Alphas (21 page)

“Deal?”

“Deal,” the girls responded.

“So when are we you-know-what-ing with you-know-who?” Skye might have been as beautiful as a Bond girl, but the girl did not
speak spy.

“Tonight,” Charlie promised.

A smile started to stretch across Skye’s face, but it stopped at a grimace. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” Allie J asked. Her eyes were as round as the pesos in the wall, as if she were anticipating major disappointment.

“Toes before bros,” Skye pouted. “I’m supposed to coach some dancers.”

“So meet us after,” Charlie suggested.

“Thanks.” Skye smiled brightly.

“Sure.” Charlie could feel her feet expanding from the heat, and if she wasn’t mistaken, her heart had a little more volume
too. So this was what having friends felt like? “Let’s make a pact. What we’re doing is dangerous, and we need to have each
other’s backs. We have to protect each other and our secret. To the grave!”

“The grave!” Allie J and Skye agreed.

Charlie didn’t bother hiding her grin. On a campus where everything was an illusion, she had finally found something real.

Skye had been elevating her swollen ankle on the barre for the last twenty-eight minutes. It was the longest she had ever
balanced flamingo style, and she imagined her muscles were aching pretty badly. But she couldn’t feel a thing. As always,
pain faded into the background like a shy friend when she was doing what she loved.

“Lead with your torso, Tweety!” Skye shouted over the jazz music. “Not your head.”

Tweety nodded like she understood, then proved it.

“Perfect!” Skye called. “Did you feel the difference?”

“Totally!” Tweety chirped with glee. “Thanks!”

“What about me?” Ophelia asked, mid-pivot.

“Ever since we twisted your hair into Princess Leia buns your balance has been much better,” Skye called. “You’ve got it!”

“Now me,” Sadie pant-asked, her choppy Robot oiled to a smooth slice.

“Keep carving butter and Mimi will love it.”

With each critique, Skye could feel her inner alpha returning. Even the color of her ankle was fading from purple to rotten
banana yellow–ish brown.

“Prue, what are you chewing?” Skye winced.

Prue blush-swallowed. “A bran bar.”

“Why?” Skye asked, and then remembered Mimi’s suggestion. “I don’t think she literally meant ‘loosen up.’ She probably wanted
to see more hips and less spine. Can you try that?”

Prue swayed like Shakira, practically knocking out a window with her sharp ilium bone. It was clear the ballet prodigy was
having a hard time adapting to the free flow of jazz.

“Okay.” Skye took a patient inhale. “Imagine your hips are a pot filled with water,” she tried. “What you want to do is shake
the water from side to side without spilling it. Try again.”

Prue tried and spilled.

“Again.”

Spuh-lat!
Prue spilled.

“Again.”

Prue sloshed and wobbled and spilled…

… and then she got it.

Everyone burst into applause.

“Yes!” Skye shouted, good tears pinching the back of her eyes. She wanted to dance for joy but settled for a series of enthusiastic
single-leg knee bends. “Music louder!” she commanded. “Let’s keep going.”

Sadie launched into a tour jeté–pirouette followed by a donkey kick.

“Ride the beat, Sadie, don’t just hit it!”

Sadie smiled her thanks.

All of a sudden, a series of vibrations shocked through Skye’s leg.
Ohmuhgud!
Were her limbs seizing? Had she just fulfilled her destiny? Was it time to die? She forced herself to make eye contact with
the site of the leg shake, fearing the worst about what she would find there.

Instead of a gangrenous thigh, Skye saw the aPod in her hip holster, flashing in emergency mode. She had five urgent messages.
Every one of them was from Charlie. Most of them said WHERE R U????? The other two were something about a map.

Skye’s forehead stung with
how could I possibly have spaced on this
sweat. It was almost 9:00 p.m. She’d been so wrapped up in the session, she’d completely lost track of the time. But wait—hadn’t
she just made a pledge with herself? Toes before bros? Now here she was cutting the lesson short to sneak off and see Taz.
But it was more than Taz. This was about the new pact she’d made with Charlie and Allie J.

Or at least that was what she told herself.

“Music off!” Skye clapped sharply. “Okay, you’re done. Mimi is going to be so impressed.”

“Wait!” Ophelia cried. “My turnout isn’t quite right yet.”

“Yeah, and my leaps still have lead,” Sadie whined.

