11 Flying Solo - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  She slammed the door shut, jumped into her swivel chair and fired up the Lonely Echo program on her laptop. ‘Olivia?’ She jostled the mouse. ‘Olivia?’ But all Ivy could see was an image of Olivia’s empty garden. No Olivia in sight. Ivy’s heart did a nosedive.

  Her poor sister had been broken-hearted and Ivy had spent the entire conversation talking about herself, showing Olivia stupid piles of clothes. What kind of a twin am I? She was supposed to have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. But, more importantly, why hadn’t Olivia mentioned anything? It wasn’t like her to keep her emotions bottled up – that was more Ivy’s speciality.

  The sound of footsteps came through the monitor from Olivia’s back garden. Ivy leaned in to listen, breathing a sigh of relief. Her sister was coming back after all. ‘Hey, Olivia!’ she called. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ja–’

  ‘Oh, hello, Ivy.’ Mr Abbott’s face appeared upside down on the screen as he leaned over the computer from above, and Ivy nearly bit her tongue trying to stop herself from saying the J-word.

  ‘Um . . . um . . . Hi, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy stammered. He held up one finger to tell her to wait. He wandered round to the front of the computer so that his image was now the right way up.

  ‘Ah, that’s better.’ Ivy was glad to see that he had changed out of his karate gear and was now dressed in a maroon tank top and pleated khaki trousers – much more appropriate suburban dad-wear. ‘Good to see you, Ivy. How’s that fancy boarding school of yours? Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Definitely,’ said Ivy quickly, trying to peek around Mr Abbott’s head, which seemed to take up the entire frame. ‘Where’s Olivia?’ she asked before he could introduce any more questions of his own.

  ‘Olivia?’ Mr Abbott rubbed his chin, glancing back towards the house. ‘She went to take a nap. She’s been quite sleepy lately. She’s had a busy few days, I think.’

  Ivy felt more rotten than week-old milk. She knew exactly why Olivia was suddenly feeling so run down, but Mr Abbott obviously didn’t. Unfortunately she couldn’t fill him in. It would be breaking twin code and it wasn’t her place to tell Olivia’s dad about the break-up.

  ‘OK, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy sighed. ‘I guess I’ll catch up with her later then.’

  Ivy was stretching out to close down the chat window when he asked, ‘So, what’s new with school?’

  Ivy froze, trying not to wince. Mr Abbott could be quite . . . chatty. Reluctantly, she plopped back into her chair, but Olivia’s dad was no longer looking at her expectantly. ‘Shhh!’ he told her, pressing his finger up to his pursed lips. His eyes were fixed on something behind Ivy. ‘I don’t want to alarm you,’ he said in a whisper, ‘but I think I see a bat in your room.’

  Ivy started to tell him not to worry, but stopped short. ‘You know,’ she leaned closer to switch the computer off whilst she had a chance. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me that. Yeah, um . . . hey, can anyone help?’ She stood up, sending her chair clattering back, waving her hands to beckon imaginary school friends in from the corridor. ‘Quickly! I hate this bat!’ Mr Abbott wasn’t to know that the scrawny little creature held no fear at all for Ivy – not since she’d managed to rescue her own fingers from a mauling. ‘I’m really going to have to sign off now!’ Ivy panted as she widened her eyes in mock terror. ‘I feel a panic attack coming on . . .’

  ‘Ivy, are you all right . . . ?’ Mr Abbott began.

  ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I just need to lie down!’ she said. ‘I should really go now!’ With a neat snap, she switched off the machine and sank back into her chair. ‘Goodbye, Mr Abbott,’ she murmured, shaking her head. The things I do to keep Olivia’s secrets!

  Chapter Two

  ‘Girls rejoice! Jackson Caulfield is single at last!’

  Olivia plopped the open magazine down on her bed. Aren’t break-ups hard enough without the public humiliation? she thought. At least, for once, the tabloids weren’t lying. Her break-up with Jackson had been amicable, but Olivia couldn’t help feeling pangs of sadness every time she stopped to think about it for too long. One thing was for sure, this whole ordeal was making her seriously rethink her subscription to Star-Studded Magazine.

  Olivia’s phone vibrated on her nightstand. She picked up the mobile and saw there was a text from Jackson: U OK?

