Alphas #1

by Lisi Harrison

  Every set of eyes in the room fixed on the alpha. It was quiet enough to hear a bobby pin drop. Renee’s smile began to fade. Or was that the moon losing interest?

  “And just as Hera and Athena punished the Greeks whose egos were outsize, I too will not tolerate hubris.”

  The moon faded even more.

  “What did I do?” Renee pleaded, her body suddenly shrouded in darkness.

  “You went to see my boys.”

  Skye’s feet tingled. Ohmuhgud, was she going to be next?

  “And, as I stated earlier, that is against the rules.” A frosty breeze rushed inside the cracked ceiling, turning Shira’s breath into a cloud of anger. “You are no longer welcome at Alpha Academy. Your muse has your luggage. Exit at once,” she thundered.

  Thalia appeared on stage with two rolly suitcases—Skye hadn’t even noticed that she’d left the table—and guided her toward the exit. Renee struggled to escape Thalia’s grip, but the tall, butter-colored muse held firm.

  “I told you Charlie was a spy!” Renee managed to shout before one last tug from Thalia had her at the door. Renee’s violet eyes welled and two rivers of mascara-infused tears trailed down her cheeks. “I told you alllll!”

  The instant she was gone, Shira continued.

  “From this moment on, I will banish students as I see fit. There are countless temptations in this world and they come in all forms. Hold on to yourself. Follow your dreams. Obey my rules. And you just might be the one to win it all. Good luck.”

  Shira sank back down through the opening in the stage, leaving ninety-nine girls in a state of complete shock. For a few moments everyone stayed put, as if glued to the Lucite seats. Then Oprah’s muse stood and stewarded her girls to the exit. The spell was broken, and everyone filed out of the Pavilion in silence.

  Skye carefully put one gladiator-sandaled foot in front of the other, walking two paces behind her remaining housemates. She’d always pushed the limits back in Westchester—there had been secret rooms used to spy on boys, country club break-ins, and a black-and-white roof party with all the boys’ sports teams and just her four BFFs. But expulsion wasn’t something that happened to girls like her. It happened to boys who smoked cigarettes and drew anatomically correct pictures of teachers. And if it did happen to her, she’d have to go home in ignominy, with all of Westchester knowing she wasn’t really an alpha. The realization slammed into her with the force of a speeding SUV: This place would end in tragedy to for all but one girl.

  And Skye had to be that one. She wanted it—and her mother expected it.

  The second she got back to Jackie O, Skye rushed upstairs to bury her true feelings in the one place no one would ever think to look: her lavender ballet shoe.

  HAD No. 4: Stay on Charlie’s good side.

  HAD No. 5: Claim Renee’s closet.

  HAD No. 6: Be the alpha.

  16

  JACKIE O

  BEDROOM

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

  10:13 P.M.

  Later that night, Charlie slipped her nightgown over her head—an extra-long silver tee that grew or lost sleeves based on her body temp—and stared at herself in one of the floating bathroom mirrors. The same medium brown eyes stared back at her, but she didn’t feel the same. In four short hours she’d gone from informant to assassin. And thanks to a lucky guess by Renee, everyone knew. Yesterday she’d been desperate for friends. Tonight she would have settled for eye contact.

  A minty lump formed in the back of her throat. It tasted like toothpaste and guilt. She wouldn’t miss Renee—or the name Charlie Brown-nose. But if she’d known that naming names would result in public expulsion, would she have chosen differently—or even at all?

  In that instant, her resentment toward Shira quadrupled. She had given up her loved ones for the opportunity to be here. And for what?

  From the safety of a stall, Charlie broke through the firewall and texted her mum for the fourth time that day.

  Charlie: She expelled Renee. All my fault. If I’d known this was what she wanted me for, I never would have accepted. You’d still be here. I’d still be with Darwin.

  Bee: And you’d be in New Jersey, not living up to your full potential.

  Charlie: As a spy?

  Bee: As an alpha.

  Tears gathered behind Charlie’s eyes. It felt like forever since anyone had said something nice to her.

  Bee: Thought you were going to turn in the songwriter.

