by Tyra Banks
“What happened to you, Tookie?” Bravo asked. “Just this morning, those lips of yours looked good.”
Tookie stiffened, still not sure if she was the butt of a joke or something else. All at once, the strong medicine’s numbing effects kicked in. Tookie’s tongue felt like it had been strangled by an enormous boa constrictor. Her mouth went bone dry, and she longed for water.
Bravo was still waiting for her answer. “Zats,” Tookie admitted, shakily pointing to her sliced lip. Then she shut her eyes. She’d meant cats, but her anesthetized lip had other ideas.
But Bravo seemed to understand. He smiled teasingly. “Zats, huh? So that Zatwalk Zorridor actually exists? Is it really scary?”
“Zarry, zarry zarry,” Tookie said, turning beet-red. She had wanted to say Very, very scary. “Do you have a Zorridor at Zeszosterone?” Maybe this was the Z effect, she realized. The Zed Meds Z’d up your speech.
“Are you kidding?” Bravo grinned. “We’re not magical like you Bellas. We’re mere mortals. But … there have been a few Intoxibellos in history who have had it, that magic thing. We B boys hope, but it’s one in a million. If it happens for me, that’s cool. But I’m really here for the architecture of this place. That’s my real love. One day, I hope to—”
“Architecture?” Zarpessa interrupted from the other bed. “Why, that’s my first love too! I’m just here to study the unique Modelland buildings. I could care less about becoming an Intoxibella.”
But Bravo didn’t even glance at Zarpessa. His eyes seemed to be firmly planted on Tookie. That was when her stomach decided to growl disgustingly. She flushed red again.
Bravo smiled. “You hungry, huh? Or should I say zungry?”
Tookie nodded, which made her feel dizzy.
“I’m hungry too,” Bravo said. “Can that lip handle some food?”
Tookie touched her tongue to lip. Her lips were so numb, she felt nothing. She continued to run her tongue over the exterior of her mouth, attempting to feel anything. “Uh-huh, I think so,” she said, though it came out “Zuh-huh, I zink zho.”
Bravo stood up from Tookie’s bed and exited the room. He returned with packaged snacks labeled Modelland Munchies by Guru Lauro. “I love this stuff,” he whispered. “Tastes like what you want it to taste like, loaded with the vitamins you need at the moment, melts so smoothly on the tongue. We male mortals can’t get this good stuff on our side of the mountain. They load us up on protein only. If it’s not a piece of meat, an egg, or some powder, we don’t eat it. Lucky girl you are.”
Tookie smiled sloppily, ripped off the top of one package, and tried to bite the treat. It landed on her cheek.
“Lemme help you with that,” Bravo suggested. He took the Munchie from Tookie and held it to her lips. She opened her mouth to take a bite, and as she was wrapping her lips around the sweetness, a thick pool of her bloody saliva dribbled onto Bravo’s hand.
“Yuck!” Zarpessa screeched from her bed. “Too-Too just mouth-pee-peed all over you!”
“Too-kee,” Bravo corrected her a little sharply. “Her name is Tookie. You two haven’t met yet?” The drool was still on his hand. He hadn’t wiped it away.
Zarpessa shrugged nonchalantly. “I kinda know her. She’s my D mate. Honestly, most of the time I just call her Unfortunate-Looking. Modelland will enjoy sacrificing her. They can make pea and lentil soup with her eyeballs.” She winked at him, expecting him to laugh, but Bravo only appeared uncomfortable.
“That sucks that those cat-girl mutants scratched your lip up like that.” Bravo reached forward to touch her lip. “It probably hurts, huh? Nothing worse than a cut on your lip when you kiss.”
Heat rose to Tookie’s cheeks. First thumbsucking … now cut-lip kissing?
“Puh-leeze,” a voice butted in. Zarpessa tilted her long, slender legs so that they touched Bravo’s. “Like Chaste would say, there are plenty of other ways to get busy even with a cut lip, right, Too-Too?”
Tookie blinked at her, now feeling both woozy and embarrassed. After a few awkward seconds passed, Zarpessa leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve never done it, have you, Tookie?”
Tookie lowered her head. Bravo shifted nervously. “Uh, I think you should leave her alone.…”
“You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?” Zarpessa needled, her eyes growing wider and brighter.
Tookie desperately wanted to prove her wrong. Her cheeks blazed with shame. A knot lodged in her throat.
