Lucky Break (9 page)

‘Ivy,’ Olivia whispered.

Ivy carried the journal ceremoniously over to the bed. Olivia sat down on the quilt beside her and Ivy opened the first page. It was filled with line after line of scribbly, narrow lettering:

First day at the ranch. Twenty-two days until I’m fourteen.

Ivy and Olivia looked at each other. The last time they found a journal from their family past, it revealed the secret of who their real parents were. Olivia knew she wouldn’t find out anything as dramatic, but it would be a precious glimpse of their mom.

This is so awesome! Mom gave me this new journal when we arrived. I’ve decided to keep this just for the farm and go back to my comp books when we go home. I’ve never had a leather journal before. It’s gooorgeous!

Rebecca got a new set of paints. She said she wasn’t going to have time for painting – I bet she won’t. She’s already in the stables.

‘This is the best thing ever,’ Olivia declared.

Ivy’s eyes shone. ‘I am going to read this cover to cover – but maybe not all at once.’

‘We should do it together,’ Olivia said and Ivy nodded.

‘Let’s go through the rest of this entry,’ Ivy said.

We’re here for six weeks, but I’ve only brought four books. I’ll make Mom take me to the library. We’re going to have lunch soon, I think. Burgers on the BBQ and corn on the cob – yum!

Corn on the cob wasn’t exactly deep motherly wisdom, but Olivia felt like her mom was right there speaking – and that was practically a miracle.

The next morning, during their breakfast of just-laid farm eggs and freshly baked bread, Ivy produced the journal. The girls had decided before they went to sleep that they would tell Aunt Rebecca about it.

‘Oh my goodness,’ Rebecca said, reaching out to touch the soft cover. ‘Is this …?’

Olivia and Ivy nodded at the same time.

‘Where did you find it?’ she breathed, pushing aside her half-eaten omelette.

‘Under a floorboard by the porch swing,’ Ivy said, her scrambled eggs forgotten.

‘Susannah was always writing in journals in that swing.’ Rebecca’s hand lingered over the cover but then pulled away. ‘I am so tempted to read it, but I never knew what she wrote in there – and no one wants their sister reading her journal.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘But you two should; daughters are definitely allowed.’

Ivy and Olivia shared a guilty look.

‘And if there’s anything you want to ask me about, I’ll try to help as much as I can.’

‘Thanks,’ Ivy said. ‘We want to know as much about our mom as there is to know.’ Finally Ivy felt like there was a reason she was supposed to have come here.

Rebecca cleared her throat. ‘Girls, I hope you don’t think it’s too much – and I hope your parents will agree – but I’d really like you
to come back again.’

‘Me too,’ Olivia said, without hesitation.

‘If we left the journal here,’ Ivy said slowly, ‘we could come back again next weekend to read it.’

‘That would be perfect,’ Rebecca said, smiling. ‘And to make the journey worth your while, Ivy, I’m going to get you up on a horse.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Ivy replied, turning her attention back to the food. She broke open a freshly baked roll and steam rose up from the soft middle.

‘Trust me,’ Rebecca said with a smile. ‘There’s never been a person that I couldn’t match with a horse.’

Ivy forced a smile.
Yeah, but how many vampires do you know?

Ivy was just throwing her toothbrush in her bag when Aunt Rebecca flew in the door. ‘Your
dad is coming up the driveway!’

‘Whoops!’ Ivy said. ‘I’m not ready yet.’

Olivia and Rebecca had spent the morning with the horses and after that, once they’d started reading their mom’s journal, Ivy had lost track of time.

The entries they read were about taking care of the chickens and the goats, a crush that she’d had on an older guy at school and how one of the horses – which would turn out to be Lucky’s mom – was pregnant.

Ivy tossed in a pair of socks that was lying on the floor, zipped up her bag and followed Rebecca down the steps with Olivia just behind.

They managed to make it to the porch by the time Mr Vega stepped out of the car, against the backdrop of the sunset.

‘Didn’t you say seven?’ Rebecca asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

‘I definitely said six,’ Mr Vega replied.

‘I could have sworn you said seven.’ Rebecca picked up Olivia’s bag and took it over to the car.

Mr Vega cleared his throat and then went over to get Ivy’s bag. Once the luggage was stowed in the boot, he said, ‘I’m sure you’ll see the girls again soon.’

Rebecca was about to reply. Ivy jumped in, ‘We were kind of hoping that we could come back next weekend.’

She realised that she actually meant it. She wanted to read that journal and did want to see if Rebecca could help her with the horses.
I must have liked it here, after all
, she thought.
At least a little bit.

Mr Vega frowned. ‘Oh. Well, ah. I suppose so.’

‘I’ll let you know what my parents say,’ Olivia called as she got into the car.

As Ivy climbed in, she almost sat on a
brown paper bag. ‘What’s this?’