  Charlie: Changed my mind. Long story.

  How was she supposed to explain she loved Darwin too much to get rid of his new girlfriend? It sounded crazy. But she couldn’t cause him any more pain than she already had. No matter how much it hurt to see him and Allie J together. Besides, Renee had caught on to the spy thing. And Charlie had wanted to make sure she stayed quiet before she spread the word. A lot of good that had done.

  Bee: I’ve got time.

  More than anything, Charlie wanted to ask her mother why Shira had put her in the writing class in the first place. Was it simply an attempt to twist the knife she had already lodged in her heart? To punish her for a lifetime of adoring Darwin by forcing her to watch him with his new crush? Bee was the only one who understood Shira’s mind. But Charlie didn’t want to go there. Why make Bee worry about her daughter’s happiness? She’d already sacrificed so much.

  Charlie: It’s OK. How r u?

  Bee: Great! Got a job at channel 4 as a producer. Shira wrote me a brilliant rec. Sent her the coffee recipe as a thank-you.

  Charlie: Congrats, mum! You deserve it. You’ve been producing Shira’s life for years.

  Bee: All 4 u.

  Charlie: I hear your voice every day on the announcements. Makes me miss u more!

  Bee: Miss you too! Night-night. Don’t let the alphas bite.

  Once she logged off, Charlie began sobbing. Even though she’d spent the majority of her life traveling to foreign and unfamiliar places, she’d never felt more lost. More uncertain of her role in the universe and less motivated to figure it out. Why bother? With no one to share it with, success would be just another reminder that she was alone.

  After restoring the firewall and washing her face, Charlie pressed her forehead against the bathroom’s frosted-glass wall. A day at Alpha Academy was beginning to feel like a season of 24—how could so much happen in so little time?

  Back in the bedroom, the girls were sharing moisturizer and playing Survivor: Alpha Island Celebrity Edition, a game to decide which famous women would make Shira’s cut. They were clearly too afraid that the topic they really wanted to discuss—Renee’s axing—might get them expelled too.

  “Tyra?” Triple said, rubbing sage-scented cream into her bony elbows.

  “Alpha,” Allie J determined.

  “Lauren Conrad?” Skye asked, twisting her blond waves into a high bun.

  Allie J banged on her pillow like it was a buzzer. “Alpha!”

  “You watch The Hills?” Triple lifted her arched brows in surprise.

  “Um, only because they wanted to use one of my songs for the open. But I turned them down. Too superficial.”

  “Know your history, Allie J!” Skye admonished. “Didn’t you watch Laguna Beach? Once a beta, always a beta. Vanessa Hudgens?”

  “Not alpha,” Triple insisted.

  “How can you say that?” Allie J asked vehemently. “Record deal. Huge box office. And Zac?”

  “You can’t be alpha if your boyfriend is more famous than you,” Triple duhed, slamming the cap on the moisturizer as if her word was final.

  Allie J turned to Charlie and smirked. “So true.”

  An invisible hand grabbed Charlie’s heart and squeezed.

  “See anything you’d like to report?” Allie J snapped.

  Charlie lay down on her bed and looked up at the dome skylight overhead. The moon was a smile-shaped sliver, and a single star glowed beside it. She thought of Darwin’s mouth and the freckle she had kissed so many times.

  All
ie J pointed at her wrist, where a watch should be. “We should get going.”

  “No way. Mission’s off.” Triple ran the leftover moisturizer through her nonexistent split ends.

  “Why?” Allie J hissed through clenched teeth like a rookie ventriloquist. She was accessorizing her bedtime tank–boy shorts combo with a thin cotton scarf. She looked half rollergirl, half hipster.

  “Were you not there when Renee got chopped?” Skye eased herself back against her pillows and eyed Charlie with a mix of thanks and respect. She patted the lavender shoe that hung from her lamp. For a moment she looked like she was homesick too.

  Charlie smiled back shyly.

  “Big picture, Allie J.” Skye extended her graceful arms, palms up. “Boy you met yesterday.” She raised her left hand to shoulder level. “Or dream you’ve had since you were in vitro.”

