Belle of the Brawl

by Lisi Harrison

  Charlie groped for the right words to say next and wiped a runaway tear away as it traced a path down her cheek. “I’m ready to be with you again. Completely. And I promise, nobody else will ever be in charge of us.”

  A puff of air shot out of Darwin’s nostrils. The cleaning products clanked around in the closet.

  It was so quiet, Charlie could hear the water lapping the bottom of the ship beneath the hum of the engine. But Darwin didn’t move to fill the tense silence with words. Had he lost his voice? Was he trying to decide how to tell her they were over? Charlie’s face went hot with anticipation.

  “Darwin?” she said in a strangled voice, reaching out for his hand. She squeezed his fingers in hers, her throat filling with cottony dread. A terrified ache began to form in her chest. If Darwin turned her down now, she didn’t want to think about continuing to live on the same island with him. The pain would be too much to bear, the thought of him with another Alpha too impossible to fathom….

  But then Darwin’s grip tightened. His lips lifted into a smile that filled his whole face. “Are you going to say please?”

  Relief mingled with joy washed over Charlie, opening up the floodgates of her heart and releasing a torrent of happy tears. She pulled him to her and nuzzled her face into his sweatshirt, soaking the fabric.

  “Please! Please!” she laughed, shivering in anticipation of being engulfed in one of Darwin’s bear hugs again. She lifted her face up to meet his, and he leaned in. Soon, their lips locked as if for the first time. The kiss was electrifying—a bolt of lightning hot enough to melt an iceberg. Charlie’s knees wobbled as Darwin wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders. She felt lighter than air, giddy and amazed, as if she had arrived home after a long journey and discovered that her house had been beautifully remodeled. Charlie’s heart sang an aria as Darwin’s kiss told her everything she needed to know.

  22

  ALPHA OCEAN

  MUSE CRUISE

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8TH

  7:32 P.M.

  Skye rested a hand on the interlocking golden A’s that formed the ship’s railing and executed a few celebratory pliés, smiling as the party headed out to sea. She couldn’t help it—even when she didn’t want to think about dance, her body automatically went there. She swept one arm into the air in a graceful arabesque and turned away from the rapidly receding island. Everywhere she looked, dressed-up girls laughed and danced along with gorgeous muses in museum-worthy outfits. The Black Eyed Peas’ “Imma Be” blasted from the ship’s portal-shaped speakers, and Skye’s hips twitched to the beat. She channeled Fergie and shimmied along the railing, feeling free for the first time in ages. Dancing at the Muse Cruise instead of in Triple’s boot camp was the gift that kept on giving.

  A four-foot-high robot shaped like a man’s torso rolled up next to her and beep-listed the contents of the tray balanced on top of it: “Porcini-crusted short rib spring rolls. Beep! Hamachi jalapeño roll. Beep! Avocado, shrimp, and mango salad cups.”

  “Yum,” Skye giggled, snagging one of everything and popping all of it in her mouth. She smile-chewed and turned to give Triple an excited hug. “Tell me you love me.”

  “Okay, Katy Perry. Simmer down,” Triple said.

  In spite of Triple’s perma-pout, Skye knew it had been the right move for both of them to come tonight. A full moon rose in the sky and lit up the faux-cean, turning it from deep blue to silver as the night darkened, and they had already spotted two dolphins frolicking in the deep as they hurriedly boarded the ship. On the boat, inspiring holographic quotes beamed in neon pink and shimmery gold onto the ship’s A-shaped glass walls. The food was to die for, the music was killer and current, and the muses were dressed to impress. The whole evening was totally inspirational, and if there was one thing Skye needed tomorrow when she performed the routine for Mimi, it was inspiration.

  All week, she and Triple had been excused from dance class, holed up in llama pens, the jungle, the lake, an obstacle course behind the café involving giant banana cream pies, and a lot of other places Skye wished she could forget. Now, tonight, they were finally going to have some fun. She spotted Allie and Mel on the other side of the boat cabin, standing close together and gazing out to sea. Aw!

