“Alessandra it’s a plié darling, not a lunge, watch how Eloise does it—see how she keeps her neck long and elegant?” I dutifully kept up the movements despite my skin prickling from the twenty pairs of eyes that were now fixed onto me.
“Teacher's pet.” Jana the girl in front of me, hissed, shooting me a glare before turning back to her pliés which actually weren’t half bad. Too bad her personality was so shitty.
“Of course she is,” Camille snickered from the barre next to us, “She’s been here the longest after all.”
Several other girls giggled under their breaths, but still imitated my movements—trying their best to garner positive attention from our prickly madame. It was true. At twenty-four I was the oldest omega at the San Francisco Omega Academy. Most omegas left on their 18th birthday—ready to be courted or having already been courted by a pack of alphas.
Me? Not so much. I was a constant disappointment to all of the staff at the school. Well, all of the staff except Madame Felicite who only loved me because I was a great dancer. It was my one joy in life at this point. That and my best friend.
“Camille, you can only talk shit when your plié doesn’t look like one of the dogs taking a dump in Golden Gate park.” Tibby sniped from behind me, god I loved her.
Tabitha Sinclair was my only saving grace in this hell-hole that was dressed up like a finishing school. Tabitha, or Tibby as she liked to be called, had come seven years after I had arrived and had done what no other at the school had: she had broken down my barrier and had become my first and only friend. She’d been so quiet and withdrawn when she’d come in—especially since she was already fifteen years old when she came to the academy. It had taken me a few weeks of constantly bugging her to get her to warm up to me—she spent most of her time on her own and I chatted with her any chance I got. She finally responded one day telling me to shut up and that I was annoying and thus our friendship was born. She was my best friend and my only friend at the academy. She was also the second oldest omega in the academy at twenty-two and was their second biggest disappointment. She was also liable to scratch your eyes out if you crossed her, so Camille just scoffed and muttered a ‘whatever’ before going back to her practice.
Of course Madame Felicite ignored all of this commotion. I wasn’t sure whether it was because she was starting to go deaf in her old age or if she just didn’t have the energy to interfere. Either way class was soon over and everyone began packing up, chattering amongst themselves and thoroughly ignoring Tibby and I’s presence.
“Thanks Tib.” I said nudging my best friend with my shoulder as I pulled on my sweats and long sleeved top over my leotard and began the arduous task of untying my pointe shoes and rubbing my incredibly sore, bruised feet.
Tibby, who was in the middle of braiding her fire-engine red curls just scoffed at me and said: “You need to be more aggressive with those petty bitches, Eloise. They won’t stop until you bite the end of their noses off with snark. Besides, they are just pissy because you got principal ballerina again this year.”
I was usually principal ballerina in the annual winter ballet that the San Francisco Academy put on every year. It was really a glorified excuse for alphas to come and ogle at the omegas as they flounced around in their tutus and for the Academy administrators to try and matchmake us. I suspected my place as principal ballerina the last three years was to get me mated off so that they didn’t continue to look bad. But, eh, either way dancing was one of my few joys in life so I was pretending to ignore that fact. Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to mate any alpha pack. So I was just enjoying the ride until they inevitably kicked me out of the academy for good.
“Hello? Earth to Ellie?” Tibby waved her hand in front of my eyes and blinked away all thoughts of the ballet and turned my attention back to the omega in front of me. She had pulled on a pink long sleeved top and a pair of black leggings that clung to her curvy frame and was standing with her bag hitched on her shoulder, waiting for me to join her.
“You know I’m not really great at being super aggressive with them.” Deep down I knew that they were probably right to be angry with me. Most omegas wanted to be front and center to attract the attention of a pack that could give them a life full of comfortable nests and every one of their whims taken care of.
It sounded nice—really—I loved a good nest as much as the next omega. But I had made a promise that I was trying my best to keep. I could close my eyes, even now, and remember it:
I’ll come back for you Ellie. Wait for me.
Okay, I promise ______…His name seemed to float away from my thoughts and instead my memories conjured up eyes the color of a granny smith apple, high cheekbones and the smell of fresh citrus and ocean waves. With a sigh I shook away the phantom memories and grabbed my dance bag off of the floor and slung it across my body.
