OUTSIDE THE PAVILION
ISLAND PATHWAY
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 26TH
5:44 P.M.
Hurrying down the gravel path between the dorms and the Pavilion, brushing past palm fronds, giant ferns, and fragrant plumeria, Allie A. Abbott’s heart was soaring like the wings of the phoenix-shaped building in front of her. Surrounded by Alphas in their school uniforms—clear gladiator sandals, balloon-sleeved button-down shirts, and pleated metallic miniskirts that twinkled in the twilight—Allie may not have been among friends, exactly, but at least she wasn’t in disguise anymore. Her blond hair was back, navy blue eyes no longer hid behind fake green contact lenses, and she’d finally rebooted her golden tan. A beauty must-have she was forced to sacrifice while pretending to be Allie J. Abbott the pasty eco-maniac who accused her of stealing sun from the flowers… along with her identity. Unfortunately, the identity part was true. But oh, well. That was more behind her than the butt floss she proudly called underwear. The days of wearing recycled granny panties were over.
Over the past couple of months, Allie’s self-esteem had congealed faster than food court Chinese food. The image of her boyfriend Fletcher and best friend Trina making out had been burned into the pleasure center of her brain. But now the burn was starting to scab over and Allie could put her energy toward scar-free healing. No more crying over the pieces of her broken heart. No more posing as Allie J. Abbott, the mega-famous folksinger whose acceptance letter she had accidentally received in the mail. No more black hair and bare feet. She had Charlie now. She had Darwin. She had hope.
“Move it, beta,” breathed Olivia Dufrenidis in Allie’s ear as she barreled past her toward the doors of the Pavilion. Olivia was a tall, D-cup, Greek olive-oil heiress who at age fourteen founded the Dufrenidis Report, a blog that broke more political news stories than Perez Hilton broke celebrity gossip. Ever since Allie’s lie had been revealed, Olivia went out of her way to bully her. Allie’s breath hitched in her throat for a second as she absorbed the insult. Beta was the worst thing you could call someone at Alpha Academy.
“Sorry,” Allie muttered, clenching her teeth as Olivia’s departing platform wedges kicked gravel onto her legs. But like the pebbles hitting her ankles, Allie reminded herself, names only hurt for a split-second. Keep it together, Al.
There were a lot of reasons Allie should have been a basket case. In August, she’d caught her boyfriend Fletcher cheating on her with her best friend, Trina. But that was only the beginning. Next, she’d committed identity fraud by faking her way into Shira’s school for overachievers. A few weeks later, Allie’s true identity was discovered and the real Allie J enrolled in the Academy. Now most girls at Alpha Academy thought she was a liar, a joke, or worse. But Allie had survived. That was what mattered. Shira had let her stay at Alpha Academy to try to prove herself, to find her passion and roll with it. And her housemates Charlie and Skye had recently forgiven her lies and impersonation. Thank God, because Allie needed to know she could count on Charlie and Skye to be there for her—especially now that the rest of the school wasn’t.
She squinted up through the blazing orange sunset at the Pavilion, its brise-soleil shades retracting on either side of the tall oblong structure like enormous white steel wings. Then she pulled out the small bottle of Purell she always carried and squirted it onto her hands, feeling instantly calmer when the germ-killing smell hit her nostrils.
Where were Charlie and Skye? Allie craned her neck, looking around for her friends like a puppy searching for its littermates. They’d both been in overdrive all weekend, trying to impress Shira by working extra-hard in their classes and even adding more courses to their schedules. Allie should be following their lead, but finding your passion wasn’t like shopping for a party dress or a new bag—endless browsing wouldn’t necessarily get her any closer to unlocking her potential or uncovering a talent. And here at Alpha Academy, there weren’t any salespeople at the ready to help her with her search. Girls like Skye and Charlie had talent. All Allie had was a class schedule packed tighter than Ugly Betty in a pair of Spanx, and still she was no closer to self-discovery. She knew she had something more to offer than personal style and stellar taste… didn’t she?
Allie’s sun-kissed shoulders were jostled by the other Alphas crowding through the rounded glass doors and into the shiny white room. The space buzzed with excitement as Alphas began to look up. Above their heads were 3–D holograms of fish, whales, and giant cruise ships. A shimmering banner cascaded from one white wall to another, zooming up to the ceiling, then passing through the crowd of Alphas in a glittery rush.
