Movers and Fakers (17 page)

Allie was ready for her rom-com resolution, hopefully followed by a kiss-and-make-up moment. She Purelled in anticipation,
applied some Lip Venom plumping gloss, and tossed her back-to-blondish hair from one side to the other to make it full and
beach-tousled. The wind had picked up, and out on the beach it was now blowing fast and furious. Allie wished she had thought
to bring a jacket to wear over her sleeveless top.

She picked up a few stones from the beach and tossed them tentatively into the water.

Where was Darwin? Allie shuddered as a terrible thought crossed her mind: What if he had dragged her out here just to stand
her up? Over the past week, she had come to understand for the first time in her life what it meant to be a social bottom-feeder.
People would do all sorts of mean things to you if they thought they were justified, and she had hurt Darwin worst of all.
She didn’t think he was the type to pull a date-and-ditch, but it was impossible to be sure.

Allie wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to keep warm. She scanned scrubby trees that bordered the beach, willing Darwin
to materialize, and went over the talking points in the mini speech she’d been giving in her head for days.

Talking Points

• Allie is like the cargo hold of a 757—full of baggage. Luckily, so is Darwin! They can unpack together.

• Forgiveness is like butter. A little goes a long way, and it makes everything taste better.

• Seeing Darwin with AJ is like watching an adorable puppy playing with a skunk. Sooner or later, things are going to stink.

• Allie is like a mall. She has a lot going on inside of her, and for a limited time, everything is on sale.

When she finally spotted Darwin walking down the path, he smiled at her, his teeth as white as the hoodie he wore over a pair
of relaxed jeans.

“Hey,” he said. His hair flopped sweetly in his eyes until the wind lifted it up and blew it back into place. There was no
toothpick in Darwin’s mouth, but Allie could smell cinnamon on his breath. It smelled like hope.

“Hey.” Allie’s heart raced and her fingers tingled. She could hardly believe he was giving her another chance, but since he
was here with her all alone, her mind leapt to the only logical conclusion of the evening: that he still liked her, too.

“Thanks for coming. It means a lot.” Allie ran her fingers through her hair, but they got stuck in a snarl. The combo of a
fresh bleach job and a windy beach didn’t make for smooth tresses. She pulled her hand out of her tangled hair as gracefully
as possible, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake much when she gave her mini speech.

“Sure. I wanted to tell you—”

“Wait,” Allie interrupted. What if Darwin was going to say something bad? She needed to explain herself, and fast. “Let me
say a few things first. I owe you a huge apology. The biggest apology of all time, actually. I’m sorry for lying to you. I—I
know there is, like,
no excuse
for impersonating a pop singer to get into this school, and for letting you believe I was someone I wasn’t… but except for
my name and the singing and stuff, it was all me.” She looked into his eyes to see if anything she said was making an impact,
but Darwin was staring at the horizon like he was Free Willy getting ready to swim home.

“And”—Allie decided she might as well hit a few more talking points, so she continued, pacing along the beach—“I’m actually
a really loyal person. I may not be a songwriter, or even really know yet what I’m good at, but I think I will be good at
something someday. I have a lot going on inside of me.”

She snuck a look at Darwin to see how he responded to this statement, but his face was as unreadable as Allie’s French conjugation
worksheets.

“And, um, I think that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, which I know will be really, really tough…” She tried
to get a read on his forgiveness quotient, but he was just standing there staring at the ocean, adorable but inscrutable.
“We could start over, and really get to know the real us.”

Darwin took a breath and opened his mouth, and Allie crossed her fingers on both hands behind her back. Waiting was torture!
Then she crossed her toes, too.

“Oh, crap.”

Huh?

But then she followed his gaze and saw a small green light glowing in a palm tree just a few feet away.

Before Allie had time to fully digest what was happening, Darwin sprang into action. He unzipped his hoodie and threw it over
her head like she was 50 Cent on the way to a court appearance. That was when it finally clicked for Allie.
Ohmuhgud, the cameras are on!

And then came his cinnamon-scented whisper in her ear: “Now we run.”