  Olivia leaned her head back on her comfy down pillows. Not really, she started to type, but then deleted it with one push of her thumb. She was not going to play Little Miss Damsel-in-Distress. Olivia might have been an up-and-coming thespian, but that was the last role she wanted. It wasn’t easy to admit but, looking back, she could see that her relationship with her boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – had been going downhill for a while. Even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself – or him. Jackson had been busy on his promotional tours and there had been little time left for them to spend together. The phone calls had become fewer and further apart, the emails had got shorter.

  Then, on her trip to Transylvania for the royal wedding, Olivia had caught a floating rose head from the meadow. The Free Rose of Summer. Prince Alex had told her and Ivy all about. It had drifted towards her on a summer breeze and her fingers had closed around the blue petals. She knew what a blue rose meant, according to the vampire legends: impossible love.

  Then, the first time that she and Jackson had spoken after her return to Franklin Grove, he was the one to admit what was staring them in the face.

  ‘Perhaps we should do our own things for now,’ he’d said gently. Olivia had been braced for the sensation of her heart breaking, but instead the only thing she felt was . . . regret. She felt sure they’d both be sorry for the chance that had passed them by, but what could she do in the face of his fame and career? What could either of them do? Their next visit together had been pushed back indefinitely. So much for my fairytale ending, she thought now. Then she gave herself a shake – Jackson would be waiting for a reply to his text.

  Any publicity is good publicity, right? ;) she typed. The green bar slid across the screen on her phone. Sent! She held her breath.

  Her phone pinged. Har. Har.

  At that, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. Thank you for asking, though, she added. Of course, she wished things with Jackson hadn’t had to come to an end, but at least he was being nice. There had to be some silver lining.

  Olivia’s phone buzzed again and she quickly picked up, thinking it was another text from Jackson. Her heart fell when she saw it was her bio-dad: Will you still be coming over?

  Coming over? Shoot! she thought, and checked her watch. I’m late!

  Olivia grabbed her new colour-blocked tote bag and sprinted out of the house. Phew! She stopped for a moment on the sidewalk, resting her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath. I’m only one girl, she thought, and an exhausted one at that. She had spent all day helping her mother tidy up and now she was hustling over to Charles’s house to help him with some mysterious research project. She didn’t like to say no to people, but didn’t her parents realise she wasn’t a machine? At least staying occupied kept her from dwelling on Jackson too much.

  But why won’t Bio-dad tell me what I’m researching for? He wouldn’t let her in his study, where he was doing his work, and he refused to tell her why he wanted the information. All he did was sit Olivia down at a computer and occasionally pop his head out to ask her to look up random things on the Internet, like the climate in New Zealand or the quickest route through Australia by train from Melbourne to Sydney!

  Since Ivy had stayed behind in Transylvania, Olivia was now doing the job of two daughters and, despite three years of practice on the cheerleading squad, she had to admit that the double duty was taking a serious toll on both her pep and her perkiness. She was actually wearing a grey shift dress – a grey shift dress teamed with a hot-pink scarf, maybe, but still grey! If her mood was starting to creep into her fashion sense, Olivia knew she must be slipping into a serious funk . . . and fast. I’ll lay out my purple skinny jeans
to wear tomorrow. That ought to help.

  Olivia didn’t blame Ivy for going to the Academy. She knew that her sister needed to learn everything she could about her vampire identity. For a long time Olivia hadn’t known anything about her heritage, so she understood how important these things were.

  As she turned the corner on to Undertaker Hill, Ivy’s street, a girl darted out from behind a neighbour’s wall. Olivia bumped straight into her, forehead first. ‘Ooof!’ She stepped back, rubbing her head.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said the girl loudly, glancing around. She was slender and about Olivia’s age. She wore flared blue jeans and a baggy, flower-power blouse that Olivia couldn’t quite decide if she liked or not.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Olivia. ‘My brain’s a bit loopy today.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ The girl adjusted the strap of her tasselled boho bag. ‘I’m Holly Turner. I think I recognise you from school.’ She extended her hand. Olivia shook it, noticing the psychedelic swirls painted on Holly’s nails. Holly’s hair was long and strawberry blonde. Her complexion was pale – not Ivy Pale, but she was as fair-skinned as an actress in one of those Jane Austen movies Ivy refused to watch with Olivia at sleepovers.

