Flying Solo. Sienna Mercer

      The Wallachia Academy dining room was fancier than most of the restaurants Ivy had been to in her entire life. Round granite tables sprinkled the banquet hall, dappled with the light of a dozen sparkling chandeliers. Crystal goblets cast multi-coloured prisms on to the luxurious cream tablecloths. The tables had been set with baroque silverware and china nicer than the best stuff her father kept in their cabinets at home!

      Petra, a fellow classmate whom Ivy had met as a guest at the vampire royal wedding, waved her over to a nearby table. Three slices of barely touched flank steak were piled on Petra’s plate, dripping in a creamy white sauce that made Ivy’s mouth water.

      ‘Hey, Ivy.’ A cool vintage pendant dangled from Petra’s neck. ‘Did you get in trouble today?’ Petra Tarasov wasn’t like some of the other Snobzillas at Wallachia, but Ivy still found her a bit hard to get to know. She was friendly enough, but it was almost as though there was an invisible wall between them, some secret that Ivy didn’t know. She had glossy brown hair that cascaded down to the middle of her back and there was always some piece of her Wallachia wardrobe that was a touch funky or offbeat. Petra didn’t seem ready to morph into a Wallachia clone – meaning she and Ivy had something in common, at least.

      ‘Trouble? Why would I have got in trouble?’ Ivy asked, sliding to the edge of her seat.

      Petra fluttered her long eyelashes and raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Just something I heard, that’s all.’

      Ivy narrowed her eyes. ‘Something you heard? OK . . .’ Being cautious was clearly still the way to go with Petra. Ivy wouldn’t write her off. Everyone had their funny little ways and Olivia was always reminding her to look for the best in people. In fact, Ivy could hear her now: ‘Everyone has a ray of sunshine in their heart, Ivy. You just need to find it.’ Normally a speech like that would have had Ivy gagging – not any more. I swear I’ll never make another sarcastic comment ever again if I get back to Franklin Grove.

      A group of vamp girls were gathered around an open laptop propped up on one of the tables, giggling in high-pitched voices. Ivy caught a glimpse of a bright white smile and some tousled blond hair on screen. Petra clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. ‘Ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’

      ‘What’s ridiculous?’ Ivy craned her neck, but she couldn’t make out what they were looking at. Vampires, and especially Wallachia Academy vampires, were supposed to be the most super-cool beings in the world. Acting aloof was practically a national sport. So what could possibly be so amusing that it had reduced Ivy’s classmates into a group of twittering girlie-girls?

      Petra flicked her wrist as if she were brushing away the whole scene. ‘It probably has to do with that American actor who announced he was single today. Now they can all go and daydream about having a shot with him.’ She pressed her palms together and held them to the side of her head like she was dreaming.

      American actor . . .? Ivy grabbed Petra’s arm so forcefully she nearly pulled her right out of her chair. ‘Which actor?’

      Petra shook Ivy off and rubbed her arm. ‘Wow, you really need to get those powers under control. That blond-haired pretty boy, What’s-his-face.’ She snapped her fingers, thinking. ‘Jackson something?’

      ‘No!’ Ivy exclaimed. ‘Not Jackson! Jackson Caulfield?’ Olivia hadn’t said a word during their video-chat. She hadn’t even looked unhappy!

      ‘Obsessed much?’ A white-coated member of the Wallachia kitchen staff came over with a pitcher of O-negative and filled their crystal goblets with the bright red liquid. ‘I don’t know why the sudden interest,’ the woman went on. ‘It wasn’t even a good break-up. The press release called it “amicable”. Where’s the fun in that?’

      ‘The fun?!’ Ivy squeaked. ‘There is no fun!’ Petra stared at Ivy like she had squid tentacles coming out of her ears, but Ivy didn’t have time to explain. She bolted from the dining room, sprinting vampire-fast up the stone stairs, past the oil paintings in the wood-panelled corridor, to her dorm.

      She slammed the door shut, jumped into her swivel chair and fired up the Lonely Echo program on her laptop. ‘Olivia?’ She jostled the mouse. ‘Olivia?’ But all Ivy could see was an image of Olivia’s empty garden. No Olivia in sight. Ivy’s heart did a nosedive.

      Her poor sister had been broken-hearted and Ivy had spent the entire conversation talking about herself, showing Olivia stupid piles of clothes. What kind of a twin am I? She was supposed to have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. But, more importantly, why hadn’t Olivia mentioned anything? It wasn’t like her to keep her emotions bottled up – that was more Ivy’s speciality.

      The sound of footsteps came through the monitor from Olivia’s back garden. Ivy leaned in to listen, breathing a sigh of relief. Her sister was coming back after all. ‘Hey, Olivia!’ she called. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ja–’

      ‘Oh, hello, Ivy.’ Mr Abbott’s face appeared upside down on the screen as he leaned over the computer from above, and Ivy nearly bit her tongue trying to stop herself from saying the J-word.

      ‘Um . . . um . . . Hi, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy stammered. He held up one finger to tell her to wait. He wandered round to the front of the computer so that his image was now the right way up.

      ‘Ah, that’s better.’ Ivy was glad to see that he had changed out of his karate gear and was now dressed in a maroon tank top and pleated khaki trousers – much more appropriate suburban dad-wear. ‘Good to see you, Ivy. How’s that fancy boarding school of yours? Are you enjoying it?’

      ‘Yeah, yeah. Definitely,’ said Ivy quickly, trying to peek around Mr Abbott’s head, which seemed to take up the entire frame. ‘Where’s Olivia?’ she asked before he could introduce any more questions of his own.

      ‘Olivia?’ Mr Abbott rubbed his chin, glancing back towards the house. ‘She went to take a nap. She’s been quite sleepy lately. She’s had a busy few days, I think.’

      Ivy felt more rotten than week-old milk. She knew exactly why Olivia was suddenly feeling so run down, but Mr Abbott obviously didn’t. Unfortunately she couldn’t fill him in. It would be breaking twin code and it wasn’t her place to tell Olivia’s dad about the break-up.

      ‘OK, Mr Abbott,’ Ivy sighed. ‘I guess I’ll catch up with her later then.’

      Ivy was stretching out to close down the chat window when he asked, ‘So, what’s new with school?’

      Ivy froze, trying not to wince. Mr Abbott could be quite . . . chatty. Reluctantly, she plopped back into her chair, but Olivia’s dad was no longer looking at her expectantly. ‘Shhh!’ he told her, pressing his finger up to his pursed lips. His eyes were fixed on something behind Ivy. ‘I don’t want to alarm you,’ he