Owned By The Alphas - The Prequel (2 page)

“
W
hat electives do you have
?” Marci braided her red hair to the side while keeping time with Ali’s fast pace. The two of them were used to zig-zagging their way through fellow students in hallways, only now it was different. It was high school and they were both excited to be here since everything was new. Plus, there were cuter guys and more of them. The sound of beige locker doors slammed, echoing through the hundreds of other teenage voices as the two girls made their way toward the office.

“French and psychology,” Ali answered, searching the passing faces.
Where is he?

“Foreign language is a must, not an elective,” Marci argued, tossing her completed braid onto her bare shoulder, the green tank top too skinny to hide her white bra strap.

Ali threw her a look as she adjusted the heavy black backpack and pushed her long mahogany-colored hair away from her face. “For two years, but I’m taking it for four.”

“Who are you going to speak French with? Do you like know any French people? You’re gonna be all…” Marci made a face indicating how lost Ali would look when she discovered she had a useless skill.

“Maybe I want to live there. I don’t know. Besides, in Europe, they all know a bunch of languages because they’re right next to each other and it’s like this big.” She held up her hands with a small distance between them. “We have this.” Wider hands. “So we only learn one. Or two if you come here knowing another one, like with Russian and Mexican immigrants.” Searching the passing faces, she sighed, “I just want to do something different. I don’t want to go to college, get married, have two kids, lose my husband to a younger woman and then be a bitter cougar with fake tits trying to get her life back by fucking twenty-two year olds.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re insane.”

“I think I’m the only one who’s sane, Marci.” Every boy with brown hair and blue eyes was under quick scrutiny as they walked, but none of them were Jared Baltan. It was already fourth period and she hadn’t seen him all morning. Liam, Connor, and Garrett had walked past her between every bell, so where was their leader? They were always together!

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah.”

Marci threw up an arm and turned left down one of the many cold, cement passageways. Ali threw up her arm, too, but neither looked back.

They’d known each other since they were six, in first grade. Few words were needed. Marci could be called her best friend except that she was headed the cheerleader route and all of her actions showed it. She was acting more and more like Ali was dumb or beneath her, and Ali would have cared if she wasn’t so fucking obsessed with where
he
was. The reason for wanting to come to school at all. The boy who wasn’t like any of the others, who made her day exciting just by the fact that she liked watching him from afar. Always from afar. They’d never talked. She was way too shy, and he was way too awesome.

But High School was a whole new world, one she wanted to rise to meet. All summer long she’d told herself one promise:
I’m going to ask Jared out. I vow to do this! Or…at least talk to him. I’ll start there. Yeah.

So where the hell was he? He was ruining her plans!

“Dammit,” she grumbled under her breath as she opened the door of the office and headed for the receptionist.

A plain, blonde woman of maybe thirty years of age lifted her head at the sound of Ali’s squeaky sneakers. “Can I help you?”

Chewing cherry-flavored gum, Ali slid her backpack off her shoulder and glanced around. The room was all beige, just like the lockers. There were framed posters on the wall that had people skiing off cliffs and scuba diving in sunken ships, and pole-vaulting, with slogans in bold beneath them that read SUCCEED, ACHIEVE, NEVER QUIT.

“Yeah. I’m here to talk to the career counselor?”

The woman pointed toward the back. “It’s that way.”

Ali passed several desks and a fork that led to another short hallway, to a larger hallway that ended with a smoky-glass door that read:
Principal
. She stared at the title for a moment, then opened the door to the right of her, the one that bore the nameplate,
Mr. Curran
,
Guidance Counselor.

Inside smelled like clothing tainted with cigarette smoke, and there was only one window in the small room. It lit the counselor’s head and back from behind like a wannabe halo. Other than that, the lighting was like the rest of the office, florescent, and Ali glanced to the left to see a coat rack with three coats of varying thickness hanging from it. There were also two umbrellas, one red and the other black, both faded.

“Ms. Latham?”

“Yeah.”

