Alphas

by Lisi Harrison

  “Why?” Skye fussed with a strap. “Because they draw attention to my toned legs and you’re jealous?”

  “Stop!” Allie heard herself shout. “Why are you fighting? A boy/Is to enjoy/Not cause tension/Or dissension,” she quoted the chorus of “Boy-Clott.”

  “She’s right.” Skye kicked off her sandals and dipped her manicured feet in the water. The gentle surf licked them clean. “We shouldn’t let boys come between us.”

  “In bed!” Renee giggle-blurted.

  Finally, they all cracked up. Allie had forgotten how good genuine laughter could feel.

  “Listen.” Triple cupped her ear.

  Their laughter ceased.

  “Burn. It! Burn. It! Burn. It!”

  “Come on!” Skye shouted.

  The girls hurried toward the male voices, trepidation and excitement fueling their pounding hearts.

  Stopping short of the flickering orange light, Allie, Renee, Triple, and Skye examined the brothers’ shadowy profiles. Sixteen-year-old Melbourne, fifteen-year-old Sydney, fourteen-year-old Darwin and thirteen-year-old twins Taz and Dingo, each in a Crayola-colored hoodie, stood around a flickering fire.

  “Burn. It! Burn. It! Burn. It!” they shouted at Darwin. He was hug-rocking a white sweatshirt like it was a newborn teddy bear.

  Allie twisted her jet-black glossy hair over one shoulder. Were they interrupting some bizarre boy-cult ritual?

  “Come on, Dar, you can do it,” Taz said gruffly but gently. But Darwin just shook his head and tried to walk away. The other brothers turned to grab him, and realized immediately that they had an audience.

  “Hey boys,” Skye trilled.

  The BBBs made the split-second transformation from boys to men. They straightened up and walked over, each one offering a variation on the standard-issue what’s up? head nod. While her friends hair-tossed and smiled, Allie felt a sudden wave of lightheadedness that had nothing to do with her meat-free stomach. If only Fletcher could see her now.…

  Taz stepped forward wearing a smile that deepened into a dimple on his right cheek. “We were just helping out our bro.”

  Melbourne pushed down his hoodie. “His girlfriend dumped him. Skype-and-run. Brutal.”

  Sydney made a sniffling sound. Was he crying about his brother’s breakup?

  Renee pinched her cheeks for a burst of color. “Who do you want, Allie J?” she whispered.

  Fletcher, she answered in her head.

  “Did you know your pj’s are like a mirror?” Melbourne told his reflection, which just so happened to be over Allie’s boobs. “I can totally see myself.”

  “Ignore him. He’s in love with himself.” Dingo extended his right arm.

  “Allie.” She reached for it and shook. “J.”

  “Ouch.” He winced. “Strong grip.”

  “Really?” Allie dove into his grass green eyes and rolled around like a happy puppy. Until she heard a crack.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” Dingo shouted.

  “Ahhhh!” Allie shouted back as his arm fell out of his sleeve and landed with a thud in the sand. Blood sprayed like Evian mist. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Everyone burst out laughing. Except Allie, who wiped his fake-hand germs on the side of her nightgown, cursing herself for forgetting the Purell.

  “I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that.” Triple tapped on Melbourne’s sleeve.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Look that good in a hoodie.” She smiled.

  “I bet you do.” He unzipped his hoodie and handed it to her. “Try it.”

  “Smells gooooood,” Triple purred, slipping it on.

  Allie rolled her fake green eyes and shuffled toward the warmth of the fire. Skye had already partnered off with Taz, and Renee was discussing her character’s emotional arc with Sydney. The last thing her heartache needed to witness was budding romance. It was more nauseating than ipecac. Heavy with hopelessness, Allie sat across from Darwin. With his drooping brows, slumped shoulders, and deep heaving sighs, his outsides matched her insides.

  Totally unfazed by her arrival, he pressed his white earbuds deeper into his ears and picked up the guitar leaning next to him.

  What?

  More than anything, Allie was embarrassed by his lack of interest. What if the other girls saw them sitting like a couple of monks? What if word spread to the mainland that Allie couldn’t score? What if Fletcher heard about it? He’d never want her back.

  But Allie had never made the first move. She never had to. Allie J, on the other hand, was a different story. Allie J wasn’t as pretty as Allie. She wasn’t even blond!

