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Finally, she opened her mouth to inform Mel that her feelings had changed. But just as she was about to utter the words, her navy blue eyes caught sight of Fletcher making his way toward them. Running, actually. Still wearing his dumb TEAM ALLIE A. T-shirt.

  Oops. Allie jumped from one foot to the other, not relishing the idea of these two meeting each other. She’d been so busy trying to dump Mel that she’d momentarily forgotten Fletcher was here with his own Allie-related agenda.

  “What’s he doing here?” Fletcher panted when he finally reached them, his model-perfect hazel eyes jumping from Allie to Mel and back again.

  “I’m her boyfriend. Where else would I be?” Mel said, speaking as though talking to a child. He moved closer to Allie, encircling her shoulders with one arm as always, then turned to glare at Fletcher. “And you are?”

  Allie shook Mel off and took a step away, not wanting the cameras to get the wrong idea. Wouldn’t want the world thinking I’m still Mel’s girlfriend when nothing could be further from the truth. If only she could get around to telling him that.

  “I was sort of hoping I could be your boyfriend again,” Fletcher said, his neck reddening as he boxed Mel out by stepping between him and Allie. “Your desert adventure aired last night. I saw the way he just left you there, Allie. Not cool. Not cool at all.”

  Fletcher’s hazel eyes widened as he shook his head, silently communicating the obvious next line in his train of thought: Not as cool as me. Allie gaped in stunned silence. She was more floored than parquet.

  Fletcher’s chin-dimple was as cute as ever. His teeth were so white they were practically blue. And those eyes. As Allie gazed into them, she was almost transported back to the months she’d spent praying his gaze would return to her, instead of looking into the far less vibrant eyes of her former best friend.

  And now here he was, giving Allie his full attention. Wearing the dorky fan-shirt they were selling in the stands. Stepping up to tabloid sensation Mel Brazille to reclaim his title as Allie’s boyfriend. The whole situation was so ridiculous, Allie couldn’t help but laugh. As she shook with giggles, laugh-tears formed in the corners of her eyes and dripped down the sides of her sunburned face.

  Finally, she wiped away a couple of tears and cleared her throat. “Fletch, wow. What about Trina? When I left, you two were inseparable.”

  “Trina?” Fletcher looked surprised and confused, as if he had to struggle to remember who Allie was talking about.

  “Yeah, remember? You locked lips on the Finding Nemo ride with my former best friend? It was kind of the reason we broke up?” Allie asked impatiently. Mel was getting antsy, looking at his watch and then back at Allie, waiting for her to fire Fletcher.

  “Right.” Fletcher looked a bit embarrassed. “Trina and I broke up. I became sort of obsessed with watching the show. Allie, you were so… amazing! I didn’t know you had so much in you. The acting, the AJ impersonations, the tight uniforms. All of it. I was hooked. I mean, I know it’s been a while, but I thought…” He grinned at her hopefully, flashing a row of those perfect teeth.

  Allie nodded on the outside but cringed on the inside. Fletcher’s words just seemed empty and hollow. He was right about one thing: She did have a lot inside of her. Too much to waste on Fletcher, the boy who had once confessed that gelling his hair took him thirty-five minutes every morning. Allie opened her mouth to tell him, but just then she noticed a group of men and women in expensive-looking suits, each one typing on a smartphone and periodically glancing over at her. They were huddled in a cluster, and seemed to be inching nearer. When she looked over at them, they waved eagerly, beckoning her their way.

  Great, what next? Was this the FBI, ready to prosecute her for identity theft? Or maybe it was AJ’s publicity team, preparing to sue Allie for slander or defamation. Allie smiled nervously at them and held up her index finger to indicate she’d be over in a minute.

  “Al, come on, haven’t you wasted long enough listening to this pathetic ex of yours?” Mel piped up, reaching out to grab Allie’s arm.

  The three of them stood facing one another, a love triangle waiting to explode.

  Allie stared from one boy to the other. Mel was the taller and blonder of the two, while Fletcher had more toned abs and smaller pores. But neither one held the slightest appeal for the new, post-desert version of Allie A. Abbott.

