Broken Threads: Curse of Mates

six

“People who love themselves, don’t hurt other people. The more we hate ourselves, the more we want others to suffer.” Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing: The Best of Year One.

Thinking of Mrs O’Brian’s stories makes me smile. She told me tales about the current Alpha’s parents (Zach’s grandparents) and what they got up to as children. I think she was their nanny, the way she speaks about them. Some of the stories she told me are ones she’s told me before, but I enjoyed hearing them again. I like the way Mrs O’Brian sees our pack through her stories. Like we all look after each other and get along. I wonder if the lines between omega classes in our pack were less defined when she was growing up. Because it sure has changed now.

It’s easier to notice the changes to class within us omegas. Omegas in a pack are those pack members who do not have a high rank or come from a high-ranking line but do not have a high-rank position. Those like me, who come from long lines of omegas, rank the lowest in the pack. And boy, do we know it!

I remember talking with the other kids at pack school about the food we get at the restaurants in the pack house. I remember them saying that they all went to Clevedon House for dinner on Friday nights, and lunch at the packhouse after pack school on Sunday.

I remember wondering how they could go to dinner at Clevedon House so many times a month, thinking, wouldn’t that be expensive? They had laughed at me. No, it’s free; you get ten free monthly meals, silly! I shook my head and told them they were wrong; we only get three free monthly meals. A few other omegas agreed with me, and an argument ensued. Later we learned that some omegas get three free meals at the pack house a month, whereas most get ten.

That’s just one of the differences. There are more. As I walk up the hill to school, I’m lost in these thoughts.

“Oh god, oh god, don’t let her touch me, don’t let her touch me!” I hear a voice say as I walk past. I look up and see Inaya move quickly into her group of friends, including Catherine and to-be Alpha Zach, who look at me and laugh. I don’t respond to their actions; I look back down at the footpath before me and keep walking.

At least when I’m walking down pathways towards my next class’s building and down hallways to my class, people don’t purposely move to get out of my way. I have to sidestep people as I walk, trying hard not to accidentally knock them with my shoulder or bag, but it’s much better than having people dramatically move away from me like I have covid or something.

I find the door to my English class open, and I walk in, taking my seat in the middle of the room. Moira doesn’t come into class, and I sigh. I’ll have to put up with Catherine and Inaya, who have taken their seats behind me today (like, can’t they take their seats at the back of the room like normal?).

Mrs Ranfurly tells us to read, and I get out my book from my bag. I’m reading chapter sixty-three, where Alice talks about going to the doctor to get sleeping pills. She writes (because ‘Go Ask Alice’ is written in diary form) that she wants the pills because she wants an ‘escape,’ not to sleep like she told her doctor. I think about Alice’s justifications. They sound reasonable. Maybe I should go to the doctor and tell him I’m struggling to sleep…

As I’m thinking this, a tan splotch lands on my book, followed by a flow of tan liquid. I jump back, my chair legs scraping against the carpet as liquid pours off my book, over my desk and onto my lap.

“Sh-up!” I cry as I jump onto my feet.

“Sera!” my teacher yells, looking up at me.

“Oops! I am so sorry, Mrs Ranfurly. Sera had her foot sticking out of her desk, and I tripped, spilling my iced coffee on her!” Inaya says. Mrs Ranfurly turns to look at me, anger on her face.

“Really Sera? That was uncalled for! And look, you’ve ruined one of my books! Out!” Mrs Ranfurly yells at me.

“But… I wasn’t… I didn’t…” I begin to complain. My bag is by my left foot, and Inaya is standing to my left. There’s no way my foot was sticking out to trip her.

“Get. Out!” Mrs Ranfurly yells, pointing to the door.

Tears pool at the bottom of my lashes, and I quickly gather my things and shove them into my bag, which, for those who were watching (which was the whole class), could see I had pulled it out from my left side.

I pick up the soaked book, the coffee dripping off the pages.

“Just leave it!” Mrs Ranfurly growled between her teeth. People begin to snigger, and I look around the room. Yeah. They’re all watching, hiding their smiles behind their hands.

Mutely, I push past Inaya and run down the aisle between the desks. Someone puts their foot out, and I trip but don’t fall over, sending a wave of sniggers throughout the class again. When the door slams behind me, an eruption of laughter hits my ears. Tears fall down my face when I hear this.

Stuff this! I think as I look up and down the hallway. Looks like another day at home for me. With that decision in mind, I take off down the hallway. I take the steps two at a time and run outside the building. Before I know it, I’m outside the school fence, and I slow my pace to a walk.

“Hey!” A voice calls out as I walk past. I turn and see Moira, her pink vape in her hand. I slow to a stop and look at her.

“Are you okay?”

I nod but then wipe the new tears from my face and shake my head instead.

“I would ask what happened… but….” Moira begins, eyeing the wet patch on my skirt.

“Inaya spilt her iced coffee on me. She said I tripped her. But I didn’t,” I explain, trying not to stutter.

“What are we going to do with you?” Moira asks, shaking her head a little.

“Come on. Let’s blow this joint,” Moira says, walking in a different direction from where I was going. I watch her.

Blow this joint? What the hell does that mean?

