She recovered, remembering with a sad sigh that Jackson was a safe distance away in Utah. ‘If I had my boyfriend as my date,’ she finished. There wasn’t a peep on the line. Olivia could hear her own breath echoing through the receiver. ‘Jackson? Hello, Jackson!’
‘Olivia, the promo tour has been extended. I’m so sorry, but I’ve been invited to a live TV interview in Boston and I couldn’t turn it down. I don’t know what to say. You understand, right? That’s why I bought the boots, to make it up to you.’
The boots were beautiful, but they didn’t stop Olivia’s heart from dropping down into her slippers. ‘Is that why you had a wardrobe manager with you the other day when we talked?’
‘Er . . . yes, yes – that’s exactly it.’ Olivia heard shuffling around on Jackson’s end. ‘Hey, Olivia?’ He sounded distracted now. Olivia knew his distracted voice. ‘I have to go. We’ll talk later, OK? Bye!’
Olivia didn’t even get to say ‘goodbye’ before the dialling tone was droning in her ear. ‘Talk to you later,’ she mumbled to no one, letting the phone slip on to her mattress. Fat, salty tears started to pool on her eyelids. Her boyfriend was doing everything right. He remembered to phone. He sent presents. So why do I feel so wretched? Olivia wondered.
The phone rang again and Olivia picked it up, hoping it was Jackson ringing her back. It wasn’t.
‘Don’t sound so happy to hear from me,’ said Ivy.
‘Sorry,’ said Olivia, flopping on to her cool sheets. ‘I thought you were someone else.’
‘Jackson?’
‘Maybe.’ Olivia stared up at the ceiling and wiped the last few tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘What’s up?’
‘I was wondering if you wanted some help getting everything ready for the dance. I think it’s going to be deadly. I mean it!’
Olivia felt another lump rise in her throat. ‘That’s, like, the kindest thing anyone’s ever offered to do for me,’ she blurted.
Ivy laughed. ‘I think you’re just feeling a little fragile today, but, either way, there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. Not only will we get all the decorations for the dance up on time, but I will personally make sure that we both manage to look drop dead.’
Olivia hung up the phone, feeling a glow of warmth for her sister. After all this preparation, she couldn’t believe it – it was nearly time for the dance!
As she and Olivia got closer to Franklin Grove, it was as if every fibre of Ivy’s vampire-being was rebelling against the very idea of a school dance. Ivy stared out the window of her dad’s shiny black sedan, feeling seriously grave about the prospect of doing any dancing at all.
She had spent the day – a whole day – helping Olivia get herself and the dance ready. Of course, Ivy wanted to do everything she could to cheer her sister up. After all, Olivia thought her boyfriend didn’t care about her. But Ivy had to confess that spending the day with her hair in rollers while hanging bunting and tying balloons was going above and beyond the call of duty.
Olivia drummed her cerise-painted nails on the back seat. The tiny diamante stickers she’d applied on top of the polish shimmered in the dim light.
‘It’s going to be fine.’ Ivy examined her own nails. She’d opted for a more classic goth black.
‘I know, I know.’ A worried crease formed at the top of Olivia’s nose. ‘I just want everyone to have a good time!’
‘They will!’ Ivy assured her. Olivia eyed her sister and Ivy knew Olivia was particularly sceptical about her attitude. ‘Even me!’ Ivy exclaimed. ‘I mean, look at me.’
Ivy had zipped home to change before picking up Olivia, and was now dressed in skinny black jeans, a black-and-white gingham shirt with patch pockets, a black cowboy hat, and an authentic leather shoestring tie around her neck. Ivy had embraced the theme and put her own spin on it, just like Olivia had wanted.
‘You’re the best gothic cowgirl I’ve ever seen!’ Olivia nodded approvingly.
‘I’m the only gothic cowgirl you’ve ever seen.’
‘Still! OK, how do I look?’ Olivia pouted her lips and turned her head from side to side for Ivy to examine.
‘Fluffy?’ Ivy admired the pink cowgirl outfit. Olivia wore a puffy, layered ra-ra skirt that Ivy wouldn’t be caught dead in, but it looked très cute on her sister. Olivia’s shirt was knotted at the front and her hair was tied into pigtails with two puffy pink hairbands. ‘And your boots, they totally make the outfit!’
‘You think so?’ Olivia beamed. ‘After all that Hollywood glamour, it’s sort of nice to dress up in an outfit that’s actually fun.’
That much Ivy could agree with. Although she had adored her outfit for the awards ceremony – a gorgeous black kimono embroidered with delicate red dragons – she had felt a bit constricted. She would take jeans over a fitted gown any day.
Mr Vega edged the sedan’s wheels up to the curb. ‘You girls both look stunning. Ivy, coffin by ten, OK?’
But Ivy was distracted. She had spotted Brendan standing in front of the school’s gates, right between the big iron initials ‘F’ and ‘G’. He strode towards the car in his shiny black cowboy boots and slender grey slacks. Ivy had never seen her boyfriend look so tall, dark and drop-dead handsome. He opened the door and, like a true gentleman, helped both Ivy and Olivia out of the car.
‘This is for you.’ He presented a corsage to Ivy made of deep purple . . . thistle! Even she had to admit, it was perfect. He helped pin it to her gingham shirt and then held out the crook of his arm so that Ivy could slip her hand through.
The other arm he extended to Olivia, and together the three of them walked into the crowd of students dressed in pink-and-black cowboy outfits. Ivy squeezed Brendan’s arm. Olivia has totally pulled it off! She peeked around Brendan. Does Olivia look OK? Ivy didn’t want her sister to feel lost without Jackson, but from the moment Brendan opened the school’s doors, Olivia was surrounded by a swarm of adoring classmates.
‘This theme is the best!’ said a red-handkerchiefed boy, patting Olivia on the back.
‘Oh my goodness, have you seen the bales of hay in the hall?’ Ivy recognised Jenny from the committee. ‘You just have to! Come on!’