  ‘Franklin Grove School?’ asked Olivia, trying to think if she could place the girl. She knew pretty much everyone by now, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing Holly there.

  ‘Uh huh.’ Holly toyed with the small but high-tech digital camera dangling round her neck. ‘My family moved here not too long ago. Actually, since I’m new here, I was wondering if you might want to go to Mister Smoothie with me and grab a Beauty-Boosting Blueberry? I saw the menu as I was passing and it just sounds so exotic!’

  ‘Hey! That’s my favourite drink! You have great taste,’ Olivia said, laughing.

  The other girl laughed too. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. But I just love anything different or unusual – foods or places – or anything that’s new to me! My mom says that’s why I’d make a great journalist. I’m just really interested in the world.’

  Olivia had almost forgotten there was somewhere she needed to be – almost, but not quite. Suddenly she remembered her promise to help her bio-dad. ‘Oh, it’s such a shame. Normally, I’d love to go for a milkshake, but right now I’m on my way to my sister’s house.’

  ‘Oh.’ Holly’s mouth twisted to the side. Olivia heard a hitch in her breath. ‘I’d love to meet your sister,’ she said hopefully. ‘I’ve heard she’s really cool. Isn’t she living in Transylvania right now? How amazing is that!’

  Heard? Wow, did Ivy’s reputation really reach all the way across the globe? Either that or someone had been filling this girl in since she moved to Franklin Grove.

  ‘Very cool,’ Olivia said, crossing her fingers behind her back at her fib. Being separated from my twin is so not cool at all. But I guess this girl doesn’t want to hear about all that. ‘Transylvania is a great place – very exotic. You’d probably love it just as much as Ivy! You kind of remind me of her. She’s sort of alternative too, but in a totally different way. My sister leans a bit gothic.’ Olivia held her fingers apart a couple of centimetres. ‘But she totally pulls it off. Just like you.’ She leaned in and touched Holly’s arm to emphasise that she meant this as a compliment.

  A faint blush spread over the creamy tint of Holly’s cheeks. ‘Cool.’ Absentmindedly, Holly opened and closed the lens on her camera. ‘I mean, thanks.’

  ‘Are you into photography?’ asked Olivia, pointing.

  ‘Yeah, well, as I said, I want to be a journalist,’ Holly mumbled. ‘I don’t have any real experience yet, but I’m working on it. An exclusive – that’s what I need.’ Her eyes lit up as though she’d just had an idea. ‘Hey . . .’ she began to say.

  ‘No way!’ Olivia clapped her hands together and pressed them to her lips. ‘This is too freaky. My sister wants to be a writer too.’ She wished she could tell Holly about her time with Ivy as guest reporters for VAMP Magazine, but sadly that tidbit of information was top secret.

  ‘Really?’ Holly asked. ‘She could totally get an exclusive in Transylvania. All those vampires just waiting to be interviewed!’

  Olivia felt a spark of alarm and forced her smile not to fade. ‘Vampires aren’t real, you do know that, don’t you?’

  Holly smiled. ‘Of course! I was joking. But perhaps your sister would help out another would-be writer. Do you think she’d let me interview her about Transylvania? Could you ask next time you speak to her?’ She’d edged so close that Olivia found herself backing away. Holly’s forehead wrinkled. ‘But wait, if your sister is all the way in Europe, then why are you going to her house? And don’t you live in the same house? I mean, you’re twins, aren’t you?’

  Olivia felt her face colouring. ‘It’s, um, complicated,’ she said. She liked this girl, but there was no way she was getting into all that! She didn’t have time to come up with an explanation and, besides, any story she gave Holly would be a lie and Olivia tried to avoid those as much as possible. ‘I’m just helping out with something.’ Olivia side-stepped the issue. That wasn’t a lie. Not really!

  Holly hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans and shrugged. ‘Some other time then?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Absolutely!’ Olivia hoped she wasn’t overdoing it on the enthusiasm, but it was always nice to make new friends and Holly was almost like another Ivy – just a little less grumpy.

  ‘See you later then,’ Holly said.

