few seconds later, she reappeared with the book and presented it to me.

  I scanned the cover. The title read Hole Hearted. A black-and-white image of a forlorn-looking girl adorned cover.

  “Please, take care of it,” Priscilla said. “There aren’t many copies of this book around.”

  “I know. I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Thanks so much!” I held the book to my chest.

  “So, Alfred is your English teacher?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re very lucky. He’s a very knowledgeable man.”

  “He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.”

  “I hope you enjoy his book. It’s certainly very interesting.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “I won’t spoil it for you. To be frank, it’s been a while since I read it. I only remember parts of it.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to reading it.” I put the book in my bag. “Is Julian around?”

  Priscilla shook her head. “He’s probably on his way to his life-drawing class around now.”

  I couldn’t help feeling a tad disappointed. I had hoped we’d meet again. “Oh. Well, please tell him I said hi.”

  “I will. Julian told me you might come to the exhibition?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “It’s opening night this Friday. Why don’t you come along? I can get your name on the guest list. There’ll be drinks and nibbles. Julian and I will be there.”

  I didn’t think I had anything on, so I agreed.

  “You can bring a plus one, too.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll bring my friend, Lana.”

  “Wonderful. Julian will be thrilled you’re coming!”

  He will? I wondered skeptically.

  Priscilla looked so pleased, I didn’t say anything.

  7

  For the next few days, I was deeply absorbed in Hole Hearted. The psychological thriller had me rapt with the strange events occurring in a small town. The first scene opened with a high school girls’ rowing team out on a river in the early hours of the morning. Heavy mist swirled around them.

  A girl shrieked when she saw something in the water—a lifeless body floating downstream. The girls were left traumatised. When the body was recovered, they were horrified to discover it was a girl from their school.

  The book had me hooked. In every spare moment, I had my head buried in it. Before school, I was so caught up in reading it, I was almost late. The bell rang just as I ran through the school gates. Seated in form class, I finally caught my breath. Through my first two classes, I struggled to concentrate. I heaved a sigh of relief when morning interval finally arrived. I met Lana outside C block, and we walked to our lockers.

  “How’s the book going?” she asked.

  “It’s awesome. I’m nearly finished.”

  “That was quick.”

  “It’s not that long. Would you like to read it? I’m pretty sure Priscilla wouldn’t mind.”

  Lana shook her head. “Just give me a précis. I don’t have much time to read these days.”

  “Really? That sucks.”

  Lana shrugged. “I’ll catch up on reading during the holidays.”

  “If you say so.” I retrieved my hefty calculus textbook from my locker and transferred it to my backpack. It started to rain, so we lingered in the corridor instead of going back outside.

  “The exhibition’s tomorrow,” Lana reminded me. “What am I going to wear?”

  “Since when do you care about clothes?” Outside of school, I didn’t think I’d seen her in anything other than jeans and a faded band t-shirt.

  “It’ll be formal, won’t it? Dresses and suits and all that shit.”

  I couldn’t believe this had not occurred to me sooner. Of course, it would be formal. Art gallery events are posh, aren’t they?

  “Yeah, I suppose it will be.” My thoughts shifted to the prospect of Julian wearing a suit. I thoroughly enjoyed the mental image.

  “I don’t really have anything to wear to something like that.”

  “You can borrow something from me. I have tons of clothes.” Lana and I weren’t exactly the same size, her being tall and slim, and me being petite and curvy. However, I was sure I’d have something that would fit her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Cool.”

  “Why don’t you come to my house after school tomorrow? We can get ready together.”

  “Sounds like a plan. What time does the opening start?”

  “Seven. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Should be fine. I just have a flight booked for Saturday morning, so I don’t want to be up too late.”

  “I don’t think we’ll stay too late. Where are you going?”

  “Auckland. I’m going to the Medical School open day.”

