11 Flying Solo - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  Half an hour later, Olivia was busy avoiding getting her toes crushed beneath combat boots in a sea of goth girls and guys, who were all so ghostly pale it almost looked as if they’d drained the colour from the usually vibrant park. The three of them scoped out a spot on the grass and spread a blanket among the other concertgoers, who all sat in clusters, waiting for the gig to start.

  ‘This –’ Sophia stared up at the blazing spotlights – ‘is killer.’ They were sprawled out in the Winner’s Enclosure right beneath the stage and even Olivia had to admit, it was pretty cool. She had never seen a live band playing this close up.

  ‘You ready to hear your new favourite song?’ Brendan nudged Olivia playfully.

  She dropped her chin. ‘Any song that compares love to being staked will not be gracing my iPod!’

  The lights dimmed and a roaring cheer rose from the crowd. Brendan pulled Olivia to her feet just before the crowd surged forwards. The place was a madhouse! She clung to Brendan’s hand so as not to be crushed. Pall Bearer fans are rabid.

  ‘Brendan!’ Olivia yelled, still clutching on to him. His hand was scalding hot, like he had a 110 degree fever. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, letting go. ‘I’m fine.’

  Olivia peered up at Ivy’s boyfriend. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she didn’t think Brendan was telling the truth. He looked hot and flustered. Something’s definitely wrong. Before she could ask any more questions, music blasted from the speakers and amps situated at the end of the stage. How could vampires stand this? They had super-sensitive hearing, but Olivia could barely handle it, and she was human! It was the single loudest noise she had ever heard. She would have plugged her ears if only her arms weren’t pinned to her sides in the crowd crush. Now all she could do was cringe. She felt like her parents: Turn the music down!

  Sophia bounced next to her, pumping her fist to the pounding drum beat. A red light illuminated the stage, revealing The Pall Bearers, dressed in skinny jeans and ripped T-shirts. The lead guitarist jammed on the strings of his instrument and what came out was a tuneless, rhythmless mess.

  Fright Night, nocturnal delight

  Turn out the light and

  Scream with all your might . . .

  Olivia had nothing against goths, but they had terrible taste in music. This could not possibly get any worse . . . Or at least that was what Olivia thought before the dancing started. If it could even be called ‘dancing’. First, the crowd surged one way and then the other, like an angry, writhing snake, and Olivia was wrenched along in the current.

  ‘Ouch!’ Someone stomped on her toe. ‘Oof!’ An elbow jabbed into her back and she lurched forwards. When she regained her balance, she tried standing on tiptoes so that she could just see over the shoulders of the people directly in front. There was a little clearing within the mass of people, in which a bunch of rowdy boys were shoving and kicking each other, yelling, ‘Mosh, mosh, mosh, mosh!’ And this is supposed to be fun? Olivia thought.

  There was a brief lull between the first and second songs and Olivia jumped at the opportunity to talk to Sophia. ‘Mind if I head out now?’ She tugged at the sleeve of Sophia’s faded Pall Bearers T-shirt. ‘I’m not sure I feel like being deaf tomorrow.’ Her ears were ringing already.

  Sophia wrapped Olivia in a tight hug. ‘Thank you so, so much for coming through for us. I was beyond excited for this concert. You have no idea.’

  Despite her full-body discomfort, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. So what if she had to suffer a few bruised ribs and a little hearing loss? Totally worth it. If only Ivy could be here . . .

  Olivia had started to thread her way through the crowd when the lead singer came to the front of the stage with the microphone. ‘For this next song, we’ll need a volunteer back-up singer.’

  A million cries of, ‘Pick me, pick me!’ sounded from all around the crowd. One thing was for sure, Olivia was not among them. She looked over her shoulder. The singer was a handsome but wiry goth guy, wearing a dragon-design T-shirt – or, wait! – Olivia looked closer. Perhaps it’s one massive tattoo!

  ‘We’ve picked one person at random from our lucky competition winners.’ He unfolded a piece of paper and waved it over head. ‘Where is Ivy Vega?’

  Olivia stopped dead, her jaw dropping open. No. Way.

  ‘Why did we ever think I would be able to pull this off without getting into some kind of weird trouble?’ she hissed to Brendan. Sophia’s eyebrows shot up and she slapped her hands to her cheeks.