  She sigh-groaned in frustration, realizing she would actually prefer be talking to the FBI and moving on with her life than standing here looking at these two for another minute. They had more in common with each other than they did with her. They could discuss the Clinique men’s skincare line, the latest Banana Republic catalogue, and their modeling careers.

  Two of the prettiest boys on the planet, and I don’t want either one. It was like walking through the aisles of a Whole Foods when you’d just finished Thanksgiving dinner. The produce was beautiful, but you couldn’t possibly imagine eating it.

  Two sets of expectant eyes stared at her impatiently. Allie had to tell them.

  “Actually,” she said, her navy blue eyes bouncing from one handsome face to the other like a metronome, “neither of you are my boyfriend.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Mel cried. “Look, I’m sorry about the plane. I was about to go back for you, I swear—”

  Fletcher cut Mel off. “Al, we have so much history. I get you. I know where you come from. Come on, babe, we look so perfect together. Remember how people used to ask us if we were cousins?”

  Allie backed away from the metrosexual duo. “I just need to be single right now. Maybe you can help each other heal. I smell a bro-mance brewing!”

  “It’s my new signature scent,” Fletcher admitted. “I made it myself at a kiosk in the mall. You like it?”

  Allie whirled on her heel and walked away without another word. She was free! At least free for the moment, until these lawyer/undercover cops/publicity managers sank their hooks into her. She took a deep breath, relieved not to have Fletcher’s manufactured musk or Mel’s scented Aveda pomade flooding her nostrils. The smell of funky Wilderness Girl outfit, dust, river mud, and independence was all she needed.

  She took out her bottle of Purell and squirted it on her hands, just as a helmet-haired woman approached her. “I’m Lucinda Saint John. I represent actors and entertainers, including Anne Hathaway, Kristen Stewart, Lea Michele, and both Taylors—Swift and Lautner.”

  “Hi,” Allie said, avoiding her germy extended hand. Who knew where those celebrities had been?

  “I want to represent you. You don’t know this yet, but you’re the It Girl, Allie, and you’re about to receive dozens of offers from directors who want to work with you.”

  Ohmuhgod. Allie pinched the inside of her arm just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  “You want to be my agent,” Allie breathed. Suddenly, the room began to spin. So this is what it’s like to have your dreams start coming true, she thought. “I think I need to sit down.” Actually, I think I might pass out.

  Helmet-Hair nodded kindly, dragging a folding chair over to Allie. “Please, sit down. You look a little pale. Can I offer you a Luna bar? Yesterday in the desert you were jonesing for one.”

  Allie gave the woman a stunned smile and accepted the bar.

  As Allie devoured the chocolate caramel Luna, she closed her eyes and tried to absorb this moment. She’d thrown away two model-perfect boyfriends and gained a potential acting career. Not bad for a girl who lied her way onto the show. Not bad at all.

  Catching sight of her parents drifting back over, dragging two huge suitcases behind them, she turned to Lucinda Saint John and smiled, her mouth full of Luna and her heart full of hope. “Where do I sign?”

  Life was starting to taste as sweet as the caramel on her tongue.

  23

  THE PAVILION

  HALF MOON THEATER

  NOVEMBER 4TH

  7:38 P.M.

  Charlie leaned against a wall near the theater doors, watching the crowd still gathe
red onstage as the Alpha Academy theme song wound down. Former Alphas milled around with parents and producers, everyone’s hair flecked with shiny A-shaped confetti. Shira stood in the center of the stage haggling with two men dressed in black, their heads strapped into headphone mics. Camera operators still dipped and swerved, focusing their lenses on the reuniting students for a few final shots.

  Charlie’s espresso-bean eyes sought out her two cargo-shorted besties. Just like her, Allie and Skye had survived to the end of the line, and just like her, they were still piecing together what “winning” Shira’s game actually meant. Charlie’s mouth lifted in a smile when she spotted Allie thumbing through a sheaf of documents produced from the briefcase of a woman in a business suit, her parents standing awkwardly behind her and guarding two massive rolling suitcases. Charlie smiled, knowing what was inside—as many heat-activated Alphas outfits as Allie could carry.

