For Jenny Meyer, who totally sucks
Ivy Vega trudged sleepily into the breakfast room, slid into her chair, and rested her cheek on the cool stone table. She wished she was still in her coffin. Monday mornings were the worst.
"Good morning, sleepybones," her father said, placing a bowl next to her head.
"Shh," Ivy murmured, her eyes closed. "I'm still sleeping."
"It's your favorite," her dad coaxed. "Marsh- mallow Platelets."
Ivy peered at the little white marshmallows and maroon bits bobbing in their milky sea. "Thanks," she mumbled.
Her father, already dressed for work in black chinos and a black pin-striped shirt with French cuffs, sipped his tea and picked up the remote control. "There is nothing better for a young per- son's dull morning mind," he said, "than dull morning television."
He flipped through the weather and some talk shows before settling on The Morning Star.
"Please no," Ivy said. "Just looking at Serena Star's smile gives me sunburn."
Serena Star, WowTV's best celebrity reporter, had impossibly bright, bleached blond hair and eyes that looked as if they'd been surgically enhanced to be permanently wide open in either adoration or shock. Lately she'd been trying to cast herself as a serious journalist on her own morning news show, The Morning Star. Just the other day, Ivy had turned the TV off in exaspera- tion after Serena had said, "Tell me, Mr. Senator, how does it feel to have a law named after you?"
This morning, Serena Star was standing with her back to a small crowd of people, talking into her microphone. She was wearing a tiny blue suede miniskirt under a knee-length trench coat, and the look in her wide eyes said "shock!" She was in a park or maybe a graveyard. A scruffy, black-clad teenager stood beside her--
Ivy's dad flipped the channel.
"Turn back!" Ivy blurted.
"But you said--"
"I know. Turn back!" she repeated.
Ivy could not believe her eyes. The boy stand- ing next to Serena Star was none other than Garrick Stephens, one of the lamest vampires at her school. He and his bonehead friends--every- one called them the Beasts--were always pulling dumb stunts, like seeing which one of them could eat the most garlic croutons without getting seri- ously ill. They weren't nearly as scary as they smelled, but they'd been annoying since forever.
What is he doing on national TV? Ivy wondered.
"I think that's the local cemetery," her dad said.
Ivy realized he was right--this was being filmed less than five blocks from their house.
The camera panned over to an empty grave, and Ivy's dad turned up the volume.
". . . yesterday's small-town funeral went hor- ribly wrong," Serena Star was saying off screen.
"Local deceased man, Mr. Alan Koontz, was scheduled for burial here at the Franklin Grove Memorial Cemetery. As Mr. Koontz was being lowered into the ground, eyewitnesses say that his casket creaked open." The camera zoomed in on a shiny midnight-blue coffin lying open next to the grave. "In a bizarre turn of events, out climbed an allegedly live person!" Serena contin- ued. "Mr. Koontz's widow immediately fainted and was rushed to Franklin Grove General Hospital for treatment."
Serena Star's frowning face reappeared on the screen. "Friends of the family say that the person who emerged bore no resemblance to Mr. Koontz and was, in fact, a teenage boy." The camera pulled back to reveal Garrick, who was licking his palm and then using it to slick back his hair.
Ivy was frowning now, too; Garrick and his friends didn't know the meaning of the word "discreet." They probably couldn't even spell it. Ever since they were little kids, Ivy had always been amazed at how close the Beasts routinely came to breaking the First Law of the Night: vampires are never supposed to reveal their true selves to an outsider.
Thinking about that made Ivy feel uncomfort- able. After all, she'd recently broken the First Law herself. She'd had no choice, though: she couldn't possibly keep the fact that she was a vampire secret from her identical twin, Olivia, even if Olivia was human.
She and Olivia had only discovered each other at the beginning of the school year. They'd been separated at birth and adopted by different par- ents, so Ivy hadn't known that she had a twin until Olivia turned up at Franklin Grove Middle School. And it had been just as great a shock to Olivia.
I may have broken the First Law, but at least I didn't reveal myself to the whole world on national TV! Ivy thought.
Serena Star looked squarely at the camera. "I, Serena Star, now bring you an exclusive interview with the thirteen-year-old boy who was almost buried alive. I think you'll agree it's a story that's truly . . . INDEADIBLE!" A graphic with the word "INDEADIBLE!" materialized on the screen over Garrick's head, and Ivy rolled her eyes. Serena was always making up lame words for her on-screen headlines.
"Awesome!" Garrick Stephens grinned.
Ivy's head ached. How in the underworld, she thought, are we going to cover up a vampire popping out of a coffin in the middle of a funeral?
"Mr. Stephens." Serena Star turned to face her subject. "How do you feel?"
"I feel great!" Garrick said.
"Amazing!" Serena commented, with a slight frown. She had clearly been expecting Garrick to be upset. "How long were you in that coffin?"