  So sorry, Sophia mouthed.

  Why am I even surprised? Olivia thought. Every single time she and Ivy switched places, it caused some sort of craziness – chaos, confusion, embarrassment. You name it, I’ve had it.

  Before Olivia knew what was happening, she was being hoisted on to the shoulders of the rabid Pall Bearers fans. She had a brief flash of the moment when her classmates at Franklin Grove paraded her around the gym after the school dance she’d planned. But the memory came to an abrupt halt when Olivia was tipped on her back and crowd-surfed all the way to the stage.

  She stumbled on to her feet, forced upright by the sheer power of the crowd behind her. Olivia stared out at the ocean of black. The sight of the churning, surging fans gave her a strange, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach almost like vertigo. The stage lights beat down on her with white-hot heat.

  From stage right, she noticed a roadie approaching her . . . with a microphone! The horror! Olivia started to panic. She numbly took hold of it. This could not be happening to her. The thought of karaoke was terrifying and this was a hundred times worse. She spotted Brendan and Sophia at the foot of the stage, their mouths open in shock.

  The lead singer – what’s his name again? – made the devil horns gesture to her with his fingers sticking up behind his ears. Not knowing what else to do, Olivia returned it.

  ‘Right on!’ he said, performing a high-flying jump and stamping down on the stage. ‘Now I’m sure Ivy knows what to do,’ the singer told the crowd. ‘But just in case she’s a little nervous, why don’t we help her out by reminding her how the chorus goes.’ Olivia wiped the sweat off her forehead, wishing she had a paper bag to hyperventilate into. ‘When I say, “I”, you say –’ he held the microphone out to the crowd – ‘hate you!’

  ‘Got it.’ Olivia nodded.

  Ivy’s vampire education had better be worth it, she thought. Because next time I see her, she is going to have to use everything she’s learned to talk her way out of trouble!

  Chapter Five

  I wonder what Olivia is doing right now?

  Ivy had suffered in silence through three full days of classes and Miss Avisrova had still managed to pick on everything Ivy had done in Etiquette class. Ivy used the wrong toothpick on her fangs. Ivy didn’t know which side of the plate her blood goblet should be on. Ivy had no clue how to waltz to the Vampire Sonata!

  But really, could learning proper etiquette take a whole school year ? Luckily, Ivy had other classes that Avisrova didn’t teach. She never thought she’d be so thankful for History of Vampire Monarchies, but at least it gave her a break.

  The biggest bright spot was still, by far, Herbal Science. Every day, Ivy looked forward to her trek out to the greenhouse. For instance, yesterday, Helga had taught them how to cultivate herbs properly. With Petra as her lab partner, Ivy had helped plant, water and fertilise a variety of herbs, some familiar and others vamp-exotic – like the Fang Fennel with its spiky stalks that made a biting motion if a hand came at it too quickly.

  Today, Herbal Science was the second class of the day. Ivy arrived carrying a steaming travel mug filled with hot plasma tea, scooted out her stool from under a table on the girls’ side of the room and plopped herself down.

  Herbal Science was the only class Ivy had where boys and girls were taught in the same classroom. Otherwise, just as Petra had said, they were kept so segregated that Ivy thought the Wallachia staff might believe it was still possi
ble for students to catch the plague from one another. Even now they were divided by a long table running down the centre of the greenhouse, and the height of the seemingly hundreds of potted plants made it nearly impossible for the boys and girls to see each other. Ivy hadn’t even realised there were guys in the class the first day!

  Helga clapped her hands to get the students’ attention. She was standing on top of a tall podium so that she could look down on both sides of the classroom at once – the boys’ side and the girls’ side. Helga’s really growing into a great teacher, thought Ivy. A small garden hoe and a miniature rake stuck out of the front pockets of Helga’s apron. Her engagement ring flashed in the beams of natural light shining through the greenhouse windows.

  ‘Everyone, for today’s lesson, first I’ll be showing you the correct way to extract certain types of herbs from the ground so as not to lose their potency, and then I’ll let you try doing it. Sound good?’

  This was more like it for Ivy – actually doing things. She’d never have thought that she would enjoy using gardening tools and wearing those stinky gloves, but she did. It beat stuffy Etiquette class any day.

  After Helga had demonstrated gently digging out the roots of a Caped Parsley plant, Ivy retrieved a set of gardening tools from the bins and spread them out on the table.

