Belle of the Brawl (7 page)

“I love mall food,” Allie sighed wistfully, as if remembering a beloved old friend.

“Me too,” said Mel. “There’s something about Sbarro, Starbucks, and the scent of new clothes that feels so right.”

Charlie smiled as she watched Allie sizing up Mel.

Crush, activated!

“Have you seen the view from up here?” Mel asked Allie in a smooth voice. “There’s a lookout point a few yards that way.”

Allie winked one navy blue eye at Charlie before breezily following Mel. “So where do you shop?” Charlie heard her asking as they disappeared behind a stand of pines.

Careful not to get too close to Darwin lest she inhale the smell of his cinnamon-scented toothpick, Charlie walked toward Syd and Skye on the far side of the clearing.

“And now, allow me to woo you,” Syd was saying, brandishing a slim volume of Emily Dickinson poetry. His moss-green eyes gazed at Skye like he was an island castaway and she was a case of Aquafina.

Skye grabbed the book out of his hands, grinning at Charlie and wiggling her eyebrows significantly. “How about I read it to
you
, Pooky,” she said, reaching up to scratch her scalp under her greasy blond dreadlocks.

“Of course, my love,” said Syd, his angular face stretched into an adoring smile. “Page sixty-four is the one I was going—”

“Got it, Pookers,” Skye snapped, turning to the page he’d bookmarked and clearing her throat. She raised the book to cover her face and pulled a scallion out of her parka pocket, shoving it in her mouth and chewing it up.

Ew!
Charlie cringed on Syd’s behalf. Watching Skye and Syd was like watching
American Idol
auditions. You didn’t really want to see it, but you couldn’t look away.

Skye leaned toward Syd, nuzzling her face in his shoulder, and began to recite the poetry in her breathiest voice: “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

Syd sniffed the air as Skye read. His eyes were suddenly pink and watery.

“What’s wrong, Pookers McGookers?” Skye asked, her voice dripping with faux-concern.

“I’m sort of stuffed up today,” Syd said. “I can’t smell a thing, not even your delicious Aveda shampoo.”

Skye slapped her forehead and moaned in defeat.

“It’s okay, babe, it’s just a little cold. I’ll get well quick, I promise,” Syd’s bee-stung lips formed a reassuring smile and his gray-green eyes glittered.

Charlie couldn’t bear to hear any more. She spun around and sat down a few feet away from Darwin, careful not to get too close. Her eyes caught his and he grimace-grinned at her through clenched yet adorably white teeth.
Pretend you don’t like him
, Charlie reminded herself, quickly staring down at the plaid picnic blanket. “This is so nice, Dar—”

“Just tell me how long I have to keep this up,” he hiss-smiled.

“As long as it takes for Allie to realize Mel and she might
be soul mates!” Charlie snapped. Didn’t he know she was doing this for
him
?

Charlie met Allie’s gaze and she giddily beckoned Charlie over, waving her flame-red fingertips toward her chest. “Charlie, you need to see this view!”

“On my way.” Charlie jumped up, brushing a few rose petals off her butt before jogging over to Allie. Meanwhile, Mel strode back to the picnic with a pleased look on his face. “Spill it,” she commanded when she reached Allie.

“You were right, Mel is ah-mazing, and I can already feel my confidence making a comeback.” Allie smiled wide, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness.

Charlie’s spirits soared higher than the tops of the snow-capped evergreens surrounding them. Now that Allie liked Mel, she would forget all about Darwin. When that happened, Charlie could get back together with him without disturbing the peace at Jackie O.

“So? Did Darwin seem jealous while I was gone?” Allie’s voice broke through Charlie’s daydream and brought her back to earth.

Oh.

“Uh… maybe? I’m not sure.” Charlie reached down and wiped some mud from the tops of her gold boots. She needed to put this conversation in reverse and get Allie back onto the right BB. “Mel and you will make such a gorgeous couple. You guys could model together!”

“It’ll never work.” Allie shook her head, setting a honey-blond wave loose from her headband. She widened her navy blue eyes and gave Charlie a stern look. “Actors and models are destined to fight for the spotlight. Now that I’m serious-leh pursuing acting, I need a down-to-earth guy like Darwin more than ever.” Allie blinked her thick black lashes emphatically, but when Charlie didn’t say anything, her blue eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re not falling for Darwin again?”

