Authors: Sienna Mercer
“Flying monkeys?” Ivy turned to Sophia and
Brendan, but they both shrugged. “Olivia,” she said finally, “did you take Bethany’s VitaVamp again?”
Olivia shook her head and a heavy sigh racked her body. “I’m seeing
Wicked
.”
“Isn’t that like
The Wizard of Oz
?” asked Brendan.
“Yes, but from the witch’s point of view,” Sophia told him. “How deadly is that? That show sold out ages ago!”
“I’d
kill
to see
Wicked
,” moaned Ivy.
“Well I’d kill
not
to,” said Olivia weakly. “I saw
The Wizard of Oz
once, when I was eight years old, and I’ve had nightmares ever since.”
“What kind of nightmares?” asked Sophia.
“That witch,” croaked Olivia, “and her monkeys.”
“You mean the winged things dressed as bellhops?” Brendan quipped.
Ivy hit him in the arm, as if to say, This is serious
.
“So if it gives you nightmares, why are you going, Olivia?” she asked.
“Because my mom’s convinced it will help me,” Olivia explained. “She blames herself for letting me watch the movie when I was little. She thinks that because this show’s all about the nice side of the witch, it will end my suffering or whatever.”
“Your mom is taking you to see a musical as
therapy
?” Brendan laughed.
“It’s not funny!” Olivia snapped. “Once I see
Wicked
, I’m going to
need
therapy.”
“Come on, Olivia,” said Sophia. “You’re not going to—”
“I’ll FREAK!” Olivia cried hysterically. She pressed her sweaty palms onto the table. “That witch and her monkeys,” she said again in hushed terror.
“Can’t you talk to your mom?” asked Ivy. Olivia closed her eyes. Her headache was getting worse by the millisecond. “That’s the worst part. She’s all pleased with herself for finally finding a way to help me ‘heal the wounds of my childhood.’ It would break her heart if I didn’t go.” She opened her eyes, and her head throbbed.
“Can someone help me?” she squeaked.
Ivy’s lips curled into a smile. “I can.”
Olivia’s vision cleared slightly. “How?”
“We’ll switch!” Ivy announced.
All at once, Olivia’s headache lifted.
“You can be me at my house, packing boxes for the move,” Ivy explained, “and I’ll be you and go see
Wicked
.”
“You would do that?” Olivia gasped.
“Yes,” Ivy said, sighing as if a great burden had been placed upon her, “I would be willing to see a sold-out musical I’ve always wanted to see if it would help my beloved twin sister avoid emotional distress.”
Brendan and Sophia groaned.
“Having an identical twin rocks!” Olivia exclaimed. Suddenly she realized she was thirsty and starving. She chugged the glass of water on her tray and put the celery stalk she was holding in her mouth.
“No kidding,” Sophia teased. “Too bad you can’t hire your switching services out to those of us who are less fortunate.”
“That would be a killer job,” Ivy admitted.
Killer job
. The words stuck in Olivia’s head.
Suddenly, a lightbulb went on. “That’s it!” she swallowed her celery. “That’s Plan C! That’s what will convince your dad to stay in Franklin Grove!”
“A twin he could switch with?” guessed Brendan.
“No,” Olivia said, “a job even better than the one he’s leaving for.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. “You are a genius,” she cried.
“Yeah, but I try not to brag.” Olivia giggled. Ivy was already on her feet, stacking her plates on her tray and gathering her books. Olivia and their friends rushed to do the same.
At that moment, Camilla appeared with her lunch in a brown paper bag. “You’re not all leaving, are you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Ivy, “but so are you, Camilla.” She spun Camilla around and pointed her toward the doorway.
“But where are we going?” Camilla asked.
“To look for a job!” replied Olivia, taking her friend’s arm.
They walked into the library two minutes later.
“Well, if it isn’t the Anti-European Bloc,” said Miss Everling, coming out from behind her desk.
“Did your friend decide to stay in Franklin Grove?”
“Not yet,” replied Ivy.
“Aw.” Miss Everling kicked the ground with one of her tight leather knee-length boots. “I was sure that presentation would work.”
“We still haven’t given up, though,” Sophia added resolutely.
“That’s the spirit,” Miss Everling said. “How can I help?”
“Do you have the local want ads?” asked Brendan.
“We’ve got all the county and state papers,” Miss Everling said with a smile. “To the periodicals!” she commanded.
