Ricky mumbled an apology and shuffled out.
“Garrick Stephens,” Charlotte said, marching right up to him, “this is all your fault!” She poked him in the chest angrily. “I’m going to have to start all over again!”
Suddenly Charlotte peered at Garrick’s mouth suspiciously. “Are you chewing gum during my movie debut?” she demanded incredulously. “You spit that out!”
Garrick’s sunken eyes dulled with defeat. He turned his back on Charlotte, and Olivia saw him spit his fangs out into his hand. “Show business,” he muttered forlornly.
Thrusting the teeth back into his pocket, Garrick gestured for his star to return to her seat. In a grim monotone, he said, “Charlotte Brown, cheerleader, take two.”
“It’s head cheerleader, you dork!” Charlotte corrected.
Chapter 11
Olivia and Ivy snuck away down the hall, rushed into the science hall bathroom, and burst into laughter.
“I should have known they wouldn’t go through with it!” Ivy cried.
“I’d say Charlotte was the only one who drew blood in that room!” Olivia joked.
A moment later, Ivy glanced at her watch, and her smile melted away. “Oh, no,” she grimaced. “I’m supposed to meet Serena Star in the Scribe office for my interview in five minutes!” She glanced at herself nervously in the mirror.
“Don’t worry,” Olivia said. “You look great.” She straightened the shoulders of her sister’s black sweater so it fell squarely over her black pants. “If Charlotte could survive her interview with a vampire, I just know you’ll survive yours with Serena Star!”
Through the window in the Scribe’s office door, Ivy saw a setup that made the Beast’s movie shoot seem even more amateur. The staff table had been removed, and the room’s ceiling had been transformed into a canopy of bright lights and hanging microphones. Atop a square of carpet taped to the linoleum floor were two plush leather chairs that faced each other, and beside each one was a small side table.
Ivy noticed that Camilla was there, talking with the cameraman. Beside them stood the largest TV camera Ivy had ever seen, aimed squarely at the two chairs. Is that a camera or a diabolical weapon? she thought nervously.
Serena Star spotted Ivy looking at the door. She bounded over and ushered Ivy inside. “Come in,” she said with a strange smile.
Ivy noticed she’d developed dark bags under her eyes, and strands of her hair were sticking out at odd angles. Her lipstick was uneven, and Ivy thought she saw a stain on the lapel of yesterday’s suit. In the last day or so, Ivy thought, Serena has gone from being perfectly turned out to looking slightly unhinged. Somehow, her eyes had now widened beyond the point of reason.
Camilla waved at Ivy from where she stood by the cameraman. “You look really nice,” she said. “Martin here was kind enough to let me sit in. Since I’m in media studies, I thought it would be neat to see how a live interview is done.”
“Live?” Ivy quaked. She looked at Serena. “This is going to be on TV right now?”
Serena nodded. “Anything could happen,” she sang, steering Ivy to the far chair. “Martin, how much time do we have?”
“Two minutes,” the cameraman responded.
Ivy started seeing spots at the corner of her vision, but then she realized it was just Martin testing the lights. It’s grim enough being on camera, Ivy thought. Now I have to go on live TV?
“She’s looking pretty pale, Serena,” Martin said. “Should I get some blush on her?”
“No!” Serena said quickly. “She’s perfect.”
Camilla’s smile of encouragement couldn’t keep Ivy’s heart from beating wildly as Martin counted down from behind the camera with his hand. “Five! Four! Three! Two!” He mouthed the word “one” and pointed to Serena.
“I’m Serena Star, and this is a very, very special afternoon edition of The Morning Star,” Serena announced. “In a few minutes, I’ll show you exclusive footage of it girl Charlene Costa’s secret wedding. But first, join me for the shocking final installment of my week-long investigative report into Franklin Grove—the town that some people are calling Franklin Grave. I think you’ll agree it’s nothing short of . . . TERRORFIC!” Ivy could just imagine the graphic with the word “TERRORFIC!” that was appearing at that moment on TV sets across the nation.
“Meet Ivy Vega, a typical eighth-grader here.” The camera swung toward Ivy, who forced herself to smile. “Or is she?” Serena Star added meaningfully.
“Ivy,” Serena said, “I understand you’re a writer on the school paper. What got you into journalism?”
What a lame question! Ivy thought. “Well, I’ve always liked to write,” she said simply. She waited for the next question, but Serena wasn’t looking at her. In fact, she didn’t even seem to have heard Ivy’s answer. She was busy exchanging looks with Martin the cameraman.
Ivy scrambled to fill the silence. “I used to be a cheerleader,” she blurted. For about three days, she thought with a wince. “But it wasn’t really my thing. So . . . I joined the school paper.” Martin reached his arm in and carefully placed a big glass of water on the table beside Ivy’s chair.
“Some water?” Serena Star offered brightly, springing back to life.
“No, thank you,” said Ivy.
“Aren’t you thirsty?” Serena pressed.
Serena Star’s an even worse interviewer than Garrick Stephens, Ivy thought. “No, not really,” she replied.