‘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.’
‘Ouch.’ Olivia winced in sympathy. ‘I wish I could help.’
‘I wish you could, too.’ Ivy let out a sigh. ‘I guess I was hoping you’d be able to help me with everything – my popularity problem and Sophia’s weird behaviour.’
Olivia shrugged helplessly. ‘If you think of anything I can do from thousands of miles away . . .’
‘I don’t know. Maybe just scream some sense into everybody, long-distance?’ Ivy gave her a crooked grin. ‘Still, it’s really helped just talking to you about it. But I’d better go now. I’ve got some last minute homework to cram in. There’s a lot more of that in high school!’
‘I’ll bet,’ Olivia said, returning the smile. ‘Good luck with it!’
After Ivy clicked off, Olivia sat for a long moment gazing sightlessly at the computer screen. Her smoothie was still mostly full, but she set it down on the table and tuned her ears to the buzz of activity outside her trailer. Movie-set activity – a world away from queen bees, popularity and homework . . .
Ivy’s life was so different to Olivia’s. It was normal. With this glamorous Hollywood contract, Olivia had signed away all her chances for normal education and even normal teenage drama. Maybe that should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. As much as she loved the excitement of the movie set, part of her wished she was just hanging out in Franklin Grove with regular, normal vampires.
Ha! She couldn’t help smiling at herself as she picked up the smoothie and took a long, cold sip. Her life really had changed beyond recognition! Once upon a time, she would have thought that the whole idea of vampires was totally weird and scary. But now . . .
Her thoughts were cut off by a sudden shout outside her trailer. Choking on her mouthful of smoothie, she set down the cup and ran to her window.
‘No, no, no!’ A woman’s voice roared through the air as Olivia lifted the curtain at her window. ‘Try harder!’
Olivia almost didn’t recognise Jackson with a scowl on his face, storming through the maze of production trucks and trailers. His hands were clenched into fists as he was followed by a short, squat, middle-aged woman. She shouted after him in an exaggerated “Cockney” voice.
‘It’s “a-rand the corner”, not “a-round the corner” . . . You utter, utter plonker!’
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. It was Jackson’s dialect coach, Ingrid . . . who seemed to be the meanest woman in the world!
Before she could think twice, she lunged for the door. Someone needed to stand up for Jackson and tell that woman that she’d gone over the edge! How could anyone think that treating an actor this way would get them to do their best work on set?
In her loose sweatpants and T-shirt, it was easy to move quickly. As soon as Olivia reached Ingrid, she opened her mouth to let loose – but Jackson gave her a light shake of the head, making the message clear: Don’t get in the middle of this.
Olivia stared at him. Didn’t he want to be defended?
Ingrid kept shouting: ‘Apples and pears! A Weaver’s Chair! The Top of Rome!’
Was she insulting him, or setting him really bizarre riddles? Olivia had no clue. But the cruel tone of Ingrid’s voice was clear.
‘Can’t you keep any of them straight, with all the bread you’re getting for this tosh? Use your loaf !’
I may not have any idea what she’s saying, Olivia thought, crossing her arms, but I know that I don’t like her.
Jackson didn’t argue back, though. He only smiled tightly. ‘I’ll work on it, Ingrid,’ he said. ‘I promise. I am taking this seriously. It’s just . . .’ His gaze fell briefly on Olivia. ‘. . . I’ve got a lot on me mind right now. But I am focused.’
The accent was much better there, Olivia thought, aware of the strange fluttering in her chest, when you’re speaking from the heart.
‘Huh.’ Ingrid snorted in obvious disbelief. ‘We’ll see about that tomorrow. Early. We’ll go over your script together before shooting resumes – so that you don’t sound like a total wally on-screen!’
Olivia gritted her teeth and waited for Ingrid to walk away before she walked over to Jackson. In a voice pitched too quietly for anyone else to hear, she asked, ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yah, I’m awight.’ Jackson shrugged, keeping a nasal Cockney twang in his voice. ‘I been yelled at afore, ye know? She’s just been yakking on all afternoon about it. It’s really narking me.’
‘Oh.’ Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Is that why you looked so grumpy when I saw you in your trailer window just now?’