15 Secrets and Spies - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  No, Ivy realised, her eyes narrowing. Maya wasn’t just staring at the bus. She was staring straight at Brendan, right in the front of the bus. Her head swivelled to follow him as the bus moved, and she lifted one hand in a half-hearted wave.

  Suddenly, Ivy had a horrible certainty that she knew exactly who Brendan had been talking to. But how did he even know the new girl?

  And why was he keeping it secret from her?

  Chapter Three

  ‘Cut!’ Camilla yelled. ‘Let’s try one more . . .’

  As everyone around them in the FoodMart turned to stare, Olivia stifled a groan. Sometimes it isn’t easy to be best friends with a budding movie director!

  ‘What went wrong this time?’ she asked.

  Camilla frowned intently under her plum-coloured beret. Her blonde curls sprang out around her face, looking wilder than ever after forty-five minutes of tugging at them with every failed take. ‘You need to walk normally,’ she said.

  Olivia blinked. ‘I thought I was.’

  ‘No.’ Camilla shook her head. ‘Your “normal” walk is too graceful.’

  ‘Ohhh-kay.’ Olivia let out a soft sigh as she hurried back to take her place at the end of the Newspapers & Magazines aisle.

  It was a good thing she’d put up with Tom Taylor’s ‘perfectionism’ on set the week before because, otherwise, she’d never be able to survive working with her own best friend! Camilla had cornered her just after she’d gotten home from school, dragging her out to the FoodMart to work on . . . work on . . .

  Frowning, Olivia came to a sudden stop, ignoring the irritated shoppers wheeling their carts around her. ‘What are we filming, anyway?’ she asked. ‘You never actually told me.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a music thing.’ Camilla bit her lip as she fiddled with her smartphone, adjusting the settings. ‘This goth/indie band are inviting young film-makers to submit footage for their new music video. The challenge is, they’re insisting it all be recorded on smartphones.’

  Olivia stared at her in disbelief. ‘But you hate goth and indie music! You can’t even stand being in the same room as it!’

  ‘So?’ Camilla shrugged. ‘It’s going to be amazing publicity for anyone who wins. You’d never believe it from listening to their songs, but they’re huge.’

  ‘Really?’ Olivia felt a prickle of dread. ‘Wait a minute. We’re not talking about –’

  ‘The Pall Bearers!’ Camilla said cheerfully. ‘Have you heard of them?’

  Olivia stifled a groan. ‘You could say that.’

  Earlier that year, she’d been guilt-tripped into pretending to be Ivy at a Pall Bearers concert, so that she could get Brendan and Sophia into the show for free. If only I’d known that the band would invite me on stage. Olivia could laugh about her “singing debut” now but, at the time, she thought she knew how Ivy’s tummy felt when she accidentally took a bit of garlicky pizza.

  ‘Look,’ she said. ‘Have you really listened to their music?’ She waved a hand at the rows of newspapers and magazines on the racks beside them. ‘I can tell you, footage from a nice local supermarket really isn’t going to do it for a goth band that thinks shouting “I hate you” over and over’ – and over! – ‘again is clever.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got all of that under control.’ Camilla’s eyes were flinty with determination. ‘I spent hours listening to their new song . . .’

  And you didn’t go crazy? Olivia wondered. She would have needed earplugs and a tranquilliser to get through that torture!

  ‘. . . and here’s the thing: it’s about a relationship that’s ended badly, and it’s called “Yesterday’s News”. So, if their director has even half a brain, he’ll have to see the symbolism in all these newspapers and magazines!’

  ‘Uh . . . if you say so.’ Olivia sighed. She loved seeing her friend so fired up – but when Camilla was in full flow, there was nothing that could stop her, and no point in arguing. ‘Another take?’ she offered weakly, taking her place back at the end of the aisle.

  ‘Everyone stand back, please,’ Camilla called out. She flung out her left hand to hold back any other shoppers from stepping into the aisle. ‘Aaaaand . . . action!’

  Olivia started forwards. Right. Walk normally! Half-smiling, she let her arms swing gently by her sides. Her chin was up, her eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance, and her kitten heels clacked against the floor as –

  ‘Cut!’ Camilla yelled.

