Olivia blinked. There was only one explanation. She had to be dreaming. Olivia pulled the sheets up to her chin and burrowed back beneath the covers.
A hand tapped Olivia’s shoulder and her eyes snapped open. ‘Madam?’
‘Oh my goodness!’ she shrieked.
The bulky Horatio leaped back and two glasses tipped over, spilling orange juice and blood-orange juice all over his neatly pressed suit.
‘Oops.’ Olivia’s cheeks burned. ‘I didn’t mean to. I thought you were a dream.’ She was about to ask Horatio what he was doing there when Ivy’s coffin swung open, whacking poor Horatio so that he stumbled back into the wall behind him.
Ivy jolted out of her coffin like a vampire in a bad horror flick. ‘What’s going on?’ She spotted the butler. ‘What are you doing here?’ Ivy rubbed her eyes with her fists.
Cautiously, Horatio placed the brass platter on the edge of Olivia’s bed and handed Ivy a half-full glass of blood-orange juice and Olivia the remains of the regular orange juice.
‘Thanks.’ Olivia took a sip.
The butler rubbed the spot where he had been struck with Ivy’s hard coffin-lid. ‘Surprise!’ he managed to choke out, like he’d been saving it up for the right moment. Olivia got the feeling that his breakfast treat had not gone as planned.
‘Surprise!’ Two more voices echoed from the doorway. Olivia almost spilled the orange juice again. There at Ivy’s bedroom door were their grandparents, the Count and Countess Lazar.
‘Oh my darkness,’ exclaimed Ivy, clambering out of her coffin. ‘What are you doing here?’
It was as if Transylvania had been transplanted directly into the Vega household. Olivia beamed. The Count and Countess swept into the room, and immediately Olivia felt underdressed in her polka-dotted flannel pyjamas. Her grandmother was wearing a black fitted corset top and a long, full skirt that dusted the floor as she floated along, arm-in-arm with their grandfather. The Count wore a crimson velvet jacket with ruffled sleeves peeking out of the cuffs of his blazer.
‘We just flew in!’ The Countess pulled Olivia into a tight hug. Now Olivia knew why it had been so important to have a sleepover last night. My bio-dad is way too good at keeping secrets! Olivia’s heart swelled and she had the sudden desire to wrap her whole family into one, giant group hug.
‘Tell me,’ whispered the Count to Ivy. ‘What is the pizza situation like here?’
Ivy winked. ‘There’s always plenty in the freezer just waiting to be heated,’ she assured him. The Count liked to keep a stock of pizza handy.
Olivia noticed their dad, dressed in a quilted-satin dressing gown, looking on from behind his parents. ‘So this is why I just had to sleep over!’ she cried.
‘Well, I could hardly let you miss out on a wake up like this.’ He folded his arms, smiling.
Horatio, who had recovered his composure, stood stiffly off to the side. ‘I would like to cordially invite you to the dining room.’ He gestured for the family to follow and then led everyone in a line out of Ivy’s bedroom.
In the dining room, the mahogany table had been covered by a fine silk tablecloth. Olivia’s mouth watered at the yummy scents coming from a dozen platters. With a flourish, Horatio removed the sterling silver domes that covered the food.
‘Bon appétit!’ he said.
Olivia’s eyes widened. A breakfast feast was laid out for the family, complete with blood sausage for the vampires and veggie sausage for Olivia. There were scones and buttered rolls and a mountain of scrambled eggs. Horatio had only been in the house for five minutes. Had he brought the food all the way from Transylvania?
‘This looks deadly,’ said Ivy, spooning a sausage patty on to her plate.
Olivia felt like she was getting the royal treatment as Horatio draped a linen napkin over her lap. ‘What brings you to Franklin Grove?’ she asked her grandparents, stealing a scone for her plate.
‘You girls, of course.’ Grandma smacked her lips thoughtfully. ‘We want to spend some time with you, doing . . . well, whatever you normally do.’
‘Really?’ Olivia had a hard time picturing her grandparents fitting into Franklin Grove life. In fact, she wasn’t sure Franklin Grove was prepared for this level of old-school fabulous. ‘Well, I was supposed to be doing an interview with my classmate, Charlotte, at Mister Smoothie.’ Olivia hesitated. ‘But it might not be the right sort of place for you.’
