Belle of the Brawl

by Lisi Harrison

  “How do we make this happen?”

  Allie nodded and listened as Charlie sketched the outlines of a plan for meeting up with Mel, acting excited as she went on. And on. Because, Allie told herself, that’s what actors do. They act.

  9

  MOUNT OLYMPUS

  CHAIRLIFT

  SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND

  12:26 P.M.

  “Are we there yet?” Skye asked miserably. Her stomach lurched as the A-shaped air-chair she shared with Charlie and Allie swayed in high-altitude wind, hoisting the three Jackie O’s up Mount Olympus, the tallest landmass on Alpha Island. Fifty feet below the chairlift she could see the tops of pine trees shivering, mirroring her own trembling nerves. If today’s assault on Syd’s senses didn’t work, she might have to join Allie in the infirmary for fear of a nervous collapse.

  “Smell that mountain freshness,” Allie shouted into the wind, taking a big gulp of pine-scented, snow-cooled air. “Reminds me of the ski slopes in Tahoe!”

  “Reminds me of an out-of-control roller coaster run by drunk carnies,” mumbled Skye, unzipping her gunmetal gray parka halfway. The breeze-battered chairlift was just like her life right now—out of her control. But looking across the air-chair at her fellow O’s, the same could be said about them, too. Charlie had been nervous, jumpy, and clumsy all morning, and Allie was weirdly chipper for no discernable reason—almost manically so. In her gold belted puffer and matching gold fleece headband wrapped around her honeyed hair, Allie reminded Skye of an Austrian ski champion. Charlie looked cute, too, in an optic white parka that offset her mahogany hair, but she had chewed her nails down to the quick. Her forehead was creased with worry.

  Skye clutched the safety bar on the chairlift and leaned forward, scanning the ground for Alpha girls. The competition to land the Brazille brothers was so fierce among the eighty-eight Alphas that Charlie had decided to leak fake locations for their picnic to throw girls off the scent. Down by the beach, Skye spotted fifteen girls in glittery bikinis, standing around sniffing the air for testosterone.

  “I can almost see the burn lines from here,” Skye said, pointing at the beach and wondering which Brazille bro they were waiting for.

  “I hope they don’t find out Darwin was with us today,” Charlie sigh-nodded. Down at the foot of Mount Olympus, at the Academy’s riding stables, three girls dressed in breeches and boots were hitting one another angrily with riding crops. “And it looks like Shelly Yip, Britney Saperstein, and Nuala Lapore realized Mel isn’t showing up for that trail ride. Oops.”

  All week, Alphas had been driven to desperate acts in the hope of impressing a Brazille Boy. It was like an episode of The Bachelor and 24 combined. So far, Skye had heard about a broken ankle (Jeanette Hollis, trampled by a pack of girls running after Dingo near the Arts Building) and more sabotage than on an episode of America’s Next Top Model. Tales were circulating of bleach in shampoo bottles, Sharpie ink in toothpaste, garlic oil in perfume bottles.

  But nobody had been sabotaged as much as Skye had sabotaged herself. In her quest to gross Syd out, she’d gone from a toned ten to a grungy, greasy, ill-tempered two. Still, Syd clung to her like toilet paper on a shoe. But that was all about to change, hopefully, and maybe she would get another chance at… ohmuhgud.

  Skye craned her neck to get a better view of the Joan of Arc, Shira’s yacht in the middle of Lake Alpha. Standing on the deck was a tiny, ant-sized Taz, squeezing sunscreen onto his hands, surrounded by a pack of bathing suit–clad Alphas.

  “Sorry, babe.” Charlie flashed Skye a sympathetic smile. “Taz could never resist a party. But someday soon, you two will put Syd behind you. I think Taz liked you more than he’s ever liked any one girl before.”

  “Until I ruined it!” Skye moaned, reaching a dirt-encrusted fingernail inside the greasy tangle of hair. “My life is hell. My only hope is that today, Syd will realize that if he sticks with me, his life will be hell, too.”

  “I thought your life was smell,” joked Allie.

  Skye nodded, chewing her lip. Allie was right—Skye had finally achieved maximum nastiness. To be any grosser, she would have to contract a case of scabies along with gingivitis, both of which were too icky to contemplate. “Yeah, today is as gross as I get. Which reminds me,” Skye dug through the picnic basket at the girls’ feet. “I packed a snack.”

