Movers and Fakers (8 page)

“That’s gonna get ugly,” muttered Charlie. If there was one thing she knew, it was that nothing made Darwin angrier than being
lied to. She thought back to the week they spent in Alexandria, Egypt, two years ago. Shira was doing a special on Cleopatra
as the first feminist, and everywhere Shira went, they followed. Charlie and Syd had punked Darwin, wrapping Mel in bandages
and having him pop up from behind a tomb in one of the pyramids. When he’d found out Charlie was involved, he’d looked into
her eyes and asked her never to lie to him again. “Some guys are cool with less than one hundred percent honesty,” he’d said.
“I’m not one of them.”

Charlie’s stomach gurgled with guilt. She had promised she would never lie to him again, and look at her now. Darwin had no
idea that she’d traded their relationship for the chance to share the same high school. And as if that weren’t bad enough,
she’d encouraged him to be with a girl who made
The Hills
look like
PBS NewsHour
.

Allie was in front of him now, trying to embrace him in the shadows of the palm trees, but Darwin shook her off. His face
twisted in a mask of anger and hurt; Darwin waved his hand in the direction of Shira’s compound. The other hand pointed emphatically
in the direction of the dorms. A few seconds later, Allie backed away from him and ran toward the beach, looking like Shakespeare’s
Juliet moments before desperately drinking poison.

I know that feeling.
Charlie shuddered, remembering the soul-ripping sensation of ending things with Darwin.

As Allie disappeared down the pebble path toward the dorms and Skye began to launch into another rant about liars, schemers,
and poseurs throughout history, Charlie’s aPod beeped.

SHIRA:
I NEED TO SEE YOU ASAP. TAKE THE TRAIN TO THE RESIDENCE.

What now?
Charlie stood staring down at her phone, the now-familiar sensation of Shira-phobia constricting her lungs. Was she getting
busted after all?

Ping!

SHIRA:
NOW!

Alpha Island’s translucent train hissed to a vibrating halt in front of her. Everyone called it the bubble train, since it
looked like a giant string of Marge Simpson–style pearls, a line of bubble compartments connected by thin white tubes. The
door to a car whooshed open and a recording of Bee’s soothing British voice said, “Welcome aboard, Charlie.”

Thanks, Mom,
Charlie thought-answered back.
Wish you were here.

“You. Of course. Perfect.”

Charlie jumped, slamming her head against the top of the door frame in surprise. Darwin was slouched in the corner of the
car, looking at Charlie like she was a plate of food left out overnight—definitely gross, possibly salmonella spreading. A
cinnamon-scented toothpick dangled from his pursed lips.

“Ouch!” Charlie rubbed her head. “You scared me!”

“Whoops,” muttered Darwin, staring out the window at the line of Joshua trees on the other side of the train.

“I’m not following you,” Charlie said, doing her best to ignore his tone. She clambered aboard before the train left without
her. “Your mom wants to see me.”

The only place to sit was next to Darwin, and Charlie pressed herself against the wall of the car to make sure there was an
inch of empty space between them. Before their breakup, the seat would have seemed too big for them. Now, the heat vibrating
off his body felt like a warning.

As the train snaked through the campus, the short ride began to feel like an eternity. A pang of longing shot through Charlie,
but she took a deep breath and mentally slapped it down. Would there ever be a time when seeing Darwin wouldn’t make her wonder
how she could have given him up?

“I don’t trust one single girl on this island. You’re all trustbusters. Faking your identities, spying for my mom…” He trailed
off, looking out the window at the tangled forest, as impenetrable as the barrier between them.

“I’m not actually spying for your mom,” she snapped, taking his poisonous bait. “I can’t believe you would actually think
that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said, pulling out his phone and examining the time.

Charlie clamped her mouth shut and sat on her hands, worried that if she lost track of them she would try to touch his shoulder
or run her fingers over the floppy light brown waves of his hair. She couldn’t nurse him through Allie’s betrayal, not when
she’d worked so hard to help the two of them get together. And even though she wanted to tell him the truth about everything,
about the breakup, about Shira forcing it on her in exchange for allowing her the chance to become an Alpha, she knew she
couldn’t. She made a silent pledge to herself: From now on, the only Brazille she was going to kiss was Shira’s butt. Otherwise,
what was the point of any of this?

Just then, the bubble train doors whooshed open and Bee’s voice announced their destination.
Wish me luck, Mom.
Charlie followed Darwin up the walkway to the back entrance, a sliding glass door that led into the kitchen. She stared dejectedly
at the backs of his blue Converse, worn thin at the heels. He slid the door open so roughly she thought for a second it might
slide off its hinges and shatter into a million pieces, but it stayed on its track.

Just like I’m going to do.

Charlie walked into the kitchen and waited there uncertainly. She wasn’t about to follow Darwin, who ran upstairs without
even saying good-bye.

JACKIE O

SKYE’S BED

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21ST

11:01 P.M.

Sacrificing her beauty sleep for boys, Skye lifted up the comforter she was hiding under in order to get some air and to make
sure the sound of her thumbs furiously tapping the keyboard of her aPod hadn’t woken anyone. Charlie was gone, and Allie’s
bed was still empty. After the assembly and her humiliating public breakup with Darwin, Allie hadn’t bothered to come back
to Jackie O. Skye wondered if she
ever
would. People could survive on tropical islands by catching fish and sleeping in caves. After what Allie had already pulled
off, anything seemed possible. Then again, maybe Allie was somewhere begging Shira to be sent home. Skye didn’t know which
was worse: going home defeated or staying here and being hated.

