BAY #8
"They’re cousins, Vin and Rob. Both from the Hanson clan, the local menace family… better watch out around them. They’ve got tons of relatives here, all ugly as fuck. Uncles, cousins, even one brother in prison…"
I’ve never heard of that family beyond what they mentioned yesterday. None of my brothers ever went to this high school anyway. My parents only sent me here because of the good music program.
It’s in a different suburban area than the one my brothers River and Winter attended. So I don’t know anyone here, and no one knows me.
That’s exactly when Alex walks in.
He keeps close to the wall, head lowered, heading straight to his seat. He doesn’t look at me. He probably sees Zion and Kaen standing next to me, flaunting their feathers like colorful parrots.
Why do I feel so damn stupid? We’re not even friends. We met yesterday and exchanged a few words. What’s wrong with me? Should I focus on this kid so much?
Mr. Keller, the teacher, walks in.
When class starts, I glance at Alex cautiously.
He sits with his head down, his small fingers clutching the inhaler pressed to his chest. He stares at his tablet.
He doesn’t turn his head, even though I’m sure he feels my eyes on him.
Finally, I can’t stand it. I pull out a notebook, tear out a sheet, and write one line:
"Are you okay?"
When Mr. Keller turns around, I quickly place the note on Alex’s desk.
He hesitates, glances at it, but doesn’t reply, doesn’t touch it.
I write another one.
"Will you have lunch with me today?"
Alex stares at the note for a moment, then writes something on it and turns it toward me. I glance at it and see:
"I don’t want to tag along as your fourth wheel with Kaen and Zion."
Frowning, I quickly write a new one and slip it onto his desk when Mr. Keller isn’t looking.
"I never asked for their company. I’d rather have lunch with you. They swooped in first."
Only then does Alex lift his face for a moment, and his beautiful eyes meet mine. A shiver runs through me, like someone has touched me with a magic wand.
But then he lowers his gaze again and writes something else.
"No wonder."
"I don’t understand."
"Really? You’re such a beautiful alpha. The hottest one in the class, maybe in the whole school."
I freeze as I read it, staring at the words, and everything in me screams that this is wrong. My nerves tremble like stretched strings, vibrating, ready to snap and turn me into a broken bowstring.
The last person who ever called me a ‘beautiful alpha’ hurt me horribly. I don’t want those words; I hate those words. They carry pain.
I write back, my hand slightly shaking.
"Don’t ever call me that. I’m not. And I didn’t invite Kaen and Zion. I’m inviting you."
Alex’s eyes meet mine again. He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to read my state of mind, my resistance, to understand the storm cloud hovering around me.
Then he nods slightly. I give him a smile, though my smiles have stopped being real. They’ve become social tools, masks of paper I wear to function.
The next class is Algebra, so we split up. Zion and Kaen come up to me and start a conversation, but I make sure to answer only briefly.
Next is English, and after that, lunch.
I cleverly get up first and leave the classroom as if I’m going to the bathroom. Then I head toward the cafeteria.
Kaen and Zion are already in line, near the front.
Alex is at the back, which is a relief. It makes it easier to slip away.
I wait until everyone’s seated. When I grab my tray, I turn toward Alex’s table.
Kaen and Zion wave at me, but I ignore them.
Deep down, I think this whole social juggling thing sucks.
When I sit down, I see their smiles fade, but Alex’s face brightens with a shy smile.
For a while, we sit in silence. I don’t know what to say. Everything that’s happened lately, being attacked, and then my dad killing those two monsters, sounds way too heavy for a casual lunch talk over chicken salad, doesn’t it? So yeah, I fall short of socially acceptable conversation topics.
A few tables away, I notice the two alphas from our class, Vin and Rob, sitting with a beta and an omega, both kinda looking alike. Other family members? They’re watching us with hard-to-read expressions.
But I ignore them. I’m not in the mood to befriend anyone here. I just want to survive.
And this tiny Alex? He’s a disruption, an unexpected light piercing my darkness like an amethyst arrow.
Alex suddenly takes out a note from his pocket and shows me what I wrote earlier, about not calling me a beautiful alpha.
"I’ve been thinking about that. I think you should value yourself more," he says, lightly tapping the paper with his thin finger.
I watch his delicate hand move, but I stay silent. His nails are painted pale pink with a touch of glitter.
