Alphas (20 page)

Little Skye yipped with excitement and broke into the jazz sequence from her first recital at age five.

Skye tested her ankle on a simple barrel turn.
Owie!
Agony reverberated through her body like one of those forked prongs used to test musical pitch. On the pain scale—one being
a paper cut and ten being a wood chipper—it was a six.

She tried again. “Ophf!” The move cranked her pain to a nine and she fell to her knees. Thankfully, Mimi was too busy patting
Triple on the back to notice.

“Music off!” Mimi called, and Skye crawled back to the lounger. A new, deep shade of plum mottled her screaming ankle.

“Time to say goodbye to your pasts,” Mimi announced. “Forever.”

A chorus of “bye”s echoed around the glass studio. Skye wrapped her arms around her younger self until she was holding nothing
but air.

“You are no longer Shira’s handpicked six-pack of wunderkind dancers. You are mindless slabs of clay waiting to be shaped
by my hands, and my hands only.” Mimi glared at Skye when she said
slab
. “Tonight I want you to work on exorcising your demons. Dance today’s routine until your flaws slough off like old skin and
then wash them down the drain. I will grade you on your progress tomorrow.” She swung her quilted black dancer bag over her
shoulder and glided out without another word.

Prue grimaced as she eased her feet out of her shoes. Her toes were bleeding. Ophelia shook her hair out. Tweety massaged
her neck. And Mercedes dropped to the floor like a starfish.

“Come on! We’ve got work to do.” Triple moved for her bag, nodding for the other girls to join her. But they took a collective
pause, not quite ready to rejoin the star who’d so outshined them yet again.

“I can’t move,” Prue whined.

“What’s the point?” Ophelia asked. “I can’t change ten years of dancing habits overnight.”

“I think I’m going to focus on culinary and drop dance down to a hobby.” The redhead sighed.

Skye clapped the girls to attention. “Don’t give up, Mercedes!”

“It’s Sadie,” the redhead corrected.

“Oops.”

“Look who’s talking.” Prue rubbed her toes. “You gave up days ago.”

“How is getting injured giving up?” Skye snapped, shifting to her strong ankle. “I may have been sitting on the sidelines,
but I’ve been watching. And I know this routine better than any of you. I also happen to agree with Mimi. We can all stand
improving. And since I can’t do, I’ll coach,” Skye blurted. “If anyone is interested.”

“What’s in it for you?” Sadie sat up and reached for her toes. “Bragging rights?”

“I won’t even mention it to Mimi. I just want to get back to dancing. And this is the only way I can… for now.” She slipped
on her black lace sleeves, feeling like Superman after a way-too-long stint as Clark Kent.

Skye’s heart beat wildly while they considered her impulsive proposal.

“I wonder what Mimi would say about you molding her slabs.” Triple leaned against the barre, an amused expression on her face.

“Where I come from, professionals don’t care where good ideas come from, as long as they come. And Sadie, who knows? Maybe
the Robot is making a comeback. But I doubt it.” With that, Skye limped for the door, taking her sweet time.

“Skye, wait!” Ophelia called. “Can you meet us here after dinner?”

“I was already planning on it.” Skye smiled to herself and kept on limping.

Coaching was hardly her passion. Back home she’d done it to improve the BADS brand and help her BFFs. These girls weren’t
exactly her besties, but maybe that was the point. She’d be doing it strictly out of love for the craft—not for the claps
that came with. It would be her opportunity to teach Little Skye the true meaning of dedication—and maybe even make a few
friends for Big Skye in the process.

“RE-JEC-TED!”

“Darn it!” Charlie frustration-smacked the coin-tiled shower wall. “Owie, owie, owie!” She pressed her lips against her throbbing
hand, urging both into silence.

Her aPod kept beeping, signaling that she was supposed to be in the DAM (Dominating Alpha Males) seminar, but instead she
was hiding out in a stall decorated in international currency, cowering from seven showerheads spraying lavender-infused water.

Due to the expectation of privacy that comes with being in a bathroom, Shira couldn’t install cameras here without breaking
the law. So in spite of the billowing steam and hair-curling humidity, it was the perfect location to crack the combination
of the skeleton key.

Unfortunately, the only things opening so far were her pores.

“Okay, Shira. Let’s try your zip code.” Charlie punched in “6-6-6” with a sly giggle.

“RE-JEC-TED!” the robotic key-voice answered back.

A drop of water landed on her cheek like a hot tear. She brushed it away impatiently.