To Skye’s left, Triple Threat drooled on her pillow, enjoying the infuriatingly deep sleep of the guiltless and the shallow.
Skye could detect a half smile twitching intermittently on Triple’s lips. And next to Triple lay the newest member of the
Jackie O house.

The real Allie J.

To avoid any more confusion between herself and Allie the Imposter, she had asked that everyone call her AJ. She sung-snored
in her sleep, her small, pale frame splayed out diagonally on her canopied bed. Skye narrowed her aquamarine eyes and studied
AJ’s face. She couldn’t decide if the sing-snoring was cute or annoying.

Not my problem,
she reminded herself, swiveling her head back and forth until her vertebrae popped. She needed to keep her friends close,
her enemies closer, and the boys right where she wanted them—in the palm of her hand.

Grinning, she dove back under her comforter to continue her text-a-thon with Taz and Syd. If Vegas knew how well she juggled
boys, she’d be asked to star in Cirque du Soleil. Neither brother knew about the other, and Skye planned to keep it that way.

Skye:
I have some questions. R U ready?

Taz:
Bring it awn!

Syd:
I’m an open book.

Skye wished she had some friends around to figure out which Brazille was “the one.” But in the absence of besties, she had
come up with a questionnaire to help her decide. It was like a text-only version of that old show
The Dating Game
, only without the seventies’ feathered haircuts and campy theme music.

Q:
Which flavor of ice cream describes you best?

Taz:
Nutty Coconut

Syd:
Passion Fruit

Skye:
Berry Berry Extraordinary

Q:
What popular TV show title best describes your life?

Taz:
The Young and the Restless

Syd:
Family Guy

Skye:
Lost

Q:
Name three things you would take with you to a deserted island.

Taz:
Fifty friends, an amazing stereo system, and a fully stocked yacht!

Syd:
A notebook, a pen, and you.

Skye:
Music and someone to dance with. And lip gloss.

Q:
What’s the craziest thing you ever did?

Taz:
Skateboarded for twenty minutes on the Great Wall of China before I got arrested by the Chinese police.

Syd:
I rewrote the end of one of Salman Rushdie’s novels and sent it to him. He wrote back and said he liked it….

Skye:
Coming to Alpha Academy!

Q:
What’s your favorite quality in a girl?

Taz:
Spontaneity

Syd:
Passion

Skye:
Loyalty

Q:
What’s your favorite quality in a guy?

Taz:
Adventurousness

Syd:
Humility

Skye:
Hotness? Kidding!

Q:
If you had $100 to spend on our date, how would you spend it?

Taz:
Trapeze lessons.

Syd:
I’d hand it to you and watch you spend it.

Skye:
An underground dance troupe performance followed by an after party somewhere exclusive!

Q:
What celeb do people say you look like?

Taz:
Robert Pattinson!

Syd:
I’m an original.

Skye:
Taylor Swift. It’s the hair.

Q:
Least favorite quality in a girl?

Taz:
Shyness

Syd:
Apathy

Skye:
Fakeness

Q:
Biggest fear?

Taz:
Death

Syd:
Public speaking

Skye:
Not making it as a dancer. And your mom!

Q:
Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Taz:
Breaking the world record for motorcycling across the continent of Africa, running a multibillion-dollar corporation, and throwing great parties with the girl of my dreams.

Syd:
Winning the Pulitzer Prize for my novel and running a nonprofit dedicated to promoting world peace.

Skye:
I don’t even know where I see myself in ten minutes.

As the texts accumulated, Skye’s aPod went from pleasantly warm to hazardously hot and her heart followed suit. First she
was confused, but now she was positively flummoxed. Which Brazille brother was right for her? Choosing between them was like
flipping channels between
The Hills
and
Gossip Girl
, like being asked to dance by Fred Astaire and Mikhail Baryshnikov simultaneously. She wanted them both, just not at the
same time! The two brothers appealed to the two sides of her personality: Taz was the ultimate party guy, the guy all the
girls wanted, the one that would make Skye feel glamorous, popular, and like her life was one long adventure, full of risk
and packed with fun. Syd was passionate, devoted, and romantic. He had watched all of Skye’s dance videos on YouTube and told
Skye he was mesmerized by the way she made the routines her own. He made her feel like a misunderstood genius, like she shouldn’t
give up on her dream because quitting dance would deprive the world of something it needed.

Skye couldn’t decide who was right or which Skye was the real her. Her inner devil and her inner angel were at war, and right
now she wasn’t sure who was winning. How to choose the better boyfriend? Skye suddenly longed to sit across from her mother
in their Westchester kitchen, hashing it out over steaming cups of tea and a plate of butter cookies. Once the prima ballerina
for the Bolshoi Ballet, Natasha Flailenkoff had had more boys after her than Megan Fox. But Skye’s mother was nearly three
thousand miles away.

Skye sighed, turning on her side to do a few pilates leg lifts for inspiration. The
Dating Game
comparison quiz wasn’t conclusive enough for such a huge decision. And even two real dates wouldn’t help, since Skye forgot
all about one boy when she was with the other. If only there was a way to get everyone in the same room at the same time….
Aha!
Skye paused mid–leg lift, her right toe pointed toward the Little Dipper. That was it!

She cracked her thumb knuckles and typed.

Skye:
Party @ the dance studio Wednesday nite after lights-out. You in?