4

THE BRAZILLE RESIDENCE

THE GREAT ROOM

NOVEMBER 2ND

11:10 A.M.

Skye lay curled up in the corner of a giant white leather L-shaped couch in the Brazille mansion’s great room, trying to take up the least amount of space possible and stay out of harm’s way. And out of Taz’s way, she thought glumly, ducking her head to avoid being hit by a mascara wand as Charlie tossed it to Allie. Skye had expected Operation Beautify the Brazille Boys (OBBB) to be hard, for Taz to glare at her and take some cheap shots. But it was worse when he was pretended she didn’t even exist. Kind of awkward when they were stuck in a room with only four other people. Luckily for Skye, Syd’s heart had recently been crushed by yet another Alpha, Seraphina Hernandez-Rosenblatt, and to cheer him up, his brother Dingo signed them both up for a celebrity motorcycle race across Africa. They’d left a few days ago, and with any luck they would continue racing around Africa for the foreseeable future. Skye shudder-gagged at the thought of the unfortunate African girl who would have to deal with Syd’s smothering affection next. She’d take being ignored by Taz any day over that.

Still, Skye couldn’t help sneaking peeks in Taz’s direction. Allie stood over him, struggling to pull the coppery wig she swiped from the props room over his thick brown hair. “Stay still,” she grumbled. Skye could see stress-sweat accumulating on her friend’s forehead. Getting the Brazille boys to look like girls had been a bigger project than any of them would have guessed.

“Do I seriously have to shave my legs?” Darwin yelled from the landing, worry creasing his tanned forehead. He aimed his hazel eyes at Charlie and ran a nervous hand through his wavy light brown hair.

“Yes!” Allie, Skye, and Charlie all yelled back in the same exasperated tone.

“Seriously?” Darwin tried again, the cinnamon-flavored toothpick he chewed on wobbling as he spoke. “I’m a manly man. It’s gonna take forever.”

“That’s how long it will be before you see me again if we get sent home,” Charlie said, sternly placing her hands on her hips. Darwin sighed and then stalked toward the bathroom.

“Some girls don’t shave their legs,” said Mel, struggling to pull a pair of silver leggings up over his own lower half.

Allie whipped her head around to glare at her boyfriend. “Alphas shave.”

“Except AJ,” Charlie reminded her. “She claims she’s naturally hairless.”

Skye envied Charlie and Allie for the easy banter they had with their boyfriends. Back in Westchester, Skye had always had her pick of guys to choose from. And even here, she’d had no problem finding two Brazille brothers who were interested. For the millionth time, she wondered what on earth had made her choose Syd over Taz, then inwardly kicked herself for not being able to prove to Taz that she’d picked wrong.

A minute later, Darwin clomped back downstairs in a pair of low-heeled booties, wearing a silver Alphas bubble skirt, a white blouse, and a thin silver cap-sleeved cardi, his legs now girly-smooth and smelling like baby oil–scented shaving cream.

“What would Mom say if she saw us now?” Darwin ran a hand through his honey-brown locks, looking terrified.

“Let’s just be glad she can’t see us,” Mel chuckled. Skye gave her housemates a wary look. If only they knew…

“Dude, you’re a pretty cute girl.” Taz joked, springing out of his chair wearing nearly the same outfit as his brother. “Metallic really makes your eyes sparkle.” He almost toppled over, then glared down at his metallic wedge heels.

“You too,” Darwin snickered, knocking Taz in the ribs. “I had no idea you had such toned calves. You must have logged some time at the dance studio when you and Skye were dating.”

Skye froze. She looked up at Taz, whose ice-blue eyes caught hers for an awkward second before looking away. Luckily, their discomfort-bubble was popped by Mel.

“Do my legs look bulky? Be honest.” The eldest and tallest Brazille brother, clad in silver leggings and a boatneck blouse, did a slow turn for Allie, sending Skye and Taz into simultaneous fits of hysterical laughter.

Regaining composure, Skye wiped her eyes and blinked at Taz. She wondered if maybe they stood a chance after all. Wasn’t a similar sense of humor the foundation for any relationship? Maybe this little PAP excursion wasn’t all bad. At the very least, it could be her chance to finally explain to Taz why she’d chosen Syd.