He motioned to the chair across from his desk, his face buried in a small stack of papers centered in three larger stacks of messier papers. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

Laying her backpack on the ground, Ali sat down and chewed her gum as she looked around. There were faded photographs of fishing trips and one newer one of two monkeys at a zoo. They were smiling and one was flipping off the camera. Ali smiled and glanced back to the counselor as he took off his reading glasses and set them down.

Blinking to adjust his eyes, Mr. Curran remained leaning forward and inspected the teenage girl. “So, Ms. Latham. What do you want to be? What do you want to do? What are your plans?”

Ali’s mouth went slack as she stared at him. “I’m just a Freshman,” she muttered, shifting her weight. The seat was suddenly ten times more uncomfortable. She hated questions like these. Hadn’t her aunt and uncle asked her a million times already?

His lips went tight, then he plowed on. “What are your gifts? Your skills? Any talents or abilities, or things you lean toward in terms of…talent?”

“Uh…You already said talent. Just now you said it again but without an ‘s’.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Freshman or no, you need to think about your future.”

“It’s only day one,” she argued.

He didn’t hear her, or pretended not to. “We live in a world where competition is fierce and you need to be prepared. The generation before yours had their heads stuck in computers playing games, and texting their friends on their phones, and they thought the world should be handed to them on a platter because the world is so fast, fast, fast, that everyone wants things NOW. They don’t know how to WORK for what they want.” He hit the table for emphases. “Well, that won’t fly. Not if you want to be somebody! By the look on your face, I can see I’ve lost you already.” He leaned forward again. “Kids in YOUR generation, they’re going to be different. I’m going to make sure they are. You’ve already got some positive leaders among you, at this very school! Let me give you some examples. Today I’ve met two kids who have internet businesses up and running, one future politician–I know, I was surprised, too–three kids who want to open restaurants or coffee houses, one who plans to master social networking P.R. and one who plans to make movies and move to Hollywood. That last one I tried to discourage, of course, but at least she wants to DO something. So what about you?” He paused for dramatic effect. “What do you want to DO?”

Ali thought about it. None of those examples hit a chord. Even her pseudo-plan to go to France was only because traveling seemed like a nice way to avoid, well, reality. But now that this man expected a response, she decided to tell him the truth.

“I want to be happy.” Ali sighed and pulled the gum out of her mouth, turning it around in her fingers. “I don’t really understand the need to work so hard. I want to…be happy. No stress. It kills people, you know.”

With a curiously cocked eyebrow, Mr. Curran nodded as though he were processing the peculiar answer. He glanced to her chest and in response she squished her mouth and nose to the side, a knee-jerk reaction. Both boys and men had been caught staring at her breasts ever since she began to develop early, and it made her a little sick. She cleared her throat and his gaze quickly returned to her face.

With a little cough, he picked up his reading glasses again. “I’m going to put you down for accounting then.” Leaning over, he lifted up a small metal trashcan and held it out. Ali tossed the gum into it and rose from her chair. She grabbed her backpack and walked to the door.

“Ms. Latham?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“I was joking about the accountant work. If you want to be happy…that isn’t it.”

She gave a small laugh. “Oh. I was wondering.” She started to go, but turned back. “I bet people who like numbers like it. It probably makes them happy.”

“Do you enjoy numbers?”

“No.”

“Goodbye.”

Shutting the door quietly, she walked back past the reception desk and out of the office. As she entered the now nearly empty hallway, she passed by a man who caught her attention. He looked like an older version of Jared, rough around the edges and bigger, but those piercing blue eyes and jawline were strikingly similar to the boy she loved from afar.

He was heading for the office door, but as he grabbed the handle, he paused. Unaware he was being watched, he stared at the ground. The already deep frown on his forehead creased deeper as his blue eyes flitted back and forth, his thoughts wrestling. Ali couldn’t breathe. She hoped he didn’t look over and catch her staring. She wanted desperately to ask if he was Jared’s father, but he looked so haunted, she didn’t dare. He released the handle and walked away, shoving his hands into the pockets of faded blue jeans, his broad shoulders hunched and his boots thudding against the floor. She watched until he disappeared out the exit, wondering,
Now, what was that all about?