"Like seven, eight hours."
"That must have been very unsettling," Serena Star prompted sympathetically.
"Only when those pallbearer guys carried it around and woke me up," Garrick said, shooting a peeved look off camera.
"Are you saying you were asleep in there?" asked Serena Star, her wide eyes widening even further.
"Yeah," Garrick answered. "I slept like I was dead."
Ivy winced as Serena Star shook her head in disbelief. "You almost sound like you enjoyed yourself."
Garrick shrugged.
"Mr. Stephens," Serena Star said, a hint of dis- approval in her voice, "what kind of person sleeps in a coffin?"
"It wasn't my idea." Garrick shrugged.
"Oh?" said Serena Star. "Whose idea was it?"
Garrick was about to answer, but then he seemed to think better of it. He crossed his arms. "I don't want to get them into trouble."
"Are you saying the people who did this to you are friends of yours?" Serena Star asked.
"Totally," Garrick replied, grinning.
"You mean--"
"We're the kings of Franklin Grove Middle School!" Garrick cried, mugging wildly. "Yo, Kyle, Ricky, Dylan! I'm on TV!"
What an utter dork! thought Ivy.
"What exactly did your friends have in mind?" Serena Star probed.
"They dared me to climb in," Garrick ex- plained, his eyes glinting mischievously. "That's why I did it."
Ivy could tell Garrick was lying from the smug look on his face. He was just pretending it was a dare to avoid revealing any vampire secrets--like the fact that they slept in coffins. Still, it was a pretty lame alibi, especially because he kept going on about how it was "the best sleep" of his life.
"The Interna 3 is the sweetest coffin ever," he gushed, grabbing the microphone. "When they say `rest in peace,' they mean it!"
"Mr. Stephens, please," Serena interrupted. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up at Mr. Koontz's funeral."
"Oh, right. My friends just sort of thought it would be funny to leave me in there--thanks a lot guys!" Garrick winked. "Then the funeral home got the coffins mixed up. Did you know the Interna 3 is the best-selling coffin in America?"
Serena Star yanked the microphone away. "Are we to believe that this was really just an innocent student prank?" she said to Garrick, who shrugged again.
"Or," she continued, turning slowly to the camera, "is there something more sinister at work?"
Uh-oh. Ivy thought. Serena Star smells blood.
"Clearly, a gruesome obsession with death," Serena went on as the camera zoomed in for a close-up of her shocked face, "nearly cost this misguided young misfit his life!"
"Who are you calling misguided?" Garrick's voice whined offscreen.
"And he isn't alone," Serena said, ignoring Garrick. "One look around this sleepy town reveals a dark obsession consuming the minds of its children."The live feed cut briefly to footage of the mall, showing a group of Goth sixth-graders.
"Are the youth of America next?" Serena asked ominously, as she reappeared on-screen. Then she frowned with determination. "I, Serena Star, will not rest until I find out the evil truth behind what's happening here."
Oh no, Ivy thought. She's going to say that line of hers.
"Because the Star of truth must shine!" Serena Star declared dramatically, pumping her micro- phone in the air. It really was the worst journalis- tic sign-off Ivy had ever heard. "This is Serena Star. Wake up, America!"
A commercial came on, and Ivy's dad shut off the TV. "You must promise me," he said, "that if you are ever on television, you will make a better impression than that boy Garrick Stephens."
"It's not funny, Dad," Ivy said. "If Serena Star starts seriously investigating Goths in Franklin Grove, you know what she might find.What if she scoops the existence of vampires? None of us will ever be safe again!"
Her father put down his tea. "Ivy," he said, "we are talking about a woman best known for her special expos� on the footwear of the rich and famous! I very much doubt she's capable of find- ing any real proof. Besides, the moment there's a new bit of Hollywood gossip, Serena Star will for- get all about Franklin Grove."
Ivy sighed. "I hope you're right," she said, standing up to take her empty bowl into the kitchen, "because if not, it's going to be really hard to get Marshmallow Platelets around here."
As they pulled up in front of Franklin Grove Middle School on Monday morning, Olivia Abbott was applying her pink lipstick in the visor mirror when she heard her mother gasp. Olivia flipped up the visor to see the front steps of the school packed with people and a string of TV news vans lining the curb.
"Wow!" said Olivia.
Her mother double-parked and started to get out of the car.
Olivia grabbed her mom's arm. "Where are you going?"
"I want to see what all the commotion's about," her mother replied.
Olivia shook her head. "You can't come with me into school."
"Why not?" her mother asked.
"Because I'm in eighth grade," Olivia ex- plained.
Olivia's mom smiled and shook her head. "Well, okay," she said with a sigh.
"It's not you," Olivia assured her. "It's all mothers. It's like a rule. I'll call you." And, with that, Olivia pecked her mom on the cheek, climbed out of the car, and squeezed between two news vans.