Fangtastic! (5 page)

“Why?”
Olivia asked.

“Because,”
said her mother, “he was in love with someone else. Someone from more
humble
origins . . .”

“You
mean Great-aunt Edna?” Olivia guessed.

Her
mom nodded. “She was only eighteen years old when he whisked her off to Italy,”
she said wistfully. “She’d never been more than ten blocks from home before.”

“Wow!”
Camilla murmured.

“The
duke lavished her with gifts, and they lived happily ever after,” Mrs. Abbott
declared cheerfully.

Olivia
was impressed. “Did you ever meet her?” she asked.

“Only
once,” her mom replied. “When I was about seven and living in Florida, Edna and
the duke were touring the Florida Keys and they came to visit Grandma and
Grandpa.”

“What
was she like?” Camilla asked.

“She
was the most glamorous person I’d ever seen,” Olivia’s mom replied. “She had
this sparkly jeweled necklace that she let me try on, and I pretended I was a
princess. And they ...well, it was clear how much the two of them adored each
other.” The car came to a stoplight, and she turned to Olivia. “And that,” her
mom finished, “is the story of Great-aunt Edna!”

“She
sounds amazing,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”

“Me,
too,” her mother told her. “But at least she left me some things that will help
us remember her.”

“So
what did she leave you?” Olivia asked.

Mrs.
Abbott sniffed, and Olivia realized that her mom’s eyes were welling up. “The
diamond and ruby necklace that she let me try on as a little girl.”

“No
way!” Olivia gasped.

“There’s
more.” Her mother smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her
hand. “She left me a jeweled ostrich-feather fan and a jewelry box with a
secret compartment full of love letters written between her and the duke.”

Olivia
turned around to look at Camilla and saw that her friend’s mouth was hanging
open. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

“Uh-huh.”
Camilla grinned. “Looks like our film project is an old-fashioned love story!”

Olivia
rushed downstairs on Tuesday morning, her hair still dripping from the shower.
She bounded through the small kitchen and into the family room, where she was
frantically searching for the remote control between the cushions of the couch
when she heard a noise:
whooooosssshhhh!

Olivia
stopped in her tracks and stood up. She scanned the room, but nothing seemed
out of the ordinary.
Maybe someone flushed the toilet upstairs,
she
thought, bending down to look for the remote control again—

Whoooooooosssssshhh!
The noise was louder this time.

That
sounds so close,
Olivia thought, her heart beginning to race.
I think it’s coming from right
behind the couch!

She
grabbed a cushion and crept to the end of the couch, holding the pillow over
her shoulder like it was a baseball bat. Ever so slowly, she peered around the
edge of the sofa . . .

“Whoooooossssshhhhh!”
Her father exhaled, and Olivia
found herself staring at the bottoms of his bare feet.

Ew,
she thought, relaxing again. Her
dad was lying on the floor in his pajamas with his eyes closed. For a split
second she thought maybe he was hurt, but then his right leg came up in slow
motion, and he brought his left hand over to touch his big toe. He held the toe
aloft, his ankle shaking slightly.

“Whoooooosss—”

“DAD!”
Olivia yelled.

Her
father jumped as if she’d thrown a bucket of ice water on him. “What is it?” he
cried.

“What
are you
doing
?” Olivia demanded.

“I’m
practicing li ching,” he answered matterof-factly.

Olivia
had never heard of li ching, but her dad was always taking up obscure martial
arts. None of them ever made him any less embarrassing. “You scared me,” she
said.

Her
father raised his chin. “He who masters li ching can do scary things!”

Olivia
rolled her eyes and said, “Where’s the remote?”

Her
dad shrugged and glanced around the room. Then he said, “Oh!” and reached into
the pocket of his pajamas.

Olivia
grabbed the remote from him and flipped straight to
The Morning Star
. On
screen, Serena Star was standing in front of Franklin Grove Middle School,
talking into her microphone.

“Anonymous
sources say Garrick Stephens, the Franklin Grove student who hijacked a dead
man’s funeral on Sunday”—a leering photo of Garrick appeared beside Serena Star’s
head—“is kingpin of the Beasts, a gang of bullies who constantly reference the
occult,” Serena Star reported gravely.

“Serena
Star was at your school?” Mr. Abbott said curiously.

Olivia
shushed him with a vigorous nod.

“Some
students believe that Mr. Stephens and his friends’ strange behavior,”
continued Serena Star, “may be symptomatic of a much larger problem. One that’s
nothing short of . . . GRIMARKABLE!” A graphic with the word “GRIMARKABLE!” appeared
beside her head.

What
a ridiculous word!
Olivia
thought. She was shocked, though, when the graphic was replaced by Charlotte
Brown’s flushed face, over a caption

that
said CHARLOTTE BROWN, HEAD CHEER- LEADER. “I was in the girls’ bathroom,
re-applying gloss, when two Goth girls came in,” Charlotte said. Olivia shut
her eyes in embarrassment. “They were dressed from head to toe in black rags,
and their nails were covered in black nail polish.” And then, “They
growled
at
me!”

“So
you think it’s a problem,” Serena Star’s voice said offscreen, “that so many
Franklin Grove students are obsessed with darkness?”

“Totally!”
Charlotte agreed.

“Interesting,”
Olivia’s dad murmured. Serena Star reappeared on screen. “It’s clear that a
sinister, corrupting influence is alienating the good students, like Charlotte
Brown, at this school.” Olivia rolled her eyes as Serena Star walked
dramatically toward the camera, stopping only when her face filled the screen.