  Skye fished out a yellow onion and began to peel off the skin, her stomach recoiling at the thought of what she was about to do.

  Allie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Skye, you are not going to eat that.”

  “I have to!” Skye snapped. “This is my last hope! If Syd leans in for a kiss and smells this, maybe he’ll reconsider our undying love.” She pinched her nostrils shut with two fingers and bit into the onion as if it were an apple, chewing it miserably as tears streamed down her face. Her gag reflex kicked in and she fought through it to swallow a mouthful of raw onion.

  “Nice touch,” Charlie giggle-grimaced, gesturing toward Skye’s jaw line, where an eruption of chin-zits now dotted her otherwise flawless complexion.

  “Lip liner,” Skye gag-grinned, shrugging as she tossed the half-eaten onion overboard into the pine forest. “Triple’s idea.”

  As the air-chair skidded toward the clearing at the top of the mountain, the girls zipped up their parkas, applied Purell (Allie), chewed her cuticles inscrutably (Charlie), and dusted faux dandruff made of cornstarch and cookie crumbs across her shoulders (Skye).

  “What’s my motivation again?” Allie sat up straighter and adjusted her ski headband, channeling her new budding-actress persona as she grilled Charlie.

  Charlie let out a tiny sigh and shot a quick look at Skye before launching into a pep talk. Evidently, Allie was about to set into motion the performance of a lifetime. “You’re pretending you’re over Darwin, and into Mel. Act confident, cool, and totally in control. That way, Darwin will see what he’s missing and Mel will fall for you, which, with any luck, might make Darwin want you that much more.”

  Skye swallowed a bitter laugh. If there was one thing she’d learned while trying to shake Syd, it was that people never responded how you hoped they would.

  Charlie paused, taking a breath and leaning over to scan the clearing for signs of the guys. “Best-case scenario,” she continued, “you’ll have two Brazille brothers fighting over you.”

  Allie nodded and chewed her lip in concentration as she whispered “cool, calm, confident” to herself as if preparing to walk onstage for Hollywood week on American Idol.

  “Good luck, Al,” Skye said. “May one of us make a love connection today, and may it not be me.”

  Skye narrowed her aquamarine eyes at the group of boys waiting for them. Syd stood next to the lift clutching a huge bunch of yellow and pink-flecked branches. Behind the flowers, his smile was as all-consuming as a black hole.

  But as the air-chair slid in for a landing, Skye found Charlie’s optimism infectious. After all, if Allie could act her way into Mel’s heart, why couldn’t Skye act her way out of Syd’s? With any luck, Skye would be single by dinner, and she could wash that man—and a week of filth—right out of her hair.

  10

  HIGH ABOVE ALPHA ISLAND

  MOUNT OLYMPUS

  SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND

  12:40 P.M.

  As the air-chair dipped in for a landing, Charlie gritted her teeth and hoped the hamster-wheel of nerves in her stomach would slow to a halt soon. She snuck a peek at Allie’s serene-looking face and hoped for the millionth time that her crazy plan would work: that Mel would fall for Allie, and that in time, Allie would be so wrapped up with Mel that she wouldn’t be able to remember Darwin’s name. And most of all, that she would come out of this high-altitude triple date without making any enemies. She glanced across from her at Skye, who looked as bad as Charlie felt. If Syd was as grossed out by Skye as Charlie was, soon all the Jackie O’s would have what they wanted.

  “There they are,” whispered Allie, a slow smile cr
eeping across her glossed lips. She looked confident and radiated calm.

  “Picnic time,” Charlie sing-songed lamely. She was way too nervous to eat anything, but the mountaintop would make a great romantic backdrop for Allie and Mel’s first date.

  Just as they were about to jump off the lift, Allie reached over and grabbed Charlie’s hand in hers and squeezed it hard. Suddenly it was as though the real Allie jumped out of actress-Allie’s exterior and flashed Charlie a wild-eyed look. “Are you sure you’re over Darwin? Something still feels weird about this.”

  No, I’m not sure at all!