“I told you, no!” Charlie snapped. “I’m here for
you
. Not
me
.”

“Good. Then find out if he’s jealous, would you? Acting like I’m interested in Mel is my most challenging role yet!” Allie smiled, then turned toward the picnic to continue her performance.

Charlie swallowed hard, wishing she could yell
cut
and put an end to the sordid scene. Her comedy of manners was quickly turning into a tragedy of epic proportions.

PERFORMING ARTS COMPLEX
MASK ENTRANCE

MONDAY, OCTOBER 4TH
2:03 P.M.

Allie ran a shaking hand nervously across her blow-out, smoothing out flyaways and nerves. She was late for her first acting class. She hadn’t felt this anxious or intimidated since she’d had her first head shots taken at the Barbizon Modeling School in the Santa Ana mall. Her eyes widened as she stepped onto the plush red carpet that extended like a rectangular tongue from the giant gold façade of the Performing Arts complex. The entrance to the building was a depressingly tragic frown, which didn’t help Allie’s mood. Thankfully when the doors whooshed open, the frown curled into a laughing smile.

Inside, three gorgeous SITs (Stars In Training) walked toward her, each of them dressed like extras from
Oliver Twist
, their tweed vests and kneesocks smudged with soot. They reminded Allie of Mary-Kate Olsen on a bad day—homeless-looking, but beautiful.

“Wot’s
she
doin’ ’ere?” one of the girls snort-snickered, turning to her sooty pals.

Another one rolled her eyes, then quickly reassumed her street urchin character study, adjusting a straw hat that rode jauntily atop a mass of kinky black curls. “I ’aven’t a clue—must be an impostor convention!”

The three pseudo-British urchins laughed as Allie’s face turned the color of the carpet beneath her.
It’s true.
Identity theft doesn’t make me an actress. It makes me a criminal.
She shame-stared straight ahead and stalked past them and through the entrance, Purelling even though (she hoped!) she hadn’t touched them.

Finally, she arrived at her class in the amphitheater. The huge room consisted of a giant round stage surrounded by rows of chairs—there were at least five hundred empty seats. Allie shivered at the thought of all of them being filled with a huge audience.

Her eyes scanned the scene, watching as holographic sets on the stage dissolved and re-appeared every few seconds. Quotes from great actors and directors and famous lines from movies and plays illuminated the walls like glowing neon caterpillars. The teacher of the class was a woman rounder than Humpty Dumpty with hair dyed a shade of red so bright it was nearly neon. She was dressed in head-to-toe black, and her lips were an even brighter shade of tomato red than her hair. But Big Red had it.
It
being that hard-to-define
quality known as charisma, animal magnetism, star power. Her chubby chin jiggled as she walked and talked. Still, Allie was totally entranced by her.

Allie’s trance was so deep that she nearly screamed when a finger silently tapped her on the shoulder. Allie’s navy blue eyes made contact with Triple Threat’s catlike golden ones, which were narrowed quizzically.

“You’re in this class?” Allie whispered through clenched teeth, not wanting to unfreeze and incur the wrath of Big Red.

“Uh-huh,” smirked Triple, arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I
own
this class.”

Two sharp hand-claps bounced their attention back to the acting teacher. “New York subway!” the teacher yelled. “
Hear
the rumbling along the track!
Feel
the stress of being sandwiched underground!
Smell
the unappetizing smells!”

Some of the girls refroze in new positions as subway riders, hanging on invisible poles or sitting on invisible subway seats, their faces contorting into masks of tension and their bodies jiggling as if being rocked by a moving train, while others took the opportunity to create characters. Sunita Sanchez, who Allie knew from French class, morphed into a homeless person and walked around asking for spare change, jingling an invisible cup of coins. Another girl rolled her eyes and pretended to block her out with a giant newspaper.

As Sunita approached her, Allie quickly stuck her nose into her shirt to block out her imaginary homeless-person germs and concentrated on not gagging on the imaginary smell of pee permeating their subway car. Before she knew it, she’d fished out her bottle of Purell and slathered both hands in it, instantly feeling more protected.

Big Red stopped her monologue and walked over to Allie. “Good improv for your first time. Nice germophobia! You must be the IT. I’m Careen.”

