tried not to let a tiny smile escape, but she couldn’t help it. Being a Goth is so cool! she thought. Her period in the library had flown by. At first, Olivia had been annoyed that she’d forgotten to bring Thrice Bitten, the latest Count Vira book, with her. But then she’d remembered reading about an old French short story that, according to what she’d seen on a vampire fiction fansite, was one of the first vampire stories ever written. She’d decided to see if they had it.
“ The Horla and Other Stories of Guy de Maupassant. It looks like this isn’t the first time you’ve checked this book out, Ivy,” the librarian had said when she’d looked at the computer screen.
Olivia had shrugged as she’d thought Ivy might, taken the book, and started reading....
The story had been so awesome that, before Olivia knew it, the bell had rung for the end of the period. Now she was in a hurry to get back to the bathroom and find out from Ivy how things had gone with Charlotte Brown.
Olivia rounded the corner and crashed right into a Goth boy! Her book flew from her hands and skittered across the floor.
She looked at the boy as he bent to pick up her book. He was thin with broad shoulders, wearing black cargo pants and a black button-down work shirt. His pale face was surrounded by dark disheveled curls. He looked familiar, probably from one of her classes.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“I’m fine,” Olivia said. “Sorry. I guess my boots got ahead of me.”
The boy handed Olivia her book, and she finally figured out which subject they had together. “I know you,” she said with a nod. “You’re in my social studies class.”
The boy gave her a weird look. He frowned, looking cute, if you were into the brooding type. “Ivy,” he said slowly, “we’ve been in the same social studies class for the last three years.”
“Uh . . .” Olivia fumbled. “Of course. Just kidding?” She tried to grimace in a friendly way.
He glanced at the cover of her book. “Looks interesting,” he said, holding it out to her.
She knew she should just take the book and go, but it really was something that more people should read. “It is. The Horla’ s about this guy who thinks he’s being stalked by a vampire. It, uh, really sucks.”
“Yeah?” the boy said, clearly intrigued.
“Yeah. It’s all told in diary entries, and this guy doesn’t know if he’s going crazy or what,” explained Olivia.
He nodded. “I’ll have to read it.”
“You should,” she said. Then she spotted Ivy down the hallway. Gosh, she really does look fabulous in that skirt! Olivia thought.
The boy was still looking at her. “What else do you like to read?”
Over his shoulder, Olivia saw Ivy stop and stare at her, mouth agape, looking completely panicked.
Oh, no, thought Olivia. Lunch with Charlotte was a bust!
Ivy stamped her flip-flop on the ground and frantically motioned for Olivia to follow her into the bathroom right now! Olivia mumbled, “Gotta go,” to the Goth boy and rushed away. She heard him call, “Hey, Ivy!” as she pushed through the bathroom door.
“Oh, my gosh, what happened?” Olivia cried when she saw her sister’s stricken look in the bathroom mirror.
“How the heck am I supposed to know what happened?” Ivy demanded with a wild look in her eyes. “That’s what I should be asking you. WHAT HAPPENED?” She washed the spray-on tan off her face, arms, and legs, pulled her hair out of its ponytail, and abruptly disappeared into a stall to change.
Wow! Olivia thought as she washed off the heavy eyeliner and white makeup. Lunch must have been really awful.
“I’m really sorry, Ivy,” Olivia said, taking the next stall and unlacing her boots. “You were right. It was a bad idea. Charlotte was never going to fall for it.”
“Charlotte?” Ivy’s voice rang off the bathroom walls. “Charlotte fell for it like a skydiver without a parachute. I’m not talking about Charlotte. I’m talking about Brendan Daniels!”
“But I thought you were having lunch with Jeff Moore,” Olivia said to the blue metal divider.
“I am going to strangle you,” Ivy said, clearly exasperated. Olivia’s clothes appeared at ankle level.
“You mean the guy in the hallway?” Olivia asked, gradually piecing things together as she handed back Ivy’s clothes.
“Yes!” Ivy said.
“You don’t like him?” Olivia guessed.
“No!” Ivy cried. “I am utterly in love with him!”
“Oh.” It all made total sense now. Olivia felt like such a dork. “I get it,” she said sheepishly.
“Well?” Ivy prompted. “What did he say?”
“I bumped into him by accident,” Olivia explained. “He asked about my book. It’s due back next Tuesday, by the way.”
“Did he . . .” Ivy’s voice was suddenly much quieter. “Did he know my name?” Olivia heard her sister emerge from the next stall.
Olivia straightened her skirt and pushed open her own door. “You mean you’ve never even spoken to him?” she asked.
Ivy sighed dramatically and shut her eyes. “No.”
“Well,” said Olivia brightly. “It appears your unusual mating strategy worked, because I’m pretty sure the guy is totally into you.”
Ivy’s eyes flew open. “What? What did he say?”
“Nothing. He just . . . he seemed like he really wanted to talk to you. He was, like, hanging on my every word. He didn’t want me—you—to walk away.”
“Like how?” Ivy demanded.
“Stop obsessing,” Olivia said, handing Ivy her bag and taking back her own purse. “If I were you, I’d thank me for breaking the ice.”
“I told you not to talk to anyone!” Ivy protested.
“Come on,” Olivia said, giving her sister a playful poke in the arm. “Will you please just tell me what happened with Charlotte?”
Ivy leaned back against the bathroom counter to lace up her boots. “Well,” she said matter-offactly. “It’s safe to say you’re not the only matchmaker in this bathroom. In fact, lunch went so well that Jeff Moore asked you to go to the mall with him after school.”