Brendan peered more closely at her. ‘I don’t believe it. For a minute there, I really . . .’
‘I have to keep the act up,’ Olivia said, interrupting him. ‘Holly mustn’t guess. I’ve been playing along to get her a dream interview with Ivy. She wants to be a journalist and I didn’t want to crush her dreams. She’s entering a competition that ends this week. She doesn’t know Ivy’s in Transylvania. Can you play along with me?’
He gave a big sigh and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I guess one more game of make-believe shouldn’t be such a big deal.’
‘Thank you!’ Olivia gasped. Holly was smiling and waving over. Olivia waved back.
Brendan grabbed straws while Olivia ordered a Beauty-Boosting Blueberry smoothie, a Cherry-O for Brendan and a Twist and Shout for Holly.
‘Coming right up!’ said the beaming waitress. No sooner had the order been placed than the entire Mister Smoothie staff – waiters, cashiers and all – boogied out from behind the counter, snapping their fingers:
Hey, Mister Smoothie!
I’ve got a little twist!
I’ve got a little SHOUT!
As the whole smoothie shop broke into song, Olivia blushed – very un-Ivy of her.
Holly seemed unfazed. Her camera shutter was clacking away as she took pictures of the whole shebang. Olivia knew the real Ivy would rather be caught dead!
She tried to will her cheeks back to pale again as she made her way over to Brendan and Holly.
‘Since when do you order Twist and Shouts?’ asked Brendan, his eyes twinkling.
‘When in Rome?’ replied Olivia, handing out the smoothies. Brendan was really taking his role seriously. Olivia made a mental note to suggest that Brendan look into drama club after this. ‘Did you two meet?’ Olivia asked. ‘Brendan, Holly; Holly, Brendan. Brendan’s my, um, boyfriend.’
‘I can see that,’ said Holly, grinning broadly. ‘I don’t suppose he gives everyone hugs like that.’
Brendan draped an arm across Olivia’s shoulders. ‘Oh, Ivy just loves it when I get all romantic!’ He laughed and kissed Olivia on the temple. Don’t pull away. Don’t pull away! she willed herself. Holly was still taking photos of them.
‘Love’s young dream,’ Holly sighed.
Brendan shrugged. ‘Something like that. Isn’t that right, Ivy?’
What would Ivy do? She dug her elbow sharply into Brendan’s ribs. ‘Quit it with all the mushy stuff,’ she growled. Brendan laughed.
OK, now Olivia was officially starting to worry. She knew Brendan Daniels pretty well and never had she pegged him for this dedicated a thespian.
‘So, Brendan,’ said Olivia, ‘did you know that Holly here is friends with Olivia?’ She did exaggerated eye rolls in Holly’s direction hoping that he would catch on. ‘Remember Olivia?’
She just hoped she could get through this little situation without alerting Holly to anything odd. After all, Olivia wasn’t doing this to be two-faced. Holly had really helped her and been a true friend; Olivia wanted to do something good back, and if she could pull off letting Holly think she’d got photos of an uber-cool goth like Ivy, then this fiasco would all have been worth it.
‘So, Holly,’ said Brendan, hunching forwards. ‘What brings you to Franklin Grove? Have you been here long? How are you liking it so far?’
But before Holly could answer, Brendan was firing more questions. ‘Is it cold where you’re from? How about the weather here? It’s nice, right?’
Easy there, Brendan, thought Olivia. He was always so laid back, what had got into him? He was jiggling about in his seat, as if he had too much energy to burn.
Holly pursed her lips. ‘The weather? Well, I guess it’s . . .’ Olivia stopped listening because she felt Brendan’s fingers intertwining with hers. Just playing along, right? Olivia smiled rigidly and did her best not to pull her hand free.
She glanced down at her lap. Their hands were under the table, which meant Holly couldn’t see them. And if Holly couldn’t see them, then the holding hands wasn’t part of the act, which meant . . . Olivia’s chest tightened. Did Brendan think she was Ivy for real ? How was that possible? The tan, the wig; it didn’t make sense. And she’d just told him that she was Olivia in disguise! Could he have forgotten so quickly? Brendan knew his own girlfriend, didn’t he?