“Tookie is as pure as Shivera snow!” Zarpessa crowed. “Awww, that’s so cute!”
Bravo whipped around and glared at her, his muscles tensed, his eyes blazing. “Look, I told you to leave her alone,” he said in a biting voice. “Why can’t your bitchy little brain understand that?”
The room went silent. Every girl’s eyes widened. Zarpessa’s jaw dropped, and redness crept up her swanlike neck and into her cheeks. “Purse Erica?” she screamed. “This bed hurts my back,” she snapped. “I’ll wait in the waiting room till it’s my turn!”
Before she flounced away, she gave Tookie a dark, sadistic glare. I can’t wait till they burn you alive, she mouthed.
Tookie’s stomach made a loud growling noise again.
“Wow,” Bravo said. “You still zungry, huh?”
He broke off another piece of the Munchie and fed Tookie. Tookie didn’t drool this time, but she tasted fresh blood, probably from chomping down on her numb tongue and cheeks.
“Zoo zry,” Tookie said to Bravo, trying to say too dry. “Zit zeeds …” It needs. She reached into her flower brooch and pulled out the can of whipped cream that had dropped in during her first class with Guru Lauro. She sprayed a dollop of cream onto the Munchie in Bravo’s hand.
Bravo stared at the last bite of the cream-covered Munchie, then at Tookie’s flower. “You carry around random stuff on your chest?”
Tookie hesitated. If Bravo didn’t think she was freaky already, this would probably push him over the edge. “ZI’m zalways zungry.”
“Good for you,” Bravo whispered, kindly not pointing out how strangely Tookie was talking. “Some of the girls around here are afraid to eat, especially around us guys. It drives me nuts. Open up.”
Tookie opened her mouth for Bravo to feed her his cream-topped Modelland Munchie bite. She closed her eyes to fully appreciate the surge of flavor hitting her tongue.
Then Bravo leaned down. “What other kind of stuff does that hold in it, anyway?”
Tookie shrugged.
With a devious look in his eye, Bravo leapt off the bed and grabbed a jar of gauze. He held it up to the brooch, and the flower sucked it up. “Whoa!” he said.
Tookie giggled and pointed to a pair of discarded shoes in the corner. Snickering, Bravo grabbed them and held them up to the brooch. The flower gobbled the shoes up like a Venus flytrap hungry for insects. But the brooch didn’t get any bigger from its new cargo.
The two of them went around the room stuffing more things into the brooch—a pillow, a box of magical sandpaper, a pair of crutches. Tookie was giggling so hard her stomach muscles hurt. I’m having fun, she thought. With a guy. A guy every Bella wants the attention of. It didn’t seem real.
“Tookie?” Dr. Erica called, peeking around a curtain. “You’re numb enough now. Time for me to work my Modelland magic on those precious lips of yours. We’ll be rolling you into the operating room—or as we say here at Modelland, the OR-U-OK. My own special Lumière lighting and tools are in there for special cases. Time to say goodbye, Bravo.”
Bravo rose from Tookie’s bed. “Zoodbye, Zookie,” he said softly, curling his lips into a lopsided smile. He was looking at her so fondly, like he didn’t want her to leave. When they arrived in the OR-U-OK, he retreated toward the door. Tookie gazed at his hands. They were so lovely. Strong. And his nails were chipped. Perfectly imperfect.
“Zoodbye,” Tookie finally answered. As he slipped behind the curtain once more, she peered up at Dr. Erica. I must have just hallucina
ted all that. Surely Bravo hadn’t just come and sat with her. Fed her. Let her drool all over him.
But Dr. Erica smiled kindly. As if reading Tookie’s mind, she said, “Yes, Tookie. He was really here. And I think he likes you.”
Tookie’s head spun. He likes me? There’s no way. Absolutely no way …
Dr. Erica wheeled Tookie under a column of bright lights. “Okay now, relax, missy,” she said. “Close your eyes … count down from ten to one.”
“Zen …,” Tookie slurred.
Something touched her lip, startling her. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the doctor. “Keep your eyes closed, Tookie,” Dr. Erica said softly. “This lip procedure’s not pretty … but you are.”
Tookie wanted to react—Pretty?—but the lights and the Zed Meds were making her sleepy. Dutifully, she shut her eyes. “Zine,” she struggled to say. She knew she was hallucinating now. No one had ever called her pretty.
