AN ALPHAS NOVEL BY
LISI HARRISON
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY
New York Boston
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For Amelia Kahaney and Lucy Keating. Every Alpha letter on every Alpha page of this final Alpha novel is evidence of your talent, dedication, and hard work. Thank you, my lollies.
1
ALPHA ISLAND
LAKE ALPHA BEACH
NOVEMBER 1ST
11:27 A.M.
“Kick her butt, Skye!” Charlie Deery’s forehead throbbed with tension as she squinted out at the race on the sun-flecked lake, but she forced her hands to keep clapping in support of her bestie. Riding the choppy waves in the final stretch of Alpha Academy’s stand-up paddleboard regatta, Skye looked like the goddess Aphrodite emerging from a clamshell—only instead of a clamshell, she stood atop a paddleboard, and instead of flowing silks, Skye wore pewter boyshorts, a silver rashguard, and a look of ferocious determination in her aquamarine eyes.
Charlie curled her bare toes in the lake’s phosphorescent green sand and anxiously nibbled her cuticles. Skye was one of only two paddlers left on the racetrack, which was marked by buoys shooting glowing holographic lines that hovered a foot above Lake Alpha. If she won, the Jackie O’s would stay on Alpha Island for at least one more day. If she lost… Charlie shook her head, sending a few strands of her long mahogany hair blowing in the manufactured gale-force wind, and tried not to focus on the waterlogged losers dragging themselves to shore.
If Skye lost, her suitcase would be waiting. And her time as an Alpha would be up faster than the Situation’s shirt.
Sailing by the recently capsized board of Shoshana Shanti-Smith from the J. K. Rowling house, Skye’s toned back flexed into an aggressive stance. Her dancer’s poise had made overtaking the other six paddleboarders look easy, but now she had to pick up enough speed to kick the flat booty of spoken-word champ (and surprisingly gifted paddler) Spinnah Fraye from the Queen Elizabeth house. The kinky-haired Spinnah was six foot two and built of pure muscle, but now that the race was nearly over, she seemed be losing steam. Her paddling had turned sloppy and her muscular legs wobbled atop her board. In comparison, Skye looked more alive than ever, pushing her oar through the turbulent water as if stirring a giant Frappuccino. Still, Spinnah held her lead on Skye to at least three board-lengths.
Charlie shivered and felt her platinum bomber vest grow sleeves as it registered her chill. As long as Skye remained in second place, not even body heat–activated clothing could warm the icy panic she felt inside.
Take her out! Charlie whisper-yelled, putting a tense hand in her pocket and crossing her fingers, telling herself to have faith in her dancer roommate. If anyone could beat Spinnah, it was Skye. The Jackie O’s were lucky to have her representing them in the Paddle Battle—both Charlie and fellow O Allie A. would have sunk faster than soggy cereal in milk, but Skye skimmed the water like a hot pool boy.
Aside from today’s nerve-wracking board brawl, Charlie had a lot of reasons to feel lucky. In fact, for the first time since enrolling at in Alpha Academy—the mega-exclusive school created by Shira Brazille, TV personality, CEO, and Alpha-in-chief—Charlie had everything she wanted. After weeks of bouncing between Darwin and Allie A., her one true love and first true best friend, everyone was finally happy. Thanks to Charlie’s brilliant matchmaking, Allie was attached at the metallic-mini hip to Melbourne, Shira’s ice-blond eldest son. Which meant that Charlie could finally go public about her rekindled relationship with Darwin, the only boy she’d ever cared about. The boy she’d known since she was five years old and her mother, Bee, began as Shira’s assistant. At last, there were no more secret rendezvous behind Allie’s back, no more necessary visits to the Zen Center every day just to calm her nerves. Now that Allie and Charlie were both happily hooked up, their days on the island had taken the agony out of agonizing and left the zing.
Especially lately, now that Shira had stopped hovering over the island like an après–bean burrito smell. The bossy Aussie had been away on an unexplained business trip for nearly two weeks, and aside from these crazy competitions, Charlie’s life was finally simple.
Maybe this time it would stay that way.