  Are you kidding? Olivia swung to face Camilla – but for the first time that night, Camilla wasn’t looking at her.

  ‘We have an intruder,’ she said, pointing up the aisle.

  Olivia turned back to look . . . just as a cute little boy raced past her, giggling. A harassed-looking woman scooped him up and carried him over her shoulder.

  ‘Mommy T-Rex!’ the little boy shouted gleefully. He flung his arms around her neck and grinned at the girls over her shoulder. ‘Raaar! Raaar!’

  Olivia laughed. ‘Aww. Why not leave him in the shot? He’s adorable.’

  ‘I can’t see the Pall Bearers putting out an “adorable” music video,’ Camilla said.

  Olivia nodded. ‘I guess not.’

  A minute later, the aisle was finally clear again, with the little boy’s roars fading into the distance. For the twenty-first time that night, Olivia took her place at the end of the aisle. This time, though, Olivia stopped at the magazines halfway down the aisle, idly picking one up and flipping through it.

  ‘Cut!’ Camilla looked both annoyed and apologetic as she hurried over, releasing the crowd of shoppers she’d held back until then. ‘What’s with the improv?’

  Olivia shrugged, trying to ignore the glares of all the shoppers who’d been held up for the take. ‘It felt right in the moment,’ she said.

  ‘We should really keep it simple,’ said Camilla. But before she could explain what she meant, her jaw dropped. ‘Run!’ she gasped.

  Olivia didn’t even have time to look around before Camilla grabbed her arm and yanked her down the aisle, not slowing down until they’d turned the corner. Then, breathing hard, Camilla hid behind the corner display of birthday cards. She pushed Olivia behind her, and peered back up the aisle they’d come from.

  Olivia stood on tiptoes to look over her friend’s shoulder. ‘What are we looking at?’ she whispered.

  ‘Shh!’ Camilla waved frantically at her to be quiet.

  Olivia opened her mouth to protest, then blinked as a nearly-empty shopping cart turned into their aisle, pushed by a familiar figure.

  Lillian.

  ‘Um . . . Camilla?’ she whispered into her best friend’s ear. ‘Why are we hiding from my stepmom?’

  ‘Because I really, really want to talk to her!’ Camilla hissed.

  Olivia looked at her in disbelief. Is this some kind of joke?

  But Camilla’s face was pale and strained as she stared at Lillian with what could only be described as ‘yearning’. She definitely wasn’t making a joke.

  Gently, Olivia put one hand on her arm. ‘We can hardly talk to Lillian from here, can we? Not unless we’re going to call her cell.’

  Biting her lip, Camilla looked down at the smartphone in her hand. ‘Do you think we should?’

  Olivia let out a disbelieving half-laugh. ‘Camilla, what is up with you today?’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ Camilla groaned, slumping against the rack of birthday cards. ‘I just really want to get to know her properly. She’s been working in Hollywood for . . . for, like, forever.’

  Olivia tried not to laugh. You don’t even know how true that is.

  ‘She could give me so much advice on real film-making,’ Camilla said miserably. ‘But I just can’t make myself talk to her!’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’ Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘I know you’ve spoken to her before. What about at the engagement party? Or the wedding? Or –’

  ‘That was different!’ Camilla said. ‘We were just chatting then, about unimportant things. If I want to ask her
for help and advice, though . . . Well, I want her to take me seriously.’

  ‘I’m sure she will.’ Olivia nudged Camilla gently, trying to push her back towards the aisle. Over Camilla’s shoulder, she could see Lillian coming to a stop to look at the rack of magazines. ‘She’s really nice. And why wouldn’t she take you seriously?’

  ‘Have you even looked at me tonight?’ Camilla seemed ready to cry. ‘I’m shooting footage on a smartphone. And, and, and . . . I’m wearing completely the wrong beret!’ Camilla tore off her plum-coloured beret and looked at it sadly. ‘I need my black one when I talk to her. It’s my lucky beret!’

  ‘Camilla –’

  Camilla shook her head, backing away from the aisle where Lillian stood, obliviously browsing a magazine. ‘I should go. I’ve got everything I need for the Pall Bearers’ video, so I’m just going to . . . to . . .’

  Run away, Olivia finished silently for her friend, as Camilla turned and scuttled off without another word.

