Twin Spins! (13 page)

That book explains Charlotte’s attitude?
Olivia didn’t know what to say. Charlotte may have been a bit,
ahem
, overzealous with her confident attitude in the past, but as Olivia looked at Jenny squaring her shoulders at the Terrible Trio, she thought the strategy seemed to be working quite well for Jenny at least.

‘Lucrezia, Melinda, Veronica.’ Jenny’s voice didn’t wobble once. ‘I have news for you. You may not be in charge of the dance. But . . .’ she paused, ‘you can be in charge of the dance refreshments. After all, your drink mixes were to die for last year. The committee would love you to whip up something similar for the dance this year. How does that sound?’

‘You mean it?’ Melinda asked.

Lucrezia’s perfectly pink lips pulled into a genuine smile. ‘We came up with that recipe all by ourselves last year.’

Olivia couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.
Was that all it took?
All this time and the only thing those girls needed to feel valued was an area of responsibility? Olivia had made a rookie mistake, and she was usually so good with people!
Why didn’t I think of that? Maybe this whole Jackson issue has been distracting me more than I thought.

In a snap, Jenny had zapped the problem. She came over to Olivia. ‘I’m sorry for unloading so much responsibility on you. It wasn’t fair, but now I’m here to help. OK?’

‘Thank goodness.’ Olivia blew out a sigh of relief.

‘Great.’ Olivia noticed that, for the first time, Jenny’s mousy-brown hair was pulled back away from her face. ‘And now that I actually have an opinion, the first thing I can help with is the theme.’
Not this again
, thought Olivia. ‘Do you really want to impose a barn-dance theme on everyone?’ Jenny asked. ‘Wouldn’t you rather make sure everyone dressed how they wanted? The whole point was to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable, wasn’t it?’

‘You’re right!’ Olivia’s heart sank. ‘Oh my goodness.’ She really had been a dictator. And worse, she hadn’t even been trying!

‘May I have your attention?’ Olivia rapped her knuckles on one of the tables, trying not to cringe at the collective groan that rippled through the room. She noticed some of the committee members were already wearing cowboy hats. She didn’t want to disappoint them twice. She took a deep breath. ‘What about a barn dance, but with a pink-and-black theme?’ she proposed. ‘The girly girls can be pretty in pink and the goths can feel included, too. Plus, everyone can have fun with gingham!’

The committee broke into whoops and squealing; a big step up from the ghostly silence following Olivia’s last announcement. As people started texting their friends in excitement, Olivia felt her cheeks blush with a new burst of energy. She was back on track.

‘Much better!’ she beamed. ‘Next thing on the list: how would you guys like to come back to my house so that we can hammer out the finer details over pizza? Sound good?’ The room erupted into cheers.

Olivia led the way out to the parking lot, walking ahead of a pair of girls planning their outfits. ‘OK, which earrings will go best with my pink hat – the pale crystal hoops or the chandelier earrings?’

With a quick stab, Olivia remembered the French accent in the background during Jackson’s call advising him that
something
would match the colour palette better. What colour palette? And, more importantly, what could her boyfriend be up to?

When no one answered at the Abbotts’, Ivy jiggled the doorknob and let herself inside. She wiped her boots on the cheery ‘Welcome’ mat before stepping on to the plush white carpet of the Abbotts’ foyer. If Ivy’s house had a polar opposite, it was Olivia’s. Where the Vega house had curtains made of dark velour, the Abbotts’ drapes boasted a bright floral pattern. And unlike the deep crimson of Ivy’s walls, Olivia’s were painted a pale sky blue. Ivy sometimes wondered how the Abbotts ever got any sleep at all, what with their whole decor theme reminding her of a dazzling summer morning.

‘Olivia?’ she said, rounding the corner. ‘Oh. My. Darkness.’ Bunny-mania had taken over the Abbott residence. There were pink-clad girls everywhere! A clump of girls was crowded on to the sofa, squashed one against the other, making paper chains and bunting out of scraps of gingham.

Ivy was even more shocked to see the Terrible Trio sitting at Olivia’s kitchen table, sipping from etched glass cups and diligently taking notes.
Who tamed those beasts?
Ivy wondered.

She spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, surrounded by committee members, patiently making decorations out of hay and pink-and-black papier mâché. Olivia glanced up. ‘Hi!’ She beamed, standing up and picking her way through the various dance-related obstacles. ‘Welcome to the mad house!’

‘Olivia, I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . .’ Ivy eyed her sister seriously. ‘There is hay in your home.’

‘I know!’ Olivia led her sister into the entryway, one of the only chatter-free zones in the house. ‘Isn’t it crazy? New plan: we’re going to have a pink-and-black theme for the barn dance. Isn’t it perfect? Even you will be happy. Pick any fabulous black outfit in your wardrobe and you can wear it, no problem.’

Ivy let her head droop to the side. ‘Great,’ she said drily. ‘Thanks for that. I’m, like, so excited to indulge my inner goth.’ Ivy displayed wiggling jazz-hands with zero enthusiasm.

Olivia’s smile fell. Even her hair looked flatter. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Look, you know I love you and I’m glad you’re having fun on the committee, but honestly, do Brendan and I look like the type of people who would enjoy a school dance?’

‘Er, Ivy?’ Olivia chewed her fingertip. ‘I think you might have yourself a Brendan-sized problem.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, don’t you remember how Brendan looked like he’d sucked a lemon drop when you dissed the school dance?’

Ivy shifted in her boots. ‘Um, yeah, I guess.’ Then something else floated to the front of her memory. She flinched. ‘There might have been another incident.’ Ivy slapped her hands over her eyes, peeking through her fingers at Olivia. ‘There was a phone conversation. Brendan tried to suggest I might enjoy the dance and then . . . oh and then . . . the look on his face at Rebecca’s ranch!’

