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.
Herbal Science was the only class Ivy had where boys and girls were taught in the same classroom. Otherwise, just as Petra had said, they were kept so segregated that Ivy thought the Wallachia staff might believe it was still possible for students to catch the plague from one another. Even now they were divided by a long table running down the centre of the greenhouse, and the height of the seemingly hundreds of potted plants made it nearly impossible for the boys and girls to see each other. Ivy hadn’t even realised there were guys in the class the first day!
Helga clapped her hands to get the students’ attention. She was standing on top of a tall podium so that she could look down on both sides of the classroom at once – the boys’ side and the girls’ side. Helga’s really growing into a great teacher, thought Ivy. A small garden hoe and a miniature rake stuck out of the front pockets of Helga’s apron. Her engagement ring flashed in the beams of natural light shining through the greenhouse windows.
‘Everyone, for today’s lesson, first I’ll be showing you the correct way to extract certain types of herbs from the ground so as not to lose their potency, and then I’ll let you try doing it. Sound good?’
This was more like it for Ivy – actually doing things. She’d never have thought that she would enjoy using gardening tools and wearing those stinky gloves, but she did. It beat stuffy Etiquette class any day.
After Helga had demonstrated gently digging out the roots of a Caped Parsley plant, Ivy retrieved a set of gardening tools from the bins and spread them out on the table.
Petra selected a hand trowel and poked Ivy with it.
‘Ouch!’ Ivy yelped, rubbing the spot on her arm. ‘What was that for?’
Petra bent over their potted plant and spoke out of the side of her mouth. ‘What is your deal?’ she asked. ‘Why aren’t you doing anything?’ Petra glanced up at Helga, who was busy explaining to a student that she couldn’t just slice through any roots that weren’t cooperating.
‘What do you mean?’ said Ivy, grabbing a small shovel. ‘We haven’t started yet.’
‘Not the stupid plant.’ Petra blew her fringe out of her face. ‘You’re not talking back to the teacher. You’re not getting into trouble. You haven’t done anything Ivy-ish at all!’
Ivy noticed Petra trying to glance through the potted-plant divider to the boys’ side of the room. ‘I like Helga,’ Ivy reminded Petra. ‘I don’t want to annoy her.’ She pushed at the plastic pot to loosen the dirt around their parsley.
‘You’re supposed to be creating a distraction,’ Petra whispered back. ‘I have to create my art when inspiration strikes, Ivy! And I’m so close to my Etan. Please!’
‘No,’ said Ivy, scooping up a heap of soil. ‘I’m supposed to be extracting this herb, not creating a distraction.’
What kind of poem or drawing can Petra be doodling in a greenhouse, anyway? And why can’t she do it in her own time? Ivy looked around and all of a sudden Helga was standing behind them.
‘Petra, Petra, Petra,’ Helga chided. ‘Did you really think you could whisper and not be heard? Or have you forgotten about a little thing called vampire hearing ?’ Petra shrank in her seat.
I guess she doesn’t like being the one in trouble as much as she likes encouraging other people to get into it, thought Ivy.
‘Do you girls need help with anything?’ Helga asked.
Ivy carefully pulled out one of the sections of the plant’s roots. ‘Nope. I think I’ve got it under control.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘What is this particular herb used for?’
‘Caped Parsley?’ Helga pinched the stem. ‘Well, its scientific name is Oxynamon. And it’s used mostly in a remedy to cure vampiric infections by increasing oxygen to the bloodstream. It can certainly come in handy in a crisis.’ Helga winked. She leaned in closer to Ivy and lowered her voice. ‘Who knows when any of us will find ourselves in a sticky situation? Knowledge and strength – they’re a person’s most important assets.’
‘But which name will be on the test? How will I get an A on my test paper if I don’t know whether to study the Latin name or the informal name?’ whined Petra.
‘Either will be acceptable.’ Helga heaved a sigh, and turned away to leave, muttering under her breath. ‘So preoccupied with grades . . .’ Ivy noticed a glint on Helga’s wrist.
‘Is that new?’ asked Ivy, pointing to a silver bracelet. Between her and Olivia, Ivy was definitely not the fashionista of the pair, but she did know that Helga had not been wearing that bracelet the day before.
Helga pressed her thin lips together and made a big show of checking her watch. ‘Oh, is it that time already?’
‘Oooooh, is that from a certain handsome butler?’ Ivy teased. ‘Horatio, perhaps?’
Staring down her nose at Ivy, Helga gave her best stern teacher look. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, her mouth twitching as she tried not to smile.
When Ivy turned her attention back to the table, she saw that Petra had manoeuvred one of the potted plants a fraction to the left, to make a small gap in the jungle that sat on top of the dividing table. Petra had her elbows on the desk, her chin resting on her fists as she stared longingly at a handsome vampire boy on the other side. Was he the subject of her gushy love poems? He had wavy blond hair and sharp green-and-yellow eyes that gazed wistfully back at Petra. Was that Etan?
Ivy snuck glances at the two lovebirds, both of whom seemed to have completely forgotten there was anything going on outside of their little staring contest. Maybe I was too hard on Petra, Ivy thought. The poor girl was clearly lovesick and the longing looks were as close as this couple were going to get to a relationship at Wallachia.