Read Online Belle of the Brawl by Lisi Harrison - Free Book Online

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-definequality 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