  Petra selected a hand trowel and poked Ivy with it.

  ‘Ouch!’ Ivy yelped, rubbing the spot on her arm. ‘What was that for?’

  Petra bent over their potted plant and spoke out of the side of her mouth. ‘What is your deal?’ she asked. ‘Why aren’t you doing anything?’ Petra glanced up at Helga, who was busy explaining to a student that she couldn’t just slice through any roots that weren’t cooperating.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Ivy, grabbing a small shovel. ‘We haven’t started yet.’

  ‘Not the stupid plant.’ Petra blew her fringe out of her face. ‘You’re not talking back to the teacher. You’re not getting into trouble. You haven’t done anything Ivy-ish at all!’

  Ivy noticed Petra trying to glance through the potted-plant divider to the boys’ side of the room. ‘I like Helga,’ Ivy reminded Petra. ‘I don’t want to annoy her.’ She pushed at the plastic pot to loosen the dirt around their parsley.

  ‘You’re supposed to be creating a distraction,’ Petra whispered back. ‘I have to create my art when inspiration strikes, Ivy! And I’m so close to my Etan. Please!’

  ‘No,’ said Ivy, scooping up a heap of soil. ‘I’m supposed to be extracting this herb, not creating a distraction.’

  What kind of poem or drawing can Petra be doodling in a greenhouse, anyway? And why can’t she do it in her own time? Ivy looked around and all of a sudden Helga was standing behind them.

  ‘Petra, Petra, Petra,’ Helga chided. ‘Did you really think you could whisper and not be heard? Or have you forgotten about a little thing called vampire hearing ?’ Petra shrank in her seat.

  I guess she doesn’t like being the one in trouble as much as she likes encouraging other people to get into it, thought Ivy.

  ‘Do you girls need help with anything?’ Helga asked.

  Ivy carefully pulled out one of the sections of the plant’s roots. ‘Nope. I think I’ve got it under control.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘What is this particular herb used for?’

  ‘Caped Parsley?’ Helga pinched the stem. ‘Well, its scientific name is Oxynamon. And it’s used mostly in a remedy to cure vampiric infections by increasing oxygen to the bloodstream. It can certainly come in handy in a crisis.’ Helga winked. She leaned in closer to Ivy and lowered her voice. ‘Who knows when any of us will find ourselves in a sticky situation? Knowledge and strength – they’re a person’s most important assets.’

  ‘But which name will be on the test? How will I get an A on my test paper if I don’t know whether to study the Latin name or the informal name?’ whined Petra.

  ‘Either will be acceptable.’ Helga heaved a sigh, and turned away to leave, muttering under her breath. ‘So preoccupied with grades . . .’ Ivy noticed a glint on Helga’s wrist.

  ‘Is that new?’ asked Ivy, pointing to a silver bracelet. Between her and Olivia, Ivy was definitely not the fashionista of the pair, but she did know that Helga had not been wearing that bracelet the day before.

  Helga pressed her thin lips together and made a big show of checking her watch. ‘Oh, is it that time already?’

  ‘Oooooh, is that from a certain handsome butler?’ Ivy teased. ‘Horatio, perhaps?’

  Staring down her nose at Ivy, Helga gave her best stern teacher look. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, her mouth twitching as she tried not to smile.

  When Ivy turned her attention back to the table, she saw that Petra had manoeuvred one of the potted plants a fraction to the left, to make a small gap in the jungle that sat on top of the dividing table. Petra had her elbows on the desk, her chin resting on her fists as she stared longingly at a handsome vampire boy on the other side. Was he the subject of her gushy love poems? He had wavy blond hair and sharp green-and-yellow eyes that gazed wistfully back at Petra. Was that Etan?

  Ivy snuck glances at the two lovebirds, both of whom seemed to have completely forgotten there was anything going on outside of their little staring contest. Maybe I was too hard on Petra, Ivy thought. The poor girl was clearly lovesick and the longing looks were as close as this couple were going to get to a relationship at Wallachia.

  Star-crossed lovers! Ivy could picture her sister mooning over the impossible romance. I wonder if there is anything I can do to help Petra, after all. Ivy knew that’s what Olivia would want her to do. Leave it with me, sis, Ivy thought. The queen of romance aka Ivy’s twin sister may not have been at Wallachia Academy, but Ivy would try her best in Olivia’s absence. How hard could it be, bringing two lovebirds together? What could possibly go wrong?

