by Tyra Banks
“One more thing,” Gunnero said, still balancing primly on the masculine- and feminine-symbol plank. “Please, boys and girls: no strikes to the face or to the boys’ ‘neither-nether’ regions. Pain of that kind is not beauty. Now, on with the show! Up first! Chaste from Modelland and Alexander from Bestosterone! The rest of the competitors, return to your Prep Zones!”
The crowd roared again, and Tookie and Zarpessa walked back into the girls’ zone. A buzzer sounded and Chaste walked a few paces more out onto the plank on the Bella side. Alexander moved onto the plank from the Bestostero side. Chaste stood seductively and stared at her opponent, giving him a full dose of her sexual power. Her Sentura motioned seductively, looking like a beckoning finger.
“Look at you, girl, knowing the ropes!” Gunnero said. “Methinks somebody took part in the new Civilian-Modelland ManAttack Summer Program in Beignet!”
Chaste posed sexily, hands in her hair, one toe pointed. She was truly a sight to behold. Tookie saw Alexander’s knees buckle just slightly.
“Be warned, Alexander! Chaste is randy hard-up candy!” Gunnero announced in falsetto. “Listen up! First theme: Fitness Battle. Yoga versus karate. You both have opened new businesses next door to each other. WHO refuses to go bankrupt? Get ready for the Touch.…”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the Bella Prep Zone door. Zarpessa turned and answered it. “Oh!” she chirped, a welcoming grin on her face. “Well, hello there! I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, but …”
Tookie’s heart flipped.
It was Bravo.
Bravo pushed past Zarpessa, barely noticing her. “Tookie! Isn’t this incredible?” He grabbed her hands. “They put us together. I’m excited and nervous.”
Bravo turned to her. “Uh, Zarpessa, right? Would you mind going out in the hall so I can speak with Tookie in private?”
Zarpessa looked like she was about to laugh. “Really? Why?” Bravo stared at her until a look of disbelief crossed her face. “You can’t be serious.” She jutted a thumb at Tookie. “Her?”
“Yeah, her,” Bravo said, clenching his jaw. “And she has a name that I know you know.”
Zarpessa pushed through the door and slammed it hard.
Bravo’s hand caressed Tookie’s shoulder, and he began to sink his fingers into her back muscles. Tookie let out a breath; his touch had made that tickling in her hips return. “What’s the matter, pretty girl? Pre-competish jitters?” Now his hands massaged Tookie’s scalp, his hands tangling in her curly, wavy, straight, frizzy hair. “Understandable. Gunnero loves to just throw new Bellas out there and watch them struggle. Let me tell you how this game really works so you won’t be too surprised. That center plank?” He pointed at it. “That is your friend. Stay on it. You fall off while we’re playing, you lose ten points. See?”
He gestured out the window. A piercing buzzer sounded, and Chaste and Alexander ran at top speed toward each other. When Chaste was five feet in front of the boy, she grabbed Alexander and gave him a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the lips and then pushed him off the plank. Alexander tumbled toward the ground but seemed to land on an invisible trampoline, suddenly bouncing back into the air.
“Antigravity,” Bravo explained. “Much better than circus nets.” He pointed at Chaste. “Wow, she may be loose, but her game is tight. We’re just supposed to run at each other at full speed and just touch hands or something, minimum. By the way, that’s not how I’m going to kiss you.”
Tookie’s stomach churned like a blender on high. “Bravo,” she said in a tiny voice. “I really need to tell you something.”
But Bravo didn’t appear to hear her, explaining more of the challenge. “Next, clothes come shooting out of those three holes in the struts.” He pointed to places on the struts above the plank, to the left and right and center. “We have to assemble a high-fashion—and on-theme, don’t forget—outfit from what’s thrown at us. You have to think really fast. Chaste and Alex will be trying to pick an outfit that matches their yoga/martial arts theme.”
As Alexander struggled to get back up onto the plank, the three holes on the struts began firing clothes at Chaste. A black-diamond-studded belt with black tassels streamed out of the hole to the right, and ruched leotards came out of the one to the left; raw-silk karate parachute pants came from the hole up above, the matching jacket from the left; stretch pants and even yoga mats flew out of all the holes.