Charlie sucked in a mouthful of crisp lakeside air and turned her coffee-brown eyes to the row of volcanoes that ringed the lake in the center of the @-shaped island. Sighing, she considered the years of planning and technological wizardry needed to build this tropical biosphere in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Not to mention its surfable faux-cean. Originally, one hundred girls had been chosen from around the world to attend Alpha Academy, but soon it became clear that they weren’t so much here to learn as to compete. One by one, or sometimes in mass-firings, Shira gave Alphas the axe. The fall semester wasn’t even over and already one hundred girls had been whittled down to thirty.
As Bee’s daughter, Charlie had participated in the building of this (wo)man-made paradise. She had watched Shira scour the world for the most brilliant dancers, actresses, designers, mathematicians, scientists, hackers, and writers for her Academy, and they had all eagerly signed up to study at the most exclusive school ever created. Their teachers were world-class, their classrooms state-of-the-art. And yet here they were, paddling hard but going nowhere.
Charlie watched a pair of soaking-wet Alphas drag themselves to the sandy shore, hair matted down on their defeated faces.
Charlie’s worry-wince flattened into a pained smile as she thought back to the Alphas’ response when Shira first announced her emergency business trip. Everyone had gone nuts over the thought of being unsupervised, and the island instantly ignited with late-night bonfires, impromptu fashion shows with nonregulation outfits, and a rewired sound system perfect for blasting the new Kanye album.
But the party didn’t last for long. Soon, being the competitive Alphas they were, the girls began to invent competitions. And that was when it became clear what Shira’s plan was from the start. Before she left, Shira had prophesized, “One girl will make herself known. One girl will stand above the rest as a leader.” Like an estrogen-fueled remake of Lord of the Flies, the girls quickly abandoned their parties and set about vying for control. And the house muses—the camp counselor–types who mentored each Alpha house—responded in kind. For every contest, they awarded a prize. The bunk that won the goat-milking contest on the island’s organic farm got to control the weather on the island for twenty-four hours. The house that bested the rest at the Alice in Wonderland all-night giant chess match got makeovers and leadership coaching.
And the losers were sent home.
Last night, she and Allie had made a list on her aPod of who had been kicked out and why. After the Paddle Battle was over, there would be at least seven more additions. Charlie opened up her Alpha Tracking App and reviewed the latest executions.
ALPHA CUT DIDN’T KICK BUTT
Hillary Clinton House. Dakota LeMercier, chemical engineer/aromatherapist. Lost an impromptu pie-eating contest—allergic to blueberries.
Joan of Ark House. Yuki Asukawa, shoe designer/geologist. Lowest scorer in Big Top Relay Race. Her attempt at fire-juggling got her (and her hair) fired.
Beyoncé House. Anastasia Vallessi, opera singer/quantum physicist. Fell off her board during a sky-surfing competition and landed in a baobab tree.
J. K. Rowling House. Willow Dawn, landscape architect/urban farmer. Tripped her polo pony with a mallet misfire.
Mother Teresa House. Martha Mulvaney, actress/screenwriter. Choked during a spelling bee. Literally. And was unable to perform her own Heimlich. Couldn’t spell it, either.
Tyra House. Chavez Moreno, activist/pol
itical cartoonist. Dismal performance at Alphas karaoke contest. Instead of “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” she sang “Hit Me Maybe One More Time.”
There was only one person who could have sent them packing. Charlie squinted up again at the distant volcanoes, wondering where Shira had hidden her surveillance cameras on the picturesque lake. Probably inside the buoys, she decided. Shira was definitely watching their every move. Because only one girl would be left standing at the end of the semester. Whoever it was would be the ultimate Alpha, or—how had she put it? Charlie searched her memory for the icy Aussie’s exact words. An Alpha for life. No one knew exactly what that meant. They just knew they wanted it.
With Alphas challenging each other every day, even the sweetest of the remaining Alphas had embraced a kill-or-be-killed mentality. Everyone felt the pressure—no matter how ah-mazing their accomplishments, their time here was running out faster than single Jonas Brothers.