  Sighing, Olivia started to follow, but then stopped. Wait a minute. Something about Lillian’s appearance had been niggling at her ever since she’d seen her stepmom turn on to the aisle, but talking with Camilla had distracted her.

  What was it?

  Frowning, she peered back around the corner display. Aha.

  Unlike the last time she’d seen Lillian, her stepmom no longer looked ‘less-than-perfect’. In fact, Lillian had somehow found a way to look too perfect. Flicking through the magazine, in an elegant black twin set and pearls, she looked more like someone who should have been on their way to a fancy vampire banquet, rather than ordinary grocery shopping. Her hair was pulled back by a velvet headband, her make-up was perfectly – and elaborately – applied, and . . . Are those false eyelashes?!

  Olivia stared in disbelief at Lillian’s thick black eyelashes, which were at least half-an-inch longer than usual.

  Lillian would have seemed perfectly put together – for a Hollywood party! – if it weren’t for the glazed look in her eyes. As she put the magazine back and pushed the cart slowly down the aisle, her gaze sailed over the books and newspapers on the shelves, clearly not taking in a single thing. And as for her ‘shopping’ –

  Olivia sucked in a worried breath. There was only one thing in the cart: a big bag of candy. Perfectly normal for some people, maybe, but Lillian never ate candy.

  What is going on?

  As if she were asking herself the same question, Lillian suddenly came to a dead stop, nearly knocking into another woman’s cart.

  ‘Are you OK, honey?’ the other woman asked. ‘You look a little . . . lost.’

  ‘Oh . . . um . . .’ Lillian blinked, glancing around as if she’d only just realised she’d turned into the Newspaper & Magazines aisle. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. Then she added, in a lower voice, ‘I hope so, anyway.’

  She’s clearly not used to doing a weekly grocery run, Olivia thought. At least not in the FoodMart.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe Lillian was actually here for the vampires-only secret store hidden beneath the FoodMart. The BloodMart was where the local vampires went to buy their synthetic food. Since she hadn’t been in town long, though, maybe she’d forgotten which aisle held the secret door that the vamps used to get there – and of course, she wouldn’t be able to ask just any ordinary shopper for directions.

  At least I can help her with that part, Olivia thought.

  As the other shopper settled in to browse a cookbook, Olivia prepared to slip over and guide her stepmom to Aisle Twelve. She was just about to start forwards when she saw Lillian’s gaze suddenly focus on a book in the Life & Style section. She scooped it up from the stand, looked at the front cover – and burst out laughing.

  It wasn’t happy laughter, though. There was an edge to it that made Olivia freeze in her hiding place.

  Ohh-kay . . . Suddenly, she didn’t want to step forwards after all. This is really weird.

  From her hiding place, she watched Lillian replace the Life & Style book, then wander across to the travel section and pick up something else. This time, Olivia was close enough to see the book’s title: Life Escapes.

  ‘Oh, that’s fabulous!’ The other shopper looked up from her cookbook to point at Life Escapes, smiling. ‘Especially if you’re looking for a change of direction.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Lillian murmured. She gave a secret smile as she put the book in her cart. The next moment, though, her shoulders slumped and her eyes seemed to glaze over again. With an audible sigh, she hauled the cart around and listlessly continued to another part of the store.

  If Life Escapes made her smile, what was the book that made her burst out laughing? The moment that her stepmom disappeared from view, Olivia hurried down the aisle, veering around to avoid the other shopper’s cart.

  Lillian’s first book was easy to find – but harder to interpret.

  Careers: Fulfilling Your Potential!

  Olivia felt a sick feeling of dread in her stomach. Lillian had gone from this to the travel section, hadn’t she? Following the same path, Olivia turned to pick up another copy of Life Escapes.

  Was Lillian planning a vacation? Or . . . was it something much more serious?

  ‘And . . . cut!’ Camilla’s voice snapped through Olivia’s reverie. Her friend had reappeared, phone in hand – and she’d obviously been filming Olivia for the last few minutes.

  ‘Great choice to pick up the travel books!’ Camilla declared. ‘I take it all back about “improv”. You were brilliant!’

