It was the butterfly she’d made for Darwin and its heart-shaped wings were crushed.
6
THE PAVILION
AMBROSIA BANQUET HALL
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5TH
6:30 P.M.
The door to the Banquet Hall slid open. Ninety-five girls dressed in matching metallics searched for their tables inside the dome-shaped eatery. Made entirely of glass, the walls provided a 360-degree view of the constellations overhead.
“Ohmuhgud,” Skye muttered. It looked more spaceship than cafeteria. She pressed her toes into the gummy soles of her clear gladiators and nervous-stretched her calves.
“This is nothing.” Thalia beamed. “Follow me.”
Twenty clover-shaped tables, one per house, faced a circular stage in the middle of the hall. Each time the Jackie O’s passed one, a chorus of Wall*E-sounding beeps chirped through the hushed hall.
“What’s happening?” Renee’s violet eyes shifted frantically as girls aimed their aPods at the newcomers.
“They’re checking our profiles,” Charlie whispered through the side of her mouth.
Renee angled her head slightly. “My left side is much better,” she mumbled to Skye.
“Not that profile.” Allie J giggled.
Thalia stopped at the empty table between Michelle Obama house and the J. K. Rowlings. “Please take your seats,” she announced from the head.
The top of the six-leaf clover was an LED screen that spelled out each girl’s name, her meal, and its complete nutritional breakdown. It was clear the menu was tailored to the girls’ alpha specialties and engineered to help them reach their full physical potentials. Why else would Skye be dining on protein-packed sesame-crusted seitan? Certainly not for the taste of it.
Triple peered around and sighed. “If a girl has an absolutely perfect blowout in a boy-free cafeteria, does it still make a statement?” she wondered aloud, stroking her elbow-length caramel mane.
Skye touched her carefully spiraled ringlets, not mentioning the fact that she too was feeling the early symptoms of boy withdrawal. She bit her frosted pink lip. Could lips feel lonely? Because hers did.
“A girl should want to look good for herself, not for boys,” Allie J responded automatically. The corner of her mouth beneath her mole twitched as if the words pained her somehow.
“I couldn’t have said that better myself.” Thalia leaned forward and gripped Allie J’s hand.
“Yes, you could have.” Renee rolled her eyes. “That didn’t sound convincing at all.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Allie J reddened.
“The timber of your voice was low and wavering.” Renee tucked a pink strand of hair behind her heavily studded ear. “You clearly didn’t believe what you were saying.”
“The shoulders tipped me off.” Triple Threat downed her third smoothie in one gulp. “Rounded only works if you’re playing homeless or anorexic.”
“Look!” Allie J lifted her arm, happy to be changing the subject. An orange origami butterfly landed on her wrist and flapped its wings. “Is it paper?”
“Recycled aluminum.” Charlie smiled proudly, like she’d made it herself. As if.
“Um, excuse me,” squeaked a redhead with semi-translucent skin. She smelled vaguely of coq au vin. “Allie J, will you sign my paring knife?” The girl opened a wood case and pulled a three-inch blade from its blue velvet cocoon, then handed the muse a Sharpie.
All five Jackie O’s scanned her immediately.
NAME: SADIE SHMOLHOLTZ. OWNER/HEAD CHEF OF UNICORN CHOWDER, NEW ORLEANS’ HOTTEST NEW RESTAURANT. YOUNGEST PROFESSOR AT THE FRENCH CULINARY INSTITUTE. AUTHOR OF NINETEEN COOKBOOKS AND SEVEN DVDS. PERSONAL CHEF FOR DEMI AND ASHTON AT AGE ELEVEN. HOBBIES: MODERN DANCE, JAZZ DANCE, BALLET, TAP, SWEDISH RHYTHMICS.
Jealousy bubbled inside Skye like boiled water. Why hadn’t anyone heard of her?
But with a little more thought, Skye decided it was for the best. Sadie would eventually need Allie J’s songs to console her after being dumped for cooking a giant muffin top in her pants. Not that she had one yet. The wannabe dancer was leaner than a boiled skinless chicken breast. But with any luck, she’d plump up soon.
