Vampalicious!

by Sienna Mercer

  Alice turned to trot away, but Mr. Vega cleared his throat. “Pardon me,” he called.

  Alice spun around. “Yeah?”

  “Do I know you?” he said. “I feel certain that I have seen you before.”

  Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. That almost sounds like a pickup line! she thought.

  Alice screwed up her lips and rolled her eyes around, like she was trying to see the inside of her head. “Nope,” she said after a second, “I don’t think— WAIT A MINUTE! Have you been to any parties at the art museum?”

  Mr. Vega’s face bloomed into a smile—a real one, not one of those close-lipped pretend smiles Olivia was used to. “Of course. We met at the last exhibition opening,” he said. “You’re the artist who does those sculptures.”

  “I am indeed!” said Alice. Out of the corner of her mouth, to the girls, she added, “I’ve never been recognized before.”

  Olivia and Ivy stared at Alice and their father, totally speechless.

  “I’ve always had a passion for our little museum,” he said. “I remember one of your pieces well—the eight-legged clown.”

  “It was a mime, actually,” Alice corrected with a smile.

  Olivia kicked Ivy under the table. She’s the one!

  “Olivia and I have to go the bathroom,” Ivy blurted.

  Olivia hurriedly reached into her bag and found a five dollar bill. “Thank you so much, Alice,” she said, slapping the bill on the table. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks,” said Alice.

  “Dad, I’ll see you in the car,” Ivy called over her shoulder as she and Olivia rushed to the ladies’ room.

  The moment they were inside, Olivia peered under the stalls. They were empty. “Do you think she’s, you know,” Olivia said, “one of you?”

  “This is one of our establishments, and she’s wearing black nail polish,” Ivy replied. “So yes!”

  “It’s perfect,” declared Olivia. “She’s an artist—”

  “And he’s artsy,” finished Ivy, sounding awed.

  “I know!” squealed Olivia. “And it sounds like he even likes her art!”

  “Let’s invite her over for dinner,” Ivy said quickly.

  “Can we do that?” Olivia asked, but her sister was already back out the door. They crept along the bathroom hallway and peeked around the corner to see if Mr. Vega was still in the restaurant.

  “He’s gone,” Ivy whispered, and together they made a beeline to where Alice was standing by the cash register.

  “Hi, Alice,” they both said.

  “Hi, again,” said Alice.

  “I’m Ivy, and this is Olivia,” Ivy said. “That guy you were talking to—he’s my father.”

  “Really?” Alice said with a glimmer in her eye. “He looks so young!”

  “He’s a widower,” Olivia noted.

  “Want to come over to our house tomorrow night?” Ivy offered. “You could... talk about...”

  “Art?” Olivia suggested.

  “Are you girls tugging my wings?” Alice said with a worried look as she twirled her dark ponytail.

  Uh-oh, thought Olivia. We’re coming on too strong.

  Alice’s mouth burst into a smile. “Because I’d love to!”

  Chapter 4

  At lunch the next day, Olivia scanned the cafeteria for her friends. She spotted Camilla and Sophia at a table by the windows, hunched over in intense conversation. Looks like they’re still conspiring! Olivia thought, grateful that her friends were continuing to take Ivy’s move so seriously.

  “I think,” Camilla said loudly to Sophia as Olivia trotted up, “that the Scribe should run more editorials.”

  “I disagree,” Sophia replied. “I think two is enough. Why— Hello, Olivia.”

  “Hey,” said Olivia, setting down her tray. I guess they don’t have to conspire all the time, she thought to herself.

  Camilla looked at her watch. “Gotta go!” she said. “I have a study session for English.”

  “Me, too!” said Sophia. “I, uh...I have to go work on a piece for my art exam.”

  “Really?” said Olivia, trying not to sound disappointed that she was being left alone only a few seconds after she’d sat down. “What are you doing?”

  “What?” said Sophia.

  “What’s the piece you’re working on for your art exam?” Olivia explained.

  “It’s a painting...I mean,a photograph. It’s a painting of a photograph?” Sophia said, like she wasn’t sure.

  “Still trying to figure it out, huh?” said Olivia. “I know the feeling.”

  “Exactly!” said Sophia, lifting her tray. “See you later, Olivia.”

  Olivia started eating her strawberry yogurt. She had just pulled out her algebra book and was trying to get some studying done when Charlotte came up with Katie and Allison.

  “You’re all alone,” Charlotte moaned, her lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout.

  “That’s so sad!” said Katie and Allison.

  Olivia marveled at how well the two of them could speak in unison.

  “You know you can always sit with us, Olivia,” Charlotte said. “Us cheerleaders have to stick together, right?”

  “Totally,” said Katie.

  “For sure,” said Allison.

  “I guess so,” Olivia said after a moment.