  Without further hesitation, Allie pulled the earbuds out of his ears and smiled.

  “Did you know that however long you date someone, it takes half that long to get over them?”

  Darwin popped a toothpick in his mouth. It smelled like cinnamon. “Then I’ll be fine in about six years, ten days, twelve hours, thirty-eight minutes.”

  Hazel eyes. Sideswept bangs. A black freckle above his lip. Presumably real.

  “Where’d you hear that, anyway?” Darwin asked with a skeptical chuckle.

  “Um, my parents are scientists. For the mind and stuff.” Allie shrugged. Actually she’d read the heartbreak-to-time ratio in Seventeen magazine, but he didn’t need to know that.

  She inched closer, placing herself within accidental knee-grazing distance.

  He turned to face her, and she inhaled the citrus-y scent of Burberry cologne. It made her eyes water. Fletcher wore cologne.

  “I’m Darwin.” He grinned at her mole.

  Allie instantly covered it with her hand.

  “Allie. I mean, Allie J.”

  His hazel eyes looked lit from within. “The singer-songwriter-poet?”

  She nodded.

  “I was literally just listening to you. ‘Three-second rule for your heart/Pick it up fast/Watch it restart.’” He held up an earbud as proof. “See?”

  The folksy track sounded tinny through the headphones.

  She changed the topic by pointing to the small white sweatshirt in his lap. “Did it shrink?”

  “No, it’s my ex’s.” His lips curved into a painful frown. “My brothers wanted me to toss it in the bonfire. But I can’t.”

  “Ah,” Allie sympathized. “I just went through a breakup too.” She pulled a dark lock of hair and inspected it. “And I got rid of everything.” Including me.

  “That singer guy?”

  Allie sighed. Stupid Us Weekly. “No. That was a rumor. My ex cheated on me. One day I found him all over Trin—” Oops! Allie inhaled quickly. “Uh, I mean, all over a triple-meat burrito.”

  Darwin burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh—low and rumbly, but genuine. “You dumped your boyfriend because he cheated on you with a burrito?”

  Allie blushed right down to her kohl-mole. “Well, he lied to me about, um, being a vegan. It’s a betrayal of trust, really. If he’s eating meat, what else is he not telling me?”

  Darwin nodded like he got the betrayal part.

  Allie boldly snatched the sweatshirt out of Darwin’s hands. “Who cares about the hows or whys. We already said our goodbyes.” She dangled it in front of the fire.

  “‘Love on a Compost Heap’! Great song.” He gazed into her colored contacts. She wanted to look away to protect her identity. But she couldn’t seem to do it. He was a magnet. She was a fridge.

  “You know what, you’re right.” With a catlike swipe, he snatched the sweatshirt out of Allie’s hands and whipped it into the fire.

  They stared as the synthetic fibers hissed and melted into a thing of the past.

  “Yeahhhhhhhhhhh!” the brothers cheered on his behalf.

  Darwin saluted them with a smirk, then turned back to face Allie.

  Flames reflected in his eyes, but he still looked kind.

  All of a sudden, the aPods began to beep in surround sound.

  “What’s going on?” Allie asked.

  “She knows some
thing,” Darwin mumbled.

  Allie’s stomach lurched. “Wha’do we do?”

  Darwin and his brothers raced around the beach, dousing the fire and washing any traces of perfume from their bodies.

  “Turn your aPods off! Maybe we can stop her from triangulating!” Darwin shouted.

  Allie J had no idea what triangulating meant, but it updated his status from rebound to crush.

  “We have to go,” Renee barked. “Now. Move!”

  Skye gave Taz a peck on his cheek. Melbourne reached to pull Triple closer, but she took off before he could plant one on her lips.

  Allie jumped to her bare feet.

  “Wait.” Darwin stepped into his gray Converse. “Maybe you could—”

  “Yes!” She blushed, suddenly missing the dark.

  “—help me write a song?” It was his turn to blush.

  “Anytime!” Allie jogged backward, trying to commit his perfect face to memory.

  “Allie J!” Renee called, running.

  “Coming!” She smile-waved goodbye, then turned and bolted.

  Allie had no idea how to write a song. No idea if she was about to get busted. No idea if she’d ever see Darwin again. All she did know was that Fletcher hadn’t popped into her head for an entire minute, making this illegal outing totally worth it, no matter what happened next.