  Skye sniffed the air, savoring the ocean smell mingling with Triple’s Chanel No. 19 and Skye’s own perfume: Body Shop White Musk eau de toilette—a scent she sometimes wore to remind herself that not so long ago, she’d been a twelve-year-old at the White Plains Mall, buying her first bottle of perfume without her mother’s input. Bringing her forearm to her nose and inhaling the musky vanilla scent, Skye was instantly comforted by the tiny trace of her old, pre-Alphas existence.

  Until the sound of the Trapezoid twins’ screechy voices snapped her out of it.

  “Limbo contest!” their two sets of glitter-glossed mouths yelled from inside the ship’s cabin, turning Skye’s heart from muscle to glass. She looked inside and saw Taz surrounded by a mob of Alphas. Tiffany Thompson brandished a broom handle and attempted a Beyoncé-style booty-shake. “The prize is a kiss from Taz!”

  Her face hot with fury and envy, Skye grabbed Triple’s wrist and pulled her toward the dance floor. The Peas had faded out and now Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” rushed through the speakers. Inside the glass-walled ship, Alphas shimmied in line for the limbo.

  Skye noticed Seraphina and Syd curled up on a couch in the corner of the room feeding each other sashimi. Then Skye’s teal eyes found Taz. He stood to one side of the chaotic group of girls and presided over the limbo contest, his shoulders bobbing slightly to the beat. He wore a black tux jacket over jeans and an untucked white V-neck T-shirt. His black hair shone blue in the moonlight, and his blue eyes twinkled like diamonds. Skye ignored the eager Alphas surrounding him and let herself imagine the impossible. After all, she’d been a founding member of the DSL daters—she’d been making fast connections with boys since the seventh grade.

  She danced a little closer to the group, letting the beat pull her toward the object of her attraction. Aiming her gaze at Taz, a confident smile masking her longing, Skye decided to give flirting with Taz the ten-second test.

  “One mississppi, two Mississippi…” Ohmuhgud. She stopped counting under her breath when Taz’s deep-set eyes glided toward her like blue pool balls, stopping when they landed on her gaze.

  She stood up straighter and fluffed her blond wavelets, smiling at Taz and trying to project an air of positivity. She hoped her eyes said available and interested, not desperate and obsessive. But Skye’s smile fell when she saw an uncomfortable, awkward-looking blush blooming across Taz’s neck and face. His thick eyebrows rose and his mouth formed an embarrassed, goofy smile that shot like a flaming arrow through Skye’s chest. Ohmuhgud, he still likes me!

  But just as Skye was about to pirouette her way over to the most outgoing of all the Brazille Boys, Taz’s smile morphed into a hurt-looking scowl. A moment later, looking embarrassed, he broke eye contact and looked at the floor, turning Skye’s warmly beating heart cold. Then he whirled around on the dance floor, turning his back on Skye, swallowed up in seconds by the throbbing mass of Alphas on the dance floor.

  Swallowing hard, Skye headed back toward the deck, remembering Triple. She found her standing alone by the railing, gazing at clusters of Alphas and muses talking and laughing in small groups.

  “I think this was a mistake,” murmured Triple. Turning to study her frenemy’s perfect blow-out, her gorgeous gold wrap dress above mile-long legs, and a jaw line sharp enough to cut diamonds, Skye looked at Triple’s eyes and should have seen confidence. Instead, she saw nerves. Triple, the girl who was so confident on the stage, who was acing every class, didn’t know what to do at a party. Skye searched the deck—she was going to teach Trip how to shoot her party gun. All they needed was some target practice.

  Bingo. Skye’s gaze landed on Dingo, standing ten feet away on the deck, chatting with an easily ditched Alpha named Janeen, a shy girl from Kentucky who was int
o gardening. Perfect.

  “Time to practice flirting, Trip.” She tightened her fingers around Triple’s slim wrist and sashayed away from the dance party and over to the strawberry-blond Dingo.

  “Let go of me,” hissed Triple, trying to shake herself free of Skye’s grip. “I was fine where we were.”

  But by the time Skye let go of Triple’s arm, they were standing in front of Dingo and Janeen. Skye let go and put a friendly hand on Triple’s back, pushing her forward. “Dingo, hey. Have you met Triple?”

  When Dingo smiled, he looked like a cuter version of Prince Harry. “Nice to meet you.”

