His hair flopped forwards in just the right way, he had broad shoulders and a gorgeous spattering of freckles across his nose – plus eyelashes that any girl would die for. She opened her mouth to tell him that . . . then caught herself just in time.
Stop now! she ordered herself, in her best imagined Ivy-voice. Don’t create even more confusion!
She gave another frustrated, side-long look at Jackson’s trailer, and then rolled her eyes at herself. This is ridiculous. Why should I be so embarrassed?
She hadn’t flirted with Will, she’d only been friendly. And even if she had been flirting, Jackson would have had no right to be angry. After all, they were not together.
And I can’t let myself forget that, Olivia told herself. It doesn’t matter how many scenes we shoot together of a couple in love. It’s just acting.
So she hadn’t done anything wrong . . . but that didn’t make her feel any better as she said goodbye to Will and walked to her trailer. It felt as though she was surrounded by an invisible storm cloud of gloom – a storm that she’d brought on.
After what felt like a year later, Olivia was finally out of her costume and lying on the bed in her opulent, lushly carpeted trailer, wearing loose grey sweatpants and a pink-and-white Franklin Grove cheer-squad T-shirt. After her long day in a corset and Victorian hoop-skirt, though, she couldn’t imagine wearing anything more comfortable. If only all those journalists could see me now, she thought. I sure don’t look like a movie star!
When she’d first seen her trailer, she’d wondered why on earth it would include a bed as well as all the other luxuries, like the microwave and the flat-screen TV. Those might make some sense, but a bed? Surely she’d never sleep on the set!
Now, though, she just wanted to curl up in her comfy sweatpants and pretend that none of the last half-hour had happened. As she pulled the sheets over her head, she let out a sigh of relief.
Then she heard a familiar ping! coming from her laptop, which sat on the table by her elaborate kitchen unit. She knew that ping! It signalled an incoming message from the Lonely Echo messaging system on the Vorld Vide Veb, the vampire Internet . . . and there was only one person in the world who would contact her that way.
Ivy!
With a burst of renewed energy, Olivia threw off her covers and ran over to her laptop, waving at her twin. ‘I am so happy to see you!’ she said. ‘How’s high school?’
Ivy looked out of the computer screen with big, anguished violet eyes. ‘Horrible,’ she announced, in an Eeyore-like Voice of Doom. ‘I’m popular.’
‘What?!’ Olivia stared at her sister as she pulled out a chair by the table. Of all the bizarre things that had ever come out of Ivy’s mouth, this had to be the most unexpected. ‘Is that a joke?’
‘I only wish it was.’ Ivy buried her face in her hands. ‘I need your help.’
Olivia sat down in front of the laptop, her own worries forgotten. ‘Anything you need,’ she said firmly. ‘Just tell me all about it.’
As she watched, Ivy drew a deep breath. ‘The goths,’ Ivy announced, ‘are the in-crowd. There are just so many of them! And . . .’ Ivy’s eyes looked wild. ‘I really need to ask: how did you deal with being popular at school? Because I’ve only been dealing with it for three days, and I already want to nail my coffin shut so I don’t have to face it any more!’
Olivia let out a snort. ‘Me? “Popular”?’ She shook her head as she leaned to grab a fresh strawberry-banana smoothie from her mini-fridge. ‘Have you already forgotten? All of my friends were goths or sci-fi nerds. Remember?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Ivy’s shoulders slumped. ‘Now that you’re a big Hollywood star, I sometimes forget you weren’t always that way.’
‘Hmmph.’ Olivia rolled her eyes and took a long sip of the sweet, cold smoothie. ‘Speaking of my friends, though . . . how is Camilla?’
‘Oh.’ Ivy winced. ‘I don’t actually know. Sorry! She’s going to Willowton High, and it’s hard to get a word in when we’re riding the bus with Charlotte. But I’ll catch up with her, I promise!’
‘Don’t worry,’ Olivia said, seeing her sister looking as gloomy as the black and dull-crimson hangings of her bedroom. ‘How are the others doing?’ Olivia asked, trying to change the subject.
Ivy let out a groan. ‘I think Sophia’s having some kind of breakdown!’ Olivia’s twin leaned forward, whispering: ‘She’s taken to wearing gingham.’
‘No way.’ Olivia almost dropped her smoothie.
‘It’s true.’ Ivy shook her head. ‘She’s also become permanently attached to her shades and she’s taken up skateboarding . . . or at least, she’s tried.’ Ivy looked pained. ‘It hasn’t gone very well so far.’
‘But what’s going on?’ Olivia asked. ‘Sophia’s always been so fashion-conscious! I’ve never even seen her wear an earring that wasn’t black.’
Ivy picked up a bat-figurine from her desk and scowled down at it. ‘Well, she’s changed now, big-time.’
Olivia stirred her smoothie with its straw, frowning. ‘Could she just be trying really hard to fit in at the new school?’
‘If that’s the case, it isn’t working.’ Ivy grimaced. ‘If anything, she’s drawing bad attention to herself from our school’s Queen Bee, Amelia. I don’t think she can stand any goths acting ungothlike.’