Young Alpha

Watching a baby turn into a boy and a boy turn into a man, Kai is confused with all the new emotions she begins to feel and finds herself oddly attracted to the cursed boy. The cursed boy who ages before his time.
For he only has 2 years to live.
So what do you do when time is running out?
Make the most of what little you have left.

*Please take a look at my trailer and other multimedia*


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7. In the Doghouse

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi everyone! Please comment- I beg you! I’m not getting any messages and I’m getting lonely here! (Grovel over) Only if you want of course. :) 

Oooh, and if you have wattpad- check my story out there to if you want :) (My user name is- CrazyGoldfishQueen) Thanks everyone for reading!!! Chow!

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CHAPTER 6- In the Doghouse

 (8 weeks, 4 days= 9 years old)

682

5 days later…

I watched as a warm breeze slowly swam through the blinds, making them rattle like tap dancing sea turtles.

My forehead felt sticky and toes shrivelled up in my boots like prunes- it had been forecasted to be the hottest day this summer (reaching devastating- well, devastating for us sun deprived English folk- 27 degrees) and eee by gum, was it following through expectations.

Bring out your sun tan cream and go fishing through your scratty pockets for spare change for ice cream folks! It’s time to head for the beach...

…Or answer crappy phone calls and pretend to stack papers in a stuffy office with a massive wall sticker of a googly eyed pouting model glaring at you from every angle. Brrr… sometimes her eyes even follow me on into my nightmares.

A ferocious buzzing noise vibrated in the air around my ear making me helplessly swat at my head like a crazy woman. I accidently slapped myself in the cheek- to the hysterics of Kenja posted just to the side of my desk as she doodled in the back of one of our client advertisement brochures. Cow.

A mousy brown haired man sat on a silver blue moon shaped couch on the edge of the blatantly white room. Too white- the sun set it ablaze making us all squint and tumble around trying to fight our way through its treacherous rays.

The man’s skin coaxed up into a grimace- whether it was at my pointless swatting or Kenja’s goofy laugh, I don’t know. He loosened his silver tie from around his neck and smoothed down his grey suit- against the pearl grey of the coach he turned chameleon. I had to squint to catch a quick flash of his pale white skin; the rest of him was illegible.

The phone rang, its piercing cry making everyone jump in the room simultaneously. Kenja nearly toppled over in her swivel chair. I bit my lip to prevent a laugh emitting from the confines of my throat.

Serves her damned well right. What goes around comes around. 

I slowly dragged the phone to my ear like a malfunctioning robot. “Hi, this is Daymont Incorporated,” I muttered monotonously down the line. “where your skin is our top and only priority.”

The line was silent for a couple of seconds, the sound of breathing digitised into a faint crackle that busted my eardrums. “Hello, helloooo?” I hissed down the line. “Is anyone actually there, or are you going to continue your stalkerish ways and breathe out all your saliva onto your telephone receiver?”

Gross and not very practical. H2O does NOT mix with electric appliances. Trust me, I have experience in this arena- Ryker decided it’d be fun to drop a toaster in a bathtub with Isaac to see if it would float. Suffice to say, it didn’t, and neither did Mr Ducky after that experiment.

Kenja, having now recovered from her episode, held up a document in front of herself and tapped it with her nails, mouthing ‘protocol’ with big fully rouged lips. Her long braided hair bounced on her shoulders from her vigorous nodding and her big brown eyes stood out against her mocha skin.

‘Please, I beg you- stick to the rules.’ She’d begged me time and time again in the past. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you- this hellhole would probably swallow me up and spit me back out as some kind of mutant moisturiser wearing lizard bear thing. You have to stay- to save me from a life of munching on crunchy children and chasing village folk around and around in circles…’

She always had a particular flare for the dramatics, being an artist- she believed the ridiculous office rumours of moisturiser experiments going wrong in the lab and turning people into mutant man-monkeys and man-flamingos and god knows what ‘man’ else. It’s surprising what people can come up with when they’ve turned part crazy from finding 101 different ways to describe skin pores.

And so, I ignored Kenja.