“Are yah coming?” Moira asks, looking over her shoulder at me. Mutely, I nod and run to catch up to her. I follow her lead down the street, stopping when we reach a flash-looking sports car. Moira pulls something out of her bag, and the vehicle makes a clicking sound.

“Get in,” Moira instructs. I don’t say anything and nod, opening the passenger door. The car’s interior is what you would imagine a sports car to have. Big front seats with white leather trim. The back seat, which you can only access by pushing the front seats forward, looks small and cramped. Not really made to carry more than two people.

“Is this real leather?” I ask, running my finger across the car’s upholstery.

“Yup. While I was here, I wanted to splash out. Why not, huh?” Moira says, winking.

“Seatbelt,” Moira then instructs as she speeds down the road. I quickly pull the belt across my chest and buckle it in.

I don’t ask where we’re going; I just watch the houses go by as the tears on my face dry. I think I’m going to sleep well tonight. About five minutes later, Moira turns down Sienna Fields Road. It’s one of the wealthiest streets in Clevedon. Moira turns down a long white road, stopping in front of a big black metal gate. She winds her window down and presses numbers into a box next to her, and the gate opens.

“You live here?” I ask as Moira drives on through.

“Yup. You like?” Moira says, speeding toward the front door where she parks. She exits the car, and I follow her, taking my bag. I watch as Moira presses her hand against a panel, and the panel lights up.

“Wow,” I gasp as I follow her into the large foyer.

“Yeah. It’s a bit too big, I think. But I always wanted a place with an indoor pool, so I thought, why not?” Moira smiles.

“You mean, your parents….” I say softly, trying my best to follow her as my head spins in circles, trying to take everything in.

“Like my parents would ever come here….” Moira replies.

“You don’t live with your parents?”

“Not for a long time. They work long distances. So, I don’t see my family much. Come on, take a look,” Moira says. I follow her into a room, which turns out not to be a room but a walk-in closet. A walk-in cupboard with a fragging window seat. Everywhere I look, clothes and accessories are neatly displayed on three walls. There are a few centre islands, and when I walk up to them, I see drawers, many, many drawers.

“Shirts are there, jeans, skirts. Dresses here, jackets, jumpers. Pick anything you like. I hardly wear any of them,” Moira says, pointing. I mutely nod, my mouth hanging open at the sheer luxury of what I’m seeing. Moira doesn’t act like she’s rich at all. She acts like one of us ‘common’ people. Well, above me, but not… you know what I mean.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I turn and see Moira pulling up a pair of black skinny jeans. She’s shirtless, wearing just a bra. And I thought werewolves lacked modesty.

“What? It’s not like we don’t have the same things. Choose your clothes and leave your uniform on the floor. Maria will wash it for you. The bathroom is next door, and I’ll meet you back in the kitchen. Okay?”

“Okay,” I weakly nod.

I watch as Moira confidently leaves the room closet, pulling a t-shirt over her head. Dam, I should have watched where she got them from. Slowly I made my way over to where she was standing. I pull out the drawers and find a whole drawer of bracelets. They sparkle so bright I have to squint my eyes before closing the drawer shut. I go through the rest of the drawers on that island, not finding anything I’m looking for. I feel like I’m snooping, looking through her things. Who’d of thought?

Turning to the island behind me, I find what I want. T-shirts. Moira has a range of band shirts, most from last century- Guns and Posers, Green Day, and The Mothers. I find a shirt with a picture of a teacup on it, with the words ‘Calm the hell down and drink tea’ written underneath. I grab that and then go through the drawers on the other side of the island and find a pair of blue skinny jeans. I take them with me and out the door, finding the bathroom the next door over.

“How was that?” Moira grins as I make my way towards her. She’s sitting at the kitchen island, drinking from a mug and looking at something on a tablet.

“Amazing. I hope you don’t mind, but I had all the shower heads on. It was heaven,” I sigh. Moira chuckles as I close my eyes and remember her shower- it had four shower heads pointing at different angles towards your body. I got a fright when I turned the shower on at first (I got wet), but once I stepped into that water… wow.

“I left my clothes in the hamper in the bathroom. And I put your clothes in there as well. Is that okay?” I ask.

“No worries. Maria comes every day to clean up after me. I’m kind of lazy. Would you like me to make you a coffee?”

“Uh… I’ve never had coffee before….”

“Well, you’re in for a treat,” Moira grins.

“I am buzzing,” I say as Moira drives me home. Moira laughs. We spent the day at her house, watching movies in her indoor theatre and eating magnums, popcorn and, of course, drinking lots of coffee.

“Ah, you’ll be fine in the morning,” Moira tells me. I nod. She parks her car in front of my house.

“Thanks for the lift. And spending the day with me,” I smile.

“Any time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Oh… you don’t have to…” I begin.

“No if’s or buts. I’ll pick you up! See you bitch! And yes, I mean that literally!” Moira grins, making me frown.

“I’m not a bitch…”

“Yet.”

“What?”

“See you tomorrow bitch!” Moira grins, speeding off. What did she mean by that? What did she mean by yet? I know Moira said that softly, but I heard it. And Moira is definitely human. She smells human. I shrug my shoulders. I don’t get Moira. You think she’s one thing, but then she surprises me.

~ Edited with Grammarly