A minute later, Miss Everling had left the five of them gathered around the latest edition of the Franklin Grove
Gazette
, splayed open on a table.
Camilla was bent over the paper, calling out jobs. “Construction consultant... insurance salesman...vacuum mechanic—”
“I bet that job sucks,” Brendan joked. “...cat groomer... window washer... house cleaner... bond broker—”
“Aren’t there any design jobs?” Ivy interrupted.
Camilla scanned the column. “Here’s one,” she said. “Denture designer. What do you think that is?”
Brendan coughed. “Hey, this reminds me of a joke. What’s black and white and red all over?”
“A vampire having a midnight snack?” Camilla guessed innocently.
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat, and she could swear that the three vamps around the table turned a shade whiter.
“I was going to say a newspaper,” Brendan mumbled weakly.
After a few more minutes, Olivia had to agree with her friends that there were no openings that seemed right for Mr. Vega.
“So much for Plan C,” said Ivy with a sigh as the bell for the end of lunch rang.
“Fortunately,” Olivia said, “there are still twenty-three letters left in the alphabet.”
After school, Ivy leaned close to the science hall bathroom mirror and carefully applied Olivia’s shimmery eye shadow. At the next sink, her sister scrunched up her face and sprayed herself with a can of Pale Beauty whitener.
Ivy shifted from one sneaker-clad foot to the other and wriggled herself around in Olivia’s stone-washed jeans. They were going to have to spend the whole night as each other, because by the time
Wicked
was over, it would be too late to get away and switch back.
“You know this is going to be our trickiest switch yet,” said Olivia as she reached for Ivy’s thick eyeliner. “We have to fool our parents for hours.”
I don’t know if I can be perky for that long,
Ivy thought. “What if we get caught?” she said.
“Think of it this way,” Olivia said, blinking dramatically at herself with her freshly blackened eyes. “If you get grounded for a month, you can’t leave the house to go to Europe.”
“There are some things you’ll need to know if you’re going to convince my dad you’re me,” said Ivy. In the mirror, she practiced smiling so her teeth showed.
“Like what?” said Olivia.
“Things that might be hard for you to, um,
digest
,” said Ivy. She watched her sister’s reflection for a reaction, but Olivia didn’t notice her choice of words.
“Trust me, nothing could be worse than flying monkeys,” said Olivia. She flattened her lips to apply Ivy’s deep plum lipstick.
“Good,” said Ivy. She turned and flashed her sister her best Olivia-like smile. “Then you’ll be happy to know Marshmallow Platelets is your favorite cereal.”
“Oh, gross!” Olivia cried.
An hour later, Ivy did her best to skip up to the front door of the Abbotts’ split-level home. Even after Olivia’s in-depth briefing on life in her house, she couldn’t keep from being a little nervous.
Stick a bat in a bunny hole
, she thought,
and sooner or later it’s going to flap its wings.
Still, she’d just have to do her best. It would all be worth it to see
Wicked
and help her sister
.
Ivy swung her ponytail around, moistened her pink lips, smiled as brightly as she could, and rang the doorbell. Soon enough, the door swung open to reveal Olivia’s mom, Audrey Abbott, wearing a dark blue skirt and pearls.
“Hi, Mom!” said Ivy.
“Hi, Olivia,” said Mrs. Abbott. She craned her neck to look past Ivy into the street. “Everything okay?”
“For sure,” Ivy chirped. “Why?”
“Don’t you have your house key?” Mrs. Abbott asked.
I rang the doorbell of what’s supposed to be my own house,
Ivy thought, horrified.
There go my bat wings: flap, flap!
Ivy smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I must have forgotten it,” she said. “Sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay, honey,” Mrs. Abbott said. “You’d better go upstairs and change, though. We’re leaving for the show in half an hour.”
Luckily, Ivy made it to the theater and into her seat without saying anything else that might give her away. The first act of
Wicked
was killer. When the lights rose for intermission, Ivy couldn’t take her eyes off the stage. The performances, the music, the story—everything was seriously spectacular. The name of the wicked witch echoed in her head.
“Elphaba...Elphaba... Elphaba! Olivia!” Mrs. Abbott was shaking her arm. “Olivia, are you okay, honey?”
“This show sucks,” Ivy whispered in awe.
Mrs. Abbott’s face fell. “You hate it?”
All at once Ivy remembered that she was supposed to be her sister.
Flap, flap!
“I mean,” she scrambled, “it sucks in a
good
way. It’s slang. I totally love the show!”