Quirking her lips at the idea, she sat down. Immediately, she realised her tactical mistake. Uh-oh.
The small, rectangular table she’d chosen could seat up to six people. All five empty seats were just waiting to be filled . . . and, based on recent events, people were going to want to sit with her now! She could already feel the eyes on her from the rest of the cafeteria, and hear the furious whispering as people debated whether or not they dared to join her.
Don’t even think about it! Ivy hunched her shoulders defensively, leaning over her tray. She’d promised Olivia they would sit together at lunch. Not only did she want to spend more time with her sister, but she really wanted all the other students to get used to her having a non-goth twin. Then maybe they’d stop whispering rude things about her . . . and Ivy would stop wanting to punch them all!
Unfortunately, Olivia’s first stop at lunchtime had to be the school counsellor’s office, to work out her late-enrolment issues. She wouldn’t be here for at least ten minutes.
How am I supposed to guard five empty seats for that whole time, all by myself ?
Clenching her hands around her burger, she sent off her strongest Don’t come near me vibes and bit into the burger, hard.
The burger was every bit as cold as she’d imagined. Tough, chewy and flavourless. She forced herself to keep eating just to fill her stomach, but it couldn’t hold her attention as she felt the cafeteria filling up around her. Come on, Olivia. Hurry up!
Tapping one booted foot nervously under the table, Ivy mentally counted off the number of spare seats against the number of students and trays. Soon, she might have no choice but to let someone sit opposite her . . . and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of any way to translate ‘Get away from me’ into polite English. There’s only so much grumpiness the word ‘please’ can excuse!
She closed her eyes for a moment in despair. Oh, my darkness, it’s only the second week of school. What will I be like by the end of the year?
As she chewed doggedly on her unappealing burger, taking tiny bites to minimise the taste, a parade of people tried to ‘subtly’ walk by her with their trays of food, their footsteps lagging as they passed her table. She tried not to look, but she couldn’t miss the way their eyes lit up with hope – hope that she might let them sit at her table.
Argh. Ivy couldn’t bear it. How do I reject them without being mean?
She lunged for her bag, searching for something she could use as a shield. Textbooks wouldn’t work, but maybe . . . Yes! She could feel a small paperback inside. Maybe if I’m totally absorbed in reading, people will leave me alone!
She snatched the paperback out of her bag and opened it to the middle section, as if she were already halfway through. Almost burying her face in it, she began to fake-read without even looking at the cover, screwing up her face in an expression of intense concentration.
Behind her, she heard someone gasp. Then someone else whispered, ‘Is she really reading . . . that ?’
‘I can’t believe it,’ another girl murmured. ‘Of all the people I never thought would read that book –’
Um . . .? Ivy blinked and switched from fake-reading to real-reading.
‘He clasped her in an embrace so tight, she could not escape . . . nor did she want to. She would be his prisoner of love . . . forever!’
Ivy stifled a groan. Oh, no.
She knew that awful writing style and that unintentionally funny romance vibe. This was Bare Throats at Sunset by S. K. Reardon! Ivy had become friends with his daughter Holly this summer, but she’d been outraged by the way the book presented vampires. Still, Lillian had insisted that Ivy should give it another try, claiming it was the ultimate guilty pleasure. Ivy had finally stuck it in her bag last week just to make her stepmom happy. She’d planned to read it when no one was looking.
Now everyone was looking – and she’d practically plastered her face to the pages in her attempt to keep people away from her. She must have looked as if she were loving it!
Ivy’s face burned. Everyone’s going to think I have the worst taste ever!
. . . Hey, wait! A sudden flutter of hope sparked inside her. If they think I actually enjoy this book, maybe they’ll stop thinking I’m cool. Maybe they’ll realise I’m actually just . . . uh . . . warm?
But the next conversation she heard destroyed her hope.
‘Wow . . . Maybe that book isn’t so bad, after all.’
‘If Ivy likes it . . .’
‘I’m going to get a copy, too.’
‘Maybe we should re-evaluate S.K. Reardon. He may have made a serious contribution to literature.’
I can’t believe this! Ivy slammed down the book on the table, fighting the impulse to scream.
‘Or maybe not,’ another girl whispered. ‘I think she’s turned against it.’
Ivy closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she finally thought she could hold herself back, she opened her eyes again and reached for her burger. Just as her fingers touched it, she stilled. Wait a minute. Maybe it’s not too late to prove that I’m un-cool.
What if she ate messily – and not just a little messily, but horribly, sloppily, like a pig? Then the other kids would have to stop mooning over her!
It’s worth a try. Steeling herself, she grabbed her burger and took a huge, messy bite. Ketchup exploded over her chin and cheeks, through the air, on to the table . . .
. . . and just as she smeared it across her face, she looked up to find her boyfriend staring down at her in disbelief.
Oh, no!
Ivy wanted to disappear.