Just before seven on Wednesday morning, Ivy was already dressed for school in a jagged black skirt, a dark red top, and a black crocheted sweater. She hastily grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, dumped some Marshmallow Platelets in it, and pulled the milk from the fridge. She plunked it all down on the breakfast table and switched on the TV, just in time to catch the opening credits of The Morning Star, which consisted of Serena Star's smiling face superimposed on the Statue of Liberty.
"Today," the announcer's voice said, "Serena Star digs deeper into what's wrong with Franklin Grove!"
What's she going to dig up today? Ivy thought nervously, but her curiosity was immediately thwarted by a commercial break. By the end of the third commercial, which featured a seriously annoying dancing bottle of detergent, she was squirming with impatience.
Finally, The Morning Star came back on, and Ivy cranked up the volume. Serena appeared to be lying in a dentist's chair, today wearing a camel-colored skintight suede suit. Behind her stood a dental assistant in pink scrubs, smiling awkwardly. Serena sat up. "Good morning, America. I'm Serena Star.
"Welcome back to my ongoing investigative report on Franklin Grove, where this past Sunday, a thirteen-year-old boy named Garrick Stephens climbed out of a coffin during a funeral. Since then, an alarming portrait of this town has come to light--and it's filled with darkness." Serena raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "There's only one word to describe today's story: FANG- TASTIC!" The word appeared in huge letters beside her head, and Ivy rolled her eyes.
"This is Monica Messler, a dental hygienist here in Franklin Grove. Why don't you tell America, Miss Messler, what you just told me about Garrick Stephens?"
Monica Messler cleared her throat nervously. "He was in here last week," she said, "inquiring about getting a set of fake vampire fangs."
"Shocking!" cried Serena Star, her eyes wide. "Did he say what he wanted these vampire fangs for?"
Monica Messler shook her head. "I guess he's seen too many horror movies."
"Or perhaps," Serena said, looking into the camera meaningfully, "he's obsessed with vam- pires. And it appears he's not the only one in Franklin Grove." She turned back to her subject. "Miss Messler, have any other strange young people--commonly known as Goths--been in here making unusual requests?"
"I don't think so," Monica Messler replied.
"Are you sure?" pushed Serena Star. "Not even a girl named Ivy Vega?"
At the mention of her own name, Ivy dropped her spoon. Serena Star was checking up on her on national TV!
"Well," said Serena knowingly, after Monica shook her head, "I'm sure it's only a matter of time."
Serena stood up from the dental chair and stepped toward the camera. "America, I, Serena Star, have uncovered a secret society of mysteri- ous families in this sleepy town. They wear black clothes and heavy makeup. They keep themselves to themselves, rarely mixing with normal people. Why? Because they hide a truly menacing secret, and fake vampire fangs barely scratch the sur- face!
"But I won't rest until I find out everything this vampiric cult is hiding." She leaned forward. "Because the Star of truth must sh--"
Ivy flipped off the TV set and stormed into the kitchen. She was clearing away her breakfast bowl, when her dad walked in with the newspaper.
"Good morning," he said.
"As if!" Ivy snapped.
Her father put his newspaper down on the counter. "You appear to be upset," he said.
"Serena Star said my name on TV!" Ivy exclaimed.
Her dad raised an eyebrow. "Why would she do that?"
"Because," Ivy huffed, "I'm a Goth member of a vampiric cult hiding a terrible secret!"
"Oh," said her father. "Is that all?"
"Dad!" Ivy cried. "Serena Star's not going to let the story rest until she has every one of us staked and boxed!"
"Ivy, you worry too much." Her father sighed. "The vampire community is aware that Serena Star is digging. I promise you, she won't find any- thing."
"Aren't you the least bit upset that she's inves- tigating your own daughter?" Ivy demanded.
"Well," he began, a smile creeping across his face, "I would prefer the journalist in question to have a bit more gravitas than Serena Star, admit- tedly."
Ivy threw a dishcloth at her father's head, but he caught it.
"Honestly, Ivy," he said with a short laugh. "Vampires have been hiding from the world since long before you were born. Coffin chasers like Serena Star come and go."
The mention of her birth reminded Ivy about her conversation with Olivia. "Maybe that's why my parents gave me up," she remarked testily.
"What?" her father said, suddenly turning serious.
Ivy looked at her father carefully. "Maybe my real parents gave me up because someone was on their trail," she said slowly, "trying to expose them as vampires."
"That's ridiculous," her dad said briskly.
"How do you know?" Ivy asked. "Did they leave a note with the vamp adoption agency or something?"
Her dad threw his hands in the air. "No, of course not." He started rummaging around in the fridge.
"And you never found out anything about them?" Ivy pressed.
Her dad closed the fridge without taking any- thing out and turned back to Ivy. "I received nothing but your name, your place and date of birth, and your ring." He smiled and gave Ivy a hug. "But no matter. You yourself are all that matters--not your parents. You must look to the future, my Ivy--"
"Not back to the past," Ivy finished for him, rolling her eyes. "You always say that!"
"I say it," he said gently, "because it is true." And with that, he picked up his newspaper and walked out of the room.
But it's not true for me anymore, Ivy thought as she leaned against the counter. I want to know more--not just for my sake but for my sister's. She had no choice but to see what she could find out on her own.
At the beginning of lunch period, Olivia bounced into the school's editing suite and sank onto a swivel chair in front of a button-packed console. She and Camilla had reserved the suite so that they could record the voice-over for their docu- mentary. As she waited for her friend to arrive, Olivia pulled out the script they'd written and quietly started rehearsing her lines--she was going to play Great-aunt Edna.
"My dear duke," she whispered.
Suddenly, the room's loudspeaker crackled to life. "OLIVIA ABBOTT," boomed a computer- ized voice. "I COMMAND YOU TO TELL ME THE DEEP, DARK SECRET OF FRANKLIN GROVE!" Startled, Olivia leaped to her feet. "OR ELSE!" the voice finished.