Читать книгу Flying Solo - Sienna Mercer - Страница 8

Ivy leaned back in her swivel chair and hiked her shiny black combat boots up on to the oak desk. Her grandparents had given her the desk on day one at the new uber-fancy boarding school she was attending.

You cannot get a proper education at a proper school without a proper place to work, Count and Countess Lazar had told her. Apparently an antique bureau weighing as much as a small freight train was the only thing that would do. There were miniature bats carved into the rich mahogany and its iron handles were in the shape of ‘V’s. Ivy leaned over and tapped the bottom of the desk. A secret compartment opened up, out of which she pulled her shiny new student I.D., complete with the awkward picture of her curling her lips into an odd mix of smile and scowl.

She’d agonised over the decision to enrol at Wallachia Academy in Transylvania. It wasn’t easy being a vampire, but a teen vampire whose powers were on a sudden growth spurt? That was even more challenging. Her grandparents had suggested boarding at the same academy where generations of her family had learned to hone their super-strong powers. Ivy had only had two problems with this: she didn’t want to leave her twin sister, Olivia, and no way did she want to be apart from Brendan, her boyfriend. But in the end, she’d been persuaded to leave Franklin Grove. ‘And I’ll make the most of this,’ she muttered to herself, gazing out over the lawns. ‘Whatever it takes.’

She flipped open her laptop, tapping the spacebar so that the screen lit up. Her grandparents had done a killer job making sure she’d settled in when she’d first arrived at Wallachia. Of course, they’d brought the family butler, Horatio, to do all the heavy lifting. And thank darkness they did! Ivy thought. Because Olivia insisted on packing my entire wardrobe!

Olivia could have saved herself the time, since Ivy was stuck wearing school uniform every day. It was pretty formal – a crimson pleated skirt and a black sweater emblazoned with the Wallachia Academy crest – though she had managed to ‘Ivy up’ the outfit with her signature boots and chopstick-pinned bun. Hoity-toity school or not, Ivy is staying Ivy, she thought.

She glanced at the new school schedule hanging above her desk:

9 o’clock – Etiquette

10 o’clock – Potion Mixing

11 o’clock – Fang Sharpening

1 o’clock – Herbal Science

2 o’clock – Coffin Carpentry

And she had thought woodshop class at Franklin Grove was bad!

Ivy typed her password and signed on to the Vorld Vide Veb, the secret vampy version of the Internet. She double-clicked her mouse and opened up the Lonely Echo webcam-program. She’d been using Lonely Echo – some vampire video-chat software – to talk to Olivia, but seeing her sister’s face flash up on the monitor each time had done nothing to help her homesickness. I just can’t stop calling her, even though it makes me feel worse afterwards. Sometimes, being one half of a set of twins really was not good.

She clicked on Olivia’s avatar and waited for the connection to kick in. She hadn’t spoken to her grandparents at all since arriving at the academy a few days ago. She’d chatted with her father, Charles, only once. No wonder I keep calling Olivia. I need some contact with the outside world!

Static blinked across the screen. Something’s happening! Ivy sat up straighter. A sharp picture appeared on the monitor. A bright Franklin Grove morning shone through the open set of French doors that led out into Olivia’s backyard. Ivy could practically smell the freshly mown lawns and newly potted pansies from clear across the Atlantic.

‘One second!’ she heard a voice call from off-screen.

Ivy tapped her black onyx nails on the surface of her desk. Olivia was a full six hours behind her, so while it was mid morning for Ivy’s twin, outside Ivy’s window in Transylvania the sun was already setting. Trees cast long shadows across the school grounds; the light outside had grown dim and fuzzy. Turrets spiralled up into the evening sky, and down below teachers in long black gowns scurried to their quarters. Ivy switched on her desk lamp.

Who would have thought Ivy Vega would get nostalgic at the sight of a little sun? I’m a vampire, for goodness’ sake! Pitch black was kind of supposed to be her thing. But she couldn’t help that she missed her hometown. She hadn’t been one hundred per cent sure she’d wanted to attend Wallachia in the first place, even if it was tradition in elite vampire society.

Olivia’s adoptive dad, Mr Abbott, suddenly entered the frame on Ivy’s laptop. He was wrapped in a white bathrobe with the sash tied around his forehead. He was several feet away from the camera lens, in the middle of Olivia’s backyard, struggling to position two stools side-by-side and lay a plank of wood across the top.

This does not look good. Ivy knew that Olivia’s dad was an amateur martial artist – was he going through his routines now? Ivy tried to stay very still so that he wouldn’t notice her image on the computer screen. I don’t want to disturb him. If he breaks any bones, it won’t be my fault!

