13 Double Disaster - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  ‘Well, if you’re sure . . .’ Mrs Abbot hurried across the room to press a kiss on Olivia’s brow. She stroked her hair back from her face, and smiled down at Olivia. ‘Get some rest, sweetheart.’

  ‘I will,’ Olivia promised. As she listened to her parents’ bustling departure, she propped her shoulders against the wall and tucked the strange, fluffy ‘duvet’ around her, making herself a nest. It felt like she was walling herself in from the world. I just can’t face going out. Not yet.

  Between jet lag and culture shock, she had lost all sense of what time it was. The clock on the wall claimed it was early afternoon, but she felt a strange craving for cereal. Maybe my body just doesn’t want to admit that it’s left America!

  It wasn’t just her body that was in trouble, though. Her heart rate rocketed every time she thought about exactly where she was and exactly who she would be seeing on-set once the filming began. Playing two different vampire twins was going to be tough . . . but trying to act normal around Jackson was going to be Olivia’s greatest acting challenge this summer.

  A knock sounded outside, and Olivia blinked, startled out of her worries. What were her parents doing back so soon?

  Then she realised: the knock hadn’t come from the connecting door. It had come from the hallway outside.

  As she stood up, she knew – somehow – exactly who she would find waiting for her.

  Her heartbeat pulsed against her throat. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the hotel room as she walked across the lush carpet. Pasting a welcoming smile on her face, she opened the door . . .

  . . . and found a scruffy, unfamiliar boy standing outside, wearing baggy shorts and a jersey for some English soccer team she didn’t recognise. A baseball cap was pulled down low over his face, his shoulders were slouched, and no one in the world would have had any idea who he was . . .

  Except Olivia.

  ‘Hi, Jackson,’ she said softly. ‘Come on in.’

  Jackson Caulfield pushed up the brim of his baseball cap to give her a rueful grin, his blue eyes intense. ‘You weren’t even fooled for a moment, were you?’

  Olivia only shook her head, smiling. But inside, she answered honestly: I would know you anywhere.

  She couldn’t say that out loud, though, could she?

  Absolutely not, she told herself. If she said that, she’d sound like she was still in love with him. He’d think she was pathetic! But now no one was speaking, and the silence felt like pressure building all around them, until she was ready to burst.

  Olivia clasped her hands together so she wouldn’t fidget. Just say something, she begged him silently. Anything!

  She’d never seen Jackson looking so awkward before. He always knew what to say; what to do.

  ‘So . . .’ Jackson stuck his thumbs in his shorts pockets, rocking awkwardly on his heels. ‘I guess . . . maybe we ought to shake hands now?’

  Olivia’s eyes widened in disbelief. She let out a startled laugh. ‘OK . . .?’ She casually held out her hand. Inside, though, she was in shock. We were boyfriend-and-girlfriend for months. Now we’re shaking hands like strangers?

  Jackson took her hand, then gave a baffled laugh. ‘This is dumb, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Biting her lip, Olivia started to step back. At the same moment, Jackson tugged on her hand, pulling her into a hug.

  The unexpected move upset her balance. Olivia tipped forwards – and their noses bumped hard. ‘Ow!’ she yelped.

  Jackson almost leaped backwards in his hurry to let her go. ‘Sorry!’

  Olivia stumbled back, hanging on to her aching nose and laughing nervously. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘So . . . do you want to come in?’ She gestured to her hotel room.

  Jackson gave her the same megawatt gorgeous smile she had seen on so many movie posters and magazine covers. ‘Nah.’

  Ouch. Olivia couldn’t stop herself from wincing. The rejection hurt even more than her bumped nose! So much for being friends now.

  ‘Wait.’ Jackson stepped closer, his eyes widening. ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’

  ‘You didn’t?’ Watching him warily, Olivia lowered her hand from her nose.

  Jackson sighed. Pulling off his baseball cap, he ran one hand through his thick blond hair. ‘I’m such a doofus! I meant, I want to take you out. We still have a few more days before filming, right? And here we are in a beautiful foreign city. Don’t you want to see some of it?’