Skye’s ankle began throbbing. She felt more torn than cheap tights. “I really have to go.”

“Where?” Prue stiffened. “Did your spy signal beep?”

“Huh?” Skye squinted like she was hard of hearing.

“We heard you were the spy.” Ophelia loosened her side buns. “And it kinda makes sense. You’re useless with that ankle, but
you’re still here. It sort of adds up. Why else would Shira keep you?” She shook out her thick black hair. “No offense.”

“Um, is coaching you useless?” Skye managed, despite what felt like a balled-up leg warmer in the back of her throat. “’Cause
from where I’m limping, you needed more saving than the beluga whales.”

“Then why are you going?” Sadie zipped up her silver sweatshirt and flipped the metallic hood over her head.

“I just have to do something, okay?” The backs of Skye’s eyes pinched again, but this time it was the bad tears. The girls
who’d just been hanging on her every word were now hanging her out to dry. It hurt like doing the splits in skinny jeans.

“What?” Tweety asked, cocking her ample head. “Like spy?”

For a split second Skye considered dropping Charlie’s name to clear her own. But they’d made a pact. There had to be another
way. “I’m not the spy, okay?” She sniffled.

“Oh, cry me a Riverdance,” Prue challenged. “Prove it!”

“Fine!” Skye snapped, reaching for her aPod. “I will.”

Skye:
B there in 5!

Her thumb went white as she rage-pressed the
SEND
button. “Let’s go!”

Skye hobbled out of the studio with a pack of four dancers following her lead, possibly for the very last time.

The night air smelled like a passing rainstorm even though it had been sunny all day.

“So how do you know so much about this place?” Allie scurried to keep up with Charlie as they darted across the dark campus.
Charlie had somehow orchestrated a campus-wide blackout to keep the surveillance camera from seeing them. Even the moon was
cooperating.

Charlie stopped and looked squarely into Allie’s green eyes. “Truth?”

Allie nodded earnestly, like truth was something she practiced every day.
Ha!

“I invented a lot of this island.”

“Liar!” Allie blurted. “There’s no way! I assumed Shira brought in some inventors from the future.”

“Nope.” Heavy sadness fluttered over Charlie’s eyelids, forcing them downward. “More like someone from her past.” She swallowed.
“But Shira can never know. She thinks it came from her research and development team. If she found out I used her lab…” Charlie
finger-sliced her neck. “The people who need to know about my… abilities… do. And that’s enough for me.” She blinked like
she was lying to herself. Of course she wanted Shira to know. Who wouldn’t?

Allie studied Charlie’s face for the first time. It was perfectly symmetrical. Her skin was clear. Her dark eyes were soothing.
Her lips were full (enough). She was like that sketch of a woman’s face Allie had once gotten at the MAC counter. The makeup
artist had brushed colors over the sketch’s eyelids, cheeks, and lips, demonstrating the proper way to apply the latest palates.
Once she was done, the drawing’s bland features came to life. In Charlie’s case, it wasn’t makeup that had brightened her
face—it was skill. And it upgraded her beauty to the kind people wanted to stare at.

Just like Trina with her art.

“Honest-leh,” Allie exclaimed. “This is amazing. You’re so… smart. I can’t believe Darwin broke up—” She stopped herself before
her callused bare foot got stuck in her mouth. But it was too late.

Charlie smiled like someone about to cry, then picked up the pace.

“I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but I didn’t mean to mention him.” Allie scampered behind like an eager puppy. “It’s not
like he’s into me anyway,” she panted, immediately regretting her insensitivity. Charlie, of all people, should not be expected
to stroke Allie’s ego. Not when it came to Darwin. But he was Allie’s hot stove and she couldn’t resist touching it. Even
if it meant coming off as a self-absorbed lovesick desperado to her new friend who just so happened to be his ex.

Charlie unlocked the fence that protected the organic vegetable garden from salad-obsessed alphas. “Hurry, get in.”

Allie slipped in, almost gagging on the moist, muddy smell of earth—a smell often associated with slimy worms. Worms who were
probably gearing up to wiggle over her bare feet and lay eggs under her toenails…

“So why do you think Darwin doesn’t like you anymore?” Charlie asked, closing the gate behind them. Allie considered asking
where they were going but didn’t dare change the subject.

“He didn’t look at me in class the other day. Not once. And he never bothered to text after I bolted.”

Charlie led them through two rows of onions. “What happened to you?”