She tried the founding date of AlphaGirl International: 9-1-9-1-9-9-0.

“RE-JEC-TED!”

3-5. Shira’s press age.

4-3. Her real age.

“RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED!”

4-2. Darwin’s birthday.

5-2-4. Melbourne’s birthday.

9-1-9. Sydney’s birthday.

8-9. Taz and Dingo’s birthdays.

2-2-6-3-9. Bandy, Shira’s late husband’s name, spelled out on the keypad.

3-5-8-3-3-9. Fluffy, the name of her childhood chinchilla.

5-4-5-5-3-7. Killer, the name of her recently deceased cat.

7-2-8-2-6. Satan, Shira’s father. Kidding!

2-5-7-4-2. Alpha.

1-7-8-3. The number of offices Shira had worldwide.

6-7-9-1. The number of assistants Shira had hired.

6-7-9-0. The number of assistants Shira had fired. (Technically, Bee had quit.)

1. Shira’s favorite number.

9-5. The day Shira succeeded in breaking up Charlie and Darwin.

“RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED! RE-JEC-TED!
RE-JEC-TED!”

“ARGGGG!” Charlie banged her head against some pesos. Even a key was rejecting her. Steam, frustration, and anxiety were making
it hard to breathe.

Think, Charlie. THINK!

There was no way Shira had picked something random. A woman who controlled the weather would not leave anything to chance.

Charlie twirled her cameo bracelets around her wrist. She twisted so hard that one of the cameos flew open, and her mom’s
picture smiled up at her.

Of course!

No wonder she couldn’t crack the Brazille Code—Shira hadn’t created it. Bee had. Bee planned everything for Shira—why not
this?

And Charlie knew without hesitation what was important to her mother.

2-4-2-7-5-4-3. Charlie.

“AC-SESS GRANT-ED.”

“Ha!” Charlie laughed, kicking the spray of water with her feet. “I did it!”

In just a few short hours she’d introduce the Jackie O’s to the tunnels, where Dingo had disappeared to when he’d slipped
behind Bandy’s portrait. It was the only place other than the bathrooms where Shira’s digital army couldn’t find them. But
in addition to making friends, she’d be delivering Allie J to Darwin. Suddenly Charlie’s palms started sweating and she found
it hard to breathe. It was kind of like setting up a playdate between a coyote and your new puppy. But she’d broken Darwin’s
heart, and the least she could do was help mend it. And if all went according to plan, she’d have a house full of new BFFs
mending hers.

Now all Charlie had to do was stay dry and wait.…

Finally the bathroom door opened. Bare feet slapped against the heated marble.

“Allie J? C’mere,” Charlie whispered from the shower. “Bring shaving cream.”

“Ew, no way!”

Charlie giggled to herself, thinking of how that must have sounded.

“Trust me, it’s not creepy, I swear.”

“Why should I believe you?” Allie J whisper-shouted.

Charlie pressed her mouth against the slight crack in the stall door. “Because I have something for you.”

“Double ew!” Allie J sounded repulsed. “I like boys, okay?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I know. That’s what I have for you.”

Allie J paused. “Huh?”

Charlie inhaled deeply, bracing herself, or rather forcing herself, to say the next word.

“What are you talking about?” Allie snapped.

“Darwin.” Charlie swallowed back the bitter taste of sacrifice. Her head took a dizzying dip. It was out there. There was
no turning back.

Allie J opened the stall with trepidation, can of Pure Silk in hand. “If this is some ploy to get me to help you shave some
hard-to-reach area, I’m so not—”

Charlie rolled her eyes and pulled Allie J into the shower.

“Ahhhhhh!” Water sprayed all over her. “My hair!”

She panic-stuffed her black hair into the back of her champagne-colored blouse in a very not-so-down-to-earth sort of way;
odd behavior for someone who cruised communal bathrooms barefoot.

“Shhhhh!” Charlie grabbed the can of shaving cream and wrote
I SPY
on her right leg, in case Thalia’s superhuman ears were in range. The admission smelled like baby oil and relief.

“I knew it!” Allie J exclaimed, still panic-stuffing. “Wait. Why are you telling me?”

DBL AGENT
Charlie spelled out on her left thigh, then put the can down.

“Why are you—”

Charlie covered Allie J’s mouth.

Allie J grabbed the can and wrote in the spaces between the straps on her gladiators.

Y R U TELLING ME?