That was when she realised: Brendan’s hand was blazing in her palm. Now she knew something was wrong. Brendan Daniels should not be heating up like a human radiator. It was no good waiting for Sophia’s rescue call now. They had to get out of here as quickly as possible.
‘Um, Holly,’ Olivia interrupted as Holly was explaining something about ozone layers, too much sun and the Franklin Grove community pool. ‘I’m really sorry, but I just remembered . . .’ She smacked herself on the forehead. ‘Brendan and I totally have to . . . do something.’ Olivia tugged Brendan’s hand. ‘Come on, Brendan, we better get to it.’
Brendan flashed Olivia a goofy smile that froze her heart. This was worse than she had thought.
‘OK! Well, next time, then?’ Holly said as they wriggled out from the booth. She was only halfway through her Twist and Shout and Olivia had barely had a chance to touch her drink, but she hauled Brendan as quickly as she could out of Mister Smoothie and into the sunshine. He was chuckling as he allowed himself to be dragged along.
‘You’re always so impetuous, Ivy,’ he teased.
‘I’m Olivia, remember? O-liv-i-a!’ she said, slowly and carefully. Brendan just looked confused.
Olivia strode up the street, Brendan in tow. What am I going to do? Her heartbeat thrashed and she felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She was seriously starting to panic. Look at him! Brendan’s face was bright red, his hand clammy. She remembered how flushed he’d been before, how much energy he seemed to have. And now his memory seemed to be going! This had to be some kind of ailment that she knew nothing about. She’d once had a Bloodbite Nettle rash, but that was as far as her experience with vampire illnesses went.
She stopped. ‘Do you think there’s any chance you were exposed to a patch of Bloodbite Nettles?’ she asked.
Brendan’s smile faded. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘You’re wrong!’ she said, prodding a finger into his chest.
To her surprise, he staggered back, zig-zagging across the sidewalk. ‘Nettles? Bloodbites?’ he asked, his voice slurring. ‘Ouch!’ Brendan had staggered back into a wall, and was rubbing his shoulder. His hair fell forwards, covering his eyes.
‘I think maybe you’re right,’ he muttered. ‘Something’s wrong.’ He rubbed his hand across his forehead.
‘We’ve got to go and get help,’ Olivia said, taking hold of his arm. He was burning up!
They started to walk towards Charles’s house.
My bio-dad will know what to do, she reassured herself. He just has to!
Chapter Nine
The last class of the day was over, and Ivy was tapping her boot on the cold slate floor of Miss Avisrova’s office. Petra hadn’t been in any of the day’s lessons, and Ivy wondered what had happened to her. Her vampire friend had probably received nothing more than a slap on the wrist. It was Ivy who Avisrova had it in for.
Six gold-framed portraits hung above Avisrova’s claw-footed antique desk, each one featuring a picture of a different old lady, all posing stiffly. The pencils in the iron pencil pot had been sharpened into lethal weapons and the rug was a scary-looking bear hide. In the corner was a polished black coffin. Obviously Miss Avisrova actually slept in her office.
Hanging over an old, varnished filing cabinet was a black-and-white class photograph showing young vampires lined up in rows, boys on the left and girls on the right. Ivy peered closer. One boy’s face looked familiar – those kind, dark eyes and swept-back hair . . . Yes, there was no mistaking him – it was her dad. Ivy scanned the other faces and recognised another person. The girl on the other side with the tightly pinned bun and stern expression – was that . . . Avisrova? This is too weir
d.
Ivy turned her attention to the bunches of Oxynamon clutched tightly in her hands. She’d snatched them up in the forest, hoping that they could become her excuse if she was found there. She’d planned to say she’d been collecting samples for extra credit in Herbal Science. Like anyone would believe that lame excuse. But she couldn’t help feeling that this wasn’t all her fault. Why have an obstacle course there if you didn’t want someone to try to complete it? Surely it was a challenge as much as a deterrent, wasn’t it? Avisrova had said something about handing the love letter over in the ‘customary’ way – did that mean that other people had run the Gauntlet before Ivy?
Yeah, right. Ivy checked her train of thought. Wallachia Academy was a school built on thousands of years of tradition. And here she was, thinking one snarky American girl was going to turn all that on its head in the space of a year? Fat chance.
