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