WANT FRIENDS,
Charlie sprayed onto her arm. She hated how pathetic that sounded but decided not to care. It was the truth.

“Why would I trust you?” Allie J asked aloud.

Charlie lifted the gold key, then wrote:
STOLE FROM S. OPENS TUNNELS SO WE CAN MEET BOYS.

Allie J’s green eyes blinked in genuine surprise. Then they hardened into emerald stones. “Oh, I get it. You’re setting me
up so I get sent home and you can have Darwin all to yourself.”

Charlie shook her head. For a moment she couldn’t believe that she was really trying to force the love of her life on a super-eligible
bachelorette. “He doesn’t want me anymore,” she managed. “He likes you.”

Allie J squinted like she was trying to spot Charlie in the distance.

“‘Boys come and go, but in the end I see, it’s my friends who complete me…’” she said, quoting the chorus of “I Like My Boys
Like Salad Dressing—On the Side.”

“Huh?” Allie J blinked in confusion.

“Do you even believe your own lyrics?” A spray of water found its way into Charlie’s mouth. She spit it out.

A look of panic crossed Allie J’s pretty face. “No I-I do,” she stammered. “Of course I do.”

“Then you understand what I’m talking about. Darwin was my whole life. And now that we’re done, I have nothing. I want to
move on. I want friends.”

“Fine,” Allie J. said. “But we should include Skye, too. She’s been depressed about her ankle and…” Her voice trailed off
for a second. “And the fact that we kinda accused her of being the spy.”

“That’s fine,” Charlie agreed.

“But no Triple,” Allie J added quickly. “She might tell.”

Charlie smiled. “Deal.”

Allie texted Skye, and just a few minutes later, Skye limped through the bathroom door, blond waves bouncing around her shoulders.

“Um, knock knock,” Skye rapped on the stall door. “What are you guys doing in the shower? Together.”

“Come in!” Allie J pulled Skye into the steamy fold, then broke the news that
C IS SPY
via shaving cream.

Skye stomped her foot in a lavender-scented puddle. “I told you it wasn’t me!” She looked more relieved than surprised. “So
who are you going to turn in next? My ankle is getting much better, by the way. I can show you.”

“Don’t worry.” Allie J turned up the pressure on the shower so that it ran at a loud
hiiisssssssssss
and leaned in. “That’s the point. She’s on our side. She’s gonna to help us see the boys.”

“Why would she do that?” Skye asked Allie J, as if Charlie weren’t sitting right there.

“Because she’s not as bad as we thought,” Allie J explained.

Charlie’s insides warmed, and it wasn’t from the shower steam.

Skye sat down on the stall bench, downgrading her stare from murderous to curious. “Why are we talking about this in the shower?”

Allie J shot Charlie a nod-glance. Charlie lifted the gold skeleton key and winked.

“What’s that?” Skye asked.

“Shhhhhhh,” Allie J and Charlie hissed at the same time.

Charlie reached for the can. It was almost empty. She shook it twice and managed to eke out enough foam to write:
TUNNEL BOYS
.

Skye’s white-blond brows slammed together in bewilderment. “Ohmuhgud, what are you talking about?”

“Trust us, it’s good,” Allie J explained, and then mouthed, “Taz.” Skye’s brows drifted back into place.

“Why are you doing this?” Just as Allie J had, Skye asked the inevitable. Charlie couldn’t blame either of them.

“Because it’s like we’re living on some kind of reality show,” Charlie said quietly. “I’m tired of being watched and forced
to compete against people who could be my friends. This ridiculous competition isn’t what anyone signed on for, and I want
to do something about it. I want to go to a place where we can just hang out and be normal. Dial down the drama and—”

“Make out,” Allie J blurted, then dialed back her enthusiasm. “Sorry,” she said to Charlie.

“It’s okay, I told you. We’re done.”
For now, anyway.

Skye smiled radiantly. “When you put it that way… I’m in.”

“You have to agree to some things first.” Charlie smoothed her hands over the frizz formerly known as her hair. “First, no
more Charlie Brown-nose.”

The girls nodded in agreement.

“Second, we trust each other completely.”

Allie J tried to write a check mark on the wall, but a little slanted foam line was all the can had left to give.

“And third, full disclosure about everything,” Charlie added, knowing that she was still holding back one more secret: Why
she’d really broken up with Darwin. Or rather, how she hoped that one day in the future, when he’d grown tired of Allie J,
they would still end up together. But that was hers to keep.