  Skye leaned in and whispered to Janeen, whose black hair and pale skin were offset against a shimmery blue tank. She needed to ditch the smitten Southerner. “Can you go find us some chicken satay? It’s Dingo’s fave.”

  “Be right back,” she whispered, giving the three of them a shy wave.

  Too bad there wasn’t any chicken satay at this party.

  Skye leaned in and motioned to Triple, wiggling her eyebrows in a silent command that meant do what I do.

  Tugging at her cowl-neck top, Skye casually exposed a toned shoulder and aimed it at Dingo. Triple yanked some more shoulder free of her own dress, and Skye grinned. She was learning! “Eye contact, touch his arm, laugh!” she whisper-commanded in Triple’s ear. She needed to get the ball rolling.

  “Hey Dingo, what do you think of Syd’s new girlfriend?”

  Dingo shot a look inside the glass-walled cabin of the boat. Sure enough, Syd and Seraphina were wrapped around one another more tightly than bandages on wounds. And speaking of wounds, they were both crying. Again.

  “Uh,” Dingo started, “I guess she’s okay, when she’s not crying.”

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Triple’s forced laughter sounded more like a dog barking at a mailman than a girl flirting with a boy. Skye cringed. She’d finally found the Achilles’ heel on Triple’s ballet slipper: boys.

  Triple batted her Lancôme’d lashes at Dingo, her exposed shoulder wiggling free of fabric like a molting snake.

  Skye reached behind Triple’s back and tugged on her blow-out. “Laugh when he makes a joke!” she whispered, hoping Dingo couldn’t hear her over the music.

  “Ow!” Triple shot her a hate-stare and rubbed her scalp.

  “Hey Trip,” Skye tried, “tell Dingo about our week of boot camp.”

  “Oh, right,” Trip said, swallowing her robo-laugh and launching into the highlight reel for Dingo. She did better when she was in control, Skye realized.

  Skye’s attention drifted off, her eyes drawn as if by a magnetic force back to the windows of the boat’s cabin, where a line of fifteen booty-shaking Alphas formed behind a limbo stick with Taz, who now stood on a chair like a lion tamer. For now, she didn’t have a master plan to get Taz back, but if Skye had learned anything about herself this week, it was that she didn’t go down without a fight.

  “… And that’s when the bucket of worms fell from the ceiling!” Dingo was saying, and a real laugh came pouring melodically out of Trip’s glossed mouth. Skye raised her platinum brows at the two of them—maybe Trip was getting the hang of flirting after all. She turned back to glance once more at Taz in the boat cabin, but instead of Taz, her attention was hijacked by the sight of Mimi walking through the dance floor and headed their way.

  Yikes! What was Mimi doing here?

  Skye squeezed Triple’s bare arm, hard.

  Triple screeched, then jumped. “Chill, lady!”

  Skye flashed a micro-smile at Dingo. “We have to go. Now,” she said, and began pulling Triple away.

  Triple swatted at Skye, her nails grazing Skye’s arms. “Stop! I’m having fun.”

  “Mimi alert! Shut up and walk!” Skye whispered, and without another word Triple followed her around the deck of the ship to the other side of the cabin. They ducked down behind a covered lifeboat and peered at Mimi through two sets of windows.

  Mimi wore a tomato-red halter dress and a gardenia in her hair, and stood chatting with a muse just a few feet from where they’d been talking to Dingo.

  “Why is she here?” whisper-yelled Skye. “I thought this was a cruise for us, not her.”

  “She’s probably here looking for us!” Triple screeched. “She must have known we’d come.”

  Skye ordered her heart to beat slower so she could come up with a plan. Mimi looked relaxed and happy as she chatted with a couple of muses. Skye and Triple were obviously far from her mind. “Look at her. She’s here to have a good time.”

  “No, you’re here to have a good time. I cannot believe I listened to you. We should have stayed home. Now we’re trapped,” Triple hissed, winding her blow-out into a knotted bun, the default safety hairstyle for dancers under stress.

  “We’re not trapped, and we’re not getting caught. I just need to think.” Skye turned back to Mimi, who had finished her sushi and now strode across the deck, heading toward them. Skye’s blond wavelets blew around in the ocean air as she searched frantically for an exit strategy.