Allie smiled nervously, confused by Careen’s acronym.
Is IT an acting term?
Her mind groped at the possibilities: Improv Trainee? Interpreter of Theater? I Thespian? Careen stood a bit too close to Allie, her chunky arms folded. She seemed to want a response.

“IT?” Allie finally squeaked.

“Identity Thief.”

“Oh.” Tears instantly sprang to Allie’s deep blue eyes and her nervous smile vanished. Allie wished she could vanish along with it.

But then Careen’s high-pitched laugh filled Allie’s ears, sounding like the yapping of two tiny dogs stuffed into a purse. She smacked Allie on the back with a meaty, ring-covered hand, hard enough that Allie bumped into Triple. “In this class, IT is a compliment! I heard all about the scandal,” Careen paused, taking a wheezing breath, “and I’m elated to work with someone with such
enormous
ambition.
What a brilliant way to get into the Academy!”

Careen gushed. Allie blushed.

The redhead circled Allie like a bargain hunter eyeing the clearance rack. “That kind of hunger cannot be taught.”

Careen bulldozed her way through the imaginary subway car. “Check out the bios of these fame-seekers on your aPod later. You’ll see they’ve all gone to great lengths to be here. You’re no different than they are; you just took a different path. You are home now, my future ingénue. Welcome!”

Careen came charging back toward Allie, her arms outstretched. Allie took a breath as Careen grabbed her shoulders and pressed her face to her ample bosom in a suffocating-yet-nurturing hug.

Lost in the black fabric of Careen’s chest, Allie’s emotions took her by surprise. Finally, someone was being nice to Allie! Someone thought she belonged. Hot tears prickled at her eyes.

When Careen finally let her go, Allie noticed she’d left a big wet spot on her teacher’s left boob.

“Remember this feeling, Allie. Use it in your craft.” Careen’s lipsticky teeth flashed Allie another smile. “Now, let’s get you up to speed.”

Careen explained that this was an acting warm-up exercise. The idea was to mime whatever she called out. “Don’t
think
!” Careen screeched. “React! Leave yourself and your thoughts behind and
become
.”

A surge of hopeful relief coursed through Allie’s veins. She wanted nothing more than to leave herself behind forever. She joined the girls on their invisible subway, some of whom peered at her over their invisible newspapers in a disinterested way, just like real commuters.

Allie grabbed on to an invisible pole and started the ride. Then Careen clapped her hands again. “Electric shock!”

The actors-in-training began shaking spastically, their limbs flying as if they’d been hurled against an electric fence. But the word
shock
meant one thing and one thing only to Allie. Shock was finding her ex-boyfriend Fletcher kissing her ex-best friend Trina on the
Finding Nemo
ride at Disneyland. So she channeled that shock. Her eyes bulged. Her mouth hung open, forming a horrified black hole. Tears began to fall from her eyes again, this time because she had just been betrayed by the two people she loved most. No electricity required.

Careen clapped again, but this time the applause was for Allie. “Nice, Allie. Subtle, elegant work. Class, please follow Allie’s lead. Shock isn’t just something we get from hair dryers.”

Allie’s memory of Fletcher and Trina was replaced by elation. She pushed her shoulders back and stuck out her B-cups, reveling in an emotion she’d nearly forgotten existed:
pride
. She gloat-grinned at Triple, who had stopped
writhing on the floor to stare at Allie, naked jealousy radiating from her golden irises.

Careen clapped again, pulling Allie back to the stage and her acting ambitions. “Revenge!”

Allie imagined sitting at the Oscars in a Zac Posen off-the-shoulder gown, her earlobes dripping with diamonds and emeralds. She looked over and smiled at Darwin sitting next to her, handsome in a tux, squeezing her hand as Natalie Portman announced the winner for Best Actress. “Allie A. Abbott!”

Allie pictured her tearful acceptance speech and zoomed out in her imagination to include Fletcher sitting in his parents’ basement rec room, in the dark, alone, watching her on TV. A single tear rolled down Fletcher’s cheek.

Maybe, just maybe, acting would give Allie back everything Fletcher had taken away—starting with her self-respect.

CENTER FOR THE ARTS THEATER
OF DIONYSUS

MONDAY, OCTOBER 4TH
4:49 P.M.

The clear walls of the dance studio—an all-glass cube dangling fifty feet above the tree line like dice on the island’s rearview mirror—dripped with condensation. After two hours of rehearsal, the dance cube was hotter than a Bikram yoga class.