  Olivia glanced back through the open doorway of her hotel room to the panoramic view of London outside. ‘It would be nice to see London for real instead of through plate glass,’ she admitted. And without a joke guidebook playing pranks on me!

  ‘But . . .’ She turned back to Jackson, frowning. ‘Are you sure that it’s a good idea? I mean, we might not be in America any more, but we are still on Planet Earth. Don’t you need to keep yourself well-hidden?’

  Jackson’s grin was wide, relieved, and even more megawatt gorgeous than before. ‘Don’t worry about that part,’ he said. ‘Trust me. I’ve made us a reservation for lunch in a place where we’re guaranteed not to be disturbed.’

  An hour later, Olivia had to admit that he was right. No one would be able to intrude on them now, not even the most obsessed fangirl – because the lunch that Jackson was treating her to would be served in mid-air!

  Ever since Olivia had spotted the London Eye on her limousine journey from the airport, she’d wanted to ride the giant Ferris wheel that stood on the edge of the River Thames. But now, as Jackson ushered her into one of the Eye’s big, egg-shaped glass pods, she looked around with a combination of enchantment and confusion. I never thought I’d see it like this!

  Inside the glass pod, an elegant table awaited them, set for two with silver that glittered in the sunlight. A light vegetarian lunch of sandwiches, wraps, hummus, pitta bread and fruits lay set out on china platters while fruit juices glimmered in crystal glasses.

  A uniformed waiter bowed politely to Olivia as the door of the pod slid shut silently behind her. A second waiter hovered in the background, keeping as discreet a distance as possible in such a confined space. Outside, brightly coloured boats filled the Thames, pedestrians scurried around the streets, and the city bustled with activity while, inside the glass pod, Olivia felt the ground lift beneath her feet.

  The pod gently swung into the air as the London Eye began its big circle, carrying Olivia and Jackson in an enchanted bubble.

  ‘Well?’ Jackson asked. He stood watching her, a tentative smile on his face. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Olivia said. She sat down at the table and let out a laugh as she watched the city swing past her through the rounded glass walls. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’

  ‘I know it’s not exactly Franklin Grove.’ Jackson grinned as he sat down across from her. ‘But do you think you could get used to it?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Olivia frowned, as one of the waiters leaned over to stack her plate with food. Jackson seemed to be able to ignore the service, the way her Transylvanian grandparents could at one of their fancy banquets, but she couldn’t help being aware of the waiters’ presence as she spoke.

  ‘International travel is exciting,’ she said, ‘and the movie business is, too . . . but honestly?’ She leaned forwards, dropping her voice as she admitted: ‘Just between the two of us, I’m already exhausted, and we haven’t even started filming yet. I don’t know how you put yourself through this so many times a year!’

  Jackson nodded, looking sympathetic. ‘Honestly? I’m not sure, either. But . . .’ He shrugged, picking up an avocado wrap from his plate. ‘I’ve already got more projects lined up, so I can’t let myself worry too much about it.’

  ‘That’s right!’ Olivia beamed. ‘I just heard you got that role as the teenage super spy! That sounds fantastic!’

  Jackson stared at her, his wrap frozen halfway to his mouth. ‘Did you see that in Teen Talk?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Olivia’s mouth w
ent dry. She couldn’t tell him the truth – that she’d read it in VAMP magazine! ‘I think . . . I don’t remember,’ she mumbled, wincing.

  Jackson shook his head, looking disgusted. ‘Don’t believe anything you read in Teen Talk. Seriously. They’re hardly the high standard of journalism, even by celebrity journalism standards.’

  Olivia forced herself to chew endlessly on a single piece of lettuce, cursing herself. Why did I have to say anything about it in the first place?

  VAMP Magazine was far more credible than Teen Talk, but it was also a secret kept by the vampire community. And even if it hadn’t been, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she’d been reading any celebrity gossip articles about him. If she did, she’d come off as a gullible fangirl.

  Or worse: she might even seem like the kind of stalker ex-girlfriend she’d seen on TV shows, obsessed with him in some unhealthy way!

  ‘It wasn’t Teen Talk,’ she mumbled.

  ‘No?’ Jackson frowned. ‘Where was it, then? I didn’t think anyone else had reported it.’

