BAY #19
"Still got some strength in these guns!" Uncle Van laughs, and Uncle Zenith rolls his eyes.
Timothy seems disappointed, his handsome face, very much like my father’s, tightening slightly.
Of course the boys pick up the idea, and soon everyone starts arm wrestling, but Storm beats them all, which isn’t surprising since he is a purple alpha, even though he is almost three and a half years younger than me. In the end he also challenges me…
I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Alex so at first I refuse, because how would it look to be beaten by a twelve-year-old? No matter how big he is! But Alex nudges me lightly and says in an excited whisper,
"Try it, try it."
"You’ll laugh at me if I lose to my younger brother?" I ask with a crooked smile, but he shakes his head.
"No way, I know he’s a purple alpha; they have strength."
Alright, fine, so I sit down with Storm, who is grinning, and we lock hands while Uncle Van helps us position our grip so we don’t hurt ourselves during the match.
"Afraid to lose, big bro?" Storm smirks.
I clench my jaw but don’t respond. Alex stands next to me and softly strokes my shoulder, which is nice.
"Alex, maybe you could give him a hand? You guys have the same aura colors, you could try to join forces against me… and still lose!" He chuckles.
Alex rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Storm.
In the meantime, Van adjusts our elbows so they’re planted firmly on the table, tells us to keep our wrists straight, and warns us not to twist or pull, only push sideways. He even checks whether our shoulders line up, because apparently that matters more than people think.
I can tell immediately that Storm will go straight for speed, he wants to beat me with a quick strike and catch me off guard so I won’t be able to resist.
He rolls his shoulder forward the second Van gives the signal, trying to top-roll me by pulling my fingers back to weaken my grip.
But to my shock, I discover that I can actually resist him, and a few moments later it’s me pushing his hand down with relative ease. His red face is proof of how much effort he is putting in.
"Hey! We’ve got an arm-wrestler growing here!" Uncle Van laughs.
"It’s stupid!" Storm growls, but everybody ignores his pouty face. Alex does a funny little victory dance.
"I have an idea. Try going against Timothy," Van says, half joking, half serious.
"No way, I’m not beating an adult alpha," I say and tap my neck glands, which in teenage alphas are still immature. "I’d need these."
"Who knows, there are all kinds of cases, sometimes strength is genetic."
"I don’t know," I mutter, glancing at Alex. Something rises in me, a need to show Alex, specifically him, that I’m not the zero I… actually am.
"Why not, try it, you can learn a lot about technique even from a loss," Van says with absolute conviction.
Timothy’s arrogance kicks in again, he reaches out to me and says, "Go on, Bay, it’s only for fun."
Is he hoping to redeem himself against a teen? He’s that desperate?
I look at him, then at Alex again, whose eyes narrow slightly in a strange little smile.
Alright, I finally decide, it would be embarrassing to lose to Storm, but nobody will laugh if I lose to a fifty-year-old alpha.
Van positions our thumbs, lines up our elbows, and we begin.
He explains quickly that Timothy will probably try to hook me by curling his wrist in, which gives him leverage, and tells me to keep my wrist locked if I don’t want to lose instantly.
I expect the same attack Storm used, a sharp, sudden push meant to beat me before I can react, but Timothy doesn’t push fast, maybe he thinks this will be an easy win, a piece of cake, and he’ll take me down slowly while savoring it.
I start pressing against his hand, and to my amazement I feel his wrist bending more than I ever thought I could bend it, and I see a flicker of confusion cross his face, he must realize he has to stop fooling around, because he suddenly braces and pushes back hard, but I do the same, all in, and I push his hand farther and farther, slower than with Storm, but still with the feeling that I can actually do this. It isn’t impossible.
Our forearms tremble against the tension, Timothy shifts his feet, trying to brace his whole body into the movement, but the pressure flows evenly through my arm, and my body responds with matching strength, equalizing his pressure…
And then…
I think of myself, and whether I actually should win it.
They would really think I’m some kind of freak, a glitch of nature, it’s impossible for an immature alpha who doesn’t have developed glands to beat someone so much older.
So I decide to let it go.
I allow him to gain the advantage, relax my muscles, and moments later Timothy begins to push my hand toward inevitable defeat, but… suddenly his expression changes. He must have noticed that I’m not putting my full strength into it. He freezes and says,
"Bay, I can see you let go. Don’t give me pity points," he says with a frown, tilting his head and looking at our grip from the side, as if analyzing the sudden shift in the strength of my pressure. "Give it your best, kid."
I glance at Alex. He nods almost imperceptibly.
Alright, he asked for it.
So I go all in again, I start pushing and his hand bends back again, and it goes surprisingly easily, and two seconds later his hand touches the surface of the table.
"Wow," Timothy says.
"Wow," Uncle Van repeats, staring at us.
I see genuine astonishment on his face, and my brothers start jumping and clapping, they probably don’t fully understand what just happened, that I did something theoretically impossible once again.
"I need to test you myself," Van says and moves the stunned Timothy aside, who is still staring at his own hand, looking bewildered.
But another wave of stress washes over me.
"No," I say. "I don’t want to do it anymore."
I stand up quickly enough that everyone falls silent and looks at me, well, I’m a teenager, I’m allowed a little temper tantrum.
"I don’t want to play this anymore," I say darkly. "It’s a stupid game."
I don’t want to be a freak, but they don’t understand that.
"Hey, why not? Don’t be an idiot, you were doing amazing," Storm says, suddenly in a better mood, because someone who beat Uncle Timothy also beat him, so he doesn’t feel as bad anymore.
Timothy is staring at me, and Van too, but neither of them pushes, seeing my sour expression. Only Alex watches me with those big amethyst eyes, full of surprise and a kind of quiet astonishment. Awe?
No! I don’t need that!
I turn and walk toward the building. I don’t know why, but the whole situation just irritates me, maybe because I realize… I could have done more.
Back then, when they attacked me.
Back then I wasn’t ready to believe that I could fight, that I could put up real resistance.
I lock myself in the bathroom and pull up my sleeve to peek at my tattoos, and they look… even redder. More vibrant, powerful. They cover my forearms so densely now… I lift my shirt, turn around, they go across my chest, my stomach, my back. I touch them thoughtfully.
Are they…?
I have this strange, irrational thought that maybe they are responsible for the strength that has appeared in me, it’s stupid, but why would it be impossible?
Because I absolutely do not believe that my lanky teenage body, no matter how strong or agile, could do what I’ve done in the past few days. There has to be some kind of mystery behind it.
And I don’t need another secret in my life, one I would have to hide from everyone, one that would make me different. Even more of a misfit among them.
In a way, I’m relieved that this trip is almost over, these uncertain, questioning looks, the surprise on everyone’s faces, only confirm what I already know, I should be more careful.
If I want to be…
One of them.