  8

  JACKIE O

  CHARLIE’S BED

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

  5:47 A.M.

  Charlie lay flat on her back, cursing the morning rays that cast cheerful yellow streaks across her bedding. She squeezed her eyelids shut in a futile attempt to keep the light out and the sleep in. But it wasn’t the sun’s fault she’d barely slept a wink. Instead of counting sheep, she’d spent half the night counting the ways she missed Darwin:

  One: the smell of cinnamon. Two: his passion for everything. Three: the way he understood her, even when she didn’t understand herself. Four: their endless catalogue of inside jokes. Five: his loyalty. Six: their ongoing fight over who had better taste in music. Seven: OMG: Music! He loved Allie J! Eight: She snuck out to see him! Nine: What if she made it? Ten: What if they hung out? Eleven: What if he started falling for more than her lyrics?

  These thoughts kept her up all night, especially seven through eleven. How could she have overlooked the fact that Darwin’s favorite female artist was about to make a special appearance in his house!?

  When her roommates came home, Charlie pretended to be asleep, all the while straining to hear any mention of Darwin. Aside from a few terse whispers and occasional giggles, the girls fell silently into bed. Charlie reassured her racing heart and sinking stomach that Dar had probably spent the whole time sulking, playing guitar, and wondering where it all went wrong. But that was the Darwin she knew. Who had he become in their hours apart?

  Suddenly, Charlie’s aPod vibrated. Her lids fluttered open.

  He missed her too!

  She swiped the phone eagerly from her bedside table and blinked to focus. Blinking back was a message from Shira.

  SHIRA: MY OFFICE. NOW. DON’T WAKE THE OTHERS.

  Even the font looked angry.

  What could she possibly want? Charlie was fresh out of moms and boyfriends to sacrifice.

  Drawing on every ounce of courage she had, Charlie swung herself out of bed, legs first. But instead of landing in plush silver slippers, she touched down on something mushy and tepid. Sea foam? Animal poo? Her love life?

  Peering over her knees in fear and trepidation, she checked the floor. Charlie Brown-nose was spelled out in disintegrating shaving cream alongside her bed. Her heart lurched. Her eyes stung. Her stomach locked. She quickly surveyed the room, wondering if Triple had been tagged too.

  She hadn’t.

  Four sets of limp arms and legs were strewn across the beds, as if waiting to be stuffed at the build-an-alpha workshop.

  Tears burned Charlie’s tired eyes like expired mascara. Why was she doing this again? With no friends, no family, and no boyfriend, the reason was starting to escape her. All summer, she had fantasized about going to Alpha Academy, surrounded by intelligent girls who worked hard and just wanted to be their best—like her. She would finally fit in with someone other than Darwin. Finally be known as something other than Shira’s assistant’s daughter. It had never occurred to her that she’d stay an outsider on the inside too.

  Charlie wiped her feet on the rug next to Renee’s bed. Given that Rayne had once had a shaving cream fight with her ex, Lance Firerock, on Perfect Storm, Charlie’s alpha dollars were on her.

  Her aPod vibrated again.

  SHIRA: WHY AREN’T YOU HERE?

  Slipping a short platinum robe over her silver baby-dolls, Charlie ran out into the morning. The sun was high, as if up for hours. Still, eggplant-colored clouds gathered with force above Shira’s mansion.

  The instant her slippered feet touched the smooth brick path, a bubble train pulled up alongside her. Zipping along the pink-sand coast, Charlie tried to convince herself that the Jackie O’s weren’t worth her time or energy. That she wasn’t there to find BFFs, but after a lifetime of globe-trotting and homeschooling, “friends” were something she ached to try.

  The chairlift stopped suddenly in the waiting room outside Shira’s office.

  “Morning, Charlie.” Fiona, Shira’s former No. 2—who Charlie guessed was now No. 1—greeted her. Her mud brown eyes and scraggly strawberry blond waves made her look like a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. She was wearing the same Bluetooth headset and hyper-alert expression that Charlie’s mother had worn for the last twelve years.

  “Hi Fiona.” Charlie slid off the chairlift and into the familiar scent of espresso, gardenias, and guava-enhanced glass cleaner. It used to smell like home. Now it just reminded her of what she had—or rather, what was gone.