  A light bulb went on in Charlie’s head when she thought about those clothes. Shira’s going to make millions on Alphas merchandise. Charlie shook her head and snickered as she put the pieces together. The whole island would probably turn into a Shira-run eco-resort after the show was over. Charlie had to hand it to Shira, she’d thought of everything. Even sneaking into the control room to disable the surveillance cameras, Charlie hadn’t a clue that the footage was fed via satellite to a production team.

  Charlie looked back at the stage and searched out Skye. She spotted her platinum wavelets flipping in the center of the stage as she demonstrated a hip-hop-meets-salsa routine for her mother, a gorgeous woman with jet-black hair and a dramatically flowing cardigan wrapped around her sculpted torso. Skye’s father, a handsome salt-and-pepper-haired guy in a gray suit, looked on admiringly.

  Watching her friends not just coping but enjoying the end of Shira’s insane competition, Charlie’s feelings of dismay and victimhood began to peel off her like an exfoliating mud mask. She may have sacrificed a lot to be an unwitting star of Alpha Academy—her dignity, her pride, and her privacy, for starters—but she’d also won the biggest prize of all: true friendship.

  Just as this thought came to her, both Skye and Allie glanced up, their eyes finding Charlie’s. She wave-smiled back at them, relieved to know that no matter what direction their lives took now, they would always be linked by what they’d gone through on Alpha Island and in the Mojave.

  Which was pretty awesome for a girl like Charlie. Before Alphas, the only people she had ever really trusted were Darwin and her mom.

  Thinking about her mom sent a lonesome pang rippling through Charlie’s chest, an ache for Bee and her perfect British propriety, her generous way of seeing everything. Yet again, Charlie scanned the dwindling crowd in the vain hope of spotting her mother, searching the empty audience seats for Bee’s reassuring presence. But of course Bee wasn’t here. Shira would never allow her back on the island she’d helped to engineer—they’d struck a deal, after all. Probably a whole clause about it in Shira’s contract with the TV studio.

  Just as Charlie felt a lump of self-pity sticking in the back of her throat like peanut butter, her aPod vibrated.

  Bee: I’m sorry I can’t be there, Charlie, but I’m so proud of you! And I’ll see you sooner than you think!

  PS: I figured out how to watch the show on my computer in London—give a kiss to Allie and Skye for me. Thank goodness you three made up.

  Ha! Charlie grinned down at her phone. In a way, Bee had been there with her the whole time, through the miracle of TV. Guess I should thank Shira for that, Charlie caught herself thinking. She shook her head slightly, knowing she wasn’t about to thank Shira for anything. Not after what she’d put them through. Not gonna happen.

  Charlie wondered what Bee meant about seeing her soon. Would Charlie have to get on a plane and fly to England? Was Bee going to meet her back in New Jersey, where they had family? She twirled her cameo bracelets absently, not having a clue what her next move would be. Maybe Shira would have a message from her mom.

  When Charlie looked up from her phone, Skye and Allie were both motioning for her to come join them onstage.

  Just a minute, Charlie mouthed. She’d spotted three fish out of water hustling toward her, making a beeline for the door. She stepped in front of Tiger, Ember, and Mountain and blocked their path. “Sneaking out?” she smiled.

  “Yeah. After a month in Mojave, this place is making us a little claustrophobic,” Tiger grinned, her skin still glowing from the peat-moss botanical soak Allie had concocted for her makeover. “But they told us we couldn’t fly home until they were done filming. Nice win.” Tiger’s clear brown eyes sparkled with pride under the stage lights.

  “The uniforms looked good on you guys,” Ember added shyly.

  “We couldn’t have done it without you,” Charlie grinned. But then a creepy suspicion tickled the corners of her mind. “Did you know about the show?”

  “Of course.” Mountain said. “Did you seriously think there was such a thing as the Wilderness Girls? Were all actors, wired with cameras. We were hired to play Girl Scouts, but the organization tried to sue so we made up this whole WG thing. Norwegian knife. Ha! That was an ad lib.”

  Charlie giggled. “I’ll miss you.”

  Tiger was inching toward the door, probably desperate to put on some jeans. “Let’s plan a reunion trip for next year. Maybe a spa.”