A
t lunch
, Marci joined her in the cafeteria. They made their way down the line together, scanning the older students and recognizing many faces from the class just above theirs who had left the previous year and were now sophomores. The Juniors and Seniors, however, they were all new.

“Look at that guy!” Marci whispered with an excited smile.

Ali glanced to the object of her friend’s approval. He was a dirty-blonde with blue eyes, lighter than Jared’s. He was pretty good looking if you liked the clean-cut sort, which Ali didn’t.

“Have you seen…” She stopped herself from saying Jared’s name. “…the food here?” She blanched and rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait until we start driving and can go off campus.” She didn’t need Marci knowing about her obsession. Jared wasn’t the type of guy Marci would have liked. He didn’t have the air of future-lawyer or doctor about him.

Her friend grinned, “I bet
he
drives!” She nudged Ali with her shoulder and jogged her chin back to the blonde. “And he’s looking over here.”

Ali was surprised to see the guy staring right at her. She turned and picked up a tray, sliding it on the counter behind the long line of other trays, each less filled than the one before it. “Why is he looking at me?”

“Come on, Ali. Don’t be an idiot. You’re hot.”

Ali laughed and threw her friend a look. “Please. No one would call me hot.”

Marci pushed her tray and smiled at the lady behind the counter. “Can I have the mashed potatoes please?”

“Me too. A lot of ‘em.”

In a quieter voice, Marci told her, “I’m sorry, but look at you and look at me.” Pointing to her own relatively flat chest and no hips, she raised a pretty eyebrow comically. “Now whose clothes do you want to rip off?”

Ali blushed. “Ripping off clothes…oh my God.”

Marci went on, “Yeah, just like when a werewolf sheds his clothes because he goes all wild!” She made a load roaring sound and sent the two of them into giggles.

Glancing to the next unimpressed cafeteria worker, Ali quieted and said, “Can I have the chicken please? Make it two pieces. Thanks.”

Marci held up her finger to indicate she wanted only one. The girls made their way toward the little squares of cake wrapped in plastic, next to juice boxes on ice. “I bet
he
can rip clothes off quite well.” Marci threw a saucy smile to the blonde.

Ali caught their shared glance. “Looks like you’re more his type.” She felt a tug of disappointment pull at her, even though she didn’t like the guy. To be wanted, that was a nice feeling. And rare. Marci could stroke her ego all day long, but that was only because she loved her. But she also knew she didn’t want to be like most of the other girls she saw. Argh!!! It was just so frustrating being stuck at this age where she couldn’t run away and do something other than this! She grabbed two chocolate cakes and set them on her tray.

“You can only have one,” the hair-netted worker objected.

Ali sighed and tossed one back. “Fine. Rob me of my joy.”

W
hen the final bell rang
, Ali still hadn’t spotted Jared. Passing Garrett in the hall, she mustered up the courage to reach out and grab his arm. “Uh, hi. Is Jared here today?”

Garrett looked at her like she was high or something. “No. I haven’t heard from him.” He walked on.

“Thanks,” Ali called after him, with a little sarcasm. Muttering to herself, “He’s coming back,” she headed home, but the words sounded hollow.

When she arrived at the fence that bordered her aunt and uncle’s home–her home, but it never felt like hers–an unusual burst of color on the white window pane caught her eye. Inspecting it from a distance, she saw it was one of the flowers from the Camellia bush, laying right there smack in the center.

Opening the gate, she walked over the grass and tilted her head as she neared the flower. It was as though someone had placed it there, it was so perfect set. She picked it up, turning it round in her fingers. It was wilted and browning on the edges, but the smell still held a hint of life. She breathed it in and closed her eyes, soaking in the last bit of fragrance with a smile. She took the flower into the house with her and set it by her bed. As days passed it wilted beyond attractiveness. Fighting the instinct that it was wrong to do so, she threw it away.