Mya: Night Chaser

The Walls Have Ears

The bell rang like a shot in the darkness. I hustled to put all my books back in the ratty backpack that was held together with safety pins and duct tape. It was a castoff from my sister. Everything I had was a castoff from my sister. 

I stood up and pulled on the jeans I was wearing. Natalie was two sizes bigger and four inches taller. Everything that fit her to perfection looked like it was sagging on me. I inhaled a breath of air to make my stomach stick out and half-jogged out of the class with the backpack slung over my shoulder.

"Freak," someone whispered as I walked by. It wasn't a wolf. It was a human.

I rolled my eyes. Humans were morons. They didn't know why they didn't like me. They just didn't. The wolves had decided I was nothing and the humans followed suit because they were dumber than sheep. They had no idea that even as an Omega, I could kill them with one swipe of my paw. 

Can you imagine a sheep making fun of a wolf?

Stupid.

I put one hand on the top of my jeans to keep them up in case anyone wanted to pull them down again and bolted through the hallways. I took about ten steps before I felt that familiar knife to my chest. I looked up and saw him standing against the locker with a girl in a cheerleading uniform plastered to his side. She was nuzzling his neck. He practically had his hands down her skirt.

I sucked in a breath as he looked up and at me. For a millisecond, I saw something akin to guilt flash across his face. Then I saw his jaw tick and his eyes harden. His eyes were on me as he dipped his head and allowed her to lick his skin.

Patrick. My mate. The wolf I was supposed to unite with that very night in a ceremony where I turned for the first time. And he was standing with his hands down Natalie's skirt. His body was perfection. Tall and strong and filled with muscles contracting and stretching with every movement. His hair was a dirty blonde that he let grow out a shade too long with the curls barely defined. His chocolate brown eyes were framed in gorgeous lashes. His lips were full and I wondered for the millionth time what they'd be like on my own. And those lips were frowning. At me.

I heard Natalie let out a half-sigh, half-groan when she turned to me. Her thick, full, curly brown hair was in stark contrast to my straight, black hair. Her body was rounded and full. Soft and delicate whereas mine was way too thin from lack of nutrition. Her eyes were a dark brown where my own was a hazel but mostly green. Our noses were the same. And the way our heads were shaped. We looked more like distant relatives than sisters. 

"Ugh," she groaned. "There she is. The bane of my existence. The reason why my family can't have anything nice."

Patrick said nothing. He only watched me as I ducked my head and walked to my locker. My hand shook as I turned the dial on the lock. The knife went deeper into my chest as they started making out again. This time they were louder than before. Natalie moaned as if auditioning for some three-star porno flick. Patrick's breathing intensified. I felt the air leave my body and struggled to remain to stand, one hand unzipping my bag, and the other desperately trying to keep my pants from pooling around my ankles.

Natalie was right, though. I was the reason my family couldn't have anything nice. An Omega in the family was detrimental to anyone who wanted to social climb. And if there was one thing my mother or Natalie wanted to do, it was that. And I had knocked over the ladder.

"Thank heavens," Natalie announced to no one when it was obvious I wasn't going to react to her performance. "That Mya's Ceremony is tonight."

I grit my teeth and hurried to switch the books in my bag.

"Mom and Dad can denounce her," Natalie continued as if I wasn't there. "You can reject her," she was talking about Sean. "And she can go live in the attic at the Pack House. Never to be heard from again."

She was right about that, too. It was my fifteenth birthday. The day of my change. I was to become a wolf. If I were anyone else, I would be welcomed into the Pack. My family would throw a celebration. Patrick would step forward and we'd be tied together for eternity. My place in the world would be cemented just as much as the sun would set in the west. 

Unfortunately, I was an Omega. The party would all be for the show. When it was midnight and time for me to change, my parents would discard me and announce they were no longer my parents. Patrick would step forward and reject me formally. The Alpha would announce because I have no one to take care of me, I would become a servant for the royals. My home would turn into an attic room with a bed and a small dresser. My days at school would be over. Instead, I would become a housemaid. I would be at the beck and call of the royal family until the day I died. And that was if I was lucky. If the royal family didn't accept me, then I would have to live on the Outskirt. 

