Ivy watched with a feeling of mounting dread as Olivia jumped up and stepped into the hallway. When she came back into the room, she was dragging a long sports bag behind her.
Don’t panic, Ivy told herself. She probably just needed a big bag. No way would Olivia actually expect me to . . .
‘Ta-da!’ Olivia opened the bag and pulled out a pair of black trainers and sweatpants. ‘How about this as a substitute? Sporty Ivy!’
Ivy couldn’t stop herself from groaning. But she had to admit, at least it was better than the first outfit . . . and there was no holding back a cheerleader on a mission. Within minutes, Ivy found herself completely transformed by Olivia’s ‘disguise’. Her black hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her grey T-shirt had a sports company logo emblazoned on it. Ivy couldn’t even say which company it was – the name meant so little to her, she’d already forgotten it by the time she’d finished pulling the sleeves over her arms.
Or maybe she just wanted to pretend it wasn’t really happening . . .
As she looked down at the outfit, she winced. This has to be a bad dream.
But Olivia looked absolutely thrilled. ‘Am I a genius, or am I just a miracle worker?’ Humming to herself, she bustled around Ivy, straightening her twin’s ponytail and patting down the shoulders of Ivy’s T-shirt. ‘You see? It’s still an alternative look, still all the same dark colours that people round Franklin Grove think of as “Ivy” – but, to anyone visiting . . .’
‘Or spying,’ Ivy muttered.
‘ . . . they’ll simply think you’re an ordinary tomboy.’ Olivia stepped back, beaming. ‘It’s just right!’
‘Are you joking?’ Ivy kicked out her legs. ‘Sweatpants are ridiculous when you’re not actually doing any sport.’ She wriggled miserably, feeling the way the baggy clothes fell around her. ‘It’s like being inside a sack.’
Olivia’s raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, think of it this way: if you need to run from any VITs, you’ll be perfectly dressed for a quick getaway.’
Ivy’s ponytail bounced against the back of her neck as she shook her head. ‘I know you’re trying to help, but this sucks . . . in the bad way! Just because some idiot blogger started up a rumour mill, I have to wear . . . this ? I mean, honestly. Haven’t I had to wear enough ridiculous outfits lately? After that awful school uniform . . .’
‘Now, now.’ Olivia gave her a sweet smile. ‘Don’t forget what I had to wear while you were at the Academy. Remember how I dressed up as a goth rocker girl to cover for you, just so Brendan and Sophia could go to that concert while you were gone?’
‘Yeah, but you got to go to the Pall Bearers concert!’
‘That,’ Olivia said, ‘was not a concert. It was a full-on celebration of tuneless noise! So all’s fair.’
Before Ivy could say another word, the door opened, and the Countess poked her head in.
‘Are you all ready with your disguise?’
Ivy’s gaze fixed on the bright yellow baseball hat on her usually elegant grandmother’s head. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Oh, please!’ She threw herself back into her coffin-bed. ‘This is going too far.’
Ivy heard Olivia giggle, but there was no humour in their grandmother’s expression as she stalked across the room.
‘Now, I need you to listen to me, young lady. As one gets older, there comes a time to start thinking about what is best for others, not just for oneself. If you care about the vampire community, you will wear these clothes and blend in. Do you understand me? This is your chance to prove yourself to the community once and for all.’
Suddenly, Ivy’s coffin-bed felt at least two sizes too small. She’d known that her grandparents wouldn’t truly understand why she needed to leave the Academy, but she had hoped they would accept it as her decision. I only did what I thought was right. Isn’t that the vampire way ?
Ivy didn’t say anything in reply. She didn’t even move when the Countess and Olivia quietly left the bedroom. What was the point, when it was looking like she didn’t actually have a choice in any of this?
Only the sound of her cell phone ringing finally got her climbing out of the coffin-bed.
Brendan’s voice was filled with amusement on the other end of the phone. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he said. ‘What are you wearing?’
Ivy let out an unhappy half-laugh, settling cross-legged on the floor. ‘You first,’ she said.
‘Well . . .’ He coughed. Then he said, under his breath and so quickly she could barely understand him: ‘A button-down shirt, chinos and loafers.’
‘What?!’ Ivy couldn’t even imagine it. ‘Are they making you dress like a middle-aged man?’
‘That’s not all,’ Brendan said.
‘Oh no,’ said Ivy. ‘Are you wearing a tie?’
‘Worse,’ he said. ‘I have a side-parting.’
Ivy nearly dropped her cell phone. She recovered herself just in time to say, ‘We’re going to look like total opposites. I’m dressed like I’m forever on my way to the gym.’
When Brendan burst out laughing, Ivy finally started to see the funny side of her predicament. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Laugh it up now. But we have to promise to keep straight faces when we actually see each other. Otherwise, that’ll give the whole game away.’
‘Got it,’ Brendan said. ‘Jock Ivy is totally normal. Yep, totally.’
Ivy grinned to herself. ‘But the most important thing is, you cannot actually like my new style. Understood? As soon as this little problem is cleared up, I am ditching this Jock look and going straight back to being me.’
‘So . . .’ Brendan said, sounding concerned. ‘Does that mean I can’t keep my side-parting?’
Ivy was feeling a whole lot better by the time she hung up and went downstairs, following the aroma of pancakes and blueberries to the kitchen. From the deliciousness of the smell, she knew exactly who to expect at the oven: Lillian.
When Ivy appeared in the kitchen, her future stepmom’s mouth dropped open, and she had to fumble to keep from dropping her spatula. ‘That’s a little . . . different,’ Lillian said, blinking hard.
‘That’s the whole point!’ Olivia said. Finishing her last pancake, she dabbed neatly at her mouth with a napkin. ‘Subtle disguises,’ she explained. ‘Trust me, this is going to work.’