It quickly became clear that Chaste had picked the part of karate instructor since she was putting on the white jacket and pants and was holding on to the black-diamond-studded belt. As Alexander struggled to his feet, Chaste hurled a mass of yoga clothing into his face. He had no choice but to assemble the feminine pieces into an outfit.
“Chaste scores a point in my book!” Gunnero commented. “Picking kick-ass over stretch-ass!”
“Bravo,” Tookie pleaded. “I need to—”
“Hold up, hold up.” Bravo tenderly squeezed her hand. “Now it’s time for the Make-Up phase. You don’t need much. Just a little cream-flavored gloss, maybe, so I can taste it when we kiss.…” Then he pointed. “You have to be careful of those Makeup Bombs, though. They’re actually called Maki Balls. Look!”
Sure enough, red and blue balls appeared out of thin air. The red ones whizzed around Chaste’s face. She did two fast backward cartwheels to catch two. She rubbed a red one, and shimmering pink powder appeared on her fingertips. Chaste spread it over her cheeks. She threw a blue one at Alexander. Oil and flesh-colored ooze and black soot exploded onto his chest.
“Way to give a guy blue balls, honey!” Gunnero crowed.
“Those red Maki Balls have makeup inside them for Bellas—blush, eye stuff, and lipstick. The blue ones are for us and are filled with stuff called Mandation. Our Maki Balls also have body oil, and charcoal for smoky eyes,” Bravo explained. “Just rub your fingers on the various parts and dab it on. Applying makeup is mandatory—you get points taken off if you don’t. The more skillful the job, the better.”
Chaste smeared black eye shadow over just one eye and a jagged line of bright red lipstick to one side of her mouth. The red ball beeped faster and faster the longer Chaste held it.
“Once you touch them, they’re activated, and after a short while, kaboom! They explode!” Bravo explained. “So throw them away as fast as you can—your opponent gets ten points if one explodes on you.”
Bravo gently turned her around to face him. He slowly put his hand to his mouth, licked his thumb, and gently rubbed Tookie’s eyebrow with it. Tookie’s body tickled all the way from her hips to her ankles. He then wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her in tight. The side of her face was pressed against his bare chest and she could feel his heart pumping in sync with hers.
Tookie’s eyes fluttered closed. She loved having him caress her. She knew she would never have a stunning young man like this cradle her with such tenderness ever again. She wanted to hold on to this, on to him, until the very last drop was left. Three drops left … two …
But she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t lead Bravo on. Tookie looked around the arena. She didn’t see Piper’s pale hair anywhere. Hadn’t she found the switch yet? What was taking her so long?
She pulled away and stared into Bravo’s eyes. “Bravo, about what happens after ManAttack—”
Bravo’s mouth was close to Tookie’s ear. “The next part is the most important part. See that Gyro up there along the strut? After we’re dressed and made up, it starts jerking all around us and starts a countdown from Z to A. When it reaches A, it snaps a photo of us. If Chaste manages to be the focal point of the photo, she gets more points. If Alexander overshadows her, he gets more. The important thing to remember is that Modelland is competing against Bestosterone, but we’re also competing against our own team members to be number one. Kinda like gymnastics in the world games.”
Two camera flashes turned the OrbArena bright white. Three-dimensional images of Chaste and Alexander flashed above the
plank in the middle of the OrbArena. A sports siren sounded, indicating the end of the round and also the beginning of Tookie’s momentary deafness.
“Bold-faced Chaste. Black-eye and bloody-lip maquillage, to boot. I guess the girl knows her way around Cosme-dics,” Gunnero trilled over the loudspeaker.
A charge of electricity sparkled through the scoreboard, which promptly displayed the score.
Modelland: Chaste, 85 points. Bestosterone: Alexander, 30 points.
“Yes!” Chaste screamed. She took a huge bounding leap off the plank and made a soft landing in a group of Bestosteros sitting in a line of seats along the struts.
Gunnero then called Zarpessa’s name. “Okay Miss Zarpesta, let’s see what you’re made of! Your theme? Lady spider and her insect of prey! Can our sexy arachnid catch her fly, or will you get caught in his web of leather and lace?”
Bravo turned back to Tookie. “I know it’s a lot to absorb, but it’s actually a fun game,” Bravo said. “Do I need to take you through it again?”
