stepping out of line –’
‘No, that’s not it at all!’ Olivia bit back a groan.
Why is this all so complicated?
She was all too aware of Jackson watching. Everything in her wanted to get away
before he leaped to any false conclusions.
But she certainly didn’t want Will to think she found him . . . well, whatever it was he thought! And honestly, only a blind girl would think he was anything but attractive. In fact, being
a good double for Jackson meant he was probably the second cutest boy on the whole planet!
His hair flopped forwards in just the right way, he had broad shoulders and a gorgeous spattering of freckles across his nose – plus eyelashes that any girl would die for. She opened her
mouth to tell him that . . . then caught herself just in time.
Stop now!
she ordered herself, in her best imagined Ivy-voice.
Don’t create even more confusion!
She gave another frustrated, side-long look at Jackson’s trailer, and then rolled her eyes at herself.
This is ridiculous. Why should I be so
embarrassed?
She hadn’t flirted with Will, she’d only been friendly. And even if she
had
been flirting, Jackson would have had no right to be angry. After all, they were not together.
And I can’t let myself forget that
, Olivia told herself.
It doesn’t matter how many scenes we shoot
together of a couple in love. It’s just acting.
So she hadn’t done anything wrong . . . but that didn’t make her feel any better as she said goodbye to Will and walked to her trailer. It felt as though she was surrounded by an
invisible storm cloud of gloom – a storm that she’d brought on.
After what felt like a year later, Olivia was finally out of her costume and lying on the bed in her opulent, lushly carpeted trailer, wearing loose grey sweatpants and a
pink-and-white Franklin Grove cheer-squad T-shirt. After her long day in a corset and Victorian hoop-skirt, though, she couldn’t imagine wearing anything more comfortable.
If only all
those journalists could see me now
, she thought.
I sure don’t
look
like a movie star!
When she’d first seen her trailer, she’d wondered why on earth it would include a bed as well as all the other luxuries, like the microwave and the flat-screen TV. Those might make
some sense, but a bed? Surely she’d never sleep on the set!
Now, though, she just wanted to curl up in her comfy sweatpants and pretend that none of the last half-hour had happened. As she pulled the sheets over her head, she let out a sigh of
relief.
Then she heard a familiar
ping!
coming from her laptop, which sat on the table by her elaborate kitchen unit. She knew that
ping
! It signalled an incoming message from the Lonely
Echo messaging system on the Vorld Vide Veb, the vampire Internet . . . and there was only one person in the world who would contact her that way.
Ivy!
With a burst of renewed energy, Olivia threw off her covers and ran over to her laptop, waving at her twin. ‘I am so happy to see you!’ she said. ‘How’s high
school?’
Ivy looked out of the computer screen with big, anguished violet eyes. ‘Horrible,’ she announced, in an Eeyore-like Voice of Doom. ‘I’m
popular
.’
‘What?!’ Olivia stared at her sister as she pulled out a chair by the table. Of all the bizarre things that had ever come out of Ivy’s mouth, this had to be the most
unexpected. ‘Is that a joke?’
‘I only wish it was.’ Ivy buried her face in her hands. ‘I need your help.’
Olivia sat down in front of the laptop, her own worries forgotten. ‘Anything you need,’ she said firmly. ‘Just tell me all about it.’
As she watched, Ivy drew a deep breath. ‘The goths,’ Ivy announced, ‘are the in-crowd. There are just
so many
of them! And . . .’ Ivy’s eyes looked wild.
‘I really need to ask: how did
you
deal with being popular at school? Because I’ve only been dealing with it for three days, and I already want to nail my coffin shut so I
don’t have to face it any