“Have you ever heard of privatising your user ID?” I said sharply down the line. “So either speak or I’ll get the IT techs to block your number. I’m too busy,” well, maybe not entirely- I haven’t been doing anything but swivel around in my seat and count the number of knots in the grain of the desk for the past two hours but hey, it’s paid work, “for this kind of crap. You’ve called 5 times in the past 4 days- give it a break already.”

Kenja smacked herself in her face, her long purple nails curling around to conceal her face for a moment. Then she let go and mouthed in a dramatic way- hands up in the air hysterically waving, ‘you’re so fired’.

Chameleon guy looked greatly perturbed at the sight from across the room. He continued to tap his feet agitatedly on the wooden frame at the bottom of the couch. 

“Hi.” A short, sharp voice finally spoke up from across the line.

“Finally! So if I may be so daring to ask, what is the name of my dear stalker please?”

“Hmmm…” I heard yelling in the background, then the sound of footfalls. His loud breath crackled on the other side of the receiver.

“What the-”

“If a girl asks you if she can kiss you- what are you supposed to say?”

Ryker. My persistent stalker finally revealed. No big surprise there.

“What the hell are you doing calling me when I’m at work?” I growled down the line.

I clutched the phone to my blouse, smothering it in case someone had heard as I scanned the room. Hmmm… no snitches I didn’t think. Chameleon man was too busy pretend scanning his phone in boredom as Kenja scribbled his look alike on the back of a Hello magazine- she was only a temp here, trying to pay her way through art school. Though if you looked at her, dressed up in fake Prada, 4-inch heels with a different hair accessory on every day of the week, you wouldn’t of known it. She tried too hard to look business like- we all did.

Today’s accessory was a silver dragonfly pin holding up a few tentacles of her hair effortlessly. If only…

“Wait, hang on,” I squinted at the big clock on the wall, “it’s 2.34. Which means you should be in class. Ryker…”

He repeated his question, ignoring me. “If a girl asks you if she can kiss you- what are you supposed to say?” He spoke more urgently.

Blood rose to my cheeks and my heart began to race as an anchor hit the bottom of my gurgling stomach. “How the hell should I know?” I yelled down the line, catching the irritated glances of Kenja and the chameleon. Through the glass wall separating us from the rest of the marketing team I saw Dale whirling in and out of office doors at the far side. He looked busy, contrasting against the bored paper plane throwers in the foreground.

“Isaac said I should snog um’. He said they’ll all then turn into frogs and won’t bother me anymore.”

“Frogs?” I blinked.

“Yeah- frogs. But I don’t really want to, youknow- kiss them.” I could hear his teeth grinding together.

“Ryker.” I said dismissively. “Shouldn’t you be in class? Please don’t tell me you’re cutting class- school is an important stage-”

Ha, hypocrite. It’s funny how the tables turn on you.

“They’re all too small in my class now. Too dumb. They can barely read and do their times tables. Fools.”

Since when had Ryker become so snobbish?

Ryker had been placed with all of the 9 year olds in year 4 and even though he had the appearance of a 9 year old verging on 10- somehow his brain was growing at an even faster rate than his body. Causing him to get acute migraines that made him want to tear at the fragments of his mind through recklessly yanking at his head hairs. Recently after tussling his hair I’d found small speckled patches of dry skin in the place of where his hair should have been. 

“They’re moving you up again then?” I asked. “That’s why you’re out of class?”

“Well- no, not exactly…” He subtly coughed to try hide a giggle that rustled in the background sound waves.

“Is that I hear- a girl?” I raised my eyebrows.

“No. Its just Isaac doing a giggling girl impression duh.”

“Right. So what’s this about kissing girls?”

“Hmmm… forget I said anything… it’s not important.” He whispered obviously distracted. The giggles got louder. I held my breath.

“Well… you better be careful she doesn’t have herpies.” I let out in one big whoosh. I bit my tongue in response- why the hell had I said that?

“What’s ‘herpies’?”

I bit my tongue. What was wrong with me? “Ask a teacher. They’ll tell you. Or better yet, ask your mother.” Ha, that would be funny.

“Ok.”

“So…” I said after a long awkward pause. “How’s all that dinosaur research for that project you’re doing going?”

Inspired by his toy dinosaur- the one he still made me do weird impressions of real dinosaur noises with- he had chosen to become a junior paleontologist. Weirdly he’d chosen science over sport- not at all the common practice for future Alpha. He’d broken the cycle.

