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. Everyonein 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.
"Give it back! I need that!" Alex shouts helplessly, jumping again and bumping into Vin. Rob stands nearby, laughing out loud.
"Sneeze for us, just once, and I’ll give it back!"
"Hey!" I shout before I even think about it. "Give it back right now or I’ll kick your ass!"
Everything goes silent, and all eyes turn toward me.
Vin tilts his head.
"Well, well, look who we have here. Pretty Face, the one every omega’s been sighing over. Yesterday Zion and Kaen, and now you’ve already got yourself a new boyfriend, huh? The Sneezy one? Seriously?"
I press my lips together and step closer until our chests almost touch. I don’t feel an ounce of fear. Literally zero. There are two of them and only one of me, but I couldn’t care less. In fact, I feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of a fight, a chance to burn off all that poisonous adrenaline that’s been seeping through my pores with nowhere to go. I want to hit someone. I need to. Just give me an excuse.
"Say that again," I growl.
"What? Pretty Face? Or Sneezy?"
I slam my forehead into his nose.
"Your time to sneeze!"
I’ve never had any formal training, but with seven brothers, I know a thing or two about fights.
Apparently, so does he, because he lunges at me right away, growling like a typical adolescent alpha, and it sounds half funny, half furious. We grapple, slamming each other against the walls and lockers, shoving and throwing punches, though it becomes almost painfully obvious he is just a ragdoll in my grasp and I push him with ease all around the locker room.
Though I have to admit, I’m surprised at how easily I’m throwing him, especially since Vin isn’t a weakling. He’s got solid, thick bones, promising he’ll develop a robust build, but I’m far more determined.
Alex crouches by the opposite wall, while Rob just laughs like he’s watching a circus act.
At one point, I manage to get a solid swing in, probably a country-style punch, and it lands squarely on Vin’s jaw, and he crashes to the floor.
"Hey!" Rob snaps, stepping toward me. I raise my fists into a loose, rough guard. A growl escapes me. All those fights with Winter, Storm, and Rain taught me one thing, never assume it’s over until every opponent is down.
"Try it, bastard, and you’ll get the same!"