YOU ARE INVITED TO SET SAIL ON THE ALPHA MUSE CRUISE SWIM IN THE SEA OF INSPIRATION WITH THE ALPHA MUSES OCTOBER EIGHTH, 7 P.M., THE ALPHA CRUISE SHIP
A shiver of excitement rippled along Allie’s spine. It would be amazing to get off Shira’s tiny woman-made island, even if it was only for a two-hour boat ride. The place was a paradise in many ways, but Allie often felt as if she were trapped in a crowded elevator stuck between floors. Allie scanned the bleachers for Skye or Charlie, but before she found them, the unmistakable sound of a guitar stopped her in her tracks.
“I’m going to play a little song for y’all,” said a scratchy voice, belonging to Allie’s housemate Allie J—or AJ, as she liked to be called.
AJ stood on one of the ergonomic white egg chairs, dominating the crowd in spite of her tiny 5’2” stature. Her scraggly black hair was tucked into a crocheted green tam that sat sagging on her head like a giant mushroom. With her vampire-pale skin and emaciated frame, she reminded Allie of the annoying hippie chick who worked at Bulgur ’N Beetz, a health-food sandwich shop back in Santa Ana. Why did health food freaks always look so sickly? Wasn’t it kind of an oxymoron?
AJ stood holding her guitar like a machine gun aimed straight at Allie. She narrowed her moss-green eyes, flashing a micro-smile that sent Allie’s stomach to her gladiators.
“Sing it, sister!” shouted Tameeka Sands, a slam poet with her own line of designer skateboards.
“Go, AJ! Break it down!” echoed Gweneviere Stulz, an urban farmer and the founder of a group of radical agriculture reformers called the Ronald McDon’ts.
“My newest song is called ‘Identity Theft,’ ” AJ drawled. “It’s inspired by a situation close to my heart. Too close!” The crowd giggled, and a few girls looked at Allie before turning back to AJ.
Serious-leh? Can’t we move on? Allie wanted to scream. When would AJ finally let this drop? AJ’s war on Allie had already dragged on longer than the battle sequence in Avatar.
Allie spun on one heel and tried to get as far away as possible, but she couldn’t move fast enough to block out AJ’s lame lyrics.
Identity theft. Identity theft.
I offer you a piece of me
Every time I write a song,
Allie abused my generosity
And girlfriend, that’s just wrong!
When you sing the things that come from my soul,
I do not feel bereft,
But take my name, my eyes, my mole—
Well, that’s identity theft!
A salty knot of emotion welled up in Allie’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slightly in a desperate attempt to quell the hot tears that threatened to escape her eye sockets and fall down her cheeks, wishing she could close her ears just as tightly. Being hated was one thing, but having everyone sing about it was unbearable.
Identity theft. Identity theft.
An imposter and a faker.
Nothing real, nothing true
Like a plagiarized English paper!
Identity theft. Identity theft.
Stop, thief! Empty your sack!
Keep my wallet, keep my purse.
It’s the personality I want back!
Allie’s moist eyes landed on Thalia, her house muse, seated in an empty cluster of ergonomic egg-shaped chairs to her left. AJ and her chorus line took seats across the round room, but Allie plopped down next to Thalia instead.
The muse’s golden irises shone with amusement, and her honey-blond hair caught the last rays of the orange sun as it sank behind the shades. “A change of scenery should be nice, don’t you think?”
“That’s an understatement,” Allie muttered, making accidental eye contact with AJ, who glowered at her across the room.
“Allie, a wise woman once said: Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” Thalia put her huge former basketball player’s paw over Allie’s and squeezed.
Before Allie could protest, a round glass door slid open from the back of the room. Darwin walked through it, his sandy hair falling over his left eye. Even though he’d dumped her after her impersonation went public, somehow, the less she saw of him, the more irresistible he got. Today, he was wearing a white sweatshirt, navy board shorts, and flip-flops, and his light brown hair was damp. Had he come from the beach?
She pasted on a smile that she hoped looked non-desperate, non-needy, cute yet mysterious, and waited for his eyes to find her. Darwin whispered something in Taz’s ear and the three boys took seats in the last row. Allie shook out her waves and counted down in her head, willing him to spot her.
Five, four, three, two, one!
Darwin’s eyes—hazel with flecks of gold and green—made contact with her navy blue ones and sent an electric spark traveling from Allie’s scalp to her toes. Allie returned his gaze and smiled. She wiggled her fingers at him in a quick, almost imperceptible wave. Darwin smiled back and chin-thrusted a quick hello, before his eyes boomeranged away from her and back to his brother.
Allie sat back in her egg chair and felt a secret smile playing on her lips. AJ might have been a big fish in a small pond, but Allie was about to snag the biggest catch of all.