  ‘Um . . .’ Caught, with both the waiters’ gazes on her, Olivia swallowed hard. ‘Maybe . . . I might have seen it in the New York Times?’

  Jackson choked on his wrap. ‘Are you serious?’ he managed, in between coughs.

  Olivia licked her lips nervously. ‘I . . . think so?’

  ‘Wow.’ He shook his head as he finally stopped coughing. ‘I can’t believe it. I thought the only time my name ever got mentioned in the Times was when their film critic trashed my performance in The Groves. He said I was wooden.’

  ‘What?’ Olivia gasped in outrage. ‘Who would say that? That’s ridiculous! It’s just not true. You were fantastic! You totally –’ Oops. She snapped her mouth shut too late, wincing. D’oh! ‘Um . . . not that I’m a stalker fangirl,’ she muttered, her cheeks burning. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Jackson raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve apparently been reading all about me –’

  ‘In the Times!’ Olivia yelped. ‘I was just reading the film section!’

  But he was already laughing, his blue eyes bright with amusement. ‘Don’t worry! I get it. I would have read articles about you, too.’

  Olivia blinked. ‘You would have?’

  ‘Of course.’ He shrugged, as if it were obvious. ‘Anyway, I shouldn’t be teasing you like this.’ His gaze dropped to his plate. ‘Especially not now. See, I’ve got something very important and a little . . .’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘. . . well, it’s a little embarrassing, to tell the truth. But I really want to talk to you about it.’

  ‘OK . . .’ Olivia felt a flutter of nervousness clutch at her throat. She could sense the waiters trying not to listen.

  Was Jackson really about to talk about . . . them? As a couple? If he wanted to re-open that chapter of their lives . . .

  Her breathing stopped as Jackson reached across the table and took her right hand. His fingers felt warm and strong and achingly familiar.

  ‘Olivia,’ he said. His voice throbbed with emotion. ‘I really, really need . . .’ He hesitated, looking anguished.

  ‘Yes?’ Olivia’s voice came out as a squeak. Her left hand was clutched so tightly around her napkin, it would have shredded if it hadn’t been made of cloth.

  ‘. . . your help,’ he finished in a rush. Then he let out a whoosh of breath and rolled out his shoulders. ‘Whew.’ He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘It was hard to get that out!’

  Olivia just stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Outside, the sights of London swung past, exotic and beautiful, and having no effect on her because, inside, she felt numb. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘It’s the role. I mean, roles.’ Grimacing, Jackson sat back. ‘For our London scenes, I have to do English accents for the brothers.’

  ‘Yeah . . .?’ Her head was still whirling with reaction as she drew her hand away from his.

  He didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, one of the brothers is “posh” – upper-class English. I can do that, no problem! But the other brother . . .’ Jackson sighed. ‘He’s a “Cockney”, a real working-class Londoner, and I just can’t get that accent right.’

  ‘And you think I can?’ Olivia shook her head, almost laughing. ‘Jackson, look at me. I’ve never even been to England before!’

  ‘But you’re awesome at voices, though,’ Jackson said. ‘Your robot voice in Camilla’s sci-fi version of Romeo and Juliet was amazing!’

  It was amazing, Olivia thought wistfully. But she wasn’t thinking of the strange voice Camilla had made her put on. She was thinking of that opening night performance, when Jackson as Romeo had given her a very first kiss . . .

  Focus! She jerked herself out of the memory and found Jackson looking at her expectantly:

  ‘So, can you help me?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Was it really a good idea to spend so much one-on-one time with Jackson, when her feelings were so confused? Olivia hesitated. ‘Don’t you have a voice coach?’

  ‘Of course.’ Jackson made a face. ‘Unfortunately, we don’t really see eye-to-eye.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Just think of it as work! Olivia told herself firmly. She sat up straighter, trying to look professional and confident, and scooped up a strawberry from the bowl of fruit. ‘All right, then. Why don’t you try a Cockney voice for me now?’ She smiled brightly and popped the strawberry into her mouth. ‘How bad can it be?’

  ‘OK.’ Jackson took a deep breath. ‘Awight, gawvanah – there’s sumwan arskin’ for ya on the doggonbone.’