“Zeight … Zeven …”
She had just gotten used to ain’t half bad.
“Zix … Zive …”
She closed her eyes and thought of Bravo leaning over her. It was a million times better than Theophilus leaning over her long ago, asking Tookie if she was okay. Today, she and Bravo had had a whole conversation. And he’d fed her! A Forgetta-Girl, fawned over by such a gorgeous specimen … was it possible?
“Zour …”
Could she actually like him? The guy who was more striking than most girls at Modelland, and one hundred times better-looking than Tookie herself? Could she like a naturally-arched-eyebrowed pretty boy?
“Zhree … Zwo …”
But his nails were chipped, so he wasn’t perfect. Maybe she could like him. Maybe a myriad of things were changing for Tookie De La Crème—and maybe it was time to change with them.
28
THE THREE DECREES
“… One,” Tookie said aloud.
When Tookie opened her eyes, she saw a rainbow of colors on the hazy glass ceiling. How beautiful, she thought. But I don’t remember a glass ceiling in the OR-U-OK. She brought her hand to her lips. They were smooth, as if she had never been attacked by the vicious cats of the Corridor. Then she sat up. There was no trace of Dr. Erica, or of Purse Drestookill, Zarpessa, or Bravo. She wasn’t in the Fashion Emergency Department Store anymore. She was lying not on a hospital bed, but on a long glass table that had clear glass chairs neatly tucked around it. A floor-to-ceiling window looked out onto the M plaza.
Ugh! I sleepwalked again! Where the heck am I?
The walls were made of glass. On two long tables against the window sat all kinds of optical devices: spectacles of every sort, monocles, jeweler’s loupes, microscopes, viewfinders, magnifying glasses, and even a large prism, which cast a giant rainbow onto the floor. She reached out to touch a pair of ancient-looking glasses that had a pair of cloudy blue eyes drawn onto the lenses. As Tookie stared at them, the spectacles reared up on their earpieces and glared back at her. Slowly, the cloudy film over the eyes vanished, revealing two hazel irises.
She crawled onto her hands and knees and looked down. The golden plaza was sixty or seventy stories below her and it was nearly dark outside. She could barely make out some Bellas using the pliable gold surface as a mirror, fluffing their uniforms and hair.
I’m in the M building! she thought, starting to panic. All the Bellas knew that this place was strictly off-limits. Being found here would surely mean consequences Tookie feared to even imagine.
She jumped up from the table, feeling a rush of light-headedness. The Zed Med, she thought. There’s still some left in my body.
Tookie cracked open the glass door just a bit. The hallway walls were also made of glass panels, which went from clear to cloudy, then back to clear. If Tookie was very careful, she could stay out of sight.
Tookie saw Guru Applaussez having coffee with Guru Lauro Brown. Lauro had her feet propped up on a glass table with a glass mug of coffee in her hand. Guru Applaussez had a crystal coffee cup in each of its three hands. The largest cup was in its hand-head, its pinkie extended. When Applaussez suddenly turned in Tookie’s direction, she ducked and the glass wall went opaque. Whew, that was close! Tookie thought.
Cautiously, she raised her head and peered through the wall across the hall, spying a large set of risers in the shape of a tic-tac-toe board. There were thrones in each square. The throne in the center square looked like it was made of pure diamond and crystal—and Gunnero Narzz was in it.
Tookie’s heart dropped to her knees. The blood rushed from her brain.
Gunnero Narzz. Sitting in the diamond throne. Staring. Right. At. Tookie. With those terrifying gray eyes.
A sly smile blossomed on the Guru’s face. He brought something to his lips. A whistle? A weapon? I’m going back to Peppertown, Tookie thought. This is it.
Gunnero smeared the mysterious item over his lips. A stripe of red appeared. Lipstick! Next, the Guru blew a kiss straight at Tookie. He ran his manicured fingers through unbound locks of flowing blond hair and started to apply mascara to his lashes.
And then it dawned on Tookie: the Guru couldn’t see her. He was admiring his own reflection in a two-way mirror!
Angry voices floated from the end of the hall. Heart racing, Tookie tiptoed along opaque walls before they became clear again. Up ahead, Tookie spotted an EMERGENCY EXIT TO THE M sign with an arrow pointing to the left. Her way out! But she would have to pass the angry voices to get there.