He took three steps back, slipping momentarily out of the picture, before charging forwards, arms raised in the air like a deranged whooping crane. ‘Hiiiiiyyaaaaaaaah!’ he screamed, slamming the side of his hand down on the plank.

Ivy cringed as Mr Abbott came away shaking his red karate-chopping hand. He picked up the plank and turned it around. As if that’s going to help, Ivy thought. She wanted to cover her eyes but it was like a car crash she couldn’t stop watching.

He wound up again, preparing for his running start. ‘Hiiiiiyyaaaaaaaah!’ he repeated. This time his hand smacked the stiff wood with such force that he lost his footing and slipped backwards, falling hard on the garden mulch.

‘Sorry about that.’ Olivia popped into the frame. She was stirring a bowl of cereal with a spoon. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and she had a bright purple scarf looped round her neck. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘Um, Olivia?’ Ivy pointed over her twin’s shoulder. ‘Is your dad OK?’

Mr Abbott was struggling to roll over. The white sash tied around his forehead had fallen down over his eyes. ‘Did I break it?’ he moaned, crawling to his feet.

‘Not this time,’ called Olivia happily from just within the open French doors, before turning to whisper to Ivy. ‘Don’t worry. He’s trying to earn his yellow belt. Been working on that plank all week and hasn’t broken a finger yet.’ She shrugged. ‘So, how’s it going?’

‘Well,’ Ivy said, scooping up her laptop, ‘shall I give you the grand tour?’

‘Absolutely! Except right now the only thing I can see is a close-up of your cheek.’

‘Oops, sorry.’ Ivy pulled the webcam lens away from her face. She’d been cradling it as she span in her chair. She angled the video camera and the screen to face the room. ‘Better?’

‘Much!’

‘Here’s my closet.’ Ivy tried to do a quick sweep of the camera across the mess that was her wardrobe, but her sister wasn’t going to be fooled.

‘Ivy Vega,’ Olivia exclaimed. ‘Is that your closet? It looks like a natural disaster hit it! Go back, go back – I want to see the full horror.’ Reluctantly, Ivy turned the camera back on her closet. Crumpled T-shirts, skinny jeans and leggings littered the floor.

‘It’s not my fault!’ Ivy protested. ‘It’s cramped in here. See?’ She made a grand gesture with her arm. ‘This is the rest of my room. Well, my room that I share with five other girls.’ She showed Olivia the row of coffins that were arranged one on top of the other on wooden stilts, just like extra-special bunk beds with velvet-lined lids!

Photo collages of her room-mates and cool vintage posters of black-and-white Hollywood movies were plastered above the coffins, and each girl had a silver name plaque engraved in fancy script – Petra, Katrina, Anastasia, Alexandra, Galina and Ivy. Ivy had personalised her space by taping up a strip of pictures that she, Brendan and Olivia had taken in the photo booth outside the Franklin Grove movie theatre. Ivy was in the middle, making an exaggerated face of disgust, while Brendan and Olivia were kissing her cheeks on either side, smooshing her face in. Good times, thought Ivy, with a sudden twist in the pit of her stomach.

‘Oooh!’ Olivia gushed. ‘You have room-mates! How do you like them? Do you stay up late and gossip, or play Secrets and Lies?’ Olivia was remembering the vampire game they had played together at Tessa’s bachelorette party.

Ivy frowned. ‘They’re OK. But it’s not exactly an Ivy-friendly set-up, if you know what I mean. Six girls, six coffins. That means lots of chatter, especially after “nails-in”.’

‘Nails-in?’ echoed Olivia.

‘The vamp version of lights-out,’ explained Ivy, turning the camera back on herself.

‘Ah.’ Olivia giggled. ‘You’re not exactly Miss Sunshine most days, but a sleep-deprived Ivy? I bet that could scare even the most hardened vampire!’ At that, Olivia’s eyes went as wide as an anime character’s – not that Ivy could find any anime in Transylvania. It was all classic Russian novels and Victorian poetry.

‘OK, OK. Ha, ha. Enough with the fake shocked look.’ Ivy rolled her darkly lined eyes. ‘Surely I’m not that scary, especially not from several thousand miles away through a webcam.’

Olivia’s eyes were still round, and now she was shaking her head slowly. ‘No, it’s not that,’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but –’ she touched her finger to the screen – ‘I think there’s a bat in your dorm room!’

Ivy swivelled to check out the bat perched on top of the armoire. Its paper-thin wings were wrapped round its fuzzy brown body and its pointy ears stuck out from its head like an elf’s. She shrugged. ‘Oh, don’t worry, that’s just Ivan.’