Staggering along the beach wrapped in Darwin’s arms and unable to see a thing through the thick fabric of his Old Spice–infused
hoodie, Allie told herself not to scream. She needed to get out from under Darwin’s sweatshirt, delicious as it smelled. A
lifelong semi-claustrophobe after accidentally locking herself in a bathroom at the Red Lobster when she was seven, Allie
didn’t even like closing the dressing-room door all the way in Victoria’s Secret. There was only so long she could stand being
wrapped up like a mummy before passing out from panic. Already, her lungs felt like they were collapsing.

“Darwin?!” she sputtered. “I need to see! I need air!”

“Just a minute,” he whisper-panted. “There are cameras all over this beach!”

As Allie tried to fight off the feeling that her world was closing in on her, it dawned on her: Charlie had sold her out!
But why?! It didn’t make sense. Unless…

Ohmuhgud, Charlie still has feelings for Darwin.

Allie may have gotten away with a giant lie, but what Charlie had done was worse.
I’ve been set up!
Allie struggled to control her breathing as her thoughts spun wildly under Darwin’s hoodie.
And now I’m going down.

CENTER FOR THE ARTS

THEATER OF DIONYSUS

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 25TH

2:19 P.M.

“Again, ladies! And this time stay
on
the beat! This isn’t a soccer field! You’re not Beckham and the rhythm isn’t a ball—so why are you chasing after it?” Mimi
clapped her hands twice, her bangled wrists jingling like sleigh bells. She looked at Skye and her eyebrows shot up so high
they almost vanished behind her hair. Shaking her head, she obviously thought Skye was the worst of the bunch. What else was
new?

Skye plastered on a fake smile and moved into first position, too tired to care about impressing Mimi today. Preparing to
stumble her way through the sequence again, she glanced at the glowing digits above the hologram machine and saw class was
almost over.
About time!
She still couldn’t believe they had classes on
Saturdays
, and she had been dragging all day. She craved a long soak with a Lush Bath Bomb and an eight-hour date with her pillow.
Even so, last night’s party train ride was worth all of today’s agony.

“SLEEEEVES!” Mimi screeched like someone had snapped the strap of her leo.

Skye stopped, wincing at the sound of her awful nickname and the Christina Aguilera–esque decibel level of Mimi’s voice. “What!?”
she spat. Her patience was thinner than Prue after a week on the cabbage soup diet.

“Once again, Sleeves, you are behind the beat. Do you understand how
offensive
that is to my dancer’s eye?” Mimi paced as she yelled. “All of you! It’s a disgrace!”

Everyone sucked harder than the cast of
New Moon
today. Everyone but Triple, of course, who wouldn’t dream of risking a day’s practice for a party. Skye glare-stared at Triple’s
long, toned legs and butt-kissy smile. She was busy scissoring at the barre while Mimi frothed her way into rage-ville.

A visual inventory of Skye’s fellow dancers proved that the party and the mad dash after Charlie’s text had wrought damage
on everyone. Prue’s hair looked like she’d stuck a fork in an electrical socket, and her posture had a bigger hunch than Page
Six. Ophelia’s flawless skin had sprouted three chin zits and her arms flapped through the routine like they belonged to a
newly axed Thanksgiving turkey. Sadie was so sleep deprived that she’d managed to fall flat on her face at breakfast. She
looked as if she’d wrestled a bowl of yogurt and lost. Strands of her hair were coated in still-wet Dannon low-fat lemon,
and her upper lip was puffier than a down jacket.

“Go home, everyone! Andrea, you too. Try not to breathe the same air as these sick sacks. And Sleeves…”

“Yes, Mimi?” Skye did her best to sound humble, stifling a yawn.

“Don’t come back until you get some sleep, an attitude adjustment, and a good under-eye concealer!” Mimi flounced out of the
studio, wrapping a scarf around her mouth and nose as she left.

Ugh!

The other dancers gathered up their things and crawled into track suits or yoga pants. “
Totally
worth it,” yawned Prue. “I kissed Dingo! At least I think it was Dingo…” She looked around for confirmation, as if one of
the bun-heads would know which of Shira’s identical twins she’d locked lips with.

“Well, it wasn’t Taz!” giggled Skye. “Because he was all mine.”

“I kissed Dingo, too,” Ophelia admitted, grinning at Prue as she stuck two chopsticks into her hair to hold it in place. “
And
Melbourne.”