Tookie stared at him. Suddenly, she felt full of rage. “No, I don’t want you to take me through it again. I’ve been trying to tell you something for the last fifteen minutes, and you haven’t heard me at all!”
Bravo blinked at her. “What is it?”
He was staring at her so patiently, without a clue of what was coming next. It felt like there was a huge rock on Tookie’s chest, preventing her from taking a full breath. “I’m escaping from Modelland. Today.”
His eyes bulged. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you! My friends and I—we have to. We’re going through the hidden ZipZap soon—maybe in just minutes. This is goodbye.”
Bravo’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of Tookie’s news. “You’re leaving through our ZipZap? The one you asked me to show you? The one I wanted to take you through tonight?”
“That’s right.”
“… Without me?”
“Yes.” She turned away, not wanting to look at him.
“Why?” Bravo asked.
In the arena, Gunnero crowed at the Wardrobe battle. “Nice use of fishnets, Webb! Way to trap that itsy-bitsy spider!”
Tookie lowered her eyes. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “Because I have to, okay? I can’t stay here. It’s something I can’t explain.”
Slowly, Bravo’s eyes grew cold. “You weren’t going to tell me about this, were you? If we weren’t paired up today. If I hadn’t come to see you just now. You were just going to … go! Through our ZipZap! You used me!”
Tookie’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. The crushed tone of Bravo’s voice made her want to wilt to the floor. But she tried to stay strong. “I didn’t use you.”
“Yeah, you did! After I poured my heart out to you! After I told you a story I never told anybody before!”
“I’m sorry,” Tookie said, trying to shove all her tumultuous feelings aside.
Then Bravo crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, Tookie, I’ll tell you a little secret, too. You and me, kissing? It was nothing but a bet with my boys.”
Her head whipped up. “What?”
“That’s right.” There was no joy in Bravo’s smile. “I made a bet with Webb and Alex that I could get a funny-looking girl to fall in love with me. The pretty ones … they’re easy. But the weird-looking ones … they’re the ultimate challenge.”
Tookie took a huge step back. It felt like he’d reached into her body and pulled out both her lungs. You can’t be serious, she wanted to say. But maybe … he could. Look at her. She was a circus freak. Nothing like the gorgeous creatures who populated this school. All her fears, all her instincts, had proven to be true. She was nothing but a joke.
“So I guess we’re not so different, you and I,” Bravo said in a stoic, iron-cold voice. The voice of someone who didn’t care—who had never cared. “We’re both heartless. A perfectly imperfect match.”
“Get out!” Tookie screamed.
“Peace.” He spun around and stormed away.
Tookie was so stunned and shaken she could barely move. I almost let him in. I should have known better! Look at him! Why in the hell would you think he would ever want a fugly freak-a-zoid Forgetta-Girl like you?
Thunderous cheers rumbled from the OrbArena. The Gyro reared back to life and jerked around the duo, gearing up to take its photo of Webb and Zarpessa, who was dressed in a black catsuit with dangling strips that looked like spider legs, complete with a webby mesh mask on her face. The crowd began to recite the alphabet backward.…
“Z … Y … X …”
Zarpessa eyed the jerking Gyro as she flitted around Webb. She jumped up to avoid a blue Maki Ball that scurried along the plank. Meanwhile, Tookie held on to the wall, realizing she was on the brink of breaking down to a place so deep and dangerous she wasn’t sure she could return. A fugly Forgetta-Girl. That’s all I’ll ever be.
“… M … L … K …”
But then, suddenly, an inner light flicked on inside Tookie. She let go of the wall and mustered the strength to stand tall. Hold it together, she told herself. She was the leader of the Unicas. They needed her to be strong to get them out of Modelland.
“… G … F … E …”
I’m tired of feeling powerless, Tookie thought. Powerless against her mother’s favoritism of Myrracle. Powerless against her father’s decision to throw her away. Powerless against Zarpessa and her wrath. But now, she could have the power. She could change her future. She wouldn’t let Bravo’s verbal blows make her crumble.
“… D … C …”
Tookie peered back out into the arena. With the speed of a black widow going in for the kill, Zarpessa leapt into the air, tightened her Sentura around her waist, and fell at Webb’s feet.
