‘Much better!’ she beamed. ‘Next thing on the list: how would you guys like to come back to my house so that we can hammer out the finer details over pizza? Sound good?’ The room erupted into cheers.
Olivia led the way out to the parking lot, walking ahead of a pair of girls planning their outfits. ‘OK, which earrings will go best with my pink hat – the pale crystal hoops or the chandelier earrings?’
With a quick stab, Olivia remembered the French accent in the background during Jackson’s call advising him that something would match the colour palette better. What colour palette? And, more importantly, what could her boyfriend be up to?
When no one answered at the Abbotts’, Ivy jiggled the doorknob and let herself inside. She wiped her boots on the cheery ‘Welcome’ mat before stepping on to the plush white carpet of the Abbotts’ foyer. If Ivy’s house had a polar opposite, it was Olivia’s. Where the Vega house had curtains made of dark velour, the Abbotts’ drapes boasted a bright floral pattern. And unlike the deep crimson of Ivy’s walls, Olivia’s were painted a pale sky blue. Ivy sometimes wondered how the Abbotts ever got any sleep at all, what with their whole decor theme reminding her of a dazzling summer morning.
‘Olivia?’ she said, rounding the corner. ‘Oh. My. Darkness.’ Bunny-mania had taken over the Abbott residence. There were pink-clad girls everywhere! A clump of girls was crowded on to the sofa, squashed one against the other, making paper chains and bunting out of scraps of gingham.
Ivy was even more shocked to see the Terrible Trio sitting at Olivia’s kitchen table, sipping from etched glass cups and diligently taking notes. Who tamed those beasts? Ivy wondered.
She spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, surrounded by committee members, patiently making decorations out of hay and pink-and-black papier mâché. Olivia glanced up. ‘Hi!’ She beamed, standing up and picking her way through the various dance-related obstacles. ‘Welcome to the mad house!’
‘Olivia, I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . .’ Ivy eyed her sister seriously. ‘There is hay in your home.’
‘I know!’ Olivia led her sister into the entryway, one of the only chatter-free zones in the house. ‘Isn’t it crazy? New plan: we’re going to have a pink-and-black theme for the barn dance. Isn’t it perfect? Even you will be happy. Pick any fabulous black outfit in your wardrobe and you can wear it, no problem.’
Ivy let her head droop to the side. ‘Great,’ she said drily. ‘Thanks for that. I’m, like, so excited to indulge my inner goth.’ Ivy displayed wiggling jazz-hands with zero enthusiasm.
Olivia’s smile fell. Even her hair looked flatter. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Look, you know I love you and I’m glad you’re having fun on the committee, but honestly, do Brendan and I look like the type of people who would enjoy a school dance?’
‘Er, Ivy?’ Olivia chewed her fingertip. ‘I think you might have yourself a Brendan-sized problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, don’t you remember how Brendan looked like he’d sucked a lemon drop when you dissed the school dance?’
Ivy shifted in her boots. ‘Um, yeah, I guess.’ Then something else floated to the front of her memory. She flinched. ‘There might have been another incident.’ Ivy slapped her hands over her eyes, peeking through her fingers at Olivia. ‘There was a phone conversation. Brendan tried to suggest I might enjoy the dance and then . . . oh and then . . . the look on his face at Rebecca’s ranch!’
‘What face?’
‘A face like I had crushed his thumbs with a hammer. How could I have been so dense? He’s really up for it, isn’t he?’ Kill me now, thought Ivy, only she wasn’t sure if it was because she had hurt Brendan or because she might actually have to attend the dance.
‘He cares about you. Hello? Why wouldn’t he want to be seen with you on his arm at the school’s most romantic event ever?’
That’s it. Olivia’s right. I have to make this up to Brendan. So what if dances weren’t her thing? Her boyfriend was! She climbed over the girls on the floor making miniature cowboy hat name badges.
Olivia followed behind her, heaving a sigh of pleasure upon seeing the new decorations. ‘I wish I could have a pink rhinestone cowboy hat for the dance. Wouldn’t that be awesome?’
Ivy was only half-listening. ‘Olivia, I need to borrow your phone. I left mine in my backpack at home.’ With night as my witness, I, Ivy Vega, will make this better.
‘Sure, of course,’ Olivia told her.
Ivy shooed girls away, lifting cushions and searching for Olivia’s purse.
‘But, here’s the thing,’ continued Olivia, now in full-on daydream mode. ‘How am I going to organise getting a pink cowboy hat alongside everything else I have to do? It’s impossible!’
‘Olivia!’ Ivy flung a cushion on to the floor. ‘One problem at a time, please.’
‘Right, sorry.’ Olivia fished through a layer of hay. ‘Found it!’ She held her purse over her head, delivering it to Ivy.
Ivy’s thumbs punched in her text to Brendan: Will you do me the honour of being my partner at the dance? Love, Ivy. The green bar slid across the bottom of the screen. She almost couldn’t look. Message sent!
‘Did I really just do that?’ She stared open-mouthed at the screen.
Olivia wrapped her arms around Ivy’s stomach and squeezed. ‘Yes, because you really care about Brendan. Admit it.’ She poked her sister. ‘You might just have a bit of fun, too.’