Alphas (10 page)

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 sides, 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.

“You want me to tattle?”

Shira reclined into in her black shock chair. It hissed and then acquiesced. “
Tattle
is such a childish word. I’m asking you to educate me”—she grin-paused—“the way I’ve offered to educate you.”

“
Offered
?” Charlie shook her head in disbelief, the picture becoming HD clear. If Darwin and Bee were the price of admission, this
was the first tuition bill.

“Come on, Charlie Brown-nose. These girls aren’t your friends. You know that.”

Charlie’s cheeks burned with shame. “If you know all this, why do you need me?”

“There are blind spots,” Shira explained, shutting off the video. “And I need someone I can trust.”

“You promised to treat me like the other girls.”

“I promised to let you into Alpha Academy. Nothing more.” Shira gave her a
too bad you didn’t read the fine print
leer.

Shira was trusted by billions. She ran Female Empowerment Workshops, funded girls’ scholarships, backed women-owned start-ups.
But for all her success and generosity, Shira didn’t have any real girlfriends. She’d always said that friendship was the
only luxury she couldn’t afford. But just because something was beyond Shira’s price point didn’t mean it had to be out of
Charlie’s. And just like that, she felt the tide of anger ebb and her sense of power flow. Shira
needed
her.

“I won’t do it. A true alpha doesn’t step on others when climbing to the top. She doesn’t have to.” Charlie chin-pointed to
on the copy of
Audacity: The Shira Brazille Story
on the floating shelf behind her desk. “Page five hundred twenty-seven.”

Shira blinked. Once, twice, three times. Then a soothing British-accented voice sounded throughout the campus. “First period
commences in thirty minutes.” Charlie fought back a wave of homesickness. The voice was her mother’s.

Shira cleared her throat. “Better go put on your uniform.” She lifted a gold stick off her desk and began twirling it over
her thumb like a mini baton. The skeleton key unlocked every door on campus, including the underground passages, which provided
a stealth way for Shira to traverse the campus. If only Charlie knew a way to lock her in there for good.

Charlie stood, slightly dizzy. “Sorry. I wish I could help,” she tried, not wanting to burn the only bridge that connected
her to Darwin. She backed toward the exit.

“But you
can
.” Shira slammed the key on her desk, somewhere between Brisbane and Barossa Valley. “You have until noon today to give me
a name.”

“What if I can’t?” Charlie asked, her palms pressed against the doorframe.

“There’s no
can’t
in ‘alpha.’ Just
a-ha
!” Shira smirked. “Page forty-nine.” She pressed a button near the Great Barrier Reef and the door began to lower. “G’day.”

Charlie managed to slip out just before it sliced her head off. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Shira.

Allie faced one of the five pendant mirrors in the Jackie O bathroom. Being the fairest of them all used to be the only thing
she wanted. But staying up all night trying to write a song for Darwin had made her want to trade a little of that beauty
for the talent Allie J had. She hadn’t even been able to make it through the chorus before running out of words that rhymed
with
Brazille.

Leaning in, she inspected her roots. She’d washed a little Allie J away in the shower this morning, but her part was still
intact. Beneath the mirror, the glass sink was filled with fakeover beauty products and concealed with a towel.

“First period commences in thirty minutes,” announced a British woman’s voice.

A chorus of sleepy moans came from the bedroom.

“The future starts when we wake up in the morning,” Thalia chirped. “Does anyone know who said that?”

“You?” mumbled Skye, her eyes probably still closed.

The other girls giggled lazily.

“Miles Davis,” Thalia announced with vim.

Allie hurried through the rest of her fakeover regimen before the other girls stormed in.

Mole? Check. Green contacts? Check. Blond roots covered? Check. Bare feet? Unfortunately, check.

The girls rushed in, wrapped in matching bathrobes and displaying various stages of hair trauma. Skye’s blond curls were now
bed-dreads, and Renee’s pink updo was a down-don’t. Triple’s long straight extensions were still perfectly intact, just like
the rest of her.

“Where’s Charlie?” Allie asked, suddenly terrified she was hiding in one of the stalls, watching her transformation. She
had
seemed suspicious.

“No clue.” Skye splashed water on her face. “She was gone when we woke up.”

“Perhaps she had an unfortunate accident with some shaving cream.” Renee lifted an eyebrow and tapped her chin, playing the
villainess.

Skye giggled. Allie J wanted to. But she was too paranoid. Had Charlie heard her showering at six fifteen? Smelled the toxic
traces of black hair dye? Noticed that her left contact had gone AWOL on the floor for at least six minutes?

One by one, Triple kicked open the five stalls, toes pointed, legs straight. “Nope. Not in there. Maybe she’s turning us in?”

Skye, Renee, and Allie exchanged a terrified glance. But so far there had been no word of the beach-breach. And if everything
stayed that way, they could go for round two tonight.

“Hey Triple, how long have you had back problems?” Skye asked with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“I don’t have back problems.” Triple sauntered to her sink.

“Oh.” Skye spit. “I thought, you know, ’cause your line is a little off. Sorry.” She spit again. “My bad.”

Suddenly, Shira’s face appeared in their mirrors. Her auburn hair was in a sleek ponytail, her black glasses firmly in position.

“Ahhhhhhh!” they all screamed.

“G’day,” she snickered. “No need to panic.”

Allie waved her hand in front of the glass, wondering if Shira could actually see them. But Shira didn’t wave back. Instead,
she cleared her throat and continued.

“William Shakespeare once said, ‘We know what we are, but know not what we may be.’ Well, what you may be starts today.”

“Is she looking at us?” Skye asked, finger-combing her hair.

“Doubt it,” Allie scoffed, pretending she hadn’t just wondered the same thing.

“Your schedules, like your meals, have been tailored to maximize your potential. At Alphas, I expect you to hone your talents,
but also to stretch in ways you’d never imagined.”

“No problem there,” Triple grunted, lifting her leg over her head.

Skye rolled her turquoise eyes.

“There will be no transfers, no add/drops, and no exceptions. Good luck and g’day.” Shira was gone and the mirrors returned
to their regularly scheduled makeup sessions.

The girls’ aPods beeped, and they raced to retrieve them from the bedroom. Allie lifted hers from the sink once everyone had
gone.

On-screen, a bronze envelope with an
A
seal opened, and a virtual schedule slid out. Every hour of her school day was mapped out in a grid.

Serious-leh? All that in one day? Wasn’t studying Allie J a full course load in itself?

The Jackie O’s rushed back in, uniformed and comparing schedules. They flatironed, eyelined, and spritzed in record time.

“Allie J, come on!” Skye zipped up her makeup bag. “You’re not even dressed.”

Allie placed a protective hand on her towel-covered stash. “Go without me. I’ll catch up.”

Once the girls were gone, Allie quickly hid her things, got dressed, and checked herself in the mirror one last time. A girl
with green eyes, black hair, silver uniform, and a cheek mole stared back at her. Allie covered her mouth and tittered.
Was she really doing this?

This inside joke was far more delicious than anything she ever shared with Trina…

… except Fletcher.

A fresh wave of heartbreak sucker punched Allie right in the gut. She hated that they could hurt her from hundreds of miles
away. If only he could see how good her legs looked in the pleated mini. Or what a crazy stunt she was pulling. Or how bad
Trina’s skin got when she was PMS-ing. OMG! What if he did know and he was over her? What if he broke up with her already?
What if he was trying to contact…