  ‘Um . . .’ Olivia’s eyes widened as she almost choked on the fruit. She noticed one of the waiters raise his eyebrows to the other. ‘OK. I have to admit, I have no idea if that was a good accent or not. But I’m pretty sure that whatever you just said, it wasn’t in English!’

  Jackson grinned, visibly relaxing. ‘It’s pretty different, anyway. But I really need to practise without my vocal coach glaring at me the whole time. So . . .’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘What do you think? Will you help me? I don’t want the whole of England laughing at me when I open my mouth on-screen!’

  Olivia pressed her lips together, forcing herself to stop and think it through before she answered. What would Ivy say, if she were here?

  OK, I think I know the answer to that one. Fiercely protective Ivy would not let Olivia put herself in a situation where she could be hurt again.

  But on the other hand . . . Olivia wanted the movie to be good, didn’t she? And she didn’t want anyone laughing at Jackson. He may not have been her boyfriend any more, but that didn’t mean she’d stopped caring about his feelings. And if helping him out meant spending lots of time together . . .

  That’s what I want, she realised. Whether it’s sensible or not! She’d been so nervous about seeing Jackson again, but the last hour had actually been wonderful. When they’d broken up, her only hope was that they would manage to be civil, but this had been way more than civil. Olivia had almost forgotten just how much fun it was to be with him!

  And what is Ivy going to say about that? She smiled ruefully, imagining her twin’s reaction.

  ‘OK,’ she said to Jackson. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Yes!’ He pumped one fist in victory. ‘Thank you so much. You’re really saving me!’

  Olivia laughed and picked up another strawberry. ‘I don’t know about that, but I do have an idea. You want to get your accent right, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ He frowned. ‘So?’

  ‘So, why don’t we both adopt disguises?’ she said. ‘Then we can go out and walk among real Londoners, instead of just relying on your vocal coach and her rules. We can listen to how people really talk, to get the rhythms of the speech down.’

  ‘Olivia Abbott, you are brilliant.’ Jackson beamed at her as he picked up a last sandwich. ‘Why don’t we try it later today?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Olivia agreed. She smiled to herself as the pod carried them slowly back down to e
arth.

  So much for having a quiet, lazy afternoon . . . but this has definitely been a lunch to remember!

  Chapter Four

  Even lunchtime is a bizarre experience! Ivy thought. She stared down at her food, but couldn’t bring herself to eat it. She was too busy reeling from the shock revelations of the morning.

  Not only was Franklin Grove High full of goths, they seemed to be the largest demographic – the most popular social group! Even Mr Russell, Ivy’s English teacher, had been wearing a long-sleeved black Tee underneath his collared shirt. More than that, he’d used a Destroy the Dream Boat track to inspire a creative writing session!

  When Ivy had had to stand up and introduce herself, she’d received a round of applause before she’d even opened her mouth. When she’d sat back down afterwards, the girl sitting next to her had whispered, ‘How do you get to be so cool?’

  Ivy was lost for words – and that never happened.

  Now, she was in the school cafeteria, with a burger in front of her, surrounded by a sea of goths. They filled up the prime table in the cafeteria, just by the dessert bar and next to the doors that opened up on to the courtyard outside. Posters for Ivy’s favourite bands hung on the cafeteria walls, and a sign over the dessert bar announced their ‘Dark Special’ – a dark chocolate cheesecake, with tiny bats drawn perfectly in icing.

  And if all that wasn’t weird enough, Ivy could see a group of blonde, tanned ‘bunny’ girls sat in a dark corner, pressed uncomfortably into a too-small table. But they sure weren’t acting like any bunnies she’d ever seen before.

  Back at Franklin Grove Middle, those bunny girls would have been confidently chatting and laughing, well aware that they ruled the whole school. Here, though, they sat hunched and whispering, darting nervous looks over their shoulders whenever one of them made too much noise.

  Between the prime table of goths and the back corner of bunnies, like a buffer zone, was a table of . . . well, regulars was all that Ivy could think to call them. And she couldn’t believe it. The regular kids had a better table than the bunnies!