The sun set abruptly and darkness filled the banquet hall as though a dimmer switch had been lowered. The constellations brightened, casting a silver glow over the girls while celestial music swirled around them with spellbinding proficiency. Sadie instantly darted back to the Tyra table.
Shira appeared in the center of the stage in a black column dress and sunglasses, auburn hair blowing, dress completely still. Beneath her feet was a floating golden hoverdisc, levitating her a full foot off the ground.
A collective gasp echoed off the glass walls.
“G’day.” Shira’s down-under accent lilted through the expansive room. “Welcome to the first day of the best of your lives.”
The alphas applauded, ignoring frantic quiet down gestures from their muses.
“You are here because you are special,” Shira continued, her disc floating from one side of the round stage to the other. Her black dress swirled around her ankles. “Each of you has the ability to be the top in your field and to advance the female genome for future generations. To do anything less with your gift would be a slap in the face to the Almighty She who created you. And a slap to her is a slap to me. Because I am here to finish her work and make you everything She wanted you to be.”
Applause erupted. It sounded like a rainstorm.
“The Greeks gathered the best architects of their time and created something that had never existed before: a high society with a new standard of excellence. Their islands were modeled to honor the original alpha, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war,” Shira declared. “This island is modeled to honor you, the modern-day alphas, goddesses of wisdom and more.”
Skye’s attention drifted toward a corkscrew-shaped glass staircase behind the stage. It led to a balcony with a single table overlooking the entire hall. It was a table for six, just like the others. But something set it apart. Maybe because its occupants weren’t dressed in metallics. Maybe because they were talking amongst themselves instead of listening to Shira. Maybe because they were…
“Ohmuhgud, guy spy!” Skye whisper-shout-nudged Allie J.
Allie J gasped. Triple and Renee turned their heads subtly. Charlie’s gaze remained fixed on Shira like a compass pointing straight to “loser.”
Skye squinted and counted not one, not two, not three, but five gorgeous Brazille boys. Skye’s heart grand jetéd, and she shared a knowing glance with her fellow alphas. Her days of feeling male-nourished were over. Guy spy with my little eye something that is hot! she typed in her aPod and sent the message to her housemates.
The Billionaire Brazille Boys, as they had been dubbed by Us Weekly, were international heartthrobs. Darwin was the cute, artsy one. Taz was a serial kisser, jumping from one girl’s lips to the next. His twin Dingo was a notorious prankster. Melbourne was the chiseled, model-worthy hawttie. And high-IQ Sydney hid his beauty behind a pair of geek-chic glasses.
Most of the brothers wore their navy blazers with crisp white button-downs, dark jeans, and gray Converse sneakers. Taz had cut his jacket into a vest and slipped it over a wrinkled black T-shirt and ripped jeans. It was hard to tell from across the hall, but it looked like he was wearing black flip-flops. Skye rubbed a loving hand over her dance sleeves. He seemed like the kind of guy who would appreciate them.
Shira was still talking about her expectations when Skye’s aPod hummed.
Renee: They’re checking us out!
Triple Threat: Who cares? They look young. I like older boys.
Allie J: In bed!
Skye: Watch this.
Putting her telepathic look at me vibe out into the universe, Skye made extreme eye contact with Taz. A smile instantly played at the corners of his oh-so-kissable lips. She credited dance for teaching her the art of speaking without saying a word. Like preparing for a lift with a partner, Skye wanted h
im to know she was ready whenever he was.
Allie J: He’s looking right at you!
She tossed her hair as if trying to steal the attention. But Taz’s gaze remained fixed on Skye.
Skye: I have eye contact.
Renee: Well, I have a-contact.
Renee flashed her aPod. Gold conversation bubbles filled her screen. She and Taz had already exchanged hellos.
Allie J: How’dja do that?
She inched her chair closer to Renee’s.
Renee: Season 9, when Rayne Storm was after Cora’s killer (b4 she realized she killed Cora herself during a drinking binge) she got a job developing software so she could keep an eye on Gavin, suspect #1. Long story short, I took a six-week training course at DeVry to prepare.