Olivia’s bio-dad shuddered at the mere mention of the name ‘Mister Smoothie’. She knew he was remembering the utter horror of being forced to dance to the Twist and Shout.
Grandpa crossed his knife and fork over his plate. ‘I’m sure if it’s somewhere you like, then we’ll like it, too. Maybe we could all go there for a drink before you meet your friend,’ he suggested.
Mr Vega shifted in his chair. ‘It’s not exactly a vamp establishment.’
‘Oh, please!’ the Countess hushed her son. ‘We’re five hundred years old. I think we can handle it.’
Ivy shrugged and Olivia knew they were both thinking the same thing. This is going to be either hilarious . . . or horrible.
Chapter Three
Mister Smoothie popped into view like an ominous raincloud – a brightly coloured, very musical raincloud, but a raincloud none the less. Ivy couldn’t believe that she and Olivia were leading their father and grandparents to the least vampy place on earth. But at least her whole family was in one place. It hadn’t been too long since it had just been Ivy and her father. Now, she was part of a big family. I could definitely get used to this, she thought.
A little girl on a tricycle passed them on the sidewalk, and her bright blue helmet swivelled as she stared at Ivy’s grandparents. They looked better prepared to attend a gothic ball than take a stroll outside on the blistering asphalt. The girl stopped peddling, her jaw dropping open.
‘Excuse me.’ The little girl peered up at the Countess. ‘But are you a queen?’
Ivy snorted. Her grandmother did look a bit – ahem – formal for an afternoon stroll.
Grandma chuckled. ‘No,’ she said, smoothing her dark velvet skirt. The fullness of it jutted out from her hips, making her appear majestic and grand. ‘But you’re awfully sweet to think so.’ With a mischievous smile on her face, Countess Lazar dipped into a long, low curtsy, so graceful that Ivy would never have guessed her grandmother was more than five hundred years old! Even the Count looked surprised, and gave a hasty bow to join in.
The door chimed as the entire Lazar–Vega clan trooped into Mister Smoothie. Against the shop’s bright pink and lime-green décor, Ivy’s family stood out like flies in milk. A couple of patrons did double takes, probably because her grandparents and their butler looked like a fancy version of the Addams family. Nobody but the Count would wear a dark red suit in the middle of the afternoon and certainly no man in this decade would sport ruffles!
Ivy raised her hands in a human stop sign. ‘How about we go ahead and order for everyone?’ She didn’t think her dignified grandparents were ready for a round of Mister Smoothie singing, or worse . . . dancing! Order the wrong smoothie and the staff at the shop would serenade the customer with peppy rock songs and choreographed dance numbers. The Count and Countess might have wanted to experience life at Franklin Grove, but Ivy wasn’t sure they needed to experience it all at once.
While Charles and the Lazars went to save them a table, Ivy and Olivia made a beeline for the counter, where machines were swirling with brightly coloured liquids.
‘Which smoothie do you think is the most vampy?’ Ivy asked, craning her neck to study the vibrant menu posted on the wall.
‘I like Beauty-Boosting Blueberry,’ Olivia suggested.
‘Vampy?’
‘Right, not so much. What about a Mocha Choca Latte? That’s dark.’ Olivia offered a lopsided smile. ‘And you guys are, you know, kind of dark too.’
Ivy looked down at her combat boots and black pleated skirt and shrugged. ‘Good a reason as any.’ She waved to the girl in
a bubblegum-pink apron behind the counter.
‘Welcome to Mister Smoothie! We hope you’re having a rock-’n’-rolling day!’ The girl grinned at the twins.
Ivy could barely keep from ‘rock-’n’-rolling’ her eyes. ‘We’ll have one Mocha Choca Latte, please.’ She turned to her sister. ‘What else?’
Olivia muttered a few of the smoothie names under her breath as she read out from the menu, trying to decide what their grandparents might like. ‘Oh, I know! Cherry-O!’ exclaimed Olivia, exaggerating a British accent.
‘What was that ?’
‘The smoothie name.’ Olivia pointed. ‘See? Like “Cheerio!” only it’s cherry. Very English, don’t you think? And,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘the smoothie will be red, just like you-know-what.’
Ivy cocked her head. ‘Like what?’
