Alphas

8
JACKIE O
CHARLIE’S BED
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH
5:47 A.M.

Charlie lay flat on her back, cursing the morning rays that cast cheerful yellow streaks across her bedding. She squeezed her eyelids shut in a futile attempt to keep the light out and the sleep in. But it wasn’t the sun’s fault she’d barely slept a wink. Instead of counting sheep, she’d spent half the night counting the ways she missed Darwin:
One: the smell of cinnamon. Two: his passion for everything. Three: the way he understood her, even when she didn’t understand herself. Four: their endless catalogue of inside jokes. Five: his loyalty. Six: their ongoing fight over who had better taste in music. Seven: OMG: Music! He loved Allie J! Eight: She snuck out to see him! Nine: What if she made it? Ten: What if they hung out? Eleven: What if he started falling for more than her lyrics?
These thoughts kept her up all night, especially seven through eleven. How could she have overlooked the fact that Darwin’s favorite female artist was about to make a special appearance in his house!?
When her roommates came home, Charlie pretended to be asleep, all the while straining to hear any mention of Darwin. Aside from a few terse whispers and occasional giggles, the girls fell silently into bed. Charlie reassured her racing heart and sinking stomach that Dar had probably spent the whole time sulking, playing guitar, and wondering where it all went wrong. But that was the Darwin she knew. Who had he become in their hours apart?
Suddenly, Charlie’s aPod vibrated. Her lids fluttered open.
He missed her too!
She swiped the phone eagerly from her bedside table and blinked to focus. Blinking back was a message from Shira.
SHIRA: MY OFFICE. NOW. DON’T WAKE THE OTHERS.
Even the font looked angry.
What could she possibly want? Charlie was fresh out of moms and boyfriends to sacrifice.
Drawing on every ounce of courage she had, Charlie swung herself out of bed, legs first. But instead of landing in plush silver slippers, she touched down on something mushy and tepid. Sea foam? Animal poo? Her love life?
Peering over her knees in fear and trepidation, she checked the floor. Charlie Brown-nose was spelled out in disintegrating shaving cream alongside her bed. Her heart lurched. Her eyes stung. Her stomach locked. She quickly surveyed the room, wondering if Triple had been tagged too.
She hadn’t.
Four sets of limp arms and legs were strewn across the beds, as if waiting to be stuffed at the build-an-alpha workshop.
Tears burned Charlie’s tired eyes like expired mascara. Why was she doing this again? With no friends, no family, and no boyfriend, the reason was starting to escape her. All summer, she had fantasized about going to Alpha Academy, surrounded by intelligent girls who worked hard and just wanted to be their best—like her. She would finally fit in with someone other than Darwin. Finally be known as something other than Shira’s assistant’s daughter. It had never occurred to her that she’d stay an outsider on the inside too.
Charlie wiped her feet on the rug next to Renee’s bed. Given that Rayne had once had a shaving cream fight with her ex, Lance Firerock, on Perfect Storm, Charlie’s alpha dollars were on her.
Her aPod vibrated again.
SHIRA: WHY AREN’T YOU HERE?
Slipping a short platinum robe over her silver baby-dolls, Charlie ran out into the morning. The sun was high, as if up for hours. Still, eggplant-colored clouds gathered with force above Shira’s mansion.
The instant her slippered feet touched the smooth brick path, a bubble train pulled up alongside her. Zipping along the pink-sand coast, Charlie tried to convince herself that the Jackie O’s weren’t worth her time or energy. That she wasn’t there to find BFFs, but after a lifetime of globe-trotting and homeschooling, “friends” were something she ached to try.
The chairlift stopped suddenly in the waiting room outside Shira’s office.
“Morning, Charlie.” Fiona, Shira’s former No. 2—who Charlie guessed was now No. 1—greeted her. Her mud brown eyes and scraggly strawberry blond waves made her look like a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. She was wearing the same Bluetooth headset and hyper-alert expression that Charlie’s mother had worn for the last twelve years.
“Hi Fiona.” Charlie slid off the chairlift and into the familiar scent of espresso, gardenias, and guava-enhanced glass cleaner. It used to smell like home. Now it just reminded her of what she had—or rather, what was gone.
Alpha Academy news scrolled across the floor-to-ceiling windows like the ticker on CNN. Samantha Hays, Havilland Marie, and Cindy Shure caught in chemistry lab making makeup. Formulas were flawless but the edible blush has been confiscated… Discovery Channel reporter from Oprah House caught trying to wrestle a lion after someone said she was no Bindi Irwin… The silver cami and matching boy shorts outsold the other pajama options by 30 percent.…
Charlie stared, waiting for news about Allie J and Darwin, but thankfully, nothing appeared.
Yet.
“Italian roast?” Fiona placed a white mug in front of Charlie. A brown stream peed down from the ceiling, filling it to the brim.
“Thanks.” Charlie sipped reluctantly, keeping one eye trained on the ticker. The bitter liquid washed over her tongue. It was nothing like her mom’s, which awakened each taste bud and brain cell with a warm, spicy hello. Charlie took another sip. Little did Shira know that her specially-flown-in-from-Guatemala green coffee beans were never used by Bee Deery. Instead, instant coffee with a hint of cayenne pepper and maple syrup comprised Shira’s hourly fix.
“What do you think? Is it even close to Bee’s? I’ve tried everything, but Shira’s not happy.” Fiona adjusted her Bluetooth. “I’m thinking of sending the cappuccino maker off for analysis.”