  “Awesome!” squealed Charlotte. “So you’ll sign our petition?” Katie slapped a piece of paper filled with signatures next to Olivia’s tray. Allison carefully placed a pink pen on top of it.

  “Petition for what?” Olivia asked.

  “We want to outlaw wearing black to school during the month of December,” Charlotte explained.

  “Excuse me?” said Olivia, raising her eyebrows.

  “Black is so antiholiday spirit,” said Katie seriously.

  “Plus it depresses everyone during exams!” chimed Allison.

  Olivia peered over the edge of the table. “What about your shoes?” she asked, pointing to Charlotte’s heeled black loafers.

  Katie and Allison gasped dramatically.

  “Shoes don’t count,” Charlotte blurted.

  “Really?” Olivia eyed the piece of paper beside her tray. “Does this petition say that? Because my favorite winter boots are black.”

  Katie and Allison stared at their captain as if they were waiting for her to call a cheer. Charlotte was struggling to come up with an explanation when Ivy and Brendan appeared with their trays and sat down.

  “What’s that?” Brendan asked, indicating the piece of paper.

  “It’s a petition banning shoes during December,” Olivia answered matter-of-factly.

  “It is not!” cried Charlotte, stamping her foot.

  “Who would sign that?” Ivy wondered.

  Charlotte turned bright red. “NORMAL PEOPLE!” she shouted.

  Everyone at the surrounding tables turned to look.

  “Relax, Charlotte,” whispered Katie, totally embarrassed.

  Charlotte sneered at Ivy. “I’ll be so happy when you move,” she seethed, “and I get a regular next-door neighbor instead of a drab bag like you.”

  “Drab bag,” Ivy said, savoring the words. “I sort of like that.”

  Charlotte hmmphed, snatched her petition off the table, and stormed off with her friends.

  “You know what they say,” Olivia said, bursting out laughing. “If you can’t join ’em...”

  “Beat ’em!” Ivy grinned. She and Olivia bumped elbows.

  “You twins are dangerous,” marveled Brendan.

  “Olivia,” said Ivy, “I was just telling Bren about how the next phase of our plan is a go.”

  “You mean Operation FANGED?” said Olivia. Her sister blinked cluelessly. “Friends Against Needlessly Going to Europe in December!” she clarified.

  Ivy laughed.

  “I actually think the acronym for what you just said is FANGTEID,” Brendan said skeptically, pronouncing it “fang-tide.” Olivia threw a napkin at his head
, but he easily batted it away.

  “So you asked if it was okay to have Alice over for dinner?” Olivia asked Ivy.

  “Not exactly,” Ivy answered. She let her hair fall in front of her face, which Olivia knew meant she was trying to hide. “I told Dad that someone’s coming over as part of a final art project that you and I are working on.”

  “What kind of art requires a waitress from the Meat & Greet?” asked Brendan dubiously.

  “Performance art?” Ivy tried.

  “The art of romance,” Olivia corrected, batting her eyelashes.

  “Brendan,” said Ivy, pushing her hair out of her face, “do you want to be the waiter? You could wear the tux you wore to the All Hallows’ Ball. You looked drop-dead in it.”

  Brendan frowned. “I can’t,” he said apologetically. “I promised Bethany I’d take her to see the HB.”

  “What’s the HB?” asked Olivia.

  Ivy glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one could overhear. “The Holiday Bat,” she whispered.

  Olivia looked at her sister blankly.

  “You know how human kids think Santa Claus magically comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for them?” Ivy asked.

  Olivia nodded.

  “Well, we don’t have Santa. We have the HB.”

  “One winter, a bat flew out of my parent’s chimney,” Olivia remembered. “My dad chased it out the door with a tennis racquet.”

  “Hmm,” said Brendan, “I bet he got lousy Christmas presents that year.”

  “Actually, I gave him a really nice tie,” Olivia protested.

  “Does he ever wear it?” Brendan asked, raising his thick eyebrows meaningfully.

  Come to think of it, thought Olivia, no, he doesn’t.

  “Oh, stop it,” Ivy interrupted. “The HB is a myth.”

  “Try telling Bethany that,” said Brendan. “She’s been begging me for weeks to take her to the mall so she can sit on the HB’s back and tell it what she wants for Christmas.”

  “That is so cute!” cried Olivia. “I want to see the HB. It’ll be my first vampire Christmas.”

  Ivy shushed her. “Can you lower your voice, or do you want us all to get staked?” she hissed. “And we’re not going to the HB,” she added. “We’re too old.”

  Olivia started to protest, but Ivy said, “Olivia, we have much more important things to focus on right now. Like going to my house after school to prepare the romantic meal that’s going to save my life!”

  “Don’t you worry about tonight,” Olivia said confidently. “Alice is so totally perfect. It’ll be love at first bite.”

  Brendan chuckled, but Ivy still looked skeptical.