  “She’s coming. We need to split up!” Triple whisper-screamed, her eyes wide. “I’m going into the cabin.”

  “We need to jump,” Skye told her. It was the only answer.

  “No way. If we jump, they’ll see the splashing, and we’ll both be history. And if they don’t catch us, we’ll drown before we make it to shore. The dance floor is the best option.”

  Skye shook her head. She’d listened to Triple about dance because, according to Mimi, she was the expert. So why wouldn’t Triple listen to Skye about this? Skye had planned more parties and escaped from more teachers than anyone on Alpha Island. “Listen to me on this, Trip. I know what I’m doing. It’s a short swim, and the water is warm.” She frowned at Triple. She wasn’t going to beg.

  “The only person I listen to is myself,” Triple spat, glaring at Skye and crossing her arms. Meanwhile, Mimi strode around the deck, getting closer with each mincing step of her three-inch stilettos.

  “Fine. Your loss,” said Skye, struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  Without another word, Triple stood up and strode confidently inside toward the dance party. Skye shook her head and glanced toward Mimi, who ambled obliviously around the deck, headed toward where Skye crouched.

  Skye pulled off her slouchy silver top and crawled over to the railing, peering out across the water to the shore. She took a deep breath. The Pavilion and its brise-soleil wings were just a five-minute swim away, she told herself. Five minutes of swimming through Shira’s bathwater-warm sea would be fun, maybe even refreshing. In just her leo and leggings, she was practically in a bathing suit.

  Then, in one fluid motion, she vaulted over the railing, pushed off from the side of the ship, and jumped into the water far below. Surfacing after her jump, Skye paddled through the gentle silvery waves toward the shore under the light of the full moon. She looked up at the boat just once, squinting to make sure a crowd hadn’t assembled at the railing, but the party raged on. Skye smiled. Triple would have to hide from Mimi all evening, but Skye had the ocean all to herself.

  Pausing to float on her back and catch her breath, Skye stared up at the moon. Then she smiled, as if only the two of them were in on the joke. After all, what she’d said to Triple was true: She always made a splash at parties.

  23

  ALPHA OCEAN

  MUSE CRUISE

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8TH

  7:59 P.M.

  In the glass-walled cabin of the A-shaped ship, Allie tried to ignore the jealous stares of the other Alphas on the dance floor as she and Mel swayed to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me.” She tried to focus on Mel’s strong arms around her, on the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his blond hair grazing her forehead, but she was too busy worrying to fully enjoy it.

  Nervous energy shot through her limbs as she mentally walked through her plan again and again. She was so anxious that a moment ago she’d hallucinated a blond girl in a black leo
tard and leggings jumping over the ship’s railing. She rubbed her eyes and shook her ponytail, blinking at the spot she thought she’d seen the jumper. Taking a deep breath of Mel’s woodsy scent, she pulled away from him and looked into his broad face.

  Channeling confidence she wasn’t feeling and projecting calmness she desperately wanted, she winked at Mel and cocked her head playfully to one side. “I have to run to the little Alphas’ room,” she purred.

  “Okay,” he said, and grinned. “I’ll grab us another plate of sushi.”

  “I might be a little while,” Allie added hastily, rolling her eyes and chuckling weakly, hoping she sounded believable. “Girl talk. It’s like a gossip convention in that bathroom.” She turned away from Mel and walked through the dancing crowd, stopping only to swipe her tote bag from the back of a chair.

  Luckily, the bathroom convention she’d made up was nowhere in sight. Allie breathed a sigh of relief at finding the huge bathroom empty, then quickly darted into a stall. The walls of the bathroom stall were covered with ancient-looking pirate maps, complete with X’s marking the spot for buried treasure, and the door featured a holographic map of the ship’s course around the island, with a blinking blue A showing where the party was right now.

  Telling herself not to waste time checking out the décor, Allie yanked her silver minidress up over her head. With any luck, AJ’s album would soon be buried like pirate’s treasure, along with her reputation. Shivering in her bra and underwear, Allie tried not to breathe as she carefully slipped AJ’s vintage white dress over her head. When Allie finally took a breath, she smelled lavender and the thrift-store reek of dead people. Perfect—AJ’s signature scent.