The Outskirt was a place beyond Pack Walls. Wolves who no longer served the Pack were sentenced there. The huts were small and barely standing up. The roofs leaked and some were even falling inside. The topsoil had been sold from the dirt meaning nothing would grow there. No animals. No vegetables. No flowers. Nothing. Our Luna, or the Alpha's wife, would bring a basket of food every week but it was barely enough to keep anyone alive. Starvation was almost a certainty if the rogue wolves didn't pick the wolves on the outskirts first. Either way, it was a slow and painful death.

I closed my eyes at these thoughts and got out my next schoolbook. I was going to enjoy learning and reading while I had the chance. Because tomorrow it would all be gone. I would either be on the Outskirts or I would be a servant for the rest of my life. As far as I could tell, the only difference was a quick death or a life of hell. Either looked just as bleak. I wondered not for the first time if I should ask to be sentenced to the Outskirts.

"Only a few more hours to go," Natalie called to my back as I slammed my locker shut, spun the dial, and scurried away. "Hope you know how to clean toilets!"

I half-ran to my next class as I slung the backpack over my shoulder and pulled up my pants. People either purposefully got in my way or leaped back as if my status of a freak would rub off on them. I kept running until I got to the classroom I was hoping for and ducked inside.

I kept my head down as I made my way into the home economics classroom. The teacher was a lovely woman named Missus Goodwoman. She had the most beautiful blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her hair was tied back in a neat little bun and she always smelled like vanilla.

Missus Goodwoman was an Omega at one time. She lived as a housemaid until a visiting Alpha came to dinner. One of his soldiers found her and they mated almost instantly. Why she wanted to stay with the Woodlands Pack was beyond me. The wolf rejected his Pack, joined ours, and they'd been living happily ever after in a neat three-bedroom, two-bathroom house that was undoubtedly cleaned to perfection. Since Missus Goodwoman had left the Pack House, they needed an Omega to serve. The Pack women had been taking turns until now. But since I was next in line to be rejected, I was the one to do it.

Missus Goodwoman understood this and was unbelievably nice to me. She taught me everything she knew in a short amount of time. This was just another class of her preparing me for life in the Pack House. Cooking. Cleaning. Doing laundry. Washing dishes. A lot of work for one person. 

"Class, today we're making pasta with pesto," she announced in her calm, cool voice. "The trick to a good pasta dish always starts with the water you boil the pasta in. It needs to taste like the ocean."

I listened carefully and measured everything out exactly. My partner only sat on her stool and clicked through her phone. Every now and again she'd hold it up, take a picture, and then send it to whoever was on the other end.

No teacher bothered to correct my partner on her antics. Madeline was the Alpha's daughter. A royal. Anyone censuring her would be put to death immediately. Madeline was also a spoiled rotten brat who I hated with every breath in my being. It only made it worse that in twelve hours, I would be bowing to her constantly and doing everything for her.

"Now for the pesto," Missus Goodwoman continued. "Fresh basil is the key ingredient. And remember the wedged Romano cheese. It must come from a wedge and not prepackaged."

She was speaking to the class but looking directly at me. I nodded my head and began grating cheese like a fool.

Finally, over an hour later, I was plating up the dish and garnish it with a few sprinkles of parsley. I handed the plate to Madeline with my head bowed low. She sighed dramatically and snatched the plate out of my hand. She dipped a fork into the pesto, made a face, and threw the plate into the sink. Pasta and pesto went flying through the air. Some landed on my shirt and splattered my beat-up tennis shoes. 

"This tastes like crap," she announced as she turned her attention back to her phone. "Clean it up."

I nodded dumbly and began washing the mess.

"Hope you like cleaning toilets," Madeline muttered as she got up to walk out of the classroom before the bell rang. She jerked her head at her friends who immediately got up and followed her out into the hallway.

I heard a sigh in front of me and saw a pair of hands helping me clean up the mess.

"It'll be okay," Missus Goodwoman murmured to me as I cleaned frantically. "It's not so bad. You get food. And a bed to sleep in. It's better than," her voice dipped low. "Well. You know."

"I hate her," I hissed between clenched teeth.

"I know," Missus Goodwoman muttered. "I did, too."

"And him," I continued as I squirted way too much soap into the sink.

"I understand," she put her hand over mine as I slammed the plastic bottle next to the sink. "But you can't say things like that. Never. Not even to me. Today, you get a pass. Tomorrow, I'd have to report you. And remember," she dipped closer to me. "The walls have ears. Especially in the Pack House."