  “I got the two of you together, didn’t I?” Olivia pointed out.

  Brendan and Ivy looked at each other. “The bunny has a point,” he said.

  Ivy stood at the kitchen counter, frantically flipping through her father’s Taste of the Night cookbook as Olivia peered over her shoulder. They had only a few hours before Alice arrived.

  “How about ‘Tortellini with Red Sauce’?” Olivia suggested. “That sounds good.”

  Ivy scanned the recipe and shook her head. “We don’t have goose blood.”

  “Gross,” said Olivia under her breath.

  Ivy spotted a recipe for rare beef lasagna and asked Olivia to look in the pantry for lasagna noodles.

  “Ew!” Olivia cried after a moment. “There’s a box of powdered blood Jell-O in here!”

  “That’s my dad’s favorite,” Ivy said. She spun around to look at her sister. “Do you think it’s fancy enough for dessert?”

  “I know how to make a sweet cream topping from scratch,” Olivia offered. She came over and plopped a box of lasagna noodles on the counter.

  “Perfect,” said Ivy. “Now all we need is an appetizer.”

  “How about a soup?”

  As Ivy flipped to the front of the cookbook, she remembered their conversation at the Meat & Greet the previous day. “Killer idea,” she said with a grin. “After all, we already have salt and pepper.”

  An hour later, Ivy had just put the lasagna in the oven when she heard the front door open.

  “Ivy,” her father called, “I’m home!”

  “In the kitchen!” Ivy called back.

  When he saw them, Mr. Vega dropped his briefcase with a thud. I can’t believe he’s still so shocked by the sight of Olivia, thought Ivy.

  “What have you girls done to my kitchen?” he gasped.

  “Hi, Mr. Vega,” Olivia said, awkwardly wiping her hands on her apron, leaving bright red stains.

  Ivy surveyed the situation. The counter was covered in blood paste and flour, and there were dirty bowls and spoons and pans on every available surface. As if on cue, the pot of water on the stove boiled over with a hissing burst of steam.

  Ivy gulped. “Olivia and I are working on our art project,” she said.

  “This is your art project?” her dad demanded.

  Ivy nodded. “We have to make something for someone else, so we’re making dinner.”

  “Well, then, I’d better leave you two artists to your work,” he said tentatively, slowly turning on his heels to leave the kitchen.

  Olivia cleared her throat. “Mr. Vega? It’s sort of supposed to be a special occasion, so you might want to dress up a little bit.”

  “What kind of special—”

  “See you in an hour!” Ivy interrupted, and before her dad could say anything else, she waved him out the door with the backs of her hands like she was shooing a bat.

  Ivy and Olivia were lighting the candles in the middle of the dining room table when the pipeorgan doorbell rang.

  “Girls!” Mr. Vega’s voice called faintly from upstairs. “The door!”

  Ivy was about to go answer it, but Olivia grabbed her arm. “Lesson of Love Number One: interaction is the key to attraction,” Olivia whispered.

  “What does that mean?” Ivy asked.

  The doorbell rang again. “He should get it,” Olivia said.

  Good idea, thought Ivy. “DAD! CAN YOU GET THE DOOR, PLEASE?” she yelled. She snatched a black lacquer plate off the table. “WE HAVE OUR HANDS FULL OF PLATES DOWN HERE!”

  A moment later, Ivy could hear the faint patter of her father descending the grand staircase.

  Ivy and Olivia peeked around the corner into the foyer just as their father reached the bottom of the steps. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing pin-striped black pants and a tailored white shirt under a gray blazer. Perfect! Ivy thought.

  “Any woman would totally fall for him,” Olivia whispered.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ivy’s father apologized as he opened the door. “Alice!” he exclaimed.

  “It’s Charles, right?” Ivy heard. “Like the prince?”

  Ivy’s father stood there, speechless.

  Invite her in, Ivy pleaded silently.

  “Please, come in,” her father said.

  “Thanks!” Alice said and charged into the foyer. She was wearing an enormous crocheted sweater dress, black leggings, and silver leg warmers. On her head was a black faux-fur-lined trapper hat. She looks like a dancer in a Russian music video, Ivy thought.

  “Creative outfit,” Olivia whispered hopefully.

  Ivy’s father snapped his head in their direction like he’d heard. He locked Ivy in his gaze, and his eyes widened.

  We’re staked! Ivy thought.

  Rather than ducking out of sight, though, Olivia pushed past Ivy and marched into the foyer. “Hi, Alice!” She smiled. Ivy nervously hurried after her. “Thanks so much for helping out with our art project!”

  Alice screwed up her lips. “I thought I was here for dinner.”

  “You are,” Olivia said. “We had to create something special for someone else, so we’re making dinner for you and Mr. Vega!”

  “That’s art?” Alice looked confused.

  “That was my question exactly,” Ivy’s father said stiffly.
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