  Charlie snickered. You mean in utero, she wanted to say but didn’t dare. Besides, she had respect for Skye and her newfound priorities. Charlie had never imagined the girl who used boys’ lips to blot her lip gloss would lead the charge away from them. But here she was, holding Allie J back like a sports bra.

  “Why can’t we have both?” Allie J countered.

  A nauseating wave of déjà vu flooded Charlie and she fell back against her comforter. After all, she’d just been confronted with the same choice yesterday and had regretted her decision ever since.

  “Because both isn’t an option right now, okay?” Skye snapped. “We all have to make sacrifices for the things we want most. Believe me, I don’t like it either.” She switched off her light and turned onto her side.

  Something about what Skye said must have resonated with Allie J too, because she released a defeated sigh and climbed into her bed. “I guess.”

  “Smart choice,” Thalia called from downstairs. Charlie had forgotten about her exceptional hearing. “As the Dalai Lama says, ‘Sleep is the best meditation.’” And with that, the overhead lights flicked off.

  Charlie sighed with relief and climbed under her covers. One by one, the girls’ breathing slowed and steadied. Skye released a purr-snore, and Triple covered herself to the eyebrows with her comforter.

  Charlie flipped onto her side and saw two green catlike eyes glaring at her in the darkness.

  “I’m watching you,” Allie J whispered. And then she rolled over.

  Charlie began to sweat, and her nightgown adjusted by auto-rolling up the sleeves and shortening the hem. The dwindling tank made her think of how she acted around Shira, shrinking into herself so she wouldn’t get in the way.

  Well, it was time for all that to change. Time to show Shira she was more than a spy for hire. Time to show her roommates she could be trusted. And time to show Darwin that she was doing it all for him.

  17

  THE PAVILION

  AMBROSIA BANQUET HALL

  TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH

  7:37 A.M.

  The vibe at breakfast was more grave than a cemetery until Allie’s aPod vibrated.

  Darwin!

  It had been well over ten hours since their last correspondence, and she’d been starting to wonder if getting her poetic license publicly suspended by Keifer had turned him off. Angling away from Thalia and her superhuman senses, she clicked to read. But it was simply another spy joke from “anonymous.” Just like the ones before it.

  Q: Why does Shira wear dark glasses?

  A: She has Charlie for eyes.

  A chorus of suppressed snickers followed. But Allie was the only one who dared peek at Charlie’s reaction. Everyone else was too afraid of being Reneed.

  Allie waited to see if Charlie would shovel down her eggs Benedict, like one of those remorseless characters on The Sopranos whose appetites were unaffected by their crimes. Instead she drew a sad face in the low-fat, protein-enriched hollandaise sauce pooling on her plate, then went Jackson Pollock on it with the prongs of her fork.

  Allie sighed. Shira wasn’t in the cafeteria in person, but she was there in weather. Fat raindrops pelted the glass dome, each loud splat sounding like the blade of a guillotine drop-slicing someone’s head off.

  Prue, the redhead dancer from Chanel House, approached the table with a girl named Soofie, who was famous for inventing a new, nondamaging hair-straightening process she’d trademarked as Soofer Smooth. “We’re so sorry about Renee,” Prue said in a whisper, as if Renee had died. There had been a steady stream of girls stopping by to honor Renee’s memory and pay their respects to the Jackie O’s.

  Triple shrugged, then stirred her Dancer’s Detox tea. “She’ll be fine. I heard Dancing with the D-List is coming back for another season.”

  Prue laughed with her shoulders.

  “Either way.” Soofer leaned a little closer to Charlie. “I’m sure whoever told on her had a perfectly good reason for it.”

  Allie’s stomach sank on behalf of the ousted actress. Sure she’d miss her partner in crush-crime, but truth be told, they’d only known each other for a day. The bigger issue was what could have been. Or rather, what should have been. Wouldn’t any normal girl with the power to vote someone off the island choose her ex’s new picnic partner? Why was Allie still here?

  Their aPods vibrated again. This time Allie knew better than to get her hopes up. Still, she did. And once again, another anonymous aJoke landed on her screen where Darwin’s latest text should have been.

