OK, now Olivia was officially starting to worry. She knew Brendan Daniels pretty well and never had she pegged him for this dedicated a thespian.
‘So, Brendan,’ said Olivia, ‘did you know that Holly here is friends with Olivia?’ She did exaggerated eye rolls in Holly’s direction hoping that he would catch on. ‘Remember Olivia?’
She just hoped she could get through this little situation without alerting Holly to anything odd. After all, Olivia wasn’t doing this to be two-faced. Holly had really helped her and been a true friend; Olivia wanted to do something good back, and if she could pull off letting Holly think she’d got photos of an uber-cool goth like Ivy, then this fiasco would all have been worth it.
‘So, Holly,’ said Brendan, hunching forwards. ‘What brings you to Franklin Grove? Have you been here long? How are you liking it so far?’
But before Holly could answer, Brendan was firing more questions. ‘Is it cold where you’re from? How about the weather here? It’s nice, right?’
Easy there, Brendan, thought Olivia. He was always so laid back, what had got into him? He was jiggling about in his seat, as if he had too much energy to burn.
Holly pursed her lips. ‘The weather? Well, I guess it’s . . .’ Olivia stopped listening because she felt Brendan’s fingers intertwining with hers. Just playing along, right? Olivia smiled rigidly and did her best not to pull her hand free.
She glanced down at her lap. Their hands were under the table, which meant Holly couldn’t see them. And if Holly couldn’t see them, then the holding hands wasn’t part of the act, which meant . . . Olivia’s chest tightened. Did Brendan think she was Ivy for real ? How was that possible? The tan, the wig; it didn’t make sense. And she’d just told him that she was Olivia in disguise! Could he have forgotten so quickly? Brendan knew his own girlfriend, didn’t he?
That was when she realised: Brendan’s hand was blazing in her palm. Now she knew something was wrong. Brendan Daniels should not be heating up like a human radiator. It was no good waiting for Sophia’s rescue call now. They had to get out of here as quickly as possible.
‘Um, Holly,’ Olivia interrupted as Holly was explaining something about ozone layers, too much sun and the Franklin Grove community pool. ‘I’m really sorry, but I just remembered . . .’ She smacked herself on the forehead. ‘Brendan and I totally have to . . . do something.’ Olivia tugged Brendan’s hand. ‘Come on, Brendan, we better get to it.’
Brendan flashed Olivia a goofy smile that froze her heart. This was worse than she had thought.
‘OK! Well, next time, then?’ Holly said as they wriggled out from the booth. She was only halfway through her Twist and Shout and Olivia had barely had a chance to touch her drink, but she hauled Brendan as quickly as she could out of Mister Smoothie and into the sunshine. He was chuckling as he allowed himself to be dragged along.
‘You’re always so impetuous, Ivy,’ he teased.
‘I’m Olivia, remember? O-liv-i-a!’ she said, slowly and carefully. Brendan just looked confused.
Olivia strode up the street, Brendan in tow. What am I going to do? Her heartbeat thrashed and she felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She was seriously starting to panic. Look at him! Brendan’s face was bright red, his hand clammy. She remembered how flushed he’d been before, how much energy he seemed to have. And now his memory seemed to be going! This had to be some kind of ailment that she knew nothing about. She’d once had a Bloodbite Nettle rash, but that was as far as her experience with vampire illnesses went.
She stopped. ‘Do you think there’s any chance you were exposed to a patch of Bloodbite Nettles?’ she asked.
Brendan’s smile faded. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘You’re wrong!’ she said, prodding a finger into his chest.
To her surprise, he staggered back, zig-zagging across the sidewalk. ‘Nettles? Bloodbites?’ he asked, his voice slurring. ‘Ouch!’ Brendan had staggered back into a wall, and was rubbing his shoulder. His hair fell forwards, covering his eyes.
‘I think maybe you’re right,’ he muttered. ‘Something’s wrong.’ He rubbed his hand across his forehead.
‘We’ve got to go and get help,’ Olivia said, taking hold of his arm. He was burning up!
They started to walk towards Charles’s house.
My bio-dad will know what to do, she reassured herself. He just has to!
Chapter Nine
The last class of the day was over, and Ivy was tapping her boot on the cold slate floor of Miss Avisrova’s office. Petra hadn’t been in any of the day’s lessons, and Ivy wondered what had happened to her. Her vampire friend had probably received nothing more than a slap on the wrist. It was Ivy who Avisrova had it in for.
Six gold-framed portraits hung above Avisrova’s claw-footed antique desk, each one featuring a picture of a different old lady, all posing stiffly. The pencils in the iron pencil pot had been sharpened into lethal weapons and the rug was a scary-looking bear hide. In the corner was a polished black coffin. Obviously Miss Avisrova actually slept in her office.
Hanging over an old, varnished filing cabinet was a black-and-white class photograph showing young vampires lined up in rows, boys on the left and girls on the right. Ivy peered closer. One boy’s face looked familiar – those kind, dark eyes and swept-back hair . . . Yes, there was no mistaking him – it was her dad. Ivy scanned the other faces and recognised another person. The girl on the other side with the tightly pinned bun and stern expression – was that . . . Avisrova? This is too weird.