  After class, Ivy was making her way across the grounds, feeling thankful for her special ultra-protective vampire contacts since the sun was already beating down full force. As she walked towards the cafeteria she cast a quick look in the direction of the Gauntlet.

  ‘Would you cross the Gauntlet for a boy?’ a girl named Stacia was asking, as she walked by with a classmate.

  ‘No way,’ said her friend emphatically. ‘Have you heard? There are meant to be hidden pits in there with snakes, waiting for a victim to fall in! And the Gauntlet Ghost can scare a person to death before they even have chance to cry for help.’

  Ivy glanced over at the edge of the wood. It did look pretty spooky; even haunted.

  The girls were still talking. ‘Someone told me that a female student went in there once and when she came out, her hair was white with shock!’

  The two of them laughed nervously. Just a bunch of silly stories, Ivy told herself, as she wandered further ahead with Petra. But still, she felt a shiver pass over her. Entering the Gauntlet wasn’t for the faint-hearted, even if the stories were made up and all you were risking was getting a nasty rash from the berries and ivy.

  Petra held open a heavy antique door for Ivy and they entered the main building. It was lunchtime and after that they had Secret History, which would mean Ivy got to go at least half the day without seeing Miss Avisrova.

  But as Ivy strolled down the school corridor, she suddenly caught sight of a figure lurking beside a suit of armour. Ivy nearly shrieked. It was Miss Avisrova; standing tall, erect, and completely still. She glowered at Ivy, following her with her eyes like one of those creepy portraits in a horror movie.

  What is her problem? Ivy didn’t understand how or why the teacher was keeping such close tabs on her. Doesn’t she have anything else to do – like organise extra-curricular classes in Extreme Pain?

  Ivy tugged Petra along. ‘Come on.’

  Petra stumbled behind her, watching with puppy-dog eyes as the boys walked back to their side of the grounds. I love you, Petra mouthed at the retreating back of Etan, tracing a heart in the air.

  Ivy groaned, rolling her eyes. �
�OK, OK, stop being so dramatic.’

  Ivy didn’t get a chance to dwell on her looming teacher, or on Petra’s boy craziness, though, because suddenly she was too busy wondering why her classmates were all staring at her as if they were completely star struck.

  ‘Petra, do I have something in my teeth?’ Ivy bared her fangs for Petra to check. She’d been letting them grow back ever since entering the Academy. Usually, vampires in Franklin Grove were meticulous about filing their fangs back so that normal humans wouldn’t notice anything odd. Here, fangs were the norm and Ivy was quite enjoying the sensation of those sharp little teeth on either side of her mouth.

  ‘No.’ Petra giggled for the first time all day.

  There was a smattering of applause as Ivy passed. Some girls even mimed bowing and worshipping at her feet. What is going on? Ivy wondered. My run in with Miss Avisrova should be yesterday’s news by now.

  A slender vampire with a trendy blunt-cut fringe bounced over to Ivy with a notebook and a black marker pen. ‘Can I have your autograph?’ she asked. ‘Make it out to Anastasia.’

  Ivy scribbled something unintelligible in the notebook. Somewhere between Herbal Science and lunch I must have entered the Twilight Zone, she thought.

  ‘Am I getting pranked?’ Ivy ducked into the cafeteria with Petra and they grabbed a couple of seats at an empty table. Ivy arranged her chair so that she didn’t have to face the entrance, but she still felt as if there was a spotlight shining right on her.

  Petra pulled an electronic tablet device out of her leather bag, swiped her thumb across the screen and started scrolling. Her eyes crinkled and she kept looking from Ivy to the tablet and back to Ivy again.

  ‘OK, seriously, what is going on?’ Ivy demanded.

  Petra’s mouth was hanging open. The girls sitting at the tables nearest them leaned in closer. ‘How did you do it?’ said Petra, shaking her head in slow motion. ‘It’s amazing. How on Earth did you do it?’

  Before Ivy could ask her to explain, Petra handed her the tablet. The web browser was open to a concert review site featuring an article that covered the Pall Bearers’ show in Franklin Grove: Small town, big show: Yesterday’s Pall Bearers concert was to die for.