  Q: Did you hear about Charlie’s new clothing line?

  A: It’s called Spyware.

  “Totally immature.” Prue smiled at Charlie, clearly trying to get on her good side.

  Charlie pushed her plate aside, obviously over more than breakfast, and Allie washed another bite of mushroom goo down with a sip of lemon spritzer, musing over how quickly life here had changed. Just yesterday, everyone had been fighting for the upper hand. Today it was for survival.

  “Where are the boys?” Allie asked, after Prue finally left.

  “Sydney said they’re stuck eating with Shira,” Skye reported.

  “Since when is Sydney texting you?” Triple casually ripped off a piece of her croissant. “I thought he liked Renee.”

  “It’s a text, not a marriage proposal,” Skye defended lightly.

  Allie felt her fake eggs creep back up her throat. If Sydney had gotten over Renee in a matter of hours, what did that mean for her and Darwin? She wasn’t sure she could handle another rejection—or another identity change. She knew her hair couldn’t. Any more dye and it would break off at the roots.

  Allie lifted her spoon, her reflection fun-housing in the convex silver base. She took comfort in seeing her beauty in the same way she imagined a singer would be happy to hear her own voice after a bout of laryngitis—glad her gift was still there even in times of crisis. But why wasn’t it enough to compel Darwin to call her?

  “Good morning, Becca Nash here from the Serena/Venus House.” A girl with slicked-back hair shook everyone’s hand but Allie’s, which managed to grab a fork just in time. Purell was scarce on Alpha Island. Better rude than ew-ed.

  “I’m a journalism major, and let me just say, you haven’t felt wind until you’ve tried to hold onto a microphone in that tornado simulator Shira built for us.” She held her smile, then turned to Charlie. “Not that I’m complaining. I mean, I loved it. Blew the zits right off my face. And the experience was invaluable. I hope to get a lot of more it over the year.” She smiled again. “A lot.”

  Charlie tried to return the smile. It looked more like she was holding in a burp.

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  The girls looked at each other in confusion.

  “‘It’s better to know some of the questions than all of the answers,’” Thalia chimed in. “James Thurber.”

  “Shoot,” Triple finally said, gathering her straight hair over one shoulder, then angling her body left.

  “Great.” Becca lifted a mascara wand–size video camera; the red record light was already on. Suddenly the girls appeared live on
the Pavilion’s oversize plasma.

  Becca licked her bleached teeth and began. “Skye Hamilton, as a roommate of both the recently expelled Renee Foraday and Charlotte Deery—who has been indicted for espionage in the court of public opinion—what can you tell us?”

  Everyone’s attention was fixed on the broadcast, the scraps of their English muffins and energy smoothies forgotten on their tables. The Pavilion was utterly silent. Not a single utensil clinked.

  Charlie lowered her head into her hands.

  Skye smiled at the camera and cleared her throat. “No comment.”

  “So, do you think Charlie should remain at Alpha Academy?” Becca pressed.

  “I’m not a spy, okay!” Charlie practically shouted.

  Everyone gasped. Becca turned her mascara-camera toward her.

  “I believe you.” Skye gently touched her hand, then checked to make sure it was in the camera shot. “But can you prove it?”

  Charlie balked. “What? How could I possibly—”

  “I think it would really put people at ease and help clear your name if you could just—”

  “Swear on Darwin’s life,” Allie interrupted. Charlie was neither gifted nor talented and had less drive than a Kia. The only alpha thing about her was her access to Shira Brazille. And Skye was so obviously afraid of being next, she was concealing Charlie’s true identity like Cover Girl.

  “That’s stupid,” Charlie hissed.

  “Do it! Swear on Darwin’s life that you’re not Shira’s spy and we’ll believe you.”

  “I can’t, that’s crazy. We’re not three years old.” Charlie pushed back from the table with a screech and raced for the exit.

  Skye arched one blond eyebrow directly at the camera lens.

  “Well, I guess that answers that question,” Triple put in.

  With an outstretched arm, the reporter turned the camera on herself. “This is Becca Nash with a self-produced update. Because reporting is my passion and no news is no fun.”