Understanding dawned on Ivy. The girls at Wallachia thought that Ivy had managed to get home for the show and then back to school – from Transylvania to Franklin Grove and back again – all in record time and without a single teacher spotting her! Uh-oh. Time to set the record straight. She sucked in a deep breath.
‘Look.’ She angled herself outward so that the eavesdroppers would be able to hear too. Ivy was surrounded by a roomful of hopeful faces, watching her with wide eyes. They wanted her to have pulled this off, she realised as she looked around.
Many of these girls had been students at Wallachia for years. In such a strict school, where there was an actual obstacle course separating boys and girls, how cool would it be if one of the students was so rebellious that she was able to get not just in and out of the Academy, but all the way to America and back without anybody noticing?
Who was Ivy to crush their dreams? She chose her words carefully. ‘I do love The Pall Bearers.’ She waited for the cheers, or even just an awed murmur, but instead there was dead silence. Worse, the smiles had dropped from their faces and they’d started to back away hastily.
Hang on! thought Ivy. Why are they suddenly treating me like I give off a bad smell ? Several of the girls had turned their backs and were now hunched over their meal trays. One girl glanced nervously over her shoulder and gave a small shriek before turning to whisper furiously in her friend’s ear.
What the –?
Ivy heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stone floor. A shudder ran up the length of her spine. A shadow fell over her. Ivy didn’t have to turn around to know who was there. She craned her neck to look up and, sure enough, Avisrova was standing with her arms crossed and her face screwed up into an angry ball.
‘I didn’t expect my walk to lead me to this, Miss Lazar. You have some explaining to do.’
Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest. The newspaper with the photo of Ivy at a concert in America was still spread out on the table before her.
Miss Avisrova had been waiting for this.
Chapter Six
Olivia kept working her jaw open and shut, trying to get her ears to pop. They hadn’t stopped ringing since last night. And to top it off, her throat was raw from singing – well, more like screaming – up on stage with The Pall Bearers. Actually, she was sort of thankful for the sore throat. It meant she didn’t have to say much to Brendan in the Meat and Greet. They had been here for half an hour and had probably said less than one word for each minute.
‘So did you enjoy last night?’ asked Brendan, looking a tad sheepish. And so he should be, thought Olivia. After all, he’d dragged her into it.
‘If by “enjoy” you mean “endure”, then yes, it was OK.’
Brendan looked out of the window, squirming in his seat. Olivia inspected her nails. She had never realised their friendship was so dependent on Ivy being around, but that was becoming painfully obvious. Um, I could tell him about my bio-dad’s wedding plans? No, that would be a violation of her dad’s trust. Her heart sank.
Brendan’s knees bounced up and down under the booth. It was clear his mind was elsewhere. Olivia was pretty sure she’d caught him counting the ceiling tiles!
When they’d left the concert the previous night they should have been picking over every minute detail. Olivia knew that’s what Ivy would have been doing with her boyfriend, if she’d been there. But that was just the problem – Brendan was Ivy’s boyfriend and he was only Olivia’s friend because of that connection. Without Ivy there . . . Once Sophia had gone they’d waited for their lift home in near-silence as all the other fans screamed and chatted around them. It couldn’t have been more awkward – and now things were no better. They had to have something in common, didn’t they?
We do, thought Olivia. Ivy. But too much talk about the one person they both missed would only bum them out – and this outing was supposed to be a fun distraction.
It had been Olivia’s idea to hang out together at the Meat and Greet; she’d suggested it last night in the hope that they’d connect more when they weren’t surrounded by screaming fans.
She took a sip of her fruit juice, looking out the window at the street. Hopefully she would see something that could spark a conversation.
‘Hey, look at that bag!’ Olivia cried, pointing to a girl in the street with a tote over her shoulder. ‘Leopard print is so up-to-the-minute . . .’ Her voice trailed off when she glanced back at Brendan. He was frowning at the bag as though it were an alien invader. Clearly, accessories weren’t his thing. Brendan didn’t care about this season’s fashion, or any kind of fashion at all for that matter. He had worn the same rock band T-shirts for as long as she’d known him. She sank further into the booth.
There was a cute puppy being walked by a little girl with pigtails. Would that work? She snuck a glance at Brendan, but he was busy rubbing a thumb over his filed fangs. Olivia wrinkled her nose. Yeah, Brendan didn’t care about puppies – cute or not.
Olivia sighed. Parked alongside the curb was a flashy red Mustang with white racing stripes painted down the hood. Cars . . . Boys liked cars. Ugh, but I don’t know an engine from an exhaust pipe, thought Olivia. Besides, she wasn’t sure Brendan liked cars anyway. He was more a music guru than a car buff. It was just too bad they didn’t like any of the same bands!
A waitress in a grease-spattered white apron stopped by the table with an open notebook, pulling a pencil out from behind her ear. ‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked. Then a grin stretched across her lips and she began pointing at Brendan and Olivia with the rubber on the end of her pencil. ‘Hey, are you two on a date? I could get you one milkshake with two straws!’
‘No!’ Olivia and Brendan burst out in unison. Olivia could feel her cheeks burning. This was so embarrassing, being mistaken for her sister’s boyfriend’s hot date. I’d never do that to Ivy!
‘No, no, not at all,’ Brendan said, shaking his head emphatically. ‘You’re totally wrong there.’ He gave Olivia a desperate glance, as though to say: How did we get ourselves into this? She gave him a smile back. This had seemed like such a good idea, and now it was all going wrong.
The waitress flipped her notepad shut. ‘Woah! Just asking,’ she said and scurried away with a backward glance at their table.
Brendan sank back in his booth. ‘What chemistry could the waitress possibly think she’d seen?’ he asked, frowning in confusion.