Slowly, she slinked closer to the exit sign. The muffled voices grew louder and angrier. Four more glass doors. Three more. She rounded the corner and approached a massive set of double doors. To Tookie’s surprise—and horror—they were slightly ajar. Persimmon stood guard outside, hands folded across her hard, flesh-colored plastic body. But she was facing the doors, not the hallway. Eavesdropping.
A voice floated out from behind the door, and footsteps paced angrily. “So tell me how you did it? Huh? What did you do? Did you use a shovel? Your bare hands?”
It was the BellaDonna! In the flesh!
Tookie could hear sobbing. Someone was in big trouble with the BellaDonna. And the BellaDonna seemed to be enjoying the show.
“Oh, so now you’re all sad and weak, but to the whole world you act like some damn martyr! You talk such rubbish about abolishing everything this place stands for, spewing trash about undoing the very place that made you! You scheming, conniving hypocrite! You phony, worthless wench! The mere sight of you makes me want to vomit!”
“If I’m so bad, so vile, so disgusting, why have me return here?”
Tookie’s eyes widened. It was … Ci~L!
The BellaDonna let out a shriek. “Don’t you dare open your traitor lips to me unless I have granted you permission to speak! Do you know what it took for me to clean up that mess you made? I have been the BellaDonna of this school for ten years, and I thought I had seen it ALL! But what you did … what you thought acceptable to do with those girls’ bodies … it scares even me.”
Tookie blinked hard. “Girls’ bodies”? What did Ci~L do?
The exit sign blazed in the distance. Tookie knew she should run for it as fast as she could, but she inched toward the BellaDonna’s office door instead, closer to Persimmon.
Ci~L’s sobs escalated. The BellaDonna’s voice lowered. “Yes, dear. You frightened ME. And no one can scare me—at least, that’s what I thought. And now you’ve dug up some new trash. What are you planning to do with that round one, that wee one, and that wan one? They were funny here at first—amusing, even, kind of like hideous-looking masked mascots. But I’m over them. Abolish them now.”
Tookie’s eyes widened. She knew immediately that the BellaDonna was referring to Dylan, Shiraz, and Piper. But she didn’t mention me? Tookie wondered, both guilty and relieved that the BellaDonna had left her out.
“Uh-uh. I want to keep them around,” Ci~L said boldly, her voice gaining strength. “And you have no choice but to let me.”
The B
ellaDonna scoffed. “Why in hell would I do that?”
“Well, contrary to what you—the most unloved of the beloved, the cliquiest of the chic, the definer of all things stereotypical, and the extreme leader of all of Bellas unlucky to be led—think, knowledge is power. And the knowledge I have will make you do whatever the hell I want. Because if you don’t, I will tell everyone your little secret.”
“And what secret is that?” the BellaDonna asked, in a voice that was nervously subdued.
“You made one grave mistake,” Ci~L said. “And I don’t mean torturing me for a half a friggin’ year. Or making me redo War of Words in my first-year uniform. Or demanding I answer calls at the Modelland agency, where I’ve had to tell clients ‘Ci~L is not available to model for you because she’s an ingrate.’ Or forcing me to clean the floors of the Ugly Room with my tongue. Or gagging me like a horse while you pry my eyes open and make me watch old Modelland propaganda films for seven hours at a time while you drip saline in my eyes so they don’t dry out. Or denying me food for three days in a row to slim my ‘thick hips.’ Or making me feel so crazy and deranged that I have to freeze my face into a half-pleasant expression to hide the agonizing pain my body is truly suffering from every day!”
Ci~L stopped and gasped for breath. “No, woman, you made the mistake of insisting I work in the admissions department. Where I have full access to the new Bellas’ admissions records. Do you want to know what I saw? What I was shocked to see?”
The BellaDonna was silent.
“Before we go there,” Ci~L continued. “Let’s go over the three most important rules that each BellaDonna must abide by.”
The BellaDonna gasped. “That’s highly confidential! How do you know those rules?”
“I read them when I was enslaved in your admissions room, you idiot. So let’s go over those rules. I’ll let you go first, out of respect.”
“I will NOT play your little game,” the BellaDonna growled.
“Fine, then I’ll list them for you, in case you’ve forgotten,” Ci~L said. “One: You must set a world-changing definition of beauty and stick to it for five years. Two: All Gurus must have a combination of a defect and a power. And last but not least, three: Do not tamper with the predetermined admissions list!”