  “Of course,” lied Charlie, praying her voice wouldn’t shake. “I want this to work more than anyone.” Charlie did want this to work, and by this, she meant the Mel-Allie connection.

  The air-chair touched down for a moment and Charlie grabbed Allie and Skye’s hands as they all jumped off. Charlie waved at the boys, who stood near a stand of pines on three sides of a huge picnic blanket, and said an internal prayer that Allie wouldn’t find out what she was up to, that Mel would be all over Allie like blue on a Na’vi, and that Darwin would forgive her someday for making him lie. It was a lot to ask, but Charlie would find a way to repay the universe if she got what she wanted. She was an Alpha Inventor, wasn’t she? Maybe she’d cure cancer. At the very least, she would cure Allie’s broken heart. And, if all went well, Charlie would also mend her own.

  A few minutes later the three Jackie O’s trudged toward the immense picnic blanket, each nervous for her own reasons.

  “This is ah-mazing.” Charlie couldn’t help marveling over the spread.

  Darwin was a serial DIY-er, hating to let others do what he could do himself, and this picnic had his trademark favorites all over it. There were three kinds of everything: fresh-squeezed fruit juice (pear-pomegranate, grapefruit-guava, and ginger lemonade), flatbread pizzas (rosemary portobello, tomato basil, and chicken apple sausage), and three cakes (flourless chocolate, lemon mousse, and strawberry shortcake).

  “Wow,” breathed Allie, wiping tears of shock-appreciation from her eyes. She smiled sweetly at Darwin as he sat down on the blanket, then shot a furtive glance at Melbourne, who looked ready for his close-up as he leaned against a nearby pine tree. “I didn’t know guys could do stuff like this,” she said to the whole group.

  “We’re not your average guys.” Mel’s lavender eyes twinkled as he flashed a smile, highlighting his strong jaw and cleft chin. He wore forest green snowboarding pants with a white down jacket. His straight blond hair matched Allie’s newly restored locks. “It might not be the food court at the mall, but we came close.”

  “I love mall food,” Allie sighed wistfully, as if remembering a beloved old friend.

  “Me too,” said Mel. “There’s something about Sbarro, Starbucks, and the scent of new clothes that feels so right.”

  Charlie smiled as she watched Allie sizing up Mel.

  Crush, activated!

  “Have you seen the view from up here?” Mel asked Allie in a smooth voice. “There’s a lookout point a few yards that way.”

  Allie winked one navy blue eye at Charlie before breezily following Mel. “So where do you shop?” Charlie heard her asking as they disappeared behind a stand of pines.

  Careful not to get too close to Darwin lest she inhale the smell of his cinnamon-scented toothpick, Charlie walked toward Syd and Skye on the far side of the clearing.

  “And now, allow me to woo you,” Syd was saying, brandishing a slim volume of Emily Dickinson poetry. His moss-green eyes gazed at Skye like he was an island castaway and she was a case of Aquafina.

  Skye grabbed the book out of his hands, grinning at Charlie and wiggling her eyebrows significantly. “How about I read it to you, Pooky,” she said, reaching up to scratch her scalp under her greasy blond dreadlocks.

  “Of course, my love,” said Syd, his angular face stretched into an adoring smile. “Page sixty-four is the one I was going—”

  “Got it, Pookers,” Skye snapped, turning to the page he’d bookmarked and clearing her throat. She raised the book to cover her face and pulled a scallion out of her parka pocket, shoving it in her mouth and chewing it up.

  Ew! Charlie cringed on Syd’s behalf. Watching Skye and Syd was like watching American Idol auditions. You didn’t really want to see it, but you couldn’t look away.

  Skye leaned toward Syd, nuzzling her face in his shoulder, and began to recite the poetry in her breathiest voice: “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

  Syd sniffed the air as Skye read. His eyes were suddenly pink and watery.

  “What’s wrong, Pookers McGookers?” Skye asked, her voice dripping with faux-concern.

  “I’m sort of stuffed up today,” Syd said. “I can’t smell a thing, not even your delicious Aveda shampoo.”

  Skye slapped her forehead and moaned in defeat.

  “It’s okay, babe, it’s just a little cold. I’ll get well quick, I promise,” Syd’s bee-stung lips formed a reassuring smile and his gray-green eyes glittered.

