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“Hop along, Espy!” Tanner calls from where he’s standing a few feet away.
“Settle down,” I grumble back at him, teasing. “The cafeteria isn’t going to run out of food if it takes us an extra two minutes to get there.”
“Not worth the risk.” He winks at me.
We’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. At least during the weekdays. In the mornings I typically follow either Em or Tanner, depending on their class schedule, to the cafeteria, where they swipe me in as a guest. We eat breakfast, and then my escort does some homework while I either draw, read, or study from my new college prep books. I usually stay there through lunch, with Em or Tanner switching out as needed. In the afternoons we sometimes switch to the library or hang out outside if it isn’t too cold.
I hate being a burden, but I do appreciate the safety net they’re giving me.
Lincoln has started taking “Espy’s shifts” recently as well. He’s often busier than the other two, but he always brushes me off when I try to tell him I don’t want to be a bother. They all do.
While they aren’t my pack romantically—for obvious reasons,ewwwww—it does feel like I have a whole network of protective men around me, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice. Mackenzie explained to me that they’re acting as my family pack. She told me it isn’t uncommon for packs to take in younger, unbonded siblings. Omegas especially.
“French toast today—awesome!” Tanner crows as we enter the cafeteria.
The food here is surprisingly good, and I take my time meandering through the many stations set up around the large room. Some specialty items they rotate out, like the French toast, but other things are staples, like their cereal, yogurt, and oatmeal bars. I swear I’ve put on at least five pounds in just a few weeks as I’ve made sure to try out all the different offerings. It’s not like I couldn’t use the extra weight. In fact, what better place for an underweight omega to hang out for hours each day than an all-you-can-eat cafeteria?
Tanner and I settle into what’s become our usual booth: a spot against a wall, but with a good view of most of the large, open space. It was overstimulating to be around so many people at first, but now I find the crowd comforting. The public provides a level of anonymity and safety that feels reassuring.
Tanner sits with me for a few hours, but eventually he has to get to class. Em will be stuck in class for a while yet. I finally realized he’d just been skipping that one without telling me.Qué menso!After a nearly forty-five-minute argument last night, he finally agreed we’d experiment with leaving me on my own for a while. I had to promise not to move from the cafeteriaandto send him updates via text every twenty minutes so he won’t worry. I made sure to roll my eyes before agreeing, but in all honesty, I am a bit anxious about being alone in public. I could have just asked Tanner to walk me back to the dorm, but I can’t hide away forever.
Luckily, a buddy of Em’s had an old phone sitting around that he agreed to let me have, so at least I have a way to communicate—and to ask for help if I start having a panic attack or something like that. It feelssoooooooogood to have a phone again. My dad took mine away two years ago after Em left for college, and it was so frightening not having any way to tell anyone what was going on. I only have a few numbers so far, but it’s nice. And the emojis have gotten a lot fancier too.
I wave goodbye to Tanner and send off a preemptive text to Em letting him know I’m all good and that I’ll text him every twenty minutes as promised. I even set a timer to make sure I won’t forget. Hesitating for a just a minute, I pull up Lincoln’s number too and shoot him a similar note.
Good girl, he replies a few seconds after I hit send. My stomach swoops in a way I’m beginning to become accustomed to with him. A few seconds later he follows up with,Call me immediately if anything happens. Or if you need me.
I smile and put my phone away, returning to the college prep math book I was reading before Tanner left. It still feels too early to make any major decisions about my life in the short-term, but before my dad derailed my life I always planned to continue my education. The deadline to apply for spring admission at River Valley passed a few days ago, on October 1, but Em got me an appointment with the registrar’s office, and they seemed surprisingly sympathetic of my situation. My father didn’t allow me to take my ACT or SAT exams, having already decided that I was to be sold off to an alpha. No undergraduate degree required for that, apparently. I always did fairly well in school, though, and the registrar said they’d allow me to apply late and make my acceptance conditional on getting my exam scores in by January 5. Even if I don’t score all that well, it sounds like they’re willing to work with me. I’m grateful.
Em and I have also talked about the possibility of me applying for disability, but I don’t like the sound of that. Emotionally, it makes me feel like a victim. Logistically, it sounds like a nightmare to get all the paperwork filled in. I know I’m putting a strain on Em’s tightly managed budget right now, but it won’t be forever. If I can’t go to school, then I’ll get a job. I won’t let my trauma deny me that.
I need to be able to support myself.
I make it through two more chapters in my prep book before my brain feels fried, so I decide to switch things up. I pull out my sketch pad, flipping to a blank page. I’ve always liked to draw, whether with charcoal, colored pencils, or crayons. Even pens when I’d get bored in class and start sketching in the margins of my notes. I’m okay at drawing realistically, but I’m better at pulling things out of my head. For one class project back in tenth grade I made a series of sketches where I interpreted what common animals might look like in an alien zoo. I was so proud of those creations, and while I know they’re still sitting somewhere in my dad’s house, I doubt I’ll see them again anytime soon. I decide to work on a new edition instead, focusing on various bird species instead of the larger mammals I drew before.
I allow myself to get lost in the work, only stopping every thirty minutes to send the obligatory text to my brother. I’m busy working on my vision of an alien peacock when I hear someone clear their throat right next to me.
I jump, banging my knee on the table and accidentally drawing a line where I hadn’t wanted one. “Jeez,” I groan, rubbing at my bruised knee as I take in the stranger standing before me.
“Hi.”
The boy’s cute. Looking to be a little under six feet, he’s skinny but lean, with slightly curly sandy-blond hair hanging around his ears and falling into his murky green eyes. His face manages to be both heart-shaped and masculine at the same time, and his skin looks like it got stuck somewhere between pale and lightly tanned.
He is beautiful. No two ways around it.
“Ummm ... hi?”
I’m not used to strangers approaching me, and though this guy smells like a beta I’m not keen to let down my guard. As my father proved, betas can be monsters too.
“I’m Micah,” the guy says, holding out his hand with a disarming grin.
I just blink, still confused about why he’s here, and I don’t bother to take his hand.
He doesn’t seem to mind, pulling his hand back to rest it in his back pocket and leaning against my table casually. Fortunately, he’s at least giving me space. “You’re Espy, right? Esperanza Alvarez? I’m Mason’s brother. Or the handsome Hayes, as I’m known around here.” He gives me a playful wink, and I quickly wrack my brain.
Mason...that’s the name of Em’s swimmer friend, right?
This much is confirmed when Micah points off to his left and I look over to see the alpha I met two weeks ago sitting at a table with another guy who seems to be about the same age. They’re both staring at me, and at Micah, I guess. It makes me nervous, so I quickly look back at the guy in front of me.