‘Like, “I want to suck your bl–”’ Olivia twirled her hand as if to encourage her sister to complete the sentence.
‘It’s not as simple as that!’ Ivy swatted at her sister. ‘We’ll take two Tutti Fruttis and two Beauty-Boosting Blueberries.’
Olivia started laughing. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say “Tutti Frutti”.’
Ivy gave a sly look sideways at her sister. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, OK?’ Especially not Brendan, she almost added, but the last thing she needed was to give Olivia any ideas.
‘Can you believe the Transylvanians are here in Franklin Grove, though?’ Olivia glanced over her shoulder towards where their dad and grandparents were sitting erect in the vinyl booth. The Countess’s eyes were wide as she took in the multicoloured surroundings. ‘It’s so . . . so . . .’ Olivia searched for the word. ‘It’s fabulous!’
‘It’s also a little weird,’ Ivy reminded her, just in case her sister was thinking of launching into a backflip, or worse – a cheer.
‘That, too.’ Olivia nodded. ‘But I can’t get over it. We have such a big family now. Can you believe that we were both only-children our entire lives, and now this?’
‘Hey!’ Ivy put her fists on her hips. ‘Did you pickpocket my brain? I was thinking the exact same thing only a minute ago.’
Olivia smiled. ‘You know what would make our family gatherings even bigger?’
‘What?’ asked Ivy, watching the girl in the apron pour bright-red slush from a pitcher into a tall cup.
‘Taking the whole family to Aunt Rebecca’s farm! Then we’d really have everyone together.’
The cheerful waitress arranged five frosty glasses on a tray, which Ivy slid from the counter, being careful not to slosh the smoothies. ‘And I thought I was the smart one,’ said Ivy.
Olivia grabbed straws, while Ivy carried the smoothies back and handed them out to her family before slipping into the booth opposite her grandparents. Thank goodness we managed to dodge the singing, Ivy thought.
‘It’s . . . purple,’ said the Countess, making whirlpools with her straw. Olivia giggled.
Ivy was about to tell her grandmother that the smoothie was supposed to be that colour, when a horrifying sound blasted into her super-vampire ears. Someone was ordering a Rock and Roller, and the song that went with it was at least ten times worse than the Twist and Shout.
Ivy did a quick calculation in her head. Could she get her family out of here in two seconds flat? She scanned the room. No way. The Lazars and Vegas would have to grit their vampire teeth and bear it. Here went nothing . . .
The waitresses and cashiers boogied out, snapping their fingers and getting the other patrons going.
‘Rockin’ around the shop tonight . . . Drinkin’ cold smoothies . . . A chilly delight . . .’
The smoothie shop erupted into song, making Ivy wish she could crawl back into her coffin. No such luck. Reluctantly, she swivelled to check on the Count and Countess, who were bound to be seriously offended. As far as she knew, her grandparents were still into music of the organ variety.
‘Oh my darkness!’ Ivy’s mouth dropped. There were her grandparents, bopping away to the Rock and Roller song with Olivia. The Countess was even clapping.
‘Bravo!’ shouted the Count.
Ivy’s father leaned closer. ‘I guess you never know what will happen on a trip to Mister Smoothie.’
That’s for sure, thought Ivy. The Count and Countess actually seemed disappointed when the song finished.
‘So tell me,’ said Ivy’s grandmother, nestling back into the booth. ‘How is school at Franklin Grove? What do they teach you there?’
Ivy thought this was an odd question, because Franklin Grove taught the same thing as any other school. ‘You know, the usual stuff. We have Social Studies, Science, Algebra, Media Studies . . .’
Ivy’s grandfather nodded along, as if her list of courses was fascinating. ‘Interesting, interesting. Same for you, Olivia?’
‘Yes, and this year I’m organising the school dance.’ Olivia propped her cable-knit-clad elbows on the table. ‘I’ve a mountain of work. We only found out about it yesterday and now I’m chairing the whole thing.’
Grandma’s eyes brightened. ‘You have great experience after attending the Transylvanian ball.’ She winked, taking a sip from her purple concoction.
Several months before, Olivia and Ivy had travelled far across the Atlantic to meet their long-lost-family in Transylvania. The highlight of the trip had been an elegant vampire ball that even Transylvanian royalty had attended.