“Not so great.” He hiccupped. Cute. “I’ve decided to start over again. Take a more intellectual, less cheesy, amateurish approach.” Ok, not so cute.

“What about the picture I drew for you?” I frowned. I’d spent ages on it! It took me a full 2 hours (granted whilst lounging on the floor watching X-Men) to colour in between the wobbly lines with plastic looking crayons that I’d borrowed from dreaded Cara, whose baby had ruined my Gucci dress. The crayons may have accidently stabbed through the paper and into the carpet leaving long dotted rainbow embellished streaks in the otherwise white carpet but hey ho. These things happen. I had pulled the rug on over it.

Seeing is believing huh? If they can’t see, then they don’t believe.

“Well- it kind of needed to well, go.”

“Go where?”

He evaded the question. “How’s Dale and your work as his ‘receptionist’ going then?” I could practically hear the sneer in his tone. Snob.

“Fine.” I crunched my molars (new fillings still in tact) together. “Ryker, what happened to it?”

“Oh, would you look at that- better get off to class… bye!” Click- off. The line went dead as static ignited in my eardrums.

“The little bastard-” I swore under my breath. Kenja coughed loudly and my head shot up as my eyes were greeted by the thick bustling figures of two men in dark suits.

It was Dale, hands tucked into his pockets, his face encrusted with a deep set anguish and next to him a small curly grey haired man with a crooked smile.

“Does your receptionist always take to insulting our future customers?”

“I’m not his-” I blinked- oh. Recognition streamed through my brain.

The man bent over my desk, his otherwise small figure now scaling over my own in an attempt to block out the light from the sun and appear villain(esk), intimidating. “So… Kai,” He glanced at my nametag, “what do you think happens to employees that are ineffective at their job, hum?”

It was Mr Doyle. One of Dale’s high up clients. Opps. BIG Opps.

I was definitely in the doghouse now. Ironic huh?

 

He put me on data collecting duty. DATA COLLECTING DUTY!

Was he fucking kidding me? Who did he think I was? A fleshing munching zombie who had skipped lunch? He knew how much I hated the science department in the building. Too many test tubes and stuck up genius scientists fidgeting around the place, trust up like chickens in their white coats.

I shivered. White coats. Brrr…

Who ever said white was a good colour for a lab coat? It’s too ominous and blank. It lacks any kind of traits or flavour. What ever is wrong with black? If you spill chemicals on a black lab coat they won’t show like they do on a white coat, soaking into the fibres of weave, singeing the hairs on your arms and turning the white nuclear active yellow or green or whatever. So unattractive.

I raised my fist up to the door and knocked slowly three times, in between each knock, I counted to 3 before the next and so forth.

What? It wasn’t my fault the man had OCD and everything had to be a certain way or he’d be jinxed and he’d have to tap his elbows against the table (three times) to prevent the world from ending. Strange I guess, but true. He can’t help it like I can’t help being overly flirty and sarcastic or Ryker can help growing up so fast- it was in our nature. It was our curse.

“Come in.” The voice uttered.

I stepped in.

“God, it’s hot.” A long haired, gangly legged man, well at least I think it was a man- his face was covered in hundreds of loose wild strands of straw that made him look like a walking talking hay bale answered. He lifted his wrist to his forehead to wipe off his dribbling sweat. I caught a glimpse of a pink Floyd t-shirt and bright green Nike trainers peeping out of a long white coat that threatened to make him trip up.

“Hi Dr Franconi.”

“Call me Howard.” A gruff but muffled voice radiated from the hay bale.

“Whatever.” I wandered over to a table with hundreds of stacks of paper scattered restlessly around it. It was like a hurricane had struck and I was viewing the after mass.

A petri dish with a collection of cells stretched across it like wrinkled paper, lay on top of a dodgy looking magazine. I raised my eyebrows and Howard was quick to swipe it off the table alongside the petri dish that soon clattered to the floor- the delicate tissue like skin torn and scattered along with the plastic- fractured.

“Oh, sorry huh I-” He kicked the shards to the side carelessly with his foot. No wonder it was a tip in his lab. I sniffed the air- I could still vaguely smell last Tuesday’s (I’m just guessing) egg sandwich and the two week year old stench of rotten doughnuts. Yuck.