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie, Allie, and Skye emerged from the residence dressed in platinum flight suits, clear gladiator sandals strapped to their feet and aviator glasses on their heads. They walked side by side with the three Brazille brothers—manicured, wigged, and done up in full Alpha-glam style.

“Remember your posture,” Allie reminded the boys. “Shoulders back, chest out, hips swaying. The wrong kind of gait could be a dead giveaway.” Mel, Taz, and Darwin nodded like hungry pupils.

“Man, being a chick is rough,” Skye heard Taz mutter under his breath.

Trying to appear as natural as possible, the six of them began to make their way across the island. As they walked past the great lawn, Skye nearly crashed into Taz, who had stopped to eavesdrop on two bikini-clad Hillary Clintons and a Beyoncé sunbathing on giant gold towels.

“Oof! Keep walking!” Skye whisper-shouted. “You’re wearing a dress, remember? It’s going to seem a little funny if you keep checking out other girls.”

“Hang on,” Taz murmured, his ear cocked. Skye crossed her arms and strained to hear what could be so fascinating.

A Snooki-colored Hillary Clinton took a swig from an aluminum water bottle. “No contest. Taz is totally the hottest one. He’s Efron and Lautner put together.”

“And he’s the best dancer,” added Blair B., smoothing a layer of sunscreen over her shoulders. Blair was a championship figure skater and budding film director from the Beyoncé house. Not only was she like Skye on ice, she’d already screened three movies at Sundance. Even under his girly makeup, Taz’s face glowed with pride. He gave himself a self-congratulatory nod.

Skye’s blush was deep and immediate, like an allergic reaction to shellfish. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed hard before her morning muesli made a reappearance in her mouth. Taz was cocky enough, and Skye certainly didn’t want to hear how coveted her crush still was now that they weren’t together. She put her hands on Taz’s back and shoved, hard. He staggered back on his platforms and shot her an annoyed look.

“What?” he said. “I heard my name!”

“How do you know they weren’t talking about another Taz?” Skye shot back, exasperation mixed with flirtation warming her like an après-dance hoodie. “You think you’re the only guy on the planet with that name?”

Charlie and Allie stifled their giggles, or at least tried.

“Uh, yeah.” he smirked. Skye wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a molecule of playfulness in his voice. She stared at his broad-shouldered back as they walked single file toward the hangar and tried to take her own advice: Eyes on the prize. Was it her or were they getting more glances than normal? Alphas were notorious for their once-overs, but this felt different. Skye picked up her pace. The faster they got to the hangar, the sooner this whole thing would be over.

“Wow,” Skye whispered, her aquamarine eyes widening as she stepped across the threshold of the decahedron-shaped PAP hangar. It smelled like fuel, fresh paint, and the year 3000.

Light streamed in from all ten sides of the enormous structure, illuminating row upon row of specially designed gold aircraft. Skye had never bothered to visit the hangar before, but she vowed that if she ever had the chance to sneak back at night, she’d throw an ah-mazing party here.

“Charlie, tell me you’ve flown one of these things,” she called out, pointing to a plane that looked like a shiny black boomerang and another smaller aircraft that seemed composed entirely of chubby silver tubes with a tiny seat in the center.

Charlie whirled around on her feet and flashed Skye a lopsided grin. “I wish. I mostly stick to PAPs and the occasional jet-pack.”

“Yeah, me too.” Skye giggled. “Not.”

The group came to the PAP launchpad in the middle of the hangar, where two perfectly round bubble-shaped planes awaited them. Charlie had already been there early this morning to choose their vehicle—Darwin’s PAP—and she hopped inside to check that all systems were fully operational while Allie and Skye waited casually on the platform for Louise and Mayday. Meanwhile, the three Alpha “girls” hustled into the backseat of the plane, whisper-laughing as they smacked each other’s skirted butts.

“How will we all fit?” Skye whispered to Allie, who was busy using her aPod to check the coordinates of Louise and her QE flight crew.

“Shhh, they just walked in the north entrance of the hangar.”