“Well you need to get better at it or else they are going to do more than just say mean things to you.” Tibby blew her bangs out of her eyes and looked at me as if realizing that nothing she was telling me was getting through.
“Well… I guess we should go get coffee?” She asked, finally giving up on the conversation. I nodded with a smile, happy that she was moving on from the conversation. Tibby knew better than to push me about my past just as I knew not to push her about hers. There was a reason she still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night and while I comforted her when this happened, I didn’t push. Tibby hated when people pushed her to talk about herself.
On the bottom floor of the twenty floor building that housed the San Francisco Omega Finishing Academy (or SFOFA for short) was a trendy little coffee shop that served those in the building. We weren’t let out of the building very often—unbonded omegas tended to make everyone pretty twitchy—but this coffee shop was the closest thing to an ‘outing’ that we got on a daily basis. It was shaped like a horseshoe around the main lobby with two entrances and two coffee counters. Couches, tables and other cozy seating was strewn about throughout the area and there were plenty of plugs for computers. If you took away the fact that this was an Omega Academy it almost looked like your typical college coffee shop.
Even now it was packed full of omegas with their various sickly sweet scents. Male and female omegas both went to this school though their classes were largely held separate. But in the coffee shop they mingled and gossiped like old friends as they sipped on piping hot drinks and munched on scones or other baked goods. It was almost exclusively the older omegas in the coffee shop on a daily basis. All of the younger ones tended to have all day classes and other enrichment activities appropriate for their age.
“Grab us a table?” Tibby called over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the counter, cutting off another approaching male omega who gave a little growl but got behind her. In the six years since her arrival Tibby had become famous for her fiery temper and take-no-shit attitude. Gone was the timid and silent omega and in her place as a firecracker that could either give you a big hug or call you a bitch in the same breath. I loved that about her.
I managed to snag a table by one of the floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the busy San Francisco street. It was prime real estate in my mind and I quickly pulled out my computer and logged into the online San Francisco State University platform. Most omegas didn’t pursue higher education—more focused on acclimating to their new packs at eighteen rather than go to college. But I had managed to convince the higher ups at SFOFA that it would be good for their image to have an omega pursuing higher education (fully funded by them of course) and they had begrudgingly given in. It was all online of course—there was no way that they would let me out everyday to attend classes. But over the past four years I was able to finish a communications degree and was finishing up a few summer courses before they would award my degree in the fall.
I responded to a few forum posts, not really paying attention to the questions and basically regurgitating my classmate’s responses before opening my email to send my professor a question about the upcoming final exam. By the time I finished those and finally looked up from my computer Tibby was quietly sipping her latte and scrolling on her phone—probably looking at recipes or crafts.
Tibby was the queen of a thousand hobbies. She was always trying something new. Our dorm apartment had different crafts and hobbies shoved in every nook and cranny from pottery to knitting. The only thing that seemed to have stuck was cooking and baking.
“What are you making me for dinner?” I teased as I grabbed my own latte and took a sip of the caramel heavy drink and gave a reverent sigh as the warm liquid traveled down my throat.
“I’m not making you anything,” She stuck her tongue out at me, “I’m making myself homemade chicken picatta and I will give you the leftovers if you behave yourself.”
“Deal.” I responded, pleased. I already knew there would be enough for me.
“Eloise, are you even listening to me?” Carolyn Smith, my guidance counselor, asked me from across her desk. It was our weekly ‘check-in’ which usually meant she was trying to get me to agree to meet a new pack of alphas ‘just to see if their scents would interest me’. The beta was always well dressed, her blond hair pulled into a stylish high ponytail that matched her sleek pantsuit. Her nails were always impeccably manicured and she used them to tap out a staccato beat as she waited for me to respond.
“Of course I’m listening, Mrs. Smith. I listen to you every week.” It was hard to keep a certain level of snark out of my voice and lucky for me Carolyn generally thought it was better to ignore my snark and plow through with the rest of whatever her prepared speech was for the week.
“Eloise this is serious my dear. You know unbonded omega’s scents grow as they age without a strong bond. You’ve already gone through several kinds of heat suppressants in the last six years. It’s going to be really painful, if not incredibly dangerous, for you to not have a pack bond for your upcoming heat and I just—”