"I kind of stalked you a little," he says with an embarrassed smile. "Found a Bay Nolan, small YouTube channel, and your Facebook account."
"Seriously? Not cool," I mutter, grimacing.
"Sorry… But you really intrigued me. And I think I know where your music interest comes from. Your father used to be in this famous boy band three decades ago. You get a lot of his looks and probably his musical talent too."
"My dad’s a musician too. Most of my brothers play instruments."
Alex sighs. "It must be nice, being part of a big family like yours. I’m an only child. Just me and my dad. My father’s gone."
"I’m sorry. That sucks," I mumble, breaking off a piece of my croissant.
"I never knew him. He died before I was born."
"It must’ve been hard for your dad, raising you alone and working…"
Alex mindlessly pokes at the celery salad. "Well, my father’s brother helped him out. My uncle Dimitri. He was a beta and single. He moved in with us and was like my second parent. But he passed away last year. So now it’s just… the two of us."
He says it calmly, but I can tell it’s not easy for him.
"I’m sorry, Alex."
"Yeah, it’s just me and him now." His energy drops a little, like the thought alone is depressing.
I have no idea what to respond. Should I keep going with the topic? It might sound like I’m prying into his personal life a bit too soon, but cutting off something that clearly matters to him feels kind of rude. So I just say something random, anything to keep us from falling into silence.
"What about your grandparents?"
"My granddad’s a high-functioning alcoholic, a city clerk, and a terrible person. My dad’s only brother is a junkie. He dumped his kid on Granddad and vanished to chase his next fix. Granddad’s raising my cousin Jared now, but we barely talk. So yeah, we’re alone. Empty house, nobody comes over."
I listen, though I have some trouble fully focusing, my mind messy, all over the place.
My life, up until two or three days ago, was perfectly fine.
Big family on my father’s side, tons of cousins and uncles, grandparents.
Noisy house. None of us ever felt lonely, maybe except for Snow, but he’s always been a bit distant with all his strange powers.
Now I’m the one who feels distant and lonely. But for very different reasons.
"Do you want to be a musician too, like your parents?" Alex suddenly asks, probably to change the heavy subject.
"Yeah, I do. I recently started that YouTube channel you found and began uploading songs. I also joined the band, orchestra, and the choir here. They accepted me."
Alex looks thoughtful. "You’ve got a looot of electives. That’s a lot of extra classes."
I shrug. "It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do."
Alex stays quiet, and for a while, we both finish eating.
The next class is Algebra again, then orchestra, so we have to split up. When I stand to take my tray back, I say to him,
"Well, see you around. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow."
"Sure. Bye. Take care," he says, giving me a sweet smile.
I’m bored in Algebra. I’ve always been pretty good at math, kinda natural, and in my family that talent runs deep, just like music does.
It’s often that way in musical families, with a knack for it going hand in hand with a math sense.
My brother Winter studies programming, and my younger brother Rain already took part in a math olympiad.
If I really applied myself, I could probably be in Algebra 2, but since I don’t plan to tie my future to numbers, I just let it go.
Next is orchestra. Technically, anyone can sign up, but after the first few classes it becomes clear who should stay and who might be better off switching electives.
The teacher seems impressed with my level of skill on the cello, which is nice.
I know it’ll make things easier when it comes to passing the class, even though I haven’t practiced much lately, and not at all last week.
Still, I do okay. Of course, he asks if I’m related to Aiden Nolan, and I have to admit that I am.
Everyone in the orchestra turns their heads, wide-eyed, murmuring wows, and just like that I become a little more recognizable, which doesn’t please me at all.
I just want to sit quietly in a corner and be left alone by the world.
When the class ends, I’m running a bit late because I help the teacher carry practice instruments back to the storage room.
He asked, and I couldn’t say no. He keeps talking, chatting endlessly, asking questions that tire me out, but I keep my polite mask in place, which seems to be becoming my new way of life: appearances everywhere.
When I finally head down to the locker room to change my shoes, I feel kind of strange; some unease rises, and soon I start hearing muffled noises from a distance, something like shouting and scuffling.
I recognize Alex’s voice.
"Give it back!"
My heart speeds up, and so do my steps. I turn the corner toward the freshmen lockers and see Alex trying to jump up toward Vin Hanson’s hand. Vin is holding his inhaler, waving it teasingly in the air.