Olivia slurped her smoothie. ‘I don’t think it will be as fancy as that.’ Ivy remembered how nervous Olivia had been about making her big debut into vampire society. She’d even worried about clashing with the crimson limousine décor!
Olivia’s chirpy ringtone sounded from her purse. She fished it out, checked the screen and blushed. ‘Sorry, but do you mind if I take this? It’s Jackson.’
Ivy smiled. Olivia looked as if she had been poked with Cupid’s arrow. How could anyone refuse that lovesick face?
The Countess waved Olivia on with ring-adorned hands, eyes crinkling at the corners.
‘Thanks!’ Olivia scooted out of the booth and scurried away from the group, phone pressed to her ear. ‘Hiiiii . . .’
Ivy hoped she never sounded that mushy with Brendan. She took another gulp of her smoothie.
‘Isn’t it sweet,’ said the Count, watching Olivia. ‘It’s so nice to see a young girl who’s found her destiny. Olivia wanted to be an actress and that’s what she’s become.’
Ivy frowned. Since when had the Count cared about Hollywood dreams? She couldn’t remember him ever asking Olivia about her acting career or her romance with Jackson.
Grandma shifted in her seat. ‘That’s right!’ she said brightly. ‘Finding your right path in life is so important.’ There seemed to be something forced about her smile as she watched Ivy closely.
Ivy looked from her grandma to her grandfather, and then across to her dad. He looked as if he’d swallowed a clove of garlic.
‘What’s going on?’ Ivy asked. ‘You guys look like you’ve been staked!’
The Count played with the ruffles of his sleeves, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. ‘Now that we’re alone,’ he said, nodding towards Olivia, who was still chattering on the phone with Jackson, ‘we’d like to have a quiet word with you, Ivy.’
‘With me?’ Ivy got a crawly feeling up the back of her neck. What could they need to tell her that Olivia wasn’t meant to hear?
‘There are some things you must know about being a growing vampire,’ her grandfather continued. ‘You see, when high-born vampires, like you, reach a certain age, their powers can become a bit – well – hard to manage. It can be time to learn to control your vampire skills. Become acquainted with your . . .’ he gave a hard gulp, ‘destiny.’
There’s that word again, Ivy thought. What are they trying to tell me?
‘Like when you hit Horatio with the coffin lid this morning,’ the Countess pointed out.
Ivy winced. She hadn’t meant to greet the day quite so vigorously. She glanced over at Hor
atio, who was standing a short distance away, watching over the Lazars. His eyes followed the waitress as she wiped down tables, cleared cups and scooted chairs under tables – all Horatio’s usual jobs. He looked positively twitchy. He could do these tasks at twice the pace. Just as Ivy was about to turn back, she noticed a plaster stuck to Horatio’s temple. She shrank back in the booth. Did I do that? Then a worse thought occurred to her. Hitting Horatio was awful, but he was sturdy enough to handle the blow. What if it had been Olivia that I’d hit with the coffin lid? I could have knocked her unconscious!
‘I didn’t mean to!’ Ivy pressed her hand to her chest. She was suddenly feeling panicky. She was a walking natural disaster! ‘Are you sure there wasn’t a defect in the coffin? Maybe we should check.’
‘It’s OK.’ The Countess reached across the table to hold Ivy’s hand. ‘There are ways to control your powers.’
‘Like a pill?’ she asked, envisioning herself as part of some freaky science experiment.
‘No, nothing like that,’ her grandmother reassured her. ‘It’s a school, actually. All Transylvanian vampires go to Wallachia Academy.’
Ivy had never heard of Wallachia. She couldn’t even guess how to spell it.
‘It’s like a finishing school,’ explained the Count. ‘In fact, Wallachia is the premier place to learn to control powers and be a good vampire.’
Charles nodded. ‘I studied there.’ He straightened his shoulders, suddenly looking like a proud alumnus. Ivy was shocked. She had never known her dad had attended finishing school!
‘And we met there.’ Ivy’s grandfather winked at the Countess and Ivy blushed. She had never seen her grandparents act so lovey-dovey in public! ‘In fact,’ the Count continued, ‘everyone in the entire Lazar line has attended Wallachia. Oh, it’s beautiful! Wrought-iron gates, towering castle spires, you’ll love it!’
Twin Spins! Page 3