She couldn’t change Wallachia, and she didn’t want Wallachia to change her. So how could it really be the right place for her?
The office door was flung open. Avisrova’s monster bat flew through, settled on a windowsill and stared at Ivy. Then Avisrova herself strutted into the room. I bet she’s here to gloat, thought Ivy, imagining all the ways her teacher could drag out her detention in order to make it as painful as possible.
Avisrova lowered herself into her high-backed chair. But as the teacher rested her elbows on the desk and her chin on her fists, Ivy got the sense that something was different about her. She didn’t look disgusted, like she normally did. Actually, by the way she was twisting her mouth and knitting her brow, Ivy would have said she looked more curious than anything else.
‘Tell me,’ said Avisrova, relaxing back in her seat. ‘Why do you have this constant urge to flout authority?’
‘I –’ Ivy started. Avisrova held up one finger, silencing Ivy immediately.
‘And why, exactly, do you get so much pleasure from breaking the rules?’ Avisrova scratched her chin with one long unpainted fingernail.
Ivy waited to make sure Avisrova was done with the loaded questions. ‘It’s not that I enjoy breaking the rules, it’s just that when the rules are as strict as they are here, they . . . Well, they break very easily.’
Avisrova smiled. It was the first expression Ivy had seen on her face other than a scowl. ‘You are just like your father was at this age.’ She sighed.
‘My father? Really? Did you know him?’
Avisrova nodded. ‘I was his . . .’ Her gaze slid to one side. ‘Classmate.’
Ivy’s eyes narrowed. Something in her teacher’s voice, in the way she had paused, made Ivy think that Avisrova was being pointed when she said the word ‘classmate’. Why couldn’t vampires just say what they meant?
‘If you are going to be a student here, Ivy Lazar, we will have to re-train you. Your insolent American ways will have to go. Wallachia has agreed to accept another Lazar into its illustrious student body, but we must undo your father’s grave mistake.’
Ivy’s breathing hitched. ‘Grave mistake?’
‘The Lazars are one of the few great vampire families left, but rather than stay and raise the next generation here in Transylvania, your father chose to bring you up in a foreign country: the United States. That is not where you belong.’
Ivy blinked. ‘But if it weren’t for my father leaving and going off to America, he would never have met my mother.’ She realised, as she said it, that this single rogue decision her father had made had shaped their lives and her very existence.
Miss Avisrova slapped her hand on the desk with a loud Bang! ‘Exactly.’ No sooner had she made her outburst than the teacher was folding her hands together in her lap and rearranging her expression into something unreadable. But it was too late. Ivy knew now. There was a history between this frosty teacher and her father.
Did she really want to know the truth? It didn’t matter. The pieces of the puzzle were already starting to come together; there was a reason why Avisrova picked on her and kept referring to her ‘American ways’ like Ivy was some sort of barbarian.
Ivy suddenly felt disgusted. Let’s get this punishment over and done with, she thought. Then I can get away from this awful woman.
‘Miss Avisrova, aren’t I supposed to be in trouble for my adventure in the woods?’
Ivy thought that Avisrova would jump at the opportunity to scold her. Ivy had given her the perfect opening for a world-class lecture. How could she resist? But instead, Avisrova appeared to ignore Ivy’s comment altogether.
‘I’m not going to punish you,’ she said, pulling open the top drawer of her desk.
‘You’re not?’ asked Ivy slowly. This must be a trick. She watched Avisrova carefully, trying to tell if she was lying.
‘More’s the pity. No.’
She took out a thin golden necklace with a ruby pendant in the middle and handed it to Ivy. The chain was cold against Ivy’s skin. Ivy stared at it, half expecting it to bite her. Now she knew this had to be some kind of ploy, one of those punishments in disguise that some adults liked to call ‘lessons’.
‘Go on, it’s not a trick.’ Avisrova’s half-smile was smug. ‘Surprised? It’s your reward,’ she explained. ‘This ruby –’ she pointed to the red centre stone – ‘was cut from a larger gem that was recovered from the house of Count Gregario, one of the oldest vampires in history and a founding father of Wallachia Academy.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ivy, closing her fingers around the necklace. ‘But I’m not sure I understand. Why am I getting a reward for breaking the rules?’
