“The deadliest All Hallows’ Ball in history, that’s what’s up,” Sophie replied delightedly.
The All Hallows’ Ball? Ivy wondered.
“I’m supposed to be studying,” Sophia barreled on, “but I just couldn’t stop thinking of ideas. Like, what if you could have your picture taken with a cutout of that short old guy who was Grandpa on The Munsters?”
“The Munsters?” quavered Ivy.
“You know, that old TV show.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivy admitted. She was starting to feel seriously ill.
“Or I think it would be killer if we had coffins near the entrance, and you could get your picture taken getting out of one, right next to your date getting out of his coffin. Isn’t that killer?” Sophia rattled on.
Ivy was dumbfounded. What did Olivia do?
“So?” Sophia asked expectantly. “What do you think?”
“Since when does it matter what I think?” Ivy asked, a little testily.
“Uh, since you came up with the theme, got elected head of decorations, and agreed to have the ball at your house,” Sophia answered matter-of-factly.
WHAT? Ivy’s head pounded. She lay back down on her bed.
“Speaking of which, did you talk to your dad yet?” Sophia asked.
“No, I did not speak to my dad yet!” Ivy answered incredulously.
After a long pause, Sophia said, “Ivy, are you feeling okay?”
“I . . . er, I’m sorry, Soph. I just ...have a really grave headache. Can I call you back later?” Ivy managed, and then she hung up, her hands trembling. I never should have let Olivia go to that meeting! she thought in a panic.
But then she thought of Brendan. If she hadn’t gone through with the switch, she wouldn’t have been able to go on the date. In fact, if it weren’t for Olivia, she might never have spoken to Brendan at all.
Ivy let out a heavy sigh. She rummaged through her purse for her phone. She’d saved her sister’s number on it when Olivia had borrowed it to call home.
“Abbott residence,” Olivia answered perkily.
“It’s me,” Ivy said.
“Ivy! You’re home!” Olivia squealed excitedly. “I tried you like fifteen minutes ago! How was it?”
“It was—” Ivy stopped. “It was perfect,” she said at last. She heard Olivia gasp as if she’d just opened a wonderful present.
“I knew it,” Olivia said softly.
Ivy was suddenly dying to tell her sister everything: where she and Brendan had gone, what he’d said, how he’d smelled, and how he had looked at her when they’d said good-bye. Instead she said, “Don’t try to change the subject, Olivia. I specifically told you to sit in that meeting and not say anything.”
“I know,” Olivia said sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“And not only did you not do that but you landed me the one job at which I’m guaranteed to be a disaster!”
“You won’t be a disaster,” Olivia protested.
“Oh, come on!” Ivy cried. “Ivy Vega, head of decorations? I don’t like pressure, I don’t like people, and I don’t like decorating things.”
“But you have great taste,” her sister countered.
“Olivia, you don’t understand. This is the most important event of the whole year for”—she just caught herself in time—“for our community.”