  Charlie laugh-nodded, embracing all three WGs in a group hug. “Sounds great. I’ll start working on Allie and Skye now.”

  “Tell them congrats for us,” Ember said. “And goodbye for now.”

  And then all three girls hustled through the electric doors, leaving nothing but the smell of sage, peat moss, and a job well done in their wake.

  Charlie turned away from the door to join Allie and Skye onstage, but now it was her turn to have her path blocked. Darwin stood squarely in front of her, his hands held out wide for a hug and a cinnamon-scented toothpick dangling from his kissable lips This was one blockade she would be happy to stop for.

  “There you are!” Darwin’s deep voice breathed in her ear as he pulled her to him.

  “Hi,” she whisper-grinned. “I was wondering when you’d come find me.”

  “Listen, Charlie,” Darwin stammered, pulling away with a worried look in his hazel eyes. Charlie blinked, furrowing her brow as she waited for him to continue, noticing her boyfriend had dark circles under his eyes. “I swear, I had no idea this was happening. I’ve been worried sick and doing everything I could to get you guys back sooner. And I’m just as shocked as you about this whole TV thing. As soon as I can get my mom alone, I’m going to open up a can of—”

  Charlie silenced him with another huge hug, squeezing him with all her malnourished might. She would never suspect Darwin of knowing about the TV show. There was no way he’d be able to keep that kind of secret from her—he’d always been a blabbermouth.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured in his warm ear, enjoying her surfer boyfriend’s beachy smell. “And I’m the one who’s sorry, D. I was a total jerk on the plateau, and even before that. You’ve been nothing but patient with me. Whatever happens now, you’ll always be my angelfish.”

  She pulled her head back to look into Darwin’s hazel eyes. When their eyes met, Charlie knew that wherever she was headed, he was her home.

  “I love you, too,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I would have done if… if those nature girls hadn’t been there and something had happened—”

  Charlie put a grubby finger on his puffy pink lips, then plucked out his toothpick. She didn’t want to think about what-ifs right now. But then she decided she had a better way to keep Darwin quiet.

  Charlie stood on tiptoe and leaned in to plant her lips on Darwin’s, finally feeling safe and secure after so many weeks of being panicked and afraid.

  For once, Charlie didn’t care if Shira saw, if the cameras captured this kiss and broadcasted it to the entire world. It was time the world knew, anyway: She and Darwin weren’t just a
n Alpha Island romance. They were forever. She was more certain of this than she was about anything else. She may not have a home to go back to or parents standing here to help guide her next steps, but she did have an ah-mazing boyfriend.

  “Charlie Deery?” a voice cut in on her cinematic kiss. Charlie’s eyes fluttered open in irritation and she reluctantly detached her lips from Darwin’s. Two men in crisp black suits stood just behind Darwin, their hands both clasped in front of them. Both wore aviator sunglasses and close-cropped haircuts. Their jaws were sharp enough to cut glass.

  “That’s me,” Charlie cleared her throat, moving to stand beside Darwin. She reached up and nervously twirled a strand of her mahogany hair, unsure of what was happening. Hadn’t she had enough surprises for one day?

  “We’d like you to come with us,” Suit #1 said.

  “Um… I didn’t catch your names,” Charlie stalled. She checked Darwin’s face to see if he was in on this, but he just shrugged his shoulders and flicked his eyes back to the suits, waiting for an explanation. Like her, he hadn’t the slightest idea what they wanted.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Miss Deery,” Suit #2 said. “We think you’re going to like where you’re headed.”

  “Which is?” Darwin asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice as he straightened his posture, pulling himself up to his full six feet.

  Charlie stood waiting, her stomach suddenly colonized by a flock of bird-flu carrying butterflies. This is what spending too much time with Shira Brazille does to a girl, she thought.

  “The White House,” said Suit #1 quietly, beaming a businesslike micro-smile at Charlie.

  Ohmuhgod. Charlie’s panic vanished instantly, replaced by rainbow-colored fizzy excitement. Talk about meeting an Alpha for life! The White House was like the Alpha mother ship, and Charlie was being invited aboard. Her heart beat with happy anticipation as she turned to look at Darwin. His eyes were round as dinner plates, piled high with equal helpings of shock and pride.