Triple Threat: I did nine weeks at a Texas slaughterhouse for my walk-on in The Butcher Block.
Skye grabbed a napkin, dipped her fork in tomato puree, and wrote:
HAD No. 3: Crush Renee and Triple like a chestnuts in a nutcracker. She hid the napkin down the back of her skirt. If her mother’s ballet shoe was worth its salt, their careers would peak on Celebrity Apprentice.
Renee: Not sure how that helps us get the boys but thanks for sharing.
Allie J: R, write something else.
Renee wiggled her fingers, as if preparing them for the scene.
Renee: Jackie O says yo!
Allie J: In bed!
They snickered into their palms.
On the balcony the boys were huddled over Taz’s aPod like it was the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.
Onstage, Shira cleared her throat. “And now, a word about my sons.”
The boys straightened instantly. The alphas cheered and whistled like rowdy inmates. An icy breeze blew through the hall, distracting them into silence.
“Allow me to draw upon the myth of Icarus.” Shira paused, allowing time for her words to circulate. “Daedalus fashioned wings out of wax and feathers to help his son Icarus escape prison. Before taking off, Daedalus warned his boy not to fly too close to the sun. Overcome by the rush of flying, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he ignored his father’s instructions and came too close to the sun, which melted the wax and loosened the feathers. Icarus kept flapping his wings but soon realized that he was only flapping his bare arms. And soon, he plunged into the sea and drowned.” Shira cast her sunglassed eyes over the crowd.
“Zzzzzzzz,” Skye fake-snored. “Why is she telling us about wax and feathers?”
“She’s telling us the Greek myth about temptation,” theater-geeked Renee.
“She’s telling us not to get too confident,” quipped Triple.
“She’s telling us not to eat birds,” Allie J tried.
“She’s telling us not to date her sons,” Charlie snapped.
Skye’s skin prickled with doom. Or were her crush cells scrambling to find a new home?
Shira looked sternly out over the crowd. “Males are distractions and can change the course of a girl’s life in an instant. So from this moment on, my boys are one hundred percent off-limits.”
All the air was sucked out of the room as Skye joined ninety-eight alphas—for some reason Charlie remained mute—in a group gasp. No Brazille boys? It was like visiting Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and not being able to taste anything.
“My sons will take classes with you. But all other interaction is forbidden. No texting, no flirting, no studying. Those who disobey will find themselves falling much farther than Icarus.”
A few girls giggled nervously, unsure whether Shira was joking about that last part.
“Told ya,” Charlie whisper-smirked.
Renee’s picked up her aPod and shook it.
Renee: It’s not working. Firewalled.
Triple Threat: Crush blocked.
“But follow my rules and you will soar. Literally.” Shira grinned at the muses, who were still onstage. “Every girl who displays exceptional alpha’tude will get flying lessons, and eventually, the keys to her own Personal Alpha Plane.”
Everyone whooped and hollered. Skye typed.
Skye: Charlie, you’re good with tech, right? Break through my firewall thingy.
She sent the text and then handed Charlie her aPod.
Charlie shook her head no.
“I want to tell them to stop contacting us,” Skye insisted.
“Oh.” Charlie smiled peacefully. Her face was pretty the way water was tasty. It got the job done but lacked pizzazz. All of her features were exactly where they should be. Her medium brown hair Pantened to her waist, and her body was slim and well proportioned. But something was missing. Probably nothing Visine and a smile couldn’t fix.
After some impressive thumbnastics, Charlie returned the aPod. Skye winked her appreciation, then began texting Taz.
Skye: Icarus should have flown at night. No sun!!! C U soon.
Taz didn’t text back. He didn’t need to. His smile said it all.
7
SOMEWHERE ON ALPHA ISLAND
THE ROAD TO ADONISVILLE
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5TH
11:45 P.M.
The girls’ aPod flashlights ricocheted through the dark like an unintentional laser show. Allie had no clue where they were going but was certain her bare feet would be torn to ribbons once they arrived. Still, running felt good. At least some part of her was moving forward.