Charlie sighed and scanned the beach, wishing Darwin were here for moral support. Among the noncompeting spectators were three of Spinnah’s housemates, including video-game designer and makeup junkie Louise Holtstropper. “Let’s go, Spinnah, make Skye a swimmah!” she cheered. Charlie rolled her eyes at the pathetic rhyme—Louise should leave the spoken-word to her bestie. Snapping her attention back to the Paddle Battle, Charlie’s breath caught in her throat. Skye and Spinnah were rounding a hairpin bend in the course, and Skye was now just inches away from Spinnah’s board! Go go go, she whisper-chanted, her heart pounding with renewed hope.
Just as Skye’s board drew up next to Spinnah’s, one of the rhyme-azon’s spoken-word poems floated across the lake to reach Charlie’s ears.
Check the sunset, forget the horizon
Skye’s gonna meet the water like Motorola met Verizon!
Then Spinnah punctuated her poem in the form of an oar aimed at Skye’s shoulder.
No! Charlie gasped along with the crowd, everyone’s eyes glued to the last two fighters in the regatta. The wind seemed to pick up in pace with their rapidly beating pulses. Charlie’s stomach capsized, but Skye’s board didn’t. She righted herself as only an exceptional dancer could. Instead of falling sideways from the force of the blow, she reached out a flailing hand and grabbed Spinnah’s oar, yanking it from her opponent’s grasp and righting herself in the process.
“Wooo!” The crowd went crazy, rippling with a mix of envy and pride at Skye’s risky move. Spinnah wobbled on her board but remained upright. Only now she had to paddle out of her way to retrieve her oar. Come on, Skye. This is your moment. Charlie closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to the water gods to let her friend survive. When she opened them again she noticed Louise hopping up and down with excitement, then stopping to check her hair placement in a compact mirror.
A moment later, the two floating fighters disappeared into the final leg of the course, a holographic wave-tunnel that looked like a solid wall of churning water. Whoever emerged first would immediately cross the neon-pink finish line hovering in front of the tunnel. Charlie swallowed a lump bigger than Snooki’s hair pouf and waited for the victor to emerge.
Charlie turned back to the lake just in time to see the nose of a paddleboard emerging from the holo-tunnel.
Please let it be Skye!
And then she spotted a foot. Followed by a slender, ballet-toned calf. An overjoyed Skye sailed out of the holo-tunnel, her platinum wavelets shimmering, her fingers like two V’s held high in victory.
“YES!!!” Charlie screamed, tossing her aPod in the sand and running into the heated lake toward her beaming friend. The Jackie O’s would live to see another day on Alpha Island! And maybe, just maybe, they would find a way to make it to Shira’s ultimate finish line together. But then what? Charlie pulled Skye into a celebratory hug and tried her Alpha best not to think about it.
2
THE PAVILION
ELIXIR SMOOTHIE BAR
NOVEMBER 1ST
12:42 P.M.
Skye Hamilton step-ball-changed her way along the glowing green counter of the Academy’s smoothie bar, Elixir. Located in a freestanding glass cupola just off of the dining hall and surrounded by the lushness of the rainforest, Elixir felt like an oasis within an oasis. Skye pressed the touch screen embedded in the countertop with wiggling jazz fingers. “One strawberry-banana-guarana-bee-pollen-protein-powder-blast yogurt coming up,” the Yo-Bot behind the counter announced, a neon-pink line of LED lights forming a pulsating robo-smile.
“Thanks,” Skye told the bot, pirouetting around as Charlie placed her order. Skye was positively giddy after her win, her brain now flooded with the kind of butt-kicking endorphins she hadn’t felt in ages. The constant threat of being sent packing tore her confidence like a tutu in a tug-of-war. She couldn’t imagine how Beta the losers must have felt rolling their suitcases down the dock while their friends fake-pouted with better-you-than-me-pity. Lately, wheel sounds of any kind brought on a flash flood of pit-sweat—-a condition now known among the Jackie O’s as Roll-o-phobia. But she was safe for now.
Sigh-smiling as she wound her platinum-blond wavelets into a bagel-sized bun, Skye closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the Paddle Battle. Once it was just Spinnah and Skye in the holographic tunnel, Skye was still behind enough to do something drastic. The tunnel was her last chance. Just then, the water gods sneezed a gale-force wind their way, quickly turning the tunnel into a vacuum tube. Skye ripped her headscarf out of her hair, fashioning a sail by tying it to her paddle and lifting it to catch the breeze. She sat down on her board, using her dancer’s posture to let the wind do the work. Spinnah paddled harder and harder, but even her long, ultra-toned arms were no match for Skye’s sail. In a moment of panic, Spinnah shoved her paddle into the water at a desperate angle and lodged it into a sand bar lurking just below the surface, catapulting her over her board. Skye sailed through the opening of the tunnel with a huge smile plastered across her face, and she didn’t look back.