‘Ivan?’ Olivia wrinkled her nose as if she’d just smelled week-old rubbish.

‘Yeah, everyone gets a bat on their first day at Wallachia. He’s harmless, but a little – what’s the word I’m looking for?’ She pressed a finger into her dimple, like she was thinking hard. ‘Bitey.’

Olivia shuddered. At least Ivy thought it was a shudder, but it could have been a glitch in the internet connection. Ivy was already getting tired of dealing with the difficulties of overseas communication. ‘No offence,’ Olivia was saying, ‘but if that’s the case, I might not be in a hurry to visit any time soon!’

Ivy swallowed hard. She knew her sister was joking, but she didn’t want Olivia to see that her joke had made her feel instantly homesick. ‘Anyway,’ Ivy said, trying to sound natural. ‘The bell for dinner is going to go soon. Will you be online later?’

‘Probably. I promised I’d help our bio-dad with some sort of “research project”.’ Olivia curved her fingers into air quotes. ‘Whatever that means. It’ll only take a few hours and then I’ll be back later,’ she continued, waving. ‘Oh, and Ivy?’

Ivy leaned forwards in her chair. ‘Yeah?’

‘I miss you.’

Ivy gave a weak smile and nodded in return. ‘I miss you too.’ Her stomach crawled up her throat as she reached for the mouse on her laptop.

‘Ciao!’

The chat window went black and Ivy shut down her computer. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Wallachia; it was just that she really liked Franklin Grove. Ivy grabbed her cable-knit sweater with the Wallachia crest from the back of the chair. She patted Ivan on the head, snatching her hand back when he tried to nip at her. ‘Watch it!’ she said, glaring at the beady-eyed bat. My fingers would not make a tasty lunch! she thought, sending silent messages to the small leathery mammal. Don’t even try me.

‘I’m out of here,’ she said, heading for the door. There was no point staying all alone, pining for Franklin Grove. Not with a whole school to explore!

The Wallachia Academy dining room was fancier than most of the restaurants Ivy had been to in her entire life. Round granite tables sprinkled the banquet hall, dappled with the light of a dozen sparkling chandeliers. Crystal goblets cast multi-coloured prisms on to the luxurious cream tablecloths. The tables had been set with baroque silverware and china nicer than the best stuff her father kept in their cabinets at home!

Petra, a fellow classmate whom Ivy had met as a guest at the vampire royal wedding, waved her over to a nearby table. Three slices of barely touched flank steak were piled on Petra’s plate, dripping in a creamy white sauce that made Ivy’s mouth water.

‘Hey, Ivy.’ A cool vintage pendant dangled from Petra’s neck. ‘Did you get in trouble today?’ Petra Tarasov wasn’t like some of the other Snobzillas at Wallachia, but Ivy still found her a bit hard to get to know. She was friendly enough, but it was almost as though there was an invisible wall between them, some secret that Ivy didn’t know. She had glossy brown hair that cascaded down to the middle of her back and there was always some piece of her Wallachia wardrobe that was a touch funky or offbeat. Petra didn’t seem ready to morph into a Wallachia clone – meaning she and Ivy had something in common, at least.

‘Trouble? Why would I have got in trouble?’ Ivy asked, sliding to the edge of her seat.

Petra fluttered her long eyelashes and raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Just something I heard, that’s all.’

Ivy narrowed her eyes. ‘Something you heard? OK . . .’ Being cautious was clearly still the way to go with Petra. Ivy wouldn’t write her off. Everyone had their funny little ways and Olivia was always reminding her to look for the best in people. In fact, Ivy could hear her now: ‘Everyone has a ray of sunshine in their heart, Ivy. You just need to find it.’ Normally a speech like that would have had Ivy gagging – not any more. I swear I’ll never make another sarcastic comment ever again if I get back to Franklin Grove.

A group of vamp girls were gathered around an open laptop propped up on one of the tables, giggling in high-pitched voices. Ivy caught a glimpse of a bright white smile and some tousled blond hair on screen. Petra clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. ‘Ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘What’s ridiculous?’ Ivy craned her neck, but she couldn’t make out what they were looking at. Vampires, and especially Wallachia Academy vampires, were supposed to be the most super-cool beings in the world. Acting aloof was practically a national sport. So what could possibly be so amusing that it had reduced Ivy’s classmates into a group of twittering girlie-girls?

Petra flicked her wrist as if she were brushing away the whole scene. ‘It probably has to do with that American actor who announced he was single today. Now they can all go and daydream about having a shot with him.’ She pressed her palms together and held them to the side of her head like she was dreaming.

American actor . . .? Ivy grabbed Petra’s arm so forcefully she nearly pulled her right out of her chair. ‘Which actor?’