‘Only the bravest souls and most resourceful minds can successfully navigate the Wallachia forest and the Gauntlet that has been created within. Those few who do make their way through are awarded this priceless relic; a treasure of great importance to the history of our kind. The necklace is a symbol of your physical and mental prowess. To receive the ruby necklace of Count Gregario is a huge honour. Only two other former students have ever been awarded it – and you have met them both.’
Ivy gasped. ‘Is one of them my dad?’
Avisrova nodded. ‘Yes, Charles is one of them.’
Ivy racked her brain. Which other vampires did she know who could have completed the Gauntlet? Avisrova stayed quiet at her desk. Then the answer came to Ivy. ‘You?’ she whispered, not quite sure she could believe what she was saying. ‘You’re the other one?’
A wistful smile passed over her teacher’s lips. ‘Karl and I – well, Charles and I – we found each other in the forest, both trying to get to the other side. Karl was going one way, and I the other. When we stumbled across each other we swapped tips about terrain. We both made it through, with the other’s help. I’m not sure either of us could have finished like you did, alone.’
Ivy tried to picture her Etiquette teacher dodging tripwires and swinging through trees. Was this the same woman who had been harping on about the correct arm position for ballroom dancing only one day earlier? Ivy felt her whole attitude towards Miss Avisrova shift.
‘But . . . but . . . You’ve been so furious at me for breaking rules!’ Ivy spluttered. ‘And you did the same?’
The Etiquette teacher cocked her head to one side. ‘Furious? Or impressed? I never said anything you were doing was wrong. I said “Bravo!” and gave you a round of applause. Does that sound like disapproval to you?’
‘But your tone of voice . . . It was so mean!’ Ivy protested. She found she’d got to her feet.
Her teacher shrugged. ‘A lifetime of teaching at the Academy makes it difficult for me to . . . soften my manner. I apologise. I don’t want every pupil knowing what challenges lie at the heart of Wallachia. So few are capable of meeting them, I don’t want my girls to be disappointed. But you . . . I knew you’d be different – that you’d have spirit.’
Ivy could just imagine what Brendan would have to say to that: ‘Oh yes, Ivy has spirit all right.’ She wondered what her boyfriend was doing right now, and felt a wave of homesickness.
‘
Love isn’t invincible,’ Miss Avisrova continued. It was like she could read Ivy’s thoughts. Or was she really thinking about Charles Vega? ‘Love is sometimes fragile.’
‘I know that much,’ Ivy said. ‘My sister, Olivia, was crazy about her boyfriend. She had the perfect Hollywood romance. Seriously, it was like Cinderella. But the distance between them . . .’ Ivy’s voice trailed off. She knew that if she kept talking, she would start to wonder what the future held for her and Brendan. Ivy was crazy about her boyfriend, but they had an ocean between them and no private plane like Jackson to take them back and forth! ‘So anyway, um . . . well, thanks,’ she finished, snatching up her bunch of Oxynamon and dropping the ruby necklace into the pocket of her skirt.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard Avisrova say, ‘We first locked eyes on the polo field.’ The teacher had pulled an ancient photo album from her desk drawer and was flicking through the pages.
Ivy exhaled, returning to her seat. Yuck, she did not want to hear about her dad’s former love life! Olivia would be so much more into this gooey-gooey love story stuff. But how could Ivy leave Avisrova all alone with her memories? I’ll just stay a little bit, she thought, stroking the red jewel she’d been given with one finger. She couldn’t help feeling proud of her achievements in the forest – and Avisrova had given her the credit she’d deserved. The least she could do was listen to her teacher’s story . . .
An hour later, Ivy sat in her open coffin with her laptop on her knees. Her stomach was growling. Avisrova’s reminiscences had gone on forever, and when she’d finally finished telling Ivy about the time she and Charles had won the Academy three-legged race together, Ivy had sprinted vampire-fast to the Wallachia canteen, only to find that the staff had already cleared supper and the chairs were propped upside down on top of the tables.
11 Flying Solo - My Sister the Vampire Page 9
