‘A quiet life?’ Olivia let out a snort of disbelief as she turned to stare at her twin. ‘For a whole semester? Are you insane, Ivy Vega? That stuff never happens to us!’
‘Well . . .’ Ivy grinned, shaking her head. ‘You may have a point. We don’t seem to “do” quiet lives, do we?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Olivia agreed, smiling in satisfaction. ‘And that’s just right for us.’
Maybe they’d both had a few hiccups as they’d settled into their new school – but from now on, she was determined to make the most of it. Together.
She linked arms with her sister to walk together to their next class in perfect comfort. No groupies got in their way, no one tried to squeeze in between them or make any nasty comments about Olivia’s clothes . . . and when Olivia glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes widened with delight.
Behind them, students were beginning to mingle! Goth-girls were asking if they could borrow bunny girls’ magazines during lunch. Skaters were joking with goths. She could see at least four smiles that were less secretive than they would have been the day before, and also some upward nods of the head.
The blossoming romance between Finn and Amelia was already making a real difference to the school. ‘You know,’ Olivia said to her twin, ‘I have a feeling we’re both going to be really happy here, from now on . . .’
Ivy would have shared her sister’s satisfaction . . . if she hadn’t been so nervous about what was coming next.
As Mr Russell stalked into place in front of the class, she could see that he still hadn’t recovered from the disappointment of Finn’s triumph with Principal Carson. His face was still flushed, and his eyes glittered with frustration as he glared around the room.
‘Right!’ he said. ‘The moment has arrived. It’s time for you all to read out your poems.’
Ivy slumped in her seat, wishing that she could disappear. What am I going to do? I haven’t chosen anything yet!
It was great that for the first time ever, she was actually sitting next to her own twin in class. But that wouldn’t do her much good when she got a failing grade!
Her English teacher paced back and forth in front of the room with quick, impatient steps. ‘The reason I set you this assignment is because poetry has a way of revealing things about people . . .’
Ouch. Ivy turned to glance at Penny, who was sitting two desks behind her. Their gazes met . . . and then they both looked away quickly.
‘. . . and because high school English is very different from middle school English,’ Mr Russell declared, ‘a student’s feelings are just as important as his or her intelligence now. To truly engage with the texts you will read, you must feel them in your hearts!’ He spun around on one heel. ‘So! Who will reveal themselves first?’
Uh-oh. Ivy gulped. Talk about pressure!
A nervous hush fell over the class. All around the room, students ducked down, hiding their gazes.
It looks like nobody wants to read their poems now, Ivy thought. And no wonder! No matter what poems anyone had chosen, all everyone else in class would be thinking about was hidden meanings. What is Mr Russell thinking? This is almost mean.
Ivy slouched even lower in her chair.
Mr Russell let out an impatient sigh. ‘Fine! I’ll choose randomly, then.’ He snatched the roll call list off his desk and glanced down at it. ‘Penny Taylor. You’ll go first.’
Penny gasped, clutching the anthology close to her chest. She was still wearing her long black trench coat, and her bone-white face looked almost sickly beside the black cloth now.
‘Don’t be shy, Miss Taylor.’ Mr Russell rolled his eyes. ‘It’s just reading a few lines, remember? You might as well take your place in front of the class and get it over with.’
Penny nodded weakly. But she looked glued to her chair.
This is all my fault, Ivy realised.
‘Shadows in Sunshine’ was a poem loaded with personal meaning for Penny – meaning that everyone would pick up on and gossip about at lunch, if things went wrong! And if they did . . .
Ivy’s mouth suddenly felt dry. All she’d tried to do was help Penny to be herself. Now, she feared that she had pushed too hard. If Penny became an object of ridicule because of her poem – the poem Ivy had encouraged her to choose – Ivy would never forgive herself. But what could she do?
Before she’d even made any conscious decision, she felt her hand shooting up in the air.
‘Yes, Miss Vega?’ Mr Russell sighed. ‘Do you have something you wish to contribute?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Ivy said firmly. ‘Penny was only hesitating, sir, because we were planning to read a poem together.’ She saw Penny’s eyes widen. She gave the other girl an encouraging smile. ‘Would that be OK?’
Mr Russell raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds not only “OK”, but excellent! Why don’t you both step up to the front of the class?’