‘Oh, just a little something,’ said Mr Vega.

Ivy waved goodbye to Rebecca and the farm and turned to her package. It was a new concert album from Mountain of Beef, one of her favourite bands.

‘Wow, thanks!’ Olivia called from the backseat.

Her sister was holding a book called
Method Acting for Beginners.

‘Just a little something,’ Mr Vegas said, his face colouring as he kept his eyes on the road.

The twins shared a look. They didn’t normally receive presents for no reason.

Is Dad feeling threatened?
Ivy wondered. She made a mental note to make sure she did a father/daughter dinner this week, in between play rehearsals. She knew what it was like to feel left out.
I don’t want Dad to feel like that at
all.

‘Tighter,’ commanded Camilla.

Sophia, who was fitting Olivia’s robot costume, squeezed the golden corset-type top even more. Olivia thought she was never going to breathe again.

‘Too tight! A little too tight!’ she gasped. She loved her Julietron outfit – especially the gold, knee-high boots – but this was crazy!

Sophia relaxed it a little and Camilla frowned. ‘I suppose I need you to be able to say your lines,’ she said.

Thank goodness for that
, Olivia thought.

‘It looks great,’ Camilla told Sophia. She was wearing black tuxedo bottoms and a white button-down shirt, with her now trademark red braces. ‘And you were born to play my Juliet, Olivia.’

‘Thanks!’ said Sophia and Olivia at the same time.

On the other side of the small dressing room,
Charlotte snorted.

‘Born to kiss Garrick Stevens,’ she muttered.

Charlotte hadn’t missed an opportunity to rub that in ever since the roles had been announced a week and a half ago.

‘I need at least one more layer of padding in Charlotte’s costume,’ Camilla declared.

Olivia stifled a smile. Charlotte’s balloon-like Nanny-bot costume had gone from the size of a normal television to a wide-screen deluxe during this final costume fitting.

‘I’m not going to be able to move!’ Charlotte wailed. The costume engulfed her up to her elbows and knees, so she had to waddle.

‘Trust me,’ Camilla said. ‘You’re going to look like the perfect old lady robot.’

‘Great,’ Charlotte said. ‘Just the look I was going for.’

‘I’m going to check on the boys,’ Camilla
said. ‘You’re doing a fabulous job, Sophia.’ Sophia beamed. ‘You two,’ Camilla said to Olivia and Charlotte, ‘have about five minutes to get changed and get out into the studio for our final blocking rehearsal.’

They had been pacing out each scene in the last few rehearsals and Camilla had told them she wanted to finalise it today so they could start full run-throughs tomorrow.

Sophia started to help Charlotte get out of her puff-ball costume.

‘Would you say Juliet is more like a gazelle or a swan?’ asked Olivia, placing her boots neatly on the shelf.

‘I would say your Juliet is more like a golden goose,’ Sophia replied, picking up the Nanny-bot wig where Charlotte had tossed it. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘It’s just that this method acting book my bio-dad
got for me,’ Olivia explained, ‘says that actors can model their movements on animals.’

‘If that’s the case,’ Sophia whispered, ‘then Charlotte should be thinking hippo.’

Four minutes later, when Olivia walked into the studio, Jackson and Garrick were rehearsing an early scene. It was the one just before Romezog met Julietron at the masked ball.

‘Nay, gentle Romezog, we must have you dance,’ said Jackson, pretending to play with the many arms that Garrick’s costume – once he was wearing it – would have.

‘Not I, believe me,’ read Garrick from a scruffy-looking script, standing stock-still. ‘You have … uh … dancing shoes with nimble soles; I have a soul of lead, so stakes me …’ He paused to look up and chuckle. ‘Stakes …’ he repeated. When no one else seemed to think the joke was
funny, he carried on. ‘Uh … stakes me to the ground I cannot move.’

Camilla looked like she was about to strangle him. ‘Garrick, you are staying for extra rehearsals this afternoon,’ she ordered.

‘But my band is supposed to jam tonight,’ he whined.

‘Until you are off script,’ Camilla said, ‘and can do the entire play from memory, you will be stuck here with me
every
afternoon. Now, continue!’

As they went on, Olivia’s stomach churned like a Mister Smoothie mixer.

Garrick was the least romantic Romeo in all of history. He might make a great twitchy alien, but there was nothing appealing about his spotty skin or his lecherous grins. At least she’d been able to avoid kissing him so far.

Jackson, on the other hand, looked amazing, delivering his lines with confidence. He still
hadn’t tried to kiss her and Olivia was starting to worry that she wouldn’t be able to avoid Garrick for much longer.

‘I dream’d a dream tonight,’ read Garrick.

‘And so did I,’ replied Jackson.

‘Well, what was yours?’ Garrick sounded more like a petulant child than a Shakespearean actor.