Skye hurriedly began stuffing her copious white-blond waves into a cute flight helmet she’d swiped from one of the Frisbee-planes, straightening up just as Louise and Mayday strutted onto the platform. Mayday’s headgear was just like Snoopy’s—an old-fashioned leather number from the 1920s. Her neon-red hair peeked out below it, and her green eyes twinkled with calm amusement as she sized up Skye and Allie.

“She almost looks like a real pilot,” she quipped to Louise, whose carrot cake–colored face wrinkled in a fit of laughter.

“That almost looks like a real tan,” Allie shot back.

“Let’s go over the route and start flying,” Charlie called from inside the plane. “So we all agree we’ll fly forty miles east across the Alpha ocean toward Mojave and through the desert until we go above Flowering Cactus Mountain. Then we’ll circle back,” Charlie said, her hands busy checking the readings on the PAP’s touch screen.

“Yep.” Lou nodded up at her, her brick-red lips forming a confident half moon. “First PAP back wins.”

Charlie stuck her head out of the porthole of their plane. “I’m bringing some friends for moral support. ’Kay?”

“Fine with us,” shrugged Mayday, zipping up her metallic bronze flight suit. “Bring as many people as you want—they’ll just weigh your craft down.”

“They don’t weigh as much as Louise’s makeup bag, so we should be okay,” Skye snapped.

Before Lou or Mayday could come up with a response, Skye half-pirouetted around on her heel and skipped toward the plane.

“All right.” Taz pulled his fake hair back into a ponytail with surprising skill and adjusted his aviators. “Everyone buckled in?”

“Yes,” the group responded from their squashed seats.

“Everyone ready?” he asked. The reply this time was more hesitant, but Taz didn’t seem to notice. “Great. Let’s do this.” And with that, he pulled back the controls and the PAP soared swiftly into the air.

High above the island, in a PAP packed tighter than Kim Kardashian’s Spanx, Skye studied Taz’s profile in the cockpit. He was copiloting next to Charlie, but they took turns maneuvering the round little aircraft along the unpredictable air currents of Shira’s woman-made biosphere. They hadn’t been flying long, but what little air there was left in the PAP was already filled with tension. Charlie was right, Taz was a good pilot. But Mayday McGrath was excellent.

“Left, left!” Darwin yelled from the backseat. Skye covered her left ear, which was uncomfortably close to Darwin’s head. “You need to get more torque going before you flood the gas.” Everyone who wasn’t actually flying the plane—Darwin, Skye, Allie, and Mel—sat squished together behind the cockpit in a second row of flip-up flight seats.

Allie turned. “I thought these were electric planes.”

“The computer system runs on electricity, but the planes run on biodiesel unless they’re coasting,” Charlie said from the front.

Skye turned to gaze behind Darwin’s big head out the window at the competition’s aircraft, whizzing back and forth just behind them. Through the translucent glass of Louise and Mayday’s PAP, Skye could see two sets of hands gesturing wildly and two flame-red mouths moving quickly, talking over one another. Even with only half the people in their PAP, they looked as miserable and stressed-out as the Jackie O’s. Apparently, things weren’t going as well for them as Louise had predicted. They’d been neck and neck for the majority of the race, but for now the Jackie O’s had a slight lead.

The sound of Allie’s perfect ski slope–shaped nose sniffing the air brought Skye’s attention back to her own team. “Does anyone smell that?” Allie asked.

“What?” Charlie asked nervously.

“It’s… kind of like McDonald’s French fries,” Allie said in a confused tone. She licked her glossy lips. “Yum.”

“Forget the food court, Allie, they’re pulling ahead,” Charlie replied. “Gun it, Taz!”

But Skye smelled it, too. She looked at Allie and raised her eyebrows.

“Darwin, did you leave an old Happy Meal box in here?” Allie asked.

“Yeah, ’cuz my mom is always taking us to the drive-thru,” he joked.

“Seriously,” giggled Mel, adjusting part of his leggings. “It reeks like McFarts.”

Everyone burst out laughing. And then the engines went from roaring, to sputtering, to completely silent. The plane was just… floating; a runaway balloon drifting in the afternoon breeze.

Skye could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

Calmly, Darwin said, “Everyone buckle your seat belt. Now.”

Everyone started to scream.