I pointed at another magazine on the table- this one with a large looking blood cell looming on the front of it uttering ‘molecular genesis’ in luminous big bold writing. “What’s that?”

The straw that made up his face twitched, indicating that his muscles were moving changing in expression- anger. “That’s none of your business.” He scooped it up in his hands and hugged it to his chest, wondering back over to his desk and sliding it into his draw. The slam of the draw crippling the table as it whammed shut, shook the glistening rack of multi-colour test tubes that he hand on display (perhaps more for show that actual use) centre stage on his desk.

“What can I do to help you then, Miss Repetto?” He folded his arms over his skinny skeletine body. He was semi-tall, perhaps 5 foot 10, but his age like his face was equally illegible. He could have been anything from 25-45.

“Data collecting duty.” I stepped forward shoving the documents in his face.

“Whoa- calm down.” He muddled through the sheets and threw them onto his desk, turning to rummage around in his desk for something.

I pulled out a pen from my back pocket and handed it to him. He hympthed in turn. It was a wonder he’d ever managed to invent anything in this catastrophe zone.

He scribbled something onto the sheet and then plucked out another document from his desk laying it on top and handing it to me. “There you go. Now scram.”

He settled back down into his work. I didn’t move.

“Don’t forget to slam the door three times or not at all if you’re still feeling as hormonal and angry as last time they forced you to do data collecting duty.”

He looked up. I was frozen. “Why haven’t you gone yet?” His eyebrows lowered over deeply set eyes- he was agitated.

“Well, I- I…” I shook my head from side to side. “I had a question. Just a small one.”

“If you ask me it, then will you go?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then go on- shoot.”

I took a deep breath. “Did you previously train as a geneticist before becoming a chemist?”

“Are you asking me this to help amplify those dreadful rumours about mutant sheep men?”

“No, of course not.” I turned bright red. “I’m just curious.”

His eyebrows knitted together further trying to analyse my face, my every twitch, to read my mind maybe. “Yes. It is true.”

“Why did you…?”

“…Become a perfunctory chemist- an inventor of ill functioning materialistic goods designed with money based ethos’ instead of principled, dignified scientist minds?” He tapped his desk once, twice- three times. “Easy, better pay.” His face crewed up in disgust.

Whoa, system overload- please stand back citizens!

“Didn’t you ever think you could make a real difference somewhere instead of wasting your talents here in this cavern?” I bit my lip. “Not that there is anything wrong with making moisturiser of course- having dry skin and dandruff is always irritating…”

He paused. The pause gave me hope. “No.” No to the question, no to having dandruff is irritating or no to giving me the answer? I was going to ask, but he;d already buried himself back in his work- I’d already been granted my wish.

I dramatically swept away, smacking the door closed behind me only one time to irritate him.

Loud yelling noises emitted from the room behind me. That was more like it.

 

“Nits! Are you kidding me Cass?” I screamed later on that same day, holding up the comb in my hand- something suspiciously lurking in its claws appeared to wiggle around doing a bit of a jig. Perhaps the cha cha cha? Or the samba? “This is one step too far!”

After a long, hot day at work, having completed the long and perilous journey of collecting all the data –and believe me there was a lot- I’d received a crazed text message from Cass about Ryker. Hence why I was here, wading around in a fnit infested pack when I should have been at home cooling down in a cold shower, eating a magnum ice cream…

 The message stated, ‘URGENT, PLEASE COME IMMEDIATELY -IT’S RYKER’ so instead of shutting down and having a bit of a kip, I’d flung myself into the closest taxi and speedily raced all the way to the pack house only to find Cass holding up a bottle of tea tree conditioner shakily pointing at Ryker’s head.

I’d missed corrie for this crap? Why is my life so… so… so…

“Please!” She edged backwards, her heels hitting the back of the couch. “You know I can’t stand them!”

“You can’t stand them? I can’t stand them!” I flung the comb into the sink, watching as the little critters went swirling down the drainpipe like I was a sadistic tyrant instigating her rule. “Why can’t Avery just do it?”

“He was suddenly called away for a very important pack meeting…” Cass pulled on her summer dress the clung to her like a second skin. God, she was so skinny and tall it was unreal. (A/N- oh the irony.)