“… B …”
Zarpessa gazed up at the moving Gyro. Her body went artistically angular. She wrapped her many fishnets around Webb as if her web was strangling him to death.
SNAP! The image was displayed above Zarpessa and Webb.
“Isn’t she lovely?” Gunnero cooed. “A deer-widow caught in Webb-lights! She may be a brat, but our Zar also may be a star.”
The scoreboard delivered its verdict:
Modelland: Zarpessa, 92 points. Bestosterone: Webb, 25 points.
“Oooo, ninety-two,” Gunnero announced. “Sorry, Chaste, but our little tarantu-pessa got you beat. Up next … Crazy Eyes—I mean Tookie from Modelland! And …”
Tookie eyed Bravo on the other side of the OrbArena. All of a sudden, her trembling hands went still. Her heart thudded, full of blood and adrenaline. You’re powerFUL, she told herself. And you’re going to let Bravo and all those other Bestosterone brats see that. You’re going to Kick. His. Ass!
“… beauteous Bravo from Bestosterone!” Gunnero finished.
Tookie lurched out onto the plank like a tiger sprung from its cage. Bravo stepped out on his side. His hunched posture made him look self-conscious in his couture ManAttack underwear.
“Tookie and Bravo?” Gunnero crowed. “The Beast and the Beauty, right? Theme? Queen versus Court. Court wants to overthrow Queen and steal her crown and jewels. Bravo, you can steal my family jewels any day.…”
The piercing buzzer sounded. Tookie and Bravo ran down the plank toward each other at top speed. Bravo stretched out his hand. Ten feet away … six feet … three feet … and then … Contact! Tookie’s arm hooked Bravo across the neck, throwing him off the plank headfirst. The crowd gasped. Bravo’s head was an inch from the ground, and then he was yanked back up by the antigravity pull of the OrbArena.
“Crazy Eyes may not just look crazy …,” Gunnero trilled.
The crowd let out a mix of cheers and boos—but Bravo was obviously the favorite. As the antigravity pushed Bravo back to the plank, he shot Tookie a look of surrender. But Tookie glared at him, years of pain and rage bubbling up inside of her. No way was she was backing down. Not after she found out she was nothing but a bet.
> “Phase two … Wardrobe!” Gunnero crowed.
A crown whipped toward Tookie, hitting her square in the face. The force knocked her backward. Then a queen’s dress with a Jeremy Jurk label pelted her leg. Next came a ruby-encrusted bracelet that was as long as her entire arm. She struggled to put the bracelet on.
“Stop!” Tookie moaned, kicking and thrashing at the clothing and crown. A blazer embellished with an armor breastplate punched Tookie in the stomach. She floated awkwardly away from the plank. Bravo grabbed her waist and pulled her back onto the plank.
Gunnero snickered. “Bella girls, that fire you smell? It’s your representative from Modelland, and she’s being barbequed … going down in flames. Me? I’ll have a hot dog. Plain, without the bun, please …”
Tookie squirmed away from Bravo’s aid. When she turned around again, Bravo wore the blazer of armor with no shirt and a royal soldier’s helmet made of wool. He looked so handsome her insides did a flip. But reality kicked back in quickly—the bet. She puckered her lips.
“What are you doing?” Bravo whispered.
“Giving you your first smacker from me,” she teased. “Oh, come on, Bravo, baby, close your eyes!”
He did. Tookie brought her ruby-braceleted arm behind her, clenched her fist, and hit Bravo in the face.
“Ooh, baby, does it feel good?” she yelled, a crazed look in her eyes.
A penalty horn sounded.
“Minus five points before Maquillage?” Gunnero tsked. “That’s one bitter queen!”
“Kick her in the head, Bravo!” Webb yelled from the audience. “That should be an easy target to hit!”
Bravo stood and gaped at Tookie. Blood dripped from his nose. “I’m not a punching bag, Tookie!”
“And I am not a joke!” Tookie screamed.
The blue and red explosive Maki Balls appeared. In frustration, Bravo kicked them to the ends of the plank, away from him and Tookie. But they bounced right back up.
“Kicking the Maki Balls? Ouch! Ten points off Bravo!” Gunnero admonished.
“Tookie, you have to get dressed!” Bravo urged. “Put something on!” He gestured to the floating clothes around her head.