Movers and Fakers Read Free

of Shira’s entourage had deprived her of a lot,
     too: Charlie had never lived anywhere long enough to have a place that felt like home, and she’d never had a chance to form
     anything but the most shallow connections with other girls.
    Cruising the plane over the lightbulb-shaped lab where she did her experiments, Charlie felt her heart rev a little faster.
     The recycled glass building shot up from the jungle like a giant albino mushroom. It was where she felt like she belonged.
     She squinted through the semi-opaque white walls and smiled when she saw Dr. G, her lab mentor, bent over some slides of her
     latest project, a spray-foam that dried stronger than cement. With any luck, the foam would be used to build houses for the
     world’s poor. If she had the lab as a home and Allie as a best friend, Charlie would survive here—maybe even flourish. Even
     without Darwin.
    She stole another glance at Allie, who looked lower than the ocean floor. Charlie tried to imagine how she would feel if the
     situation were reversed. What if Darwin had broken up with
her
? She hoped he would want her to be happy, to move on.
    It was crazy, but Charlie realized she
wanted
Allie and Darwin to be together now. Life at the Academy was more competitive than Olympic figure skating, more stressful
     than the PSATs. Succeeding here could turn you from ordinary to infamous, from mousy to magnetic, from Lisa Simpson to Jessica
     Simpson. And surviving here was way more likely with a friend on your side.
    If Charlie couldn’t be with Darwin herself, then at least she could find a way to make her best friend and her boyfriend—or,
     rather, boy “friend”—happy.
    “Let’s take her in,” she said. Charlie pushed the Twizzler-shaped icon on the PAP’s touchscreen and Bee’s voice acknowledged
     her selection as the plane angled through the crystalline sky. “Now preparing for landing. We hope you enjoyed your flight
     on Alpha Airways.”
    “Roger that,” said Allie, pasting on a brave smile.
    Soon, if Charlie had anything to say about it, Allie would have something real to smile about.

2
    THEATER OF DIONYSUS
    HONE IT: FOR DANCERS
    MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH
    2:18 P.M.
    As the elevator soared above the tree line toward the floating glass cube of the dance studio, Skye squinted her Tiffany box–blue
     eyes, searching Alpha Island for any signs of a potential audience. Here and there, yellow-bellied finches and orange-and-purple
     parakeets flitted among the palm fronds. On the westernmost edge of the island, where the curved tail of the island’s @-shape
     formed a marshy isthmus, she spotted two muses gathering shells along the water’s edge. Actual Alphas were apparently in scarce
     supply during class periods—hypercompetitive, 99th percentile, leaders-of-tomorrow types didn’t ditch class without a good
     reason. The glass floor of the studio meant that anyone with the luck to be out of doors and in view of the studio could watch
     a performance, but so far, it looked like Skye’s comeback would be witnessed by the bun-heads alone.
    Correction: the bun-heads and at least three of Shira’s cameras.
    The elevator opened with a chime, followed by the British voice recording: “Welcome to the Dionysus practice hall, where dance
     is your pleasure.” An excited shiver rippled through Skye’s lithe torso. She stepped out of the elevator onto the clear rubberized
     glass floor of the studio and took a deep whiff of the organic eucalyptus/lemon thyme spray-solvent manufactured by Brazille
     Enterprises. Most dance studios smelled of corroded toe shoes and sweaty leotards, but this one smelled like inspiration.
     A tiny, tasteful disco ball hung from the ceiling, bouncing mini-rainbows off the floor and onto the walls.
    Triple, Prue, and Ophelia waved at her from the barre, where they were yawning through their usual
battement tendu
, each girl clad in a slightly different shade of metallic leo topped by a floaty chiffon dance