Chapter One
MAY, 2016
Movies would haveyou believe brothers and sisters either don’t get along or, if they do, that the sister still kind of hates her brother, because he is an asshole chasing off all of her romantic prospects.
That’s never been the case for Calvin and me. He may be nine years older than me, but he’s my best friend. Always has been, from the moment I was born. I know I can go to him with any problem, and he’ll drop everything to be there for me, even if it means getting on a plane.
Which he did.
He got a plane and flew from Hollywood, California, to Hollywood, Florida, because Pops called him and told him I presented as an Omega.
I’m not being dramatic when I say that it was, without a doubt, the worst presentation ever. There is literally no way that anyone else had a worse presentation. It was so bad that I am still red-faced with mortification.
It’s a good thing he got here as fast as he did, because my life isoverwith a capital O. I may as well change my name and move across the world.
“It can’t have been that bad.” Calvin strokes my hair from where it pokes out of the blue quilt I’ve buried myself in. “No one’s presentation is perfect, and everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen.”
“That’s because itisthe end of the world! Ugh, it’s not just that it was imperfect, Calvin.” Now I’m whining. Is that going to be a thing now that I’m an Omega? “I could handle imperfect. It was the fact that I presented in front of the entire school!”
His hand pauses mid-stroke. “The whole school?”
“Yes!” I moan, the memory of that day making me want to run away and join the circus. “It was during the sophomore debate.”
“Debate…” he echoes.
“Yeah, I was arguing against that asshole William about Omega registration. He was for, I was against.”
“Of course you were. Apt topic.” My brother pulls back the corner of my quilt and crawls under with me. “I’m sure you were winning.”
“Of course I was! I finished the debate and got the trophy. But let me paint you a picture. Me, on the stage. All eyes on me. Spotlights. I tried to rebut his stupid argument that registration is for Omegas’ protection, which it isn’t, and I started whining! Actual, honest-to-God whining, Calvin. My scent spiked, andeveryonecould smell me. It was mortifying. But the worst part is that I slicked through my pants!” I wail, burying my face in his chest. “My life is over. I can never go back.”
Calvin’s mint tea scent is muted, like it has been since his pack died, but still comforting in its familiarity as it surrounds me. “You can go back, and you will. There is nothing to be ashamed of about presenting as an Omega. Being one is a beautiful, wonderful thing.”
“It doesn’t feel wonderful. Feels sticky.”
He chuckles, my head bouncing as his slim chest moves. “Of course, it doesn’t seem great right now. But one day, when you meet your pack, you’ll realize that it is the best thing that could ever have happened to you. There is nothing like the love a pack can give you, little Onion. There are people out there made for you. It’s science and magic andwonderful. You have to hold strong until you find them. The wait will be worth it.”
His voice cracks, and my heart does, too. Calvin’s pack all died suddenly a few months ago in a helicopter accident on their way back from filming a movie. He’s been holding on surprisingly well, all things considered. Sure, he’s become a bit of a homebody, but grief can do that to a person.
“I’m not going back to school. I can never show my face there again. I’m going to do virtual school from now on.”
“You’d hate virtual school.” He pulls the blanket down and shifts so that we’re both sitting up. “And you’re not one to run and hide, Ariana Cooley. You’re too tough to let something like a little slick get you down.”
“It wasn’t a little slick!” I gesture aggressively toward my laundry basket. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. It looked like I pissed myself!”
He changes tactics. “At least you have a nice scent. Imagine if you smelled like… I don’t know, licorice or something?”
“I hate licorice.”
“Me too! See, luck is on your side, making you smell like oranges and cream.” He makes a dramatic sniffing noise. “Mmm, like summertime popsicles.”
“Ew! Don’t sniff me, you weirdo!” I shove him the way I used to when we were kids. “Of course, you’re going to say I smell good. You’re my brother. You have to.”
“Okay, so? I’m your brother. If anyone was going to tell you that you smelled like gym socks, it would be me. I would never let you live it down, honestly.” He slides out from under me and rips the blanket off me with all the flair of a magician’s assistant. “Now, come on, let’s go get some food.”
I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, allowing me to get my first good look at my brother since he got here. He came directly from the airport, and his disheveled appearance shows it, but the dark bags under his eyes seem too permanent to be from a single red-eye flight. His skin is sallow, and his usually impeccably manicured nails look brittle.
My brother looks sick. Like, really sick.