“Ah-mazing!” Skye stretched her hamstring as the sweaty group stepped into the elevator. “Tomorrow, let’s start planning the
next one. Today, I’m all about sleep.”

The elevator doors opened and Skye twirled out into the bright afternoon, still buzzing with warm fuzzies for Taz in spite
of Mimi vomiting negativity all over her. She didn’t have to think about her dance teacher for the rest of the day, which
meant a full eighteen hours (if you counted dreaming) to obsess over boys, parties, and post-party detox regimens.

“Razzma-Taz!” she sang, doing her version of Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” booty-shake just for fun.

“Sleeves!” Triple whisper-yelled. She grabbed Skye’s arm as it wiggled, beckoning to have a ring put on it. “Kill it. Brazille
Boy, three o’clock.”

“Wha—?”
Ohmuhgud, is Taz here?
Skye’s spirits soared.
He couldn’t wait to see me again!
She spun around, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the blazing afternoon sun. “Where?”

Triple pointed in the direction of the jungle, where a Brazille Boy leaned against an açaí palm, looking at her expectantly.
Skye blinked hard: Her expectation of Taz’s chiseled jaw and confident smile was dashed by the reality of Sydney’s lean frame
and tousled hair. His brooding features were the opposite of his brother’s open ones, and he looked especially tortured when
he realized she’d spotted him. It was like ordering a burger and fries and getting a complicated salad instead—Syd might technically
have been the better boy for Skye, but Taz was the only beefcake that would satisfy her craving.

“Oh, it’s Syd.” Skye stated the obvious in a flat voice. Realizing all the bun-heads’ eyes were bouncing from her to Syd and
back again, she managed to paste on her third faux-happy face of the day. “See you later, girls. Get some rest, mmmkay?” She
strode away from the cluster of dancers, tuning out their whispered postulations and the sounds of their furiously texting
fingers.

Skye took a deep breath as she approached Syd. He smiled and held out his hand, clutching a bouquet of plumerias and wild
jasmine.
Smells strong, looks weird,
thought Skye.

Her face aching from the effort of the forced smile, she took the bouquet. “Thank you, Syd,” she breathed through her mouth.

“I brought you this, too.” He thrust a slim paperback into Skye’s hand.

“Leaves of Grass,”
Skye read. “Walt Whitman. Um . . . thanks.” She tucked the book under her arm, not wanting to make a big deal out of it,
considering (1) she hated poetry that wasn’t set to hip-hop beats, (2) Whitman went so far over her head in eighth-grade English
class that she had to buy an old paper from Missy MacDowell at the high school. Missy famously overcharged for her so-called
perfect papers, but this one only got a B- and Missy refused to give Skye a refund. Bad memories. And, most important, (3)
she didn’t want to give Syd the impression that she was into him, even for a moment, because (4) she was about to break his
heart, like,
now
.

“What Whitman says about connecting to nature really applies for me here, on this island,” mumbled Syd. “I thought you might
like it.” His eyes reminded her of the ocean—deep and unpredictable. Skye took a breath and hoped she wouldn’t see them fill
up with salt water.

As an Alpha of the DSL Daters, Skye had boys falling at her feet since sixth grade, and that sometimes led to the inevitable
squashed heart.

“Uh… Syd.” She smiled, twirling once and landing in second position.

“Why didn’t you invite me to your party?” Syd blurted, staring fiercely at a tree about a foot above Skye’s head. “I mean,
I know I told you it was a bad idea, but I was right. You should be focusing on you and your dancing—not on stupid stuff like
parties. You’re throwing your life away.”

Had Syd just called parties stupid? Skye stared at him, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Syd was
so
not the one, and now he’d proven it for the second time.

“Um, Syd?” She executed a double pirouette, regaining her confidence. “My parties aren’t stupid. And I don’t think I’m throwing
my life away. Just the opposite, actually. Life is about having fun. And since you don’t believe that, I really don’t think
the two of us have much more to say to each other.”

Ka-blam!
The words hit Syd like a punch in the stomach. Skye almost felt bad, but it had to be done.

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Syd.” And she was. Sorry she had ever gotten involved with a judgmental wuss like him, who could dish it out but
couldn’t take it.

“You will be, if you aren’t now,” Syd squeaked. “Taz isn’t going to care about you for more than a week. He has fem-ADD.”