  ‘Sorry?’ Olivia stared at her. ‘I thought that you had –’

  ‘Run away?’ Camilla grimaced. ‘I kind of did. But when I saw Lillian heading in the other direction, I thought I’d come back for just one more take – and I’m so glad I did. You were fabulous! The whole symbolism of “escaping” because of the broken heart . . .’ She beamed. ‘. . . well, it couldn’t be more perfect for the Pall Bearers video!’

  But why does Lillian want to escape? Olivia could barely force a smile as her friend rattled on and on about the music video.

  If Lillian was secretly unhappy in Franklin Grove . . . what could Olivia do about it? I can’t say anything to my bio-dad. He’d be devastated! As for Ivy . . .

  No, Olivia decided. I can’t tell her. Not until I have real proof. Ivy loved Lillian. The thought that their stepmom might want to leave . . . I can’t scare her like that.

  And as for Camilla . . .

  Olivia looked at her friend, who was racing on a mile-a-minute about symbolism, and she sighed. Camilla was too focused on her project to be much help.

  It was up to Olivia to keep a careful eye on Lillian . . . and desperately hope that her new stepmom wasn’t planning a real escape.

  Ivy braced herself the next morning as she stood outside the school guidance counsellor’s office. It was exactly the same spot where she’d overheard Olivia getting verbally ripped to pieces the day before. If Ms Milligan hated the nicest person in this school, then what’s she going to think of me?

  An investigative reporter never let hostile sources get in her way, though, and neither would Ivy. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

  ‘If it’s not a disaster, go away!’ the counsellor snapped.

  Grimacing, Ivy knocked again.

  A loud, pointed sigh sounded inside the room. ‘Fine. What is it?’

  Forcing a smile, Ivy opened the door and stepped inside.

  She almost stepped right back out again as she was met by the ferocious glare of the woman at the desk, an expression that made even Ivy’s patented death-squint look like a welcoming smile by comparison.

  Wearing a no-nonsense grey trouser suit and huge glasses, Ms Milligan had to be at least six feet tall, and from the way she was scowling, she looked ready to expel Ivy right that moment for interrupting her.

  Ivy’s cheeks were starting to hurt from her fake smile, but she forced herself forwards. If she hadn’t been braced for self-defence, she might have laughed
when she saw the nameplate on the desk, which read: ‘Ms N.O. Milligan.’

  Talk about a perfect name, Ivy thought. She looks like she’s never said ‘yes’ to anything in her life!

  ‘Well?’ Ms Milligan snapped. ‘What do you want?’

  Ivy cleared her throat. Vampires don’t get scared of humans, she reminded herself. Not even the really angry ones. ‘I just wanted to ask – if it’s OK,’ she added hurriedly, as Ms Milligan’s scowl deepened, ‘about the new students who’ve just started here? I was thinking of writing an audition piece for the school newspaper, and I thought I could profile the newbies . . .’ Her voice weakened as she saw Ms Milligan wince with obvious distaste.

  ‘Or, um, maybe their . . . their previous hometowns?’ With a final burst of determination, Ivy finished: ‘It might be a nice way of getting the other students to relate to her – I mean, to them!’

  There. She finished, almost panting from the effort. At least one part of that was true, she consoled herself. She really did want to try to join the school paper.

  But Ms Milligan didn’t look impressed. ‘Unfortunately for your grandiose plans, Miss Vega, the only new student is Olivia Abbott, who I believe is somehow your own sister – not that I have any interest whatsoever in learning the story of how that could possibly be!’ She snorted. ‘Believe me, what girls your age think is “like, so interesting”, you will grow up to find, is actually very, very dull.’

  Ivy frowned, letting the insult fly straight past her head. ‘Are you sure? I could have sworn there was another new girl this week. Maybe –’

  ‘Young lady,’ Ms Milligan shook her head wearily, ‘I am the guidance counsellor. It is my job to know this sort of thing. I’ve worked at this school long enough to know that teenagers have a habit of assuming they know everything, but the truth is, they tend to know less than nothing. Now, if you don’t mind?’ She sat back, picking up a stack of papers. ‘I have some real work to do.’

  Confused, Ivy got up and headed for the office door, her mind ticking over. If Ms Milligan really knew everything, and was so adamant that no one had started at school after Olivia, then who was Maya?