“Relax, Charlotte,” whispered Katie, totally embarrassed.
Charlotte sneered at Ivy. “I’ll be so happy when you move,” she seethed, “and I get a regular next-door neighbor instead of a drab bag like you.”
“Drab bag,” Ivy said, savoring the words. “I sort of like that.”
Charlotte hmmphed, snatched her petition off the table, and stormed off with her friends.
“You know what they say,” Olivia said, bursting out laughing. “If you can’t join ’em...”
“Beat ’em!” Ivy grinned. She and Olivia bumped elbows.
“You twins are dangerous,” marveled Brendan.
“Olivia,” said Ivy, “I was just telling Bren about how the next phase of our plan is a go.”
“You mean Operation FANGED?” said Olivia. Her sister blinked cluelessly. “Friends Against Needlessly Going to Europe in December!” she clarified.
Ivy laughed.
“I actually think the acronym for what you just said is FANGTEID,” Brendan said skeptically, pronouncing it “fang-tide.” Olivia threw a napkin at his head, but he easily batted it away.
“So you asked if it was okay to have Alice over for dinner?” Olivia asked Ivy.
“Not exactly,” Ivy answered. She let her hair fall in front of her face, which Olivia knew meant she was trying to hide. “I told Dad that someone’s coming over as part of a final art project that you and I are working on.”
“What kind of art requires a waitress from the Meat & Greet?” asked Brendan dubiously.
“Performance art?” Ivy tried.
“The art of romance,” Olivia corrected, batting her eyelashes.
“Brendan,” said Ivy, pushing her hair out of her face, “do you want to be the waiter? You could wear the tux you wore to the All Hallows’ Ball. You looked drop-dead in it.”
Brendan frowned. “I can’t,” he said apologetically. “I promised Bethany I’d take her to see the HB.”
“What’s the HB?” asked Olivia.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one could overhear. “The Holiday Bat,” she whispered.
Olivia looked at her sister blankly.
“You know how human kids think Santa Claus magically comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for them?” Ivy asked.
Olivia nodded.
“Well, we don’t have Santa. We have the HB.”
“One winter, a bat flew out of my parent’s chimney,” Olivia remembered. “My dad chased it out the door with a tennis racquet.”
“Hmm,” said Brendan, “I bet he got lousy Christmas presents that year.”
“Actually, I gave him a really nice tie,” Olivia protested.
“Does he ever wear it?” Brendan asked, raising his thick eyebrows meaningfully.
Come to think of it, thought Olivia, no, he doesn’t.
“Oh, stop it,” Ivy interrupted. “The HB is a myth.”