“America,
where there’s smoke, there’s arson! Who is behind the dark forces strangling
Franklin Grove? Young Garrick Stephens clearly isn’t smart enough to be the
real ringleader, so who is it?” Serena demanded. “I, Serena Star, am determined
to find out, because the Star of truth must shine!” she cried, thrusting her
microphone into the air and bringing it down. Then, with sudden calm, she
smiled and said, “I’m Serena Star. Wake up, America!”

Olivia
shut off the TV. Her father noticed the frown on her face and said, “Don’t
worry about those Beast boys, Olivia. I’ll teach you li ching so you can
protect yourself.”

Olivia
groaned and walked into the kitchen. She was staring into space, thinking about
Serena Star and eating a yogurt, when something in the next room caught her
eye: a sparkling feather was sticking out from the top shelf of the tall glass
cabinet where her parents kept the good china.

Olivia
realized that after she and Camilla had pored over Great-aunt Edna’s priceless
artifacts last night, her mom must have moved them all up there so that they
wouldn’t get damaged.

Without
another cheerleader in the room to give her a boost, Olivia had to drag her
chair over to reach the top shelf.

Leaving
the ostrich fan where it was, she carefully carried the wooden box back to the
kitchen and set it before her on the breakfast table. She still couldn’t get
over how beautiful it was. The box was made of gleaming cherrywood, delicately
carved in a pattern of flowers and birds.

Olivia
opened the lid and gazed at Great-aunt Edna’s precious necklace, which lay
glittering on the deep-blue satin lining of the compartment. For some reason,
that made her think of Garrick Stephens in his luxury Interna 3, but she wiped
the thought from her mind.

Olivia
carefully lifted out the sparkling necklace and set it aside. Then she pressed
ever so gently on the bottom of the compartment, just as her mother had shown
her. There was a soft
click
, and the false bottom sprung open to reveal
a stack of yellowed letters beneath.

A half
hour later, Olivia was still sitting there, reading. The letters were
so
romantic. She folded one and unfolded another. It read,

My
Dear Duke,

You
know that it cannot be.We are of different worlds. Oh, how I wish we could be
together, but I dare not allow myself to imagine a future in your arms. How
wonderful it would be to live together in a home of love and peace, to have a
precious child—a babe with your handsome eyes . . . But I must not write of
such dreams. How my head battles against my heart!

Please
do not look at me when I bring this afternoon’s tea. I do not think I could
bear it!

With
love and sadness, Edna
As she finished the letter, Olivia felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“I
made you some toast,” her mother interrupted. Olivia hadn’t even noticed her
come into the kitchen.

Olivia
quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Her
mom sat down opposite her and slid the plate of toast across to Olivia. She
studied Olivia’s face. “So ...how are the movie plans coming along?” she asked.

“Good,”
Olivia replied quietly.

Her
mother nodded. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked gently.

Olivia
felt a lump in her throat. “Nothing,” she said, looking down at the plate. Her
mom reached over and took her hand.

Olivia
fought the urge to cry. “I guess”—she gulped—“the family connection with
Great-aunt Edna has made me think, you know, about my own biological parents.”

Her
mom sighed and nodded. “It’s healthy to want to know about your birth parents,
sweetheart,” she replied softly. “I only wish I had more to tell you about
them.”

“I
know,” Olivia said.

“I’d
be happy to get the adoption file out again for you to look at,” her mom
offered.

Olivia
took a tissue from the box on the corner of the table and blew her nose. “There’s
not much
to
look at,” she quavered, looking up at the ceiling tearily. “It
just says that someone dropped me off at the adoption agency anonymously.”

“With
the note that had your name and date of birth on it,” her mom added. Then she
smiled and squeezed Olivia’s hand. “You know I’ve always loved your name.”

“Don’t
forget the ring,” Olivia said, wiggling her finger and forcing a smile.

“And
the ring,” her mom agreed, standing up and coming around the table to give
Olivia a big hug. Olivia buried her face in her mom’s shoulder.

“I love
you so much, sweetie,” her mom whispered, and Olivia found herself feeling a
tiny bit better. Then her mom glanced at the clock over the stove. “The Mom
Express is departing for school in fifteen minutes sharp,” she teased. “And you
still haven’t done your hair.”

Olivia
grinned again in spite of her tears.

“Why
don’t you go finish getting ready, while I put away Edna’s things?” Mrs. Abbott
suggested.

“Thanks,
Mom,” Olivia said and padded upstairs to do her hair.

Twenty
minutes later, Olivia was staring out of the car window as her mom drove her to
school. Her mind continued to buzz with questions about her real parents:
Who were they? Why’d they give us up? Were they in love, like Edna and the
duke?

Two
blocks from school, Olivia noticed a blackclad person walking on the sidewalk
up ahead. Even from the back, she could tell it was Ivy.

“I’ll
get out here,” Olivia blurted. She really wanted to talk to her sister, but
there was no way she could risk her mom seeing Ivy up close in case she noticed
the resemblance.

“Why?”
her mom asked.

Olivia
hesitated. “For the fresh air . . .” she tried.

Much
to her relief, her mom pulled over without asking any more questions. Olivia
hugged her good-bye and got out of the car. She waited for her mom to drive
away and then shouted, “Ivy! Wait up!”

Ivy
turned, her face set in a scowl, and kicked some dirt off her boot as she
waited for Olivia to catch up.

“You
don’t look too happy,” Olivia observed.

“I’m
not,” Ivy replied flatly.

“What’s
wrong?”

“I
still don’t have a quote for Serena Star,” Ivy explained. “But don’t worry
about me. What’s the matter with you?” Olivia looked at her quizzically, and
Ivy said, “Just because you always look sunny doesn’t mean I can’t tell when
you’re feeling cloudy.”

Olivia
smiled, and she and her sister started walking together slowly.

“Camilla
and I are doing a movie for media studies,” Olivia began.