Petra shook Ivy off and rubbed her arm. ‘Wow, you really need to get those powers under control. That blond-haired pretty boy, What’s-his-face.’ She snapped her fingers, thinking. ‘Jackson something?’

‘No!’ Ivy exclaimed. ‘Not Jackson! Jackson Caulfield?’ Olivia hadn’t said a word during their video-chat. She hadn’t even looked unhappy!

‘Obsessed much?’ A white-coated member of the Wallachia kitchen staff came over with a pitcher of O-negative and filled their crystal goblets with the bright red liquid. ‘I don’t know why the sudden interest,’ the woman went on. ‘It wasn’t even a good break-up. The press release called it “amicable”. Where’s the fun in that?’

‘The fun?!’ Ivy squeaked. ‘There is no fun!’ Petra stared at Ivy like she had squid tentacles coming out of her ears, but Ivy didn’t have time to explain. She bolted from the dining room, sprinting vampire-fast up the stone stairs, past the oil paintings in the wood-panelled corridor, to her dorm.

She slammed the door shut, jumped into her swivel chair and fired up the Lonely Echo program on her laptop. ‘Olivia?’ She jostled the mouse. ‘Olivia?’ But all Ivy could see was an image of Olivia’s empty garden. No Olivia in sight. Ivy’s heart did a nosedive.

Her poor sister had been broken-hearted and Ivy had spent the entire conversation talking about herself, showing Olivia stupid piles of clothes. What kind of a twin am I? She was supposed to have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. But, more importantly, why hadn’t Olivia mentioned anything? It wasn’t like her to keep her emotions bottled up – that was more Ivy’s speciality.

The sound of footsteps came through the monitor from Olivia’s back garden. Ivy leaned in to listen, breathing a sigh of relief. Her sister was coming back after all. ‘Hey, Olivia!’ she called. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ja–’

‘Oh, hello, Ivy.’ Mr Abbott’s face appeared upside down on the screen as he leaned over the computer from above, and Ivy nearly bit her tongue trying to stop herself from saying the J-word.

‘Um . . . um . . . Hi, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy stammered. He held up one finger to tell her to wait. He wandered round to the front of the computer so that his image was now the right way up.

‘Ah, that’s better.’ Ivy was glad to see that he had changed out of his karate gear and was now dressed in a maroon tank top and pleated khaki trousers – much more appropriate suburban dad-wear. ‘Good to see you, Ivy. How’s that fancy boarding school of yours? Are you enjoying it?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Definitely,’ said Ivy quickly, trying to peek around Mr Abbott’s head, which seemed to take up the entire frame. ‘Where’s Olivia?’ she asked before he could introduce any more questions of his own.

‘Olivia?’ Mr Abbott rubbed his chin, glancing back towards the house. ‘She went to take a nap. She’s been quite sleepy lately. She’s had a busy few days, I think.’

Ivy felt more rotten than week-old milk. She knew exactly why Olivia was suddenly feeling so run down, but Mr Abbott obviously didn’t. Unfortunately she couldn’t fill him in. It would be breaking twin code and it wasn’t her place to tell Olivia’s dad about the break-up.

‘OK, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy sighed. ‘I guess I’ll catch up with her later then.’

Ivy was stretching out to close down the chat window when he asked, ‘So, what’s new with school?’

Ivy froze, trying not to wince. Mr Abbott could be quite . . . chatty. Reluctantly, she plopped back into her chair, but Olivia’s dad was no longer looking at her expectantly. ‘Shhh!’ he told her, pressing his finger up to his pursed lips. His eyes were fixed on something behind Ivy. ‘I don’t want to alarm you,’ he said in a whisper, ‘but I think I see a bat in your room.’

Ivy started to tell him not to worry, but stopped short. ‘You know,’ she leaned closer to switch the computer off whilst she had a chance. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me that. Yeah, um . . . hey, can anyone help?’ She stood up, sending her chair clattering back, waving her hands to beckon imaginary school friends in from the corridor. ‘Quickly! I hate this bat!’ Mr Abbott wasn’t to know that the scrawny little creature held no fear at all for Ivy – not since she’d managed to rescue her own fingers from a mauling. ‘I’m really going to have to sign off now!’ Ivy panted as she widened her eyes in mock terror. ‘I feel a panic attack coming on . . .’

‘Ivy, are you all right . . . ?’ Mr Abbott began.

‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I just need to lie down!’ she said. ‘I should really go now!’ With a neat snap, she switched off the machine and sank back into her chair. ‘Goodbye, Mr Abbott,’ she murmured, shaking her head. The things I do to keep Olivia’s secrets!