Olivia had just finished setting the table for dinner when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" her mom shouted.
Olivia immediately bolted for the front of the house and rounded the corner just in time to catch her mom swinging open the door and singing, "Hell - " her mom's voice broke midword " - o," she finished, mouth agape.
Olivia looked past her staring mother to see Ivy on the doorstep. Her sister had clearly dressed up for the occasion. She was wearing a warm black jacket over a turtleneck sweater, a black miniskirt with fishnets, and her long black boots.
She'd even put on her dark purple lipstick. Olivia thought she looked fabulous.
"Hi, Olivia." Ivy smiled with a worried twitch of the eyebrows toward Olivia's speechless, staring mom.
"Mom," Olivia said, elbowing her mother in the side. "This is Ivy."
"It is so . . . interesting to meet you, Ivy," her mom said. She glanced over Ivy's shoulder into the street. "Did your father drop you off?"
"He has to work tonight," Ivy replied. "He's really sorry he couldn't stay."
"I hope we get to meet him soon," Olivia's mom said as Olivia pushed past and gave her sister a hug.
After taking Ivy's jacket, Olivia led her into the living room, where her father did a double take.
Olivia caught her mom staring at her sister's outfit again as Ivy sat down on the couch.
"Can I get you something to drab, Ivy?"
Olivia's mom asked.
"You mean 'to drink,' Mom," Olivia said, completely embarrassed. Her mom was normally like America's Best Hostess, but apparently her hos- pitality mechanism malfunctioned when it came to guests wearing black nail polish.
Olivia stepped between Ivy and her mother and mouthed the word "sorry" to her sister. Ivy responded with a little don't-worry-about-it smile.
"Want anything?" Olivia asked aloud.
"Do you have cranberry juice?" responded Ivy.
Olivia nodded and headed for the kitchen. "I'll help you find a glass, sweetheart." Her mom gulped, hurrying after her.
Olivia groaned inwardly as she overheard her dad saying, "So, Ivy, did you know you had a double aura?"
Olivia got the bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge as her mom took down a glass.
"Is she getting over some sort of illness?" her mom whispered.
"No," Olivia said.
"I knew it!" Her mother gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. "Poor girl. Somebody died, right?"
My parents have got to get out more, Olivia thought. "No, Mom, nobody died. And Ivy's not training to be a mime, either. She's a Goth." "Didn't Serena Star do a show about those people?" Mrs. Abbott asked.
"It's just a style choice," Olivia explained. Her mom nodded slowly, taking this in. "Do Goths eat zucchini?" she asked.
"Yes, Mother," Olivia replied. Then she headed out of the kitchen with Ivy's drink.
A few minutes later, Mr. Abbott was staring at Olivia and her sister across the dinner table. "I wouldn't have noticed at first, but you two really do look exactly alike!" he said in amazement.
"Like yin and yang."
"Like Superman and Clark Kent," Ivy agreed. Olivia's mom set down the last casserole dish and pulled off her oven mitts. As she sat, she looked from Ivy to Olivia and smiled warmly. "Like . . . peanut butter and jelly?" she tried.
Everybody laughed. All at once, the room thawed, and Olivia's parents started showering Ivy with questions. Did she have any extracurriculars?
(School newspaper.) What did her dad do for a living? (Interior designer.) What was her favorite color? (Black. Duh!)
Then Olivia's mom asked, "So, Ivy, do you have a boyfriend?" in that weird way mastered by moms everywhere.
Ivy squirmed in her seat as Olivia answered for her excitedly. "Yes! Brendan Daniels! He's awesome!"
Wow! she thought as Ivy shot her a look of playful annoyance. It's sort of nice not to be the one in the hot seat.
"All right! Enough about me!" Ivy put her hands in the air. "I have some questions, too."
"Ask us anything," Olivia's mom challenged.
"What about Olivia's adoption?" Ivy asked eagerly.