  Charlie couldn’t bear to hear any more. She spun around and sat down a few feet away from Darwin, careful not to get too close. Her eyes caught his and he grimace-grinned at her through clenched yet adorably white teeth. Pretend you don’t like him, Charlie reminded herself, quickly staring down at the plaid picnic blanket. “This is so nice, Dar—”

  “Just tell me how long I have to keep this up,” he hiss-smiled.

  “As long as it takes for Allie to realize Mel and she might be soul mates!” Charlie snapped. Didn’t he know she was doing this for him?

  Charlie met Allie’s gaze and she giddily beckoned Charlie over, waving her flame-red fingertips toward her chest. “Charlie, you need to see this view!”

  “On my way.” Charlie jumped up, brushing a few rose petals off her butt before jogging over to Allie. Meanwhile, Mel strode back to the picnic with a pleased look on his face. “Spill it,” she commanded when she reached Allie.

  “You were right, Mel is ah-mazing, and I can already feel my confidence making a comeback.” Allie smiled wide, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness.

  Charlie’s spirits soared higher than the tops of the snow-capped evergreens surrounding them. Now that Allie liked Mel, she would forget all about Darwin. When that happened, Charlie could get back together with him without disturbing the peace at Jackie O.

  “So? Did Darwin seem jealous while I was gone?” Allie’s voice broke through Charlie’s daydream and brought her back to earth.

  Oh.

  “Uh… maybe? I’m not sure.” Charlie reached down and wiped some mud from the tops of her gold boots. She needed to put this conversation in reverse and get Allie back onto the right BB. “Mel and you will make such a gorgeous couple. You guys could model together!”

  “It’ll never work.” Allie shook her head, setting a honey-blond wave loose from her headband. She widened her navy blue eyes and gave Charlie a stern look. “Actors and models are destined to fight for the spotlight. Now that I’m serious-leh pursuing acting, I need a down-to-earth guy like Darwin more than ever.” Allie blinked her thick black lashes emphatically, but when Charlie didn’t say anything, her blue eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re not falling for Darwin again?”

  “I told you, no!” Charlie snapped. “I’m here for you. Not me.”

  “Good. Then find out if he’s jealous, would you? Acting like I’m interested in Mel is my most challenging role yet!” Allie smiled, then turned toward the picnic to continue her performance.

  Charlie swallowed hard, wishing she could yell cut and put an end to the sordid scene. Her comedy of manners was quickly turning into a tragedy of epic proportions.

  11

  PERFORMING ARTS COMPLEX

  MASK ENTRANCE

  MONDAY, OCTOBER 4TH

  2:03 P.M.

  Allie ran a shaking hand nervously across her blow-out, smoothing out fl
yaways and nerves. She was late for her first acting class. She hadn’t felt this anxious or intimidated since she’d had her first head shots taken at the Barbizon Modeling School in the Santa Ana mall. Her eyes widened as she stepped onto the plush red carpet that extended like a rectangular tongue from the giant gold façade of the Performing Arts complex. The entrance to the building was a depressingly tragic frown, which didn’t help Allie’s mood. Thankfully when the doors whooshed open, the frown curled into a laughing smile.

  Inside, three gorgeous SITs (Stars In Training) walked toward her, each of them dressed like extras from Oliver Twist, their tweed vests and kneesocks smudged with soot. They reminded Allie of Mary-Kate Olsen on a bad day—homeless-looking, but beautiful.

  “Wot’s she doin’ ’ere?” one of the girls snort-snickered, turning to her sooty pals.

  Another one rolled her eyes, then quickly reassumed her street urchin character study, adjusting a straw hat that rode jauntily atop a mass of kinky black curls. “I ’aven’t a clue—must be an impostor convention!”

  The three pseudo-British urchins laughed as Allie’s face turned the color of the carpet beneath her. It’s true. Identity theft doesn’t make me an actress. It makes me a criminal. She shame-stared straight ahead and stalked past them and through the entrance, Purelling even though (she hoped!) she hadn’t touched them.

  Finally, she arrived at her class in the amphitheater. The huge room consisted of a giant round stage surrounded by rows of chairs—there were at least five hundred empty seats. Allie shivered at the thought of all of them being filled with a huge audience.