“Are you saying the people who did this to you are friends of yours?” Serena Star asked.
“Totally,” Garrick replied, grinning.
“You mean—”
“We’re the kings of Franklin Grove Middle School!” Garrick cried, mugging wildly. “Yo, Kyle, Ricky, Dylan! I’m on TV!”
What an utter dork! thought Ivy.
“What exactly did your friends have in mind?” Serena Star probed.
“They dared me to climb in,” Garrick explained, his eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s why I did it.”
Ivy could tell Garrick was lying from the smug look on his face. He was just pretending it was a dare to avoid revealing any vampire secrets—like the fact that they slept in coffins. Still, it was a pretty lame alibi, especially because he kept going on about how it was “the best sleep” of his life.
“The Interna 3 is the sweetest coffin ever,” he gushed, grabbing the microphone. “When they say ‘rest in peace,’ they mean it!”
“Mr. Stephens, please,” Serena interrupted. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up at Mr. Koontz’s funeral.”
“Oh, right. My friends just sort of thought it would be funny to leave me in there—thanks a lot guys!” Garrick winked. “Then the funeral home got the coffins mixed up. Did you know the Interna 3 is the best-selling coffin in America?”
Serena Star yanked the microphone away. “Are we to believe that this was really just an innocent student prank?” she said to Garrick, who shrugged again.
“Or,” she continued, turning slowly to the camera, “is there something more sinister at work?”
Uh-oh. Ivy thought. Serena Star smells blood. “Clearly, a gruesome obsession with death,” Serena went on as the camera zoomed in for a close-up of her shocked face, “nearly cost this misguided young misfit his life!”
“Who are you calling misguided?” Garrick’s voice whined off-screen.
“And he isn’t alone,” Serena said, ignoring Garrick. “One look around this sleepy town reveals a dark obsession consuming the minds of its children.” The live feed cut briefly to footage of the mall, showing a group of Goth sixth-graders.
“Are the youth of America next?” Serena asked ominously, as she reappeared on-screen. Then she frowned with determination. “I, Serena Star, will not rest until I find out the evil truth behind what’s happening here.”
Oh no, Ivy thought. She’s going to say that line of hers.
“Because the Star of truth must shine!” Serena Star declared dramatically, pumping her microphone in the air. It really was the worst journalistic sign-off Ivy had ever heard. “This is Serena Star. Wake up, America!”
A commercial came on, and Ivy’s dad shut off the TV. “You must promise me,” he said, “that if you are ever on television, you will make a better impression than that boy Garrick Stephens.”
“It’s not funny, Dad,” Ivy said. “If Serena Star starts seriously investigating Goths in Franklin Grove, you know what she might find. What if she scoops the existence of vampires? None of us will ever be safe again!”
Her father put down his tea. “Ivy,” he said, “we are talking about a woman best known for her special exposé on the footwear of the rich and famous! I very much doubt she’s capable of finding any real proof. Besides, the moment there’s a new bit of Hollywood gossip, Serena Star will forget all about Franklin Grove.”
Ivy sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she said, standing up to take her empty bowl into the kitchen, “because if not, it’s going to be really hard to get Marshmallow Platelets around here.”
As they pulled up in front of Franklin Grove Middle School on Monday morning, Olivia Abbott was applying her pink lipstick in the visor mirror when she heard her mother gasp. Olivia flipped up the visor to see the front steps of the school packed with people and a string of TV news vans lining the curb.
“Wow!” said Olivia. Her mother double-parked and started to get out of the car.
Olivia grabbed her mom’s arm. “Where are you going?”
“I want to see what all the commotion’s about,” her mother replied.
Olivia shook her head. “You can’t come with me into school.”
“Why not?” her mother asked.
“Because I’m in eighth grade,” Olivia explained.
Olivia’s mom smiled and shook her head. “Well, okay,” she said with a sigh.
“It’s not you,” Olivia assured her. “It’s all mothers. It’s like a rule. I’ll call you.” And, with that, Olivia pecked her mom on the cheek, climbed out of the car, and squeezed between two news vans.
She started up the steps, trying not to trip on any of the TV crews’ electrical cords as she weaved through the people. Scanning the reporter-studded crowd, she spotted a flash of soft blond curls up ahead. “Camilla!” she called.
Camilla Edmunson turned and waved. When Olivia joined her, Camilla said, “Can you believe this?”
“What’s going on?” asked Olivia.
“Everyone’s trying to get on TV,” Camilla answered. Nearby, Olivia saw Kyle Glass, one of the group of boys everyone called the Beasts, holding up two fingers to look like bunny ears behind an unsuspecting reporter’s head. The cameraman was waving frantically in an attempt to shoo him away.
Olivia frowned. “Uh, did I miss a memo?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?” Camilla asked incredulously. “Garrick Stephens popped out of a coffin in the middle of someone’s funeral yesterday. It was like when the villain Zolten escaped by hiding in a cryopod.”
Olivia assumed her friend was referring to one of the sci-fi books she loved. Olivia herself had always been more into vampire fiction. In fact, when she’d moved to Franklin Grove, she’d thought that vampires were only fiction.
Boy, had she been wrong. She still got dizzy when she stopped to think about the fact that Franklin Grove was teeming with living, breathing, blood-sipping vampires. Most of them, Garrick and his friends excluded, were really nice.
None of the other humans in Franklin Grove had any inkling that their town was like Vamp Central, because that was the Number One Biggest Rule of Vampiredom: no telling. So popping out of a coffin during a funeral was probably off-limits.