Read Online Movers and Fakers by Lisi Harrison - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisi Harrison
Tags: JUV014000
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mascara-tinted tears that rolled down
her cheeks. Here at last was the real thing, the one with all the talent and fame, the girl she’d been pretending to be, easily
stepping (barefoot, with a minimal carbon footprint, but still!) into a life that was now Allie A’s.
Just a few feet away, Allie J began to sing:
Without you I am cold
A chin without a goatee
So if the truth be told
I need you to ignite me
The audience looked from fake-Allie to real-Allie and murmured confusedly to one another. Then most of them jumped to their
feet and started to dance, deciding, Allie guessed, to enjoy themselves and figure out what was wrong with this picture later.
Allie J continued her throaty performance:
This is where I’m torn
You’re bad energy
Now I fill up on corn
It’s all about synergy
Allie A couldn’t move. Her legs were stuck to the stage floor like they’d been glued there. Never in her life had she felt
this humiliated. The time she tripped while working as a mall model, busting open her lip and bleeding all over the clothes,
didn’t even come close. Fletcher and Trina’s betrayal was a cakewalk compared to this. She closed her eyes in a futile attempt
to block out the circus-mirror effect her mortification was having on the room. But even behind closed eyes, Allie saw the
sneers on every pretty Alpha face.
Take a hint
You’re totally done
Reduce the carbon footprint
It’s best for everyone
As Allie J played the final bridge of the song, Allie A opened her eyes and searched out the Jackie O’s. They hadn’t stood
up for the performance. They paid no attention to the real Allie J, focusing only on Allie, their eyes flashing with shock…
then rage. What was worse, behind the seething anger, each of them looked hurt. Especially Charlie. Allie swallowed—her throat
felt like Brillo. The pain she had caused her friends was ten times scarier to contemplate than their anger.
I acted like a fool
Before I knew better
Don’t pump me full of fuel
Don’t dry-clean my hemp sweater
Finally Allie’s eyes found Darwin in the back row. He stared straight ahead, not willing to even make eye contact with her.
The look on his face was stony and furious and devastatingly sad.
As the last bars of Allie J’s song faded out, Shira stepped back onto the stage, clapping her hands along with the rest of
the audience. Everyone but the Jackie O’s and Darwin hollered and whistled.
“Allie J. Abbott, everyone! Let’s give her another big round of applause, shall we?” As the clapping died out, Shira crossed
the stage and rested a manicured hand on Allie’s shoulder. “And, of course, you’ve already met Allie
A
. Abbott.”
Allie willed herself not to flinch at Shira’s icy touch.
“Whose talent, up until today, has been impersonating a folk singer. Let’s hope Ms. Abbott finds her real talent soon, or
she’ll be leaving us like our twelve friends tonight. Assembly dismissed.” Shira flounced offstage, leaving the two Allies—one
drinking in the adoration of a quickly forming crowd of girls, the other standing alone, wishing she could morph into a hologram
and vanish into thin air.
Fresh tears sprang into Allie’s eyes as Darwin flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and stormed out of the room without even
glancing her way. Her gaze moved to the Jackie O’s, who lingered in their chairs, talking in hushed voices. Through her tears,
they looked streaky and blurred like a Van Gogh.
Each of them glared at her with a mixture of hurt, anger, and pity. They seemed embarrassed, too: maybe a little bit for Allie,
but also for themselves, for having believed her lies.
Allie shivered in the dark shadow she’d cast over the Jackie O’s. Her lie had seemed so insignificant in her bedroom in Santa
Ana—what was one little initial?—but with time it had grown bigger than Godzilla. Yet now she felt smaller than a grain of
sand. She shrank into herself even more as
her cheeks. Here at last was the real thing, the one with all the talent and fame, the girl she’d been pretending to be, easily
stepping (barefoot, with a minimal carbon footprint, but still!) into a life that was now Allie A’s.
Just a few feet away, Allie J began to sing:
Without you I am cold
A chin without a goatee
So if the truth be told
I need you to ignite me
The audience looked from fake-Allie to real-Allie and murmured confusedly to one another. Then most of them jumped to their
feet and started to dance, deciding, Allie guessed, to enjoy themselves and figure out what was wrong with this picture later.
Allie J continued her throaty performance:
This is where I’m torn
You’re bad energy
Now I fill up on corn
It’s all about synergy
Allie A couldn’t move. Her legs were stuck to the stage floor like they’d been glued there. Never in her life had she felt
this humiliated. The time she tripped while working as a mall model, busting open her lip and bleeding all over the clothes,
didn’t even come close. Fletcher and Trina’s betrayal was a cakewalk compared to this. She closed her eyes in a futile attempt
to block out the circus-mirror effect her mortification was having on the room. But even behind closed eyes, Allie saw the
sneers on every pretty Alpha face.
Take a hint
You’re totally done
Reduce the carbon footprint
It’s best for everyone
As Allie J played the final bridge of the song, Allie A opened her eyes and searched out the Jackie O’s. They hadn’t stood
up for the performance. They paid no attention to the real Allie J, focusing only on Allie, their eyes flashing with shock…
then rage. What was worse, behind the seething anger, each of them looked hurt. Especially Charlie. Allie swallowed—her throat
felt like Brillo. The pain she had caused her friends was ten times scarier to contemplate than their anger.
I acted like a fool
Before I knew better
Don’t pump me full of fuel
Don’t dry-clean my hemp sweater
Finally Allie’s eyes found Darwin in the back row. He stared straight ahead, not willing to even make eye contact with her.
The look on his face was stony and furious and devastatingly sad.
As the last bars of Allie J’s song faded out, Shira stepped back onto the stage, clapping her hands along with the rest of
the audience. Everyone but the Jackie O’s and Darwin hollered and whistled.
“Allie J. Abbott, everyone! Let’s give her another big round of applause, shall we?” As the clapping died out, Shira crossed
the stage and rested a manicured hand on Allie’s shoulder. “And, of course, you’ve already met Allie
A
. Abbott.”
Allie willed herself not to flinch at Shira’s icy touch.
“Whose talent, up until today, has been impersonating a folk singer. Let’s hope Ms. Abbott finds her real talent soon, or
she’ll be leaving us like our twelve friends tonight. Assembly dismissed.” Shira flounced offstage, leaving the two Allies—one
drinking in the adoration of a quickly forming crowd of girls, the other standing alone, wishing she could morph into a hologram
and vanish into thin air.
Fresh tears sprang into Allie’s eyes as Darwin flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and stormed out of the room without even
glancing her way. Her gaze moved to the Jackie O’s, who lingered in their chairs, talking in hushed voices. Through her tears,
they looked streaky and blurred like a Van Gogh.
Each of them glared at her with a mixture of hurt, anger, and pity. They seemed embarrassed, too: maybe a little bit for Allie,
but also for themselves, for having believed her lies.
Allie shivered in the dark shadow she’d cast over the Jackie O’s. Her lie had seemed so insignificant in her bedroom in Santa
Ana—what was one little initial?—but with time it had grown bigger than Godzilla. Yet now she felt smaller than a grain of
sand. She shrank into herself even more as
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