“Is that why I’m here?” Charlie set her cup down. At least Shira was suffering in some small way. “The coffee?”
“Not exactly.” Fiona quickly pressed a button on her aPod. Platinum drapes rose up from the floor and blocked the academy’s news feed, and thus any hints as to why Charlie had been summoned. Compensating for the sudden darkness, the floor illuminated, casting a hellish glow across the futuristic décor.
Fiona touched her headset and nodded. “Yes, Shira.” She turned to Charlie. “You can go in now.”
A panel in the wall slid up. Shira’s fine red hair was up in a high ponytail, and her skinny-but-muscled body was covered in a navy terry warm-up suit. Charlie wondered if there was a spin class in her native hell. Standing across from Shira, Charlie could see herself reflected in the mogul’s dark lenses. Shoulders hanging heavily at her sides, she already looked defeated.
From behind her Lucite Australia-shaped desk, Shira was spinning her black-on-white globe. Lit with red dots, it showed the places Brazille Enterprises had set up companies or headquarters. As a little girl, Charlie had thought of Shira as a fairy godmother. She’d watch with wonder when Shira spun the globe, her eyes closed, dropping a manicured nail on the orb. Poof! They’d be transported to wherever her finger had landed. Charlie scoffed at the memory.
Finger poised midair, Shira touched down on Italy.
“Oh, you kids did love Florence.” She twirled her red ponytail. “Not many twelve-year-olds appreciate it.”
Charlie clenched her teeth, barring her mouth from speaking her mind. She knew this small talk was a tactic to make Charlie sweat. Sweat into a squishy malleable lump so she could be molded into utter compliance. But compliance with what?
“The other boys snuck their skateboards into the Uffizi, but you and Darwin stood in front of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus for hours.” Shira swiped her full cup of coffee aside. “He just loved that painting!”
Correction! Dar loved me—not the painting!
“Did you try the Italian roast? It’s terrible.”
“I prefer my mom’s,” Charlie stated flatly, ready to get whatever this was over with. “I’m staying away from Darwin if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Shira forced down another sip and then winced in disdain. “Too meek.” She put down the cup. Charlie was pretty sure that wasn’t all she was putting down.
Girly giggles suddenly filled the office. Shira peered over Charlie’s shoulder, shaking her head disapprovingly. Charlie swiveled to face a video of her suite mates, aPods in hand, racing across the beach. A wave of relief crashed inside Charlie’s chest. Maybe they hadn’t gone to Darwin’s after all!
“What does violating the civil rights of my roommates have to do with me?”
“There are some things that surveillance cameras simply can’t capture. I’m guessing Renee disabled the Alpha Positioning System. She is so Method. But I need to know who the ringleader was of this little field trip.”
Charlie’s ears began to ring. So that was why she was here. Just when she’d thought there was nothing more Shira could do to degrade her, she’d found one last way. It was like a vampire asking for a napkin after bleeding her dry.
“You want me to tattle?”
Shira reclined into in her black shock chair. It hissed and then acquiesced. “Tattle is such a childish word. I’m asking you to educate me”—she grin-paused—“the way I’ve offered to educate you.”
“Offered?” Charlie shook her head in disbelief, the picture becoming HD clear. If Darwin and Bee were the price of admission, this was the first tuition bill.
“Come on, Charlie Brown-nose. These girls aren’t your friends. You know that.”
Charlie’s cheeks burned with shame. “If you know all this, why do you need me?”
“There are blind spots,” Shira explained, shutting off the video. “And I need someone I can trust.”
“You promised to treat me like the other girls.”
“I promised to let you into Alpha Academy. Nothing more.” Shira gave her a too bad you didn’t read the fine print leer.
Shira was trusted by billions. She ran Female Empowerment Workshops, funded girls’ scholarships, backed women-owned start-ups. But for all her success and generosity, Shira didn’t have any real girlfriends. She’d always said that friendship was the only luxury she couldn’t afford. But just because something was beyond Shira’s price point didn’t mean it had to be out of Charlie’s. And just like that, she felt the tide of anger ebb and her sense of power flow. Shira needed her.
“I won’t do it. A true alpha doesn’t step on others when climbing to the top. She doesn’t have to.” Charlie chin-pointed to on the copy of Audacity: The Shira Brazille Story on the floating shelf behind her desk. “Page five hundred twenty-seven.”
Shira blinked. Once, twice, three times. Then a soothing British-accented voice sounded throughout the campus. “First period commences in thirty minutes.” Charlie fought back a wave of homesickness. The voice was her mother’s.
Shira cleared her throat. “Better go put on your uniform.” She lifted a gold stick off her desk and began twirling it over her thumb like a mini baton. The skeleton key unlocked every door on campus, including the underground passages, which provided a stealth way for Shira to traverse the campus. If only Charlie knew a way to lock her in there for good.
Charlie stood, slightly dizzy. “Sorry. I wish I could help,” she tried, not wanting to burn the only bridge that connected her to Darwin. She backed toward the exit.
“But you can.” Shira slammed the key on her desk, somewhere between Brisbane and Barossa Valley. “You have until noon today to give me a name.”
“What if I can’t?” Charlie asked, her palms pressed against the doorframe.
“There’s no can’t in ‘alpha.’ Just a-ha!” Shira smirked. “Page forty-nine.” She pressed a button near the Great Barrier Reef and the door began to lower. “G’day.”
Charlie managed to slip out just before it sliced her head off. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Shira.