“Tell me again what Spinnah said when her paddle got stuck in the sandbar,” asked Charlie, reaching across the counter to grab their smoothies.
“Stuck in the sand, man, I need a third hand,” giggled Skye as she plunged a recycled aluminum straw into her cup’s lid. “Not one of her best.”
“You were the only one of us who could have won that competition,” Charlie mused, taking a thoughtful sip of her mango-wheatgrass brain booster. She tipped her head back to catch a bit of sunshine coming through the glass ceiling of the cupola. “I would’ve been the first girl to capsize.”
Skye shrugged, her lips pursing as she took a long, indulgent chug of her smoothie. But Charlie was right. Stand-up paddle was a lot like dancing on water: The timing had to be perfect, the moves steady. Triple Threat, her former roomie and fellow dancer, had taught her to anticipate the water’s rocking motion and to use it to her body’s advantage… before she had tried to get Skye kicked out of school.
Elixir’s doors swooshed open, letting in the algae-tinged smell of lake water combined with the talcum tickle of pressed powder. The fragrance was soon followed by Louise Holstropper and the rest of Spinnah’s housemates, each of whom looked Skye over with a toxic mix of anger and envy.
“Hey, Skye. Great job out there,” sneered Louise. Louise was from Texas, and as far as Skye knew she only cared about two things: makeup and video games. (She’d already invented and sold two of them to Sony—ProStylist and ProStylist Oscar Edition, where the player had to get celebs ready for the red carpet during a catastrophic earthquake.) Short in stature with a button nose and a limp brown bob, Louise used more base than Bob Marley. And wore so much blush everyone had thought her forehead was bleeding the first time they saw her perspire. “Wild guess as to who taught you that last move,” Louise added, wiggling her penciled brows knowingly.
As the QE’s encircled her, Skye felt her cheeks grow hot. She knew Louise was referring to Taz, Shira’s most extroverted son. Taz and Skye had spent many a windy day on his boat, which he
moored on Lake Alpha. They had tried to keep their romance under wraps, but just like Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez on their Caribbean vacation, word got around.
“I don’t know how Shira would feel about you getting an unfair advantage from a boyfriend, let alone her own son,” Louise smirked, her over-lined lips reminding Skye of the Joker from The Dark Knight. “Good thing you don’t have that problem anymore.”
The beautiful glass room now felt like a glass cage as Skye’s sea glass–colored eyes searched her surroundings for some moral support, but Charlie was oblivious, busy repairing a stuck gear on the Yo-Bot. Louise’s words stung, but not because of Skye’s competitive side. For the past few weeks, she had been trying extra hard to scrub thoughts of Taz from her mind, focusing on her Alpha objectives instead. But Taz wasn’t easy to forget. His playful ice-blue eyes, inky black hair, and life-of-every-party confidence met all her crush criteria. Taz was like a Sharpie—impossible to erase no matter how hard she tried.
Skye thought back to their last interaction. It was on the Muse Cruise, where even from the center of the dance floor, surrounded by a circle of blinged-out Alphas bending backward under a limbo stick for his attention, his eyes had locked with hers and sent more heat through her muscles than an entire tube of Bengay. Obviously there was still something between them. Or so she wanted to believe. But every time she’d seen him since, he’d brushed her aside like he was Jake Gyllenhaal and she was Taylor Swift. Clearly, Taz had no intention of forgiving her for the biggest mistake she’d made at Alpha Academy—briefly dating his emo brother Sydney. No matter how many times she hoped and dreamed he would.
Skye rolled her toned shoulders back and elevated her B-cups, jutting her chin out in a stance of rock-hard confidence she hoped looked believable. “I can take you anytime, anywhere,” Skye muttered to Louise, lifting a recently pruned eyebrow. With thoughts of Taz revving her heart, Skye’s competitive fighter spirit kicked in hard.
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