  “Oh. That’s cool.” That reminded me the open day for Hill University Law was coming up as well.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty excited about it. Kinda nervous too. I’ve never been to Auckland by myself before.”

  “Your parents aren’t going with you?”

  “Nope. They need to stay and run the business. Besides, I want to prove my independence. No one goes to these things with their parents.”

  Well, this is quite the revelation. “Really? My mum is super keen to go to the Law School open day with me.”

  “Damn. You should try to talk her out of it. It’s way better to go alone.”

  “Hmmm… I’ll try that. Thanks for the tip.” I wasn’t sure whether it would be enough to put Mum off, but it was something to take into consideration.

  After school on Friday, Lana and I raided my wardrobe and drawers, trying to pick outfits for the night. Finding something that would work for Lana proved tougher than I imagined.

  I held up a silk t-shirt dress to her.

  “That’s super cute, but I think it’ll be too short on me.” She tried it on anyway, confirming the dress rode too far up her thighs.

  She had almost tried on every dress in my wardrobe. Finally, something fit. The black cotton tank dress looked cute on her.

  “Success!” Lana cried. She turned in front of the mirror. “But it’s a little too casual, don’t ya think?”

  “Hmmm…you’re right. But we can always dress it up a bit. A belt, some jewellery?”

  “Yeah. That’ll work.”

  I tried on the silver-coloured wrap dress I had picked out earlier, but I wasn’t sure about it.

  “You have to wear that,” Lana said. “You look amazing.”

  “Do you think so?” I examined myself in the floor-length mirror. “You don’t think it makes me look too…busty?”

  “Well, it shows them off, but that’s a good thing. You have an amazing figure.”

  “I’m self-conscious. I wish I had nice, small boobs.”

  “Trust me, you don’t.”

  If I didn’t settle on the silver dress, I might take all night going back and forth on what to wear, so I stuck with it. I didn’t accessorise too much. A fancy pair of earrings, heels and a clutch. That was it.

  We had a light dinner before getting changed into our outfits. I pulled my hair back into a loose bun at the nape of my neck. Stray stra
nds were falling out, but I thought it looked good that way. A little sexy and undone.

  Lana looked so different in a dress. I hadn’t seen her wear one before, except at the school ball.

  My parents sat in the lounge, watching television.

  “Can I have the car keys?” I asked Dad.

  “Sure thing, darling. Have fun tonight.” He handed them over.

  “Don’t be too late. I’ll wait up until you get home,” Mum said.

  I groaned. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Dad yawned. “Well, I, for one, will be in bed at nine thirty on the dot.”

  Mum glared at him but said nothing.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Lana.

  She nodded, and off we went.

  We arrived at the gallery on the outskirts of town. The two-storey building overlooked a tree-lined park. People milled around outside on the footpath. A man at the door was only letting a few people in at a time. We stood around in the vague queue. I felt like we stuck out among all the arty types.

  Lana and I shuffled our way up the queue as others stood around talking. We stood before a stern looking man at the door. He looked us up and down with narrowed eyes. I started to sweat, feeling like we must look so out of place.

  “I’m Ivy Beckett,” I said quietly.

  The man scanned a list for my name. When he let us in, I exhaled with relief. Through the door, we followed the sound of chatter and ascended a staircase into the gallery. The room was small, with white walls and pictures in metal frames. I wondered where Priscilla and Julian were. A quick scan around the room didn’t reveal their location.

  “So, what now?” Lana asked.

  “There are too many people. I can’t see properly.” I had to raise my voice over all the loud talking.

  We stood around awkwardly for a while, then someone called out, “Ivy! Lana!” The voice was neither Priscilla nor Julian.

  We turned around. To my bewilderment, it was Mr. Donaldson, a glass of champagne in his hand. He had shaved and wore a navy suit. I thought he actually cleaned up quite well.

  “Mr. Donaldson,” I spluttered. “What are you doing here?” Despite how much I liked him, it was still awkward to bump into teachers in public.