Heavy breathing and the occasional nervous giggle were the only sounds they made until they cleared the alpha houses. Charlie had refused to join them, claiming she didn’t want to break the rules on the first night. Now Allie, Skye, Renee, and Triple were sprinting through the dark night. Sleep seemed to have claimed everyone else on the island—even the light of the moon.
“Let’s stop,” Renee panted, finding cover under the canopy of an acacia tree.
“Not here,” Allie J whisper-insisted. “We’re still too close.”
Skye scanned the perimeter, her turquoise eyes darting back and forth. “Why do you think Charlie didn’t want to come?” Skye pulled her fingers, cracking the knuckles.
“She probably already knows that the BBBs have zero interest in her,” Renee said, as she dashed from the cover of one Joshua tree to another. “Besides, she was sound asleep when we left.”
“Maybe she was faking? You’re not the only one who can act, you know,” Triple snapped.
“Actually”—Renee rolled up the sleeves of her glistening silver nightshirt—“I am.”
“Let’s just keep going before someone hears us.” Allie shifted from one foot to the other to keep the ground germs from sticking.
“According to this, the boys live south of here, where the circle thingy connects to the bottom of the a.” Renee announced, studying the @-shaped map on her aPod.
“How do you know fur-sure?” Skye cracked another knuckle.
“Because it flashes ‘off-limits’ every time I try to get directions.”
“Shhhhhhhh,” Allie hissed, fearing the worst—an office-scolding from Shira. At that kind of proximity, she’d definitely realize Allie’s mole was kohl. Her cover would be blown and she’d be sent to jail for identity fraud. Fletcher and Trina would become famous as the people who’d driven her to this life of deception. And they’d sell their love story to Lifetime for millions of—
“If you’re so worried about getting caught, you should have stayed behind,” Renee barked.
“In bed!” Triple added, mocking Allie’s favorite joke.
“I need some inspiration. And danger gives me that, okay? It’s part of my process,” Allie managed, leaving out the part about replacing her old crush with a new one so she could have a shot at happiness. “Besides, taking a chance on romance is a dance in tight pants. It’s risky but frisky. But make the right move and you’re in the groove.” She smiled, relieved that she remembered the lyrics to Allie J’s song “Skintight” under such extreme pressure.
“I say we follow the bubble train route.” Renee held
her aPod to the ground, using the screen’s blue glow to guide them.
A tropical breeze launched the sweet smell of gardenias, reminding Allie of the time Fletcher had sample-sprayed Hawaiian Blossom in Sephora. He’d said that one day, when they were older, they’d travel to the South Pacific and smell that scent in person. Sadly, that dream had evaporated faster than the tiny perfume drops.
“Change of plans,” Skye announced. “We’re going to the beach.”
“Shira just got home,” Renee announced even louder.
“How do you know?” Triple asked.
“You think you’re the only one Taz texts?” Renee jiggled her aPod in front of Skye’s full lips. “I got the message too.”
Skye shot Allie a can you believe how annoying she is? glare. Allie replied with a whaddaya gonna do? shrug.
“They told Shira they’re going to look for their brother Darwin.” Renee thumbed the aPod screen. “Apparently he’s depressed.”
“Who isn’t?” Allie mumbled into the darkness.
“They lit a bonfire. We have to look for the—”
“Smoke!” Triple pointed toward the northern tip of the island.
“Let’s go.” Renee took off, leaving the others no choice but to follow.
Shoeless, running along a dirt path in nothing but a silver nightgown and several coats of Burt’s Bees balm, Allie felt more like an escaped mental patient than a seductress. She nibbled anxiously on her bottom lip. It tasted like wax, honey, and insanity.
They finally arrived at the beach. The pink sand felt cold, almost mentholated, offering much-needed relief to Allie’s scraped, potentially diseased feet.
“There they are!” Skye air-applauded the distant smoldering fire.
“Let’s go!” Renee slid off her silver ballet flats and charged forward.
“Wait!” Skye called, unbuckling her clear gladiators. There were dozens of clasps going up her tanned calves.
“I told you not to wear those,” Renee huffed impatiently.
Alphas Page 6