“Complete and utter bullshit.”

Nice save Avery. Goal…

“Language!” She hissed indicating to Ryker who helplessly squirmed around on the floor, his fingernails digging into his scalp, a mixture of dandruff and dead hair floating down to the floor. “Eeew stop it!” Cass flung a lime green towel at him to cover him up.

Like that was going to stop them.

“Are we sure they’re not just fleas Cass?” I said with a wry smile- Cass’s actions stirring my inner funny.

Her mouth dropped open catching flies. “Fleas?” Her face to red and she stalked over to me, towering over my form, eyes glowing furious red. Her wolf. I gulped. Now what have you done? Her fingers tightened around my shirt pulling me up above her.

I wiggled flailing around in mid air.

“Fleas!” She repeated, her front teeth elongating. Oh, what big teeth you’ve got there, granny… “We are not, I repeat not, dogs.” She hissed. “We are wolves.” She shook me, her head tilting to the side, expression savage. “You know, I could kill you, you know.” Her other hand lifted up and dragged across my throat and I spluttered into her face.

“Mum, what are you doing?” Ryker had by now wiggled his way out from under the towel. He prodded his mum in the back. My vision blurred as all the blood in my body rushed to my straining shoulders that pulled against my shirt, damaging the skin there.

“Step back Ryker.” She resonated from deep inside her chest. “This little human, needs to be punished for insulting me so.” Her eyes were still glistening red. “I don’t know what Cassidy sees in you human. You tried to steal our mate from us and you’re constantly disrespectful. And even after all that she still took you in and offered you a place in the pack…” Her eyebrows furrowed. “…What’s so damned special about you of all humans- that she would feel this,” She spat it out, “bond, to you? You’re pathetic.”

She was suddenly ripped away from me.

“Ryker! Get off me now- I command you, as both your Luna and mother, to get off me now!” Cass’s wolf bared her teeth at the boy.

Ryker’s eyes flooded with black ink that swirled around in their depths. He had swiftly managed to pull a 5 foot 9 fully grown werewolf and a Luna one at that, away from me- all 4 foot 11 of him.

And he hadn’t even shifted yet. Miraculous. Maybe he wasn’t as helpless and weak as I had first thought…

“You will not hurt her Ember.” He growled, lifting a hand up to sheepishly scratch at his head. Cass’s wolf –Ember, pulled a face at this- turns out Cass wasn’t the only one who hated dealing with nits.

Why the hell am I a member of this abnormal family? Am I crazy to have not run for the hills already? Any normal person would of.

“Sheesh.” I straightened up, adjusting my top, trying to cover up where it had ripped and was now showing flesh. Ryker’s cheeks burned in turn. “Hasn’t the pup taken her meds yet?”

This only aggravated her further.

“When I finally get you, I will make you pay puny human.” Cass’s hair swung wildly around her face.

I finally reached the conclusion, albeit a little late: Werewolves are scary. Definitely not as hot and protective as they are in the movies and books. They’re one person one minute, another the next! Can’t they just make their minds up?

I’d only ever met Cass’s wolf 3 times before. The first time was when she first met Avery. She’d given me a bloody nose and ruined my reputation. I’d hated her. She’d hated me even more. The second time she’d found me in the loos crying my heart out after I’d just made a fool of myself trying to win my crew back. She’d quickly become the big hoo ha, taking my place and power in the high school hierarchy. The third time was when I’d tried to snog her brother Jack at her 18th birthday bash. Ha, fun times.

I hadn’t seen Ember in 4 years.

I guess it was only a matter of time then that she’d show up again after all the stress Cass had been going through with Ryker. Strong emotions always triggers it.

“You know you love me really Ember.” I threw a sly grin at her. “You’re a part of Cass, and if Cass loves me then you must, deep down too.”

She snarled and made a lunge for me, Ryker’s tiny little face looked so red that he looked like he was going to combust hanging onto Ember.

Hmm… maybe really, really, deep, deep down then.

I turned around and swiped the tea tree conditioner off the side and fished the nit infested comb out of the sink.

“Who’s first then huh?” I nodded to the two of them.

I lifted my fingers to scratch at my itching scalp.

Oh. 

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