  ‘Sure thing,’ Olivia agreed, before turning to hurry up the sloping sidewalk, towards the top of the hill and the cul-de-sac where Ivy’s house was located. When she looked back over her shoulder, Holly was still standing in the same spot, watching her. Olivia waved uncertainly. New girl in town. She’s probably just bored and lonely, she thought, watching the girl finally scurry off.

  She rang Mr Vega’s doorbell. A snippet from Mozart’s Requiem boomed from a pipe organ inside. Vampires and their classical music, thought Olivia. So old school!

  The heavy gothic door swung open and Charles popped his head out. ‘Hello, Olivia.’ His usually coiffed hair poked in all directions and his midnight-blue shirt was uncharacteristically rumpled. Did his iron break or something? Olivia’s bio-dad looked like he hadn’t slept in his coffin for days.

  ‘Dad!’ Olivia made a show of scanning him from head to toe. ‘What on earth are you researching? You look . . . well . . . you don’t look your usual suave self!’ Normally Charles was one of the most stylish men she knew. He could walk straight on to the cover of a men’s fashion magazine, but now? Not so much.

  He motioned her in and Olivia saw that the dining-room table was completely covered in loose sheets of paper. ‘Never mind that,’ he said quickly. ‘Can you find out about Australian wildlife and the threats they pose to trav–’

  Olivia slapped her hands to her cheeks. ‘Oh . . . my . . . goodness . . .’ A thought had dawned in her head. She pointed at him, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘No, no, no.’ He pulled his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s not what you –’

  Too late! ‘You were going to say “travellers”, weren’t you?’ Olivia’s eyes narrowed. ‘And why would you be thinking of going to Australia and New Zealand unless . . . unless . . . Could it be that you’re planning . . . a honeymoon?!’ Olivia jumped up and down squealing.

  ‘Shhh, shhhhh,’ Charles gestured with his hands as if to tell Olivia to take it down a notch, but she couldn’t help it and, besides, it wasn’t like anyone was listening.

  Olivia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘I’m so happy! You’re marrying Lillian!’

  Lillian was a sophisticated vampire whom Charles had met when Olivia first walked the red carpet with Jackson. Not only was Lillian gracious and kind, she also had the most to-die-for accessories on the planet. Romance plus a killer wardrobe – swoon! Olivia pressed her lips together and flattened a palm over her heart.

  If Charles had been capable of blushing, Olivia thought he wo
uld have been pinker than her cotton-candy lipgloss. ‘I haven’t asked her yet,’ he told Olivia. ‘So it’s not guaranteed.’

  Olivia tilted her head to the side and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can’t imagine why she would ever say no. You guys are totally in love. Have you told Ivy yet?’

  ‘No.’ Charles slid his hands in pockets.’ I was sort of waiting for the right time to tell you two. But someone –’ his eyebrows shot up – ‘decided to become an amateur sleuth all of a sudden.’ Olivia grinned sheepishly. ‘I want to make sure I have the perfect wedding and honeymoon lined up before popping the question.’

  Judging by the amount of running around we’ve done the past few days, I’m sure it’ll be just that, Olivia thought, but . . . ‘There’s one thing that makes me . . . well . . .’ Her brow furrowed as she tried to decide on the right way to phrase what she had to say. ‘No, no, it’s nothing.’ She shook her head. She shouldn’t have said anything.

  Charles’s face fell. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Um, well, perhaps,’ she began to point out, trying to be extra gentle, ‘perhaps Lillian might like to have some involvement in planning her own wedding?’ She didn’t want to hurt her bio-dad’s feelings, but sometimes men didn’t quite grasp the importance of white veils, hundreds of lilies and the right bride-and-groom cake-toppers. ‘It is every girl’s dream, after all,’ she finished.

  Charles breathed a sigh of relief. ‘For a moment there, I thought it was going to be something really bad.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. Nothing is going to be booked until I’ve checked it with Lillian and I’m leaving the finer details all down to her judgment. For now, I just want to look into venues. Take the initiative. Carpe diem!’

  Olivia mentally cringed. Sometimes Charles and her adoptive dad weren’t so different – they were both equally embarrassing with their love of Latin phrases and self-improvement. ‘So what do you think?’ he continued. ‘Are you still in? Can you look up how long it would take to sail on a barge down the Nile?’