  Alpha Academy news scrolled across the floor-to-ceiling windows like the ticker on CNN. Samantha Hays, Havilland Marie, and Cindy Shure caught in chemistry lab making makeup. Formulas were flawless but the edible blush has been confiscated… Discovery Channel reporter from Oprah House caught trying to wrestle a lion after someone said she was no Bindi Irwin… The silver cami and matching boy shorts outsold the other pajama options by 30 percent.…

  Charlie stared, waiting for news about Allie J and Darwin, but thankfully, nothing appeared.

  Yet.

  “Italian roast?” Fiona placed a white mug in front of Charlie. A brown stream peed down from the ceiling, filling it to the brim.

  “Thanks.” Charlie sipped reluctantly, keeping one eye trained on the ticker. The bitter liquid washed over her tongue. It was nothing like her mom’s, which awakened each taste bud and brain cell with a warm, spicy hello. Charlie took another sip. Little did Shira know that her specially-flown-in-from-Guatemala green coffee beans were never used by Bee Deery. Instead, instant coffee with a hint of cayenne pepper and maple syrup comprised Shira’s hourly fix.

  “What do you think? Is it even close to Bee’s? I’ve tried everything, but Shira’s not happy.” Fiona adjusted her Bluetooth. “I’m thinking of sending the cappuccino maker off for analysis.”

  “Is that why I’m here?” Charlie set her cup down. At least Shira was suffering in some small way. “The coffee?”

  “Not exactly.” Fiona quickly pressed a button on her aPod. Platinum drapes rose up from the floor and blocked the academy’s news feed, and thus any hints as to why Charlie had been summoned. Compensating for the sudden darkness, the floor illuminated, casting a hellish glow across the futuristic décor.

  Fiona touched her headset and nodded. “Yes, Shira.” She turned to Charlie. “You can go in now.”

  A panel in the wall slid up. Shira’s fine red hair was up in a high ponytail, and her skinny-but-muscled body was covered in a navy terry warm-up suit. Charlie wondered if there was a spin class in her native hell. Standing across from Shira, Charlie could see herself reflected in the mogul’s dark lenses. Shoulders hanging heavily at her side
s, she already looked defeated.

  From behind her Lucite Australia-shaped desk, Shira was spinning her black-on-white globe. Lit with red dots, it showed the places Brazille Enterprises had set up companies or headquarters. As a little girl, Charlie had thought of Shira as a fairy godmother. She’d watch with wonder when Shira spun the globe, her eyes closed, dropping a manicured nail on the orb. Poof! They’d be transported to wherever her finger had landed. Charlie scoffed at the memory.

  Finger poised midair, Shira touched down on Italy.

  “Oh, you kids did love Florence.” She twirled her red ponytail. “Not many twelve-year-olds appreciate it.”

  Charlie clenched her teeth, barring her mouth from speaking her mind. She knew this small talk was a tactic to make Charlie sweat. Sweat into a squishy malleable lump so she could be molded into utter compliance. But compliance with what?

  “The other boys snuck their skateboards into the Uffizi, but you and Darwin stood in front of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus for hours.” Shira swiped her full cup of coffee aside. “He just loved that painting!”

  Correction! Dar loved me—not the painting!

  “Did you try the Italian roast? It’s terrible.”

  “I prefer my mom’s,” Charlie stated flatly, ready to get whatever this was over with. “I’m staying away from Darwin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Shira forced down another sip and then winced in disdain. “Too meek.” She put down the cup. Charlie was pretty sure that wasn’t all she was putting down.

  Girly giggles suddenly filled the office. Shira peered over Charlie’s shoulder, shaking her head disapprovingly. Charlie swiveled to face a video of her suite mates, aPods in hand, racing across the beach. A wave of relief crashed inside Charlie’s chest. Maybe they hadn’t gone to Darwin’s after all!

  “What does violating the civil rights of my roommates have to do with me?”

  “There are some things that surveillance cameras simply can’t capture. I’m guessing Renee disabled the Alpha Positioning System. She is so Method. But I need to know who the ringleader was of this little field trip.”

  Charlie’s ears began to ring. So that was why she was here. Just when she’d thought there was nothing more Shira could do to degrade her, she’d found one last way. It was like a vampire asking for a napkin after bleeding her dry.