But there was nothing from Jackson.
She checked her junk mail – just in case. Still nothing. Her heart slid all the way down to her pink-varnished toes.
Olivia drummed her fingertips on the desk. No biggie. He had been practically living on movie sets. What could she expect? Olivia knew what making films was like – she knew it was crazily busy and that Jackson was probably not getting a moment to himself. It’s not like I need him to check in every ten seconds, right?
Olivia typed the web address to Jackson’s Journal, the online blog he kept as a continuation of his bestselling book from earlier that year. He had probably only had time to jot a couple of lines of updates: Such-and-such city is great! The movie’s good! I’m too exhausted to move!
The page loaded and, instead, Olivia was greeted with high-res photos of European landmarks. And not just any landmarks – romantic landmarks. There he was at the Eiffel Tower; and here he was lounging in the grass in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He must have been taking a trip around Europe. Below each picture, he’d written long passages of text describing the sights and his thoughts about them.
Bonjour from the Tour d’Eiffel! Here I am in the City of Light and Love and may I just say: I’m totally digging it! Nicknamed the ‘Iron Lady’, the Eiffel Tower is even cooler up close than it is in pictures . . .
Olivia’s jaw dropped. These blog posts had obviously taken a long time to put together – but he couldn’t come up with a few minutes to write her one measly email! She felt her chest throb.
She shook herself. Where were these feelings coming from? And why was it that she almost didn’t want him to have a good time? She knew it was silly, but she’d somehow feel better if she knew he was missing her at least a little. But noooo . . . She did a mental eye-roll. He’s off being Mr Big Movie Star and probably can’t even remember if I spell my last name with one ‘b’ or two.
She punched the power button and the screen went black. ‘I can be busy as well, Jackson,’ Olivia said as the tears began to well up in her eyes and clog her throat. She shoved back from the desk and marched to the door, pulling it open and colliding with Charles, who was passing on the landing. She stumbled backwards, starting to fall, but Charles snatched out a hand with vampire quickness to stop her.
‘That was a close one,’ he said, patting her shoulder.
‘It was a little painful.’ Olivia rubbed her forehead whilst trying to smile. Bumping into a vampire was like walking into a brick wall.
Charles chuckled. ‘My apologies, Olivia.’
She felt her head. She didn’t want a big, fat bump messing up the hair style she had planned for the wedding. ‘Do you know where Ivy’s gone?’
Charles adjusted his thin red tie and brushed the lapel of his navy blazer. ‘She’s out with your grandmother this morning.’ Olivia didn’t need to be told any more. It had to be Wallachia stuff – one more thing to give her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
It was starting to feel . . . real. Ivy might not be coming back to Franklin Grove with her. First Jackson and now her twin. It seemed like everyone was leaving her.
‘You’re welcome to join Lillian and me for breakfast out on the terrace,’ her bio-dad offered.
Olivia rubbed her temples, trying to erase the sad thoughts. ‘Thanks, but I think I’m going to skip breakfast and get some work done while Ivy’s away.’
Charles frowned. ‘It’s first thing in the morning. What is there to be done for your article?’
Olivia laughed at his bewilderment. ‘There is a wedding happening tomorrow in this house. And that means that somewhere in this ginormous mansion, there is some craziness happening; some task that needs some organising.’
Charles looked thoughtful. ‘You’re right. Weddings can take a lot of organising. The outfits, the wedding favours, the music for the first dance . . .’
Olivia shook her head. Since when has he been thinking about all this sort of stuff?
‘Here we are.’ Ivy’s grandmother kissed her cheek. ‘I will leave you to it. This decision has to be yours and yours alone. I don’t want you to feel as if I’m hovering over you, pressuring you one way or the other.’ She peered at Ivy from underneath an elegant, wide-brimmed hat.
Ivy gazed up at the towering iron gates of Wallachia Academy. The Countess had crept into Ivy’s room early that morning and rapped on her coffin. Apparently her grandmother didn’t know about her strict policy against activities pre-9 a.m. After Ivy had bolted down a quick breakfast of plasma pancakes, Horatio had driven the two of them here. Now she was completely overwhelmed by the spindly turrets and stone gargoyles of the old, Gothic buildings.
Large bats and a thorny rose-stem design were carved into the wrought-iron gates, supported by two massive pillars. In the middle was the same crest Ivy had been obsessing over every day on her computer – two bats on either side of a blood-red shield. Ivy felt like she was dreaming. After imagining it and thinking about it almost constantly, here she was, actually at Wallachia.
Should I go or should I not? That had been the persistent question on Ivy’s mind, and this visit was the biggest step yet towards making that decision.
Ivy squeezed her grandmother’s hand. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said. ‘And I promise to give it a fair chance.’
The Countess smiled. ‘That’s all I ask.’
The gates creaked as they were dragged open by a tall, spooky vampire in a dark-grey suit, who looked like he might have been related to Horatio. Here goes nothing. Ivy waved one last goodbye to the Countess and Horatio – who showed no sign of recognising the spooky vampire – before stepping inside. The campus was quiet and peaceful, like a fancy cemetery without the headstones. Pristine emerald lawns stretched as far as she could see, and neatly raked gravel crunched beneath her feet on the drive. Flags bearing the school motif fluttered from the towers and the mullioned windows winked in the sunlight. This place makes Franklin Grove look cheap and nasty! she thought, remembering how impressed Olivia had been when she’d first seen the school’s ivy-covered pillars back at home. Wallachia Academy was off the scale.
Ivy suddenly felt very self-conscious in her jeans and black T-shirt. Perhaps I should have gone with my wrap dress, after all . . .
‘Welcome to Wallachia Academy, Miss Vega,’ said Horatio Two. ‘I trust you will enjoy your visit.’ If only Olivia were here! She would have been super-scared of the old-school vamp. Ivy felt a stab of sorrow. This was an area of her life that Olivia would never be able to be a part of.