“You wish,” Olivia told him, rolling her eyes and turning back around. “Unbelievable,” she added quietly to Camilla. “Garrick’s time in the spotlight has actually made him even more obnoxious!”
“No kidding,” Camilla agreed.
Olivia tried to tune out the boys behind her. “Are you coming to the football game after school?” she asked Camilla.
“I was planning to.”
“Why don’t you come over to my house for dinner afterward?” Olivia offered. “I bet it’ll be easier to come up with an idea for our film without all the chatter.”
She gestured over her shoulder, only to hear Garrick say, “I bet those would make a good impression on a cheerleader!” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“I have to check with my mom,” Camilla said, “but that sounds great.”
Behind them all the Beasts shouted, “TOUCHDOWN!”
Mr. Colton shot the boys a look, and they all piped down.
“Just promise me Garrick Stephens isn’t going to pop out of a casserole at dinner,” Camilla joked.
Olivia grinned. “With my mom’s cooking,” she said, “he’ll be sliced, diced, and sautéed way before that.”
Chapter 3
After school, Ivy stalked the halls with her notebook, trying to find the right quote for Serena Star. It was clear that Serena wanted something Goth, so Ivy was hoping for some tidbit that would seem really grave but was actually absolutely harmless. She talked to a sixth grader whose cousin had got a tattoo of a skull on her ankle; a janitor who swore that spilled black nail polish could not be removed from school floors using any known cleaning solutions or polish removers; and the librarian, who told her that books with black covers were taken out less often than those with colorful ones. None of it was what she needed.
She was trudging along, feeling utterly hopeless, when she spotted one of the Beasts, Ricky Slitherman, rush out of a side door. No matter what I come up with, Ivy thought angrily, Garrick and his friends will still be flapping their coffin lids. She decided to follow Ricky outside.
When she emerged into the sunlight, Ivy saw Ricky heading toward the football field. When she got over there, she discovered that the Devils were only fifteen yards from the opposing team’s end zone. The bleachers were pulsing with cheering people. Ivy peeked underneath them, thinking that that was where the Beasts were most likely to lurk, but there was no one there.
She was just walking around to the front of the bleachers to scan the crowd when she caught sight of Olivia, cheering on the sidelines. Her sister was standing atop another girl’s shoulders with her hands on her hips and her face aglow with a natural smile. Olivia pumped her fist in the air and did a flip off the girls’ shoulders. Two spotters on the squad caught her, and the crowd went crazy.
Ivy couldn’t help going wild with everyone else, clapping and hooting loudly for her sister. Olivia seriously sucked—there was no doubt that she was the best cheerleader on the squad. Especially compared to Charlotte Brown, who looked desperate for attention beside her.
Charlotte’s face was plastered with a smile and her eyes were so wide that she looked like a cartoon smiley face. She was jumping up and down like a rag doll, throwing little waves and winks high up into the crowd. Ivy shuddered. It was seriously embarrassing.
Apparently, Charlotte couldn’t even bear to turn her back on the crowd when the cheer called for her to spin around. She rushed her move, immediately refocusing her gaze high into the bleachers and tossing off another cloying wave.
Ivy followed Charlotte’s gaze and saw ...the Beasts, sitting by themselves in the top row of the bleachers. Dylan Soyle had a huge video camera hoisted onto his shoulder, and he was pointing it down at Charlotte, while Garrick whispered in his ear.
Ivy remembered that the people in media studies were making movies; the Beasts must be at work on their project.
What’s their topic? Ivy wondered. Extra-annoying cheerleaders?
Without thinking, she marched to the top of the bleachers and stood in front of their camera, blocking its lens with the back of her notebook.
“Hey!” Dylan cried, pulling his face away from the eyepiece.
“Turn it off,” Ivy commanded icily.
“You’re interfering with an important movie shoot!” Garrick Stephens said.
“Turn . . . it . . . off,” Ivy repeated, narrowing her eyes into a death squint.
There was a long silence before Dylan glumly put down the camera.
“What do you want?” whined Garrick.
“I want you to climb back in your coffins and stay there!” Ivy snapped. “You’re putting us all in danger.”