Fright Night, nocturnal delight
Turn out the light and
Scream with all your might . . .
Olivia had nothing against goths, but they had terrible taste in music. This could not possibly get any worse . . . Or at least that was what Olivia thought before the dancing started. If it could even be called ‘dancing’. First, the crowd surged one way and then the other, like an angry, writhing snake, and Olivia was wrenched along in the current.
‘Ouch!’ Someone stomped on her toe. ‘Oof!’ An elbow jabbed into her back and she lurched forwards. When she regained her balance, she tried standing on tiptoes so that she could just see over the shoulders of the people directly in front. There was a little clearing within the mass of people, in which a bunch of rowdy boys were shoving and kicking each other, yelling, ‘Mosh, mosh, mosh, mosh!’ And this is supposed to be fun? Olivia thought.
There was a brief lull between the first and second songs and Olivia jumped at the opportunity to talk to Sophia. ‘Mind if I head out now?’ She tugged at the sleeve of Sophia’s faded Pall Bearers T-shirt. ‘I’m not sure I feel like being deaf tomorrow.’ Her ears were ringing already.
Sophia wrapped Olivia in a tight hug. ‘Thank you so, so much for coming through for us. I was beyond excited for this concert. You have no idea.’
Despite her full-body discomfort, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. So what if she had to suffer a few bruised ribs and a little hearing loss? Totally worth it. If only Ivy could be here . . .
Olivia had started to thread her way through the crowd when the lead singer came to the front of the stage with the microphone. ‘For this next song, we’ll need a volunteer back-up singer.’
A million cries of, ‘Pick me, pick me!’ sounded from all around the crowd. One thing was for sure, Olivia was not among them. She looked over her shoulder. The singer was a handsome but wiry goth guy, wearing a dragon-design T-shirt – or, wait! – Olivia looked closer. Perhaps it’s one massive tattoo!
‘We’ve picked one person at random from our lucky competition winners.’ He unfolded a piece of paper and waved it over head. ‘Where is Ivy Vega?’
Olivia stopped dead, her jaw dropping open. No. Way.
‘Why did we ever think I would be able to pull this off without getting into some kind of weird trouble?’ she hissed to Brendan. Sophia’s eyebrows shot up and she slapped her hands to her cheeks.
So sorry, Sophia mouthed.
Why am I even surprised? Olivia thought. Every single time she and Ivy switched places, it caused some sort of craziness – chaos, confusion, embarrassment. You name it, I’ve had it.
Before Olivia knew what was happening, she was being hoisted on to the shoulders of the rabid Pall Bearers fans. She had a brief flash of the moment when her classmates at Franklin Grove paraded her around the gym after the school dance she’d planned. But the memory came to an abrupt halt when Olivia was tipped on her back and crowd-surfed all the way to the stage.
She stumbled on to her feet, forced upright by the sheer power of the crowd behind her. Olivia stared out at the ocean of black. The sight of the churning, surging fans gave her a strange, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach almost like vertigo. The stage lights beat down on her with white-hot heat.
From stage right, she noticed a roadie approaching her . . . with a microphone! The horror! Olivia started to panic. She numbly took hold of it. This could not be happening to her. The thought of karaoke was terrifying and this was a hundred times worse. She spotted Brendan and Sophia at the foot of the stage, their mouths open in shock.
The lead singer – what’s his name again? – made the devil horns gesture to her with his fingers sticking up behind his ears. Not knowing what else to do, Olivia returned it.
‘Right on!’ he said, performing a high-flying jump and stamping down on the stage. ‘Now I’m sure Ivy knows what to do,’ the singer told the crowd. ‘But just in case she’s a little nervous, why don’t we help her out by reminding her how the chorus goes.’ Olivia wiped the sweat off her forehead, wishing she had a paper bag to hyperventilate into. ‘When I say, “I”, you say –’ he held the microphone out to the crowd – ‘hate you!’
‘Got it.’ Olivia nodded.
Ivy’s vampire education had better be worth it, she thought. Because next time I see her, she is going to have to use everything she’s learned to talk her way out of trouble!
Chapter Five
I wonder what Olivia is doing right now?
Ivy had suffered in silence through three full days of classes and Miss Avisrova had still managed to pick on everything Ivy had done in Etiquette class. Ivy used the wrong toothpick on her fangs. Ivy didn’t know which side of the plate her blood goblet should be on. Ivy had no clue how to waltz to the Vampire Sonata!
But really, could learning proper etiquette take a whole school year ? Luckily, Ivy had other classes that Avisrova didn’t teach. She never thought she’d be so thankful for History of Vampire Monarchies, but at least it gave her a break.
The biggest bright spot was still, by far, Herbal Science. Every day, Ivy looked forward to her trek out to the greenhouse. For instance, yesterday, Helga had taught them how to cultivate herbs properly. With Petra as her lab partner, Ivy had helped plant, water and fertilise a variety of herbs, some familiar and others vamp-exotic – like the Fang Fennel with its spiky stalks that made a biting motion if a hand came at it too quickly.
Today, Herbal Science was the second class of the day. Ivy arrived carrying a steaming travel mug filled with hot plasma tea, scooted out her stool from under a table on the girls’ side of the room and plopped herself down.