‘What face?’

‘A face like I had crushed his thumbs with a hammer. How could I have been so dense? He’s really up for it, isn’t he?’
Kill me now
, thought Ivy, only she wasn’t sure if it was because she had hurt Brendan or because she might actually have to attend the dance.

‘He cares about you.
Hello?
Why wouldn’t he want to be seen with you on his arm at the school’s most romantic event ever?’

That’s it. Olivia’s right. I have to make this up to Brendan
. So what if dances weren’t her thing? Her boyfriend was! She climbed over the girls on the floor making miniature cowboy hat name badges.

Olivia followed behind her, heaving a sigh of pleasure upon seeing the new decorations. ‘I wish I could have a pink rhinestone cowboy hat for the dance. Wouldn’t that be awesome?’

Ivy was only half-listening. ‘Olivia, I need to borrow your phone. I left mine in my backpack at home.’
With night as my witness, I, Ivy Vega, will make this better
.

‘Sure, of course,’ Olivia told her.

Ivy shooed girls away, lifting cushions and searching for Olivia’s purse.

‘But, here’s the thing,’ continued Olivia, now in full-on daydream mode. ‘How am I going to organise getting a pink cowboy hat alongside everything else I have to do? It’s impossible!’

‘Olivia!’ Ivy flung a cushion on to the floor. ‘One problem at a time, please.’

‘Right, sorry.’ Olivia fished through a layer of hay. ‘Found it!’ She held her purse over her head, delivering it to Ivy.

Ivy’s thumbs punched in her text to Brendan:
Will you do me the honour of being my partner at the dance? Love, Ivy
. The green bar slid across the bottom of the screen. She almost couldn’t look.
Message
sent!

‘Did I really just do that?’ She stared open-mouthed at the screen.

Olivia wrapped her arms around Ivy’s stomach and squeezed. ‘Yes, because you really care about Brendan. Admit it.’ She poked her sister. ‘You might just have a bit of fun, too.’

The phone chirped. The message read:
Killer. For sure!

‘That’s that.’ Ivy handed the phone back and dusted her hands together. ‘Guess I’m going. But promise me,’ she said, as she scanned the room full of giggling girls, ‘I won’t become like that.’

Olivia laughed. ‘There is no chance you will ever be like that, silly! Brendan loves you just the way you are.’

All of this fuss over her relationship with Brendan, and Ivy had completely forgotten that her sister was without her boyfriend. ‘Have you heard from Jackson recently?’

Olivia frowned. ‘Yes.’

‘But . . .’ Ivy prodded her twin.

‘But he had a French wardrobe manager with him and had to hang up.’

By the deathly pale look on her sister’s face, Ivy guessed that the wardrobe manager had sounded a bit too girly for Olivia’s taste. ‘I wish there was something I could do,’ said Ivy, frustrated. ‘Why don’t vampy superpowers come with a boyfriend-summoner? Something that would actually be useful!’

Olivia smoothed her hair and clothes, straightening her posture. ‘No biggie. I’ll be fine. I’ll have to be if I’m going to spend the whole summer without you, as well as without Jackson.’

The summer? Ivy stared at her toes, wanting to tell Olivia the truth. It could be more than a summer: a lot more. Ivy scuffed her boot on the floor. She might not be able to avoid going away herself, but maybe there was something else she could do . . .

Chapter Ten

O
livia blinked against the sunlight pouring in through the slats in her whitewashed shutters. She peeled her head off the pillow, bleary-eyed. Yesterday had been exhausting. Olivia wouldn’t care if she never saw another pink-and-black paper chain in her life – or at least until tonight. Her vision came into focus and her breath caught.

At the foot of her bed was a pair of pink cowboy boots, the exact same as the pair she’d been dreaming about.
Wait – am I still asleep?
The boots had loopy white embroidery and perfectly pointed toes. She rubbed her eyes . . . and the boots were still there! Pushing back the down comforter she reached for the soft pink leather. They were real! Tucking them under her arm, she ran downstairs to the kitchen, where her parents were sipping coffee and sharing a newspaper.

‘Who put these in my bedroom?’ Olivia held out the pink cowboy boots like she was presenting a prized possession for ‘show and tell’.

Her mother batted her eyes, sharing an exaggerated shrug with her father. ‘Why, I have no idea. It has nothing to do with us.’

It looked like her parents could use a few acting lessons. Olivia could see right through their innocent façade, but before she could question them any further she heard the sound of her perky ringtone coming from upstairs.

‘Hold that thought,’ she told her parents, racing back to her bedroom. She answered her phone, breathless. ‘Hello?’

‘How do you like the boots?’ asked a deep, dreamy voice on the other end.

‘Jackson!’
Of course!
‘How did you know to buy me pink boots? I was just dreaming about them and now, here they are . . . in my room!’ Olivia was beginning to think that acting wasn’t his only area of expertise. Perhaps her boyfriend was a mind reader, too.

‘I had them couriered over. Thought you’d like something special for the dance.’

‘But how . . . but how . . .’ Olivia sucked in her breath. ‘Did my sister call you?’

‘Oh, Olivia.’ She could picture Jackson’s eyes twinkling with laughter. ‘You sure are slow on the uptake sometimes.’

Olivia made a mental note to give her sister a bone-crushing hug for this. ‘There’s only one more thing that would make this dance complete.’ Well, other than the rhinestone hat. Not that she would mention that to Jackson.

‘And what would that be?’ asked Jackson, still chuckling.