Allie shrugged. “Keifer hated what I wrote, and I was embarrassed. I’m, um, used to creating alone in the wilderness. And
this feels like speed-dating, only with writing, and it’s not working for me. I’m blocked. So I ran off to reconnect with
nature.”

The truth was, the muse from Oprah had found Allie sobbing under an açaí palm, and she’d pretended she was lost. She’d been
thinking about how happy Darwin and Charlie’s toes had looked when they found each other in the sand. And now, standing in
the shadow of Charlie’s genius, Allie felt like running all over again. How could she possibly impress Darwin when he’d had
Charlie first? It was like buying makeup at Bath & Body Works after a lifetime of Chanel.

“I don’t even know why I’m on this secret mission. It’s not like he wants to see me.” Tears came all over again. At least
this time she could blame it on the onions.

Charlie crouched down by a bed of lettuce. “What are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to meet him the other night—but he never showed.” Allie sniffled.

“I wouldn’t worry about how Darwin was acting.” She snapped off a crisp leaf of romaine and used it to clear away a soil pile.
“Shira’s been tracking her sons with cameras. The feed goes straight to digital picture frames in her office. Darwin knew
he was being watched and didn’t want to get busted, that’s all.”

A cool breeze snaked by Allie’s cheek and her heart lifted in her chest. “So he might still like me?”

“He definitely does.” Charlie didn’t look at her as she cleared away another scoop of mud. Traces of silver glittered between
the brown muck, and suddenly a hatch appeared. Charlie yanked the handle.

“Whoa,” Allie gasped, wishing she had a better vocabulary. But what else does one say when someone lifts up a hatch in an
organic vegetable garden that leads to a seemingly endless, underground spiral staircase?

A new sense of purpose filled Allie. She wasn’t just along for the ride, hoping for one last look at a boy with a fetching
lip freckle. She was back in the driver’s seat, speeding toward a make-out session with a boy who made Fletcher look like
Tofurky—a less appetizing substitute for the real thing.

But it wasn’t just Darwin-joy that made her want to jump down the spiral steps two at a time. It was Charlie-joy, too. They
were becoming friends, and it had been a while since she’d had one of those.

“Follow me.” Charlie slipped inside. “Leave the hatch slightly open for Skye.”

Allie shimmied in after her. “Eeeeeeeeee,” she squealed. “It’s freezing in here.” Her breath puffed from her lips like cigar
smoke. She stepped onto the cold cement step, wondering what kind of bacteria lay in waiting. But an itchy foot was a small
price to pay for love.

“Press alpha-H on your aPod,” Charlie whispered. “Your uniform will heat up.”

“Ahhhhhh.” Allie sighed like she was finally peeing after driving from California to Oregon.

“Shira thinks the cold will keep her skin from aging.”

“In bed.” Allie giggled.

Charlie giggled back.

“So how do we let the boys know we’re here?”

Charlie kept winding down the steps, her brown hair swishing back and forth across the back of her champagne-colored blouse.
“Whenever Darwin and I snuck out to meet each other, I sent him a song from a fake e-mail address with an untraceable IP address.”

Allie felt a flicker of jealousy despite Charlie’s assurances. Charlie and Darwin had secret codes. She and Fletch hadn’t
even bothered to coordinate ringtones. The most romantic thing they’d ever done was get matching highlights.

“So what was your song?” Allie asked like someone who never got jealous.

“‘We Belong Together’ by Mariah Carey.” Charlie shrugged matter-of-factly. “We kind of had goofy songs for everything. ‘I
Turn My Camera On’ by Spoon when Shira’s tattling assistant was lurking. ‘SOS’ by Rihanna for ‘meet me after Shira’s done
torturing you.’ Weezer’s ‘Say It Ain’t So’ when Dingo was about to pull a prank. But Mariah was the default.”

Allie’s mind expanded with questions like a cooked bag of Jiffy Pop. The stove was burning hotter than ever and she had to
touch it. “So what if Darwin gets your message and thinks you’re the one coming to meet him? Will he think you want to get
back together? Will he be upset when he sees it’s me and not you?”

“Don’t worry,” Charlie said with certainty as she sent the message. But instead of Mariah, she sent him “Meet Me at Midnight”
by Allie J. The subject line said VEGGIE TUNNEL. “Darwin’s smart,” she said. “He’ll figure it out.”