Pride, Mates, and Past Mistakes

Prologue

Bam!

     Losing my balance, I stumbled forward into my locker as Deanne Saunders rammed into my back, sending the books in my arms tumbling to the floor. For a second, there was a moment where she turned around, apology written all over her face, her mouth already forming the word "Sorry."

And then she saw me.

Just like that, any apology was wiped blank off her face. 

"Oh," she said. Her green eyes were wide and innocent. Had it not been for the knowing curve in her lips that I was so used to seeing, she would have passed off as completely harmless. "Didn't see the 'Wide Load' sign. Sorry."

And  with that lovely sentiment, she turned, her shiny, pin straight hair whipping me across the face and continued strutting down the hall like nothing had happened, her little minion friends trailing behind her. I slammed my locker closed with unnecessary force. It was alright. I didn't care. 

I was fine.

I bent to pick up all my fallen books. A pair of feet with neon leggings appeared in my vision, and an extra hand handed me a couple of books.

"Thanks." I sighed, crouching over to scoop up my books again. I didn't mention how the books ended up on the floor. Casey worried about me enough as it was.

"I go to the bathroom for two minutes and you're already a target," Casey said, shaking her head. " 'Sorry' ", she mimicked Deanne in a high pitched nasal voice.

I winced. "You saw?"

Casey gave me a hard look, picking up another book of mine for me. "You know, maybe if you stood up to her, she'd stop. It works for me."

"Case. Please. Not this again. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm just saying..."

I sighed. This conversation had been going back and forth for an entire month. Honestly, though, the task was easier said than done. Retorts and comebacks came easily to her,  but me? She would never understand how my body tensed up, my throat dried out, and the ringing in my ears.

I avoided Casey's eyes as I straightened, transferring the books in my arm into my backpack. "Yeah," I mumbled halfheartedly, "sure. Let's go to class, Case."

Casey looked like she wanted to argue, and she opened her mouth to do so. But right then, the late bell went off, signaling that we had one minute to get to class, she rolled her eyes and linked her arm with mine. "Okay, fine, let's go to class," she sighed reluctantly. "By the way, theoretically speaking - how fast do think you can finish Precalc homework? You know. Theoretically speaking."

For two completely different oddballs like us, I had no idea how we'd become friends. But I couldn't be more thankful.

For Casey, it was just her eccentric personality that'd made her an outsider. With her elbow socks, black hair with ever-changing colored streaks, band T-shirts, converse hi-tops that went up till the knees, neon green leggings, and glittery deep blue shorts on top, our school society deemed her freedom of expression just a little too free. Not that anyone ever challenged her out loud, of course. Anyone who dared to confront Casey was met with a sharp tongue full of sass, and possibly a bruise - if the person didn't manage to run away in time.

As for me, it was only partly my looks that'd gotten me shunned. My limp long dark hair did nothing extraordinary except hang there. My blue-hazel eyes—although rare in my pack, and pretty on other girls—didn't suit me as much. They stood out on my chubby face, looking overly-large and unnatural, making me look younger than I actually was. The glasses I donned only made them seem even bigger. The only hope I had for myself was the end result of my teeth after I'd finally get my braces off, but even then I had a year to go. 

But it wasn't my bland looks that'd gotten me shoved to the bottom of the social hierarchy.  I was an outsider for a whole other reason. For most girls, having an alpha as an older brother should have been a key to a whole other world with fun, friends, a social life. But for me, having Nolan, future co-alpha, as a brother led to some of the worst experiences of my life.

In the beginning, it was just an innocent game. An immature joke from an older brother to his nagging sixth grader sister, just a "Let's pretend Sierra's invisible!" joke. I'd even laughed, the first time. I'd pushed it aside, and went along with it. But then the small teases began morphing into small insults. Small insults led to pranks, jokes, and eventually, when I started to gain weight in seventh grade, and Nolan's insults took on a new attitude, they took a turn for the worse - full on humiliation. Bullying.

The popularity began to get to his head, and the torture began to follow me to school as well. My parents never really noticed; as he never bullied me in front of them, and I could never rat anyone out. The last thing I wanted to be was 'Sierra the Snitch'. 

But there would be times, small and minute moments—that I'd see a flash of the old Nolan inside him, when it was just us, or when he was laughing. A flash of the old Nolan without the pride, the gigantic ego. But those flashes disappeared as fast as they came. He never apologized anymore.

Had my brother not been a future co-alpha, things wouldn't have mattered as much, as his range of influence was less. But he was a future alpha, and there were only a handful of those in our school. The other kids respected him and listened to him. He was an example. So when he bullied me, so did the others.

Thinking about those horrible days brought back wave after wave of painful memories. My wrist tingled, and I instinctively ran my fingers over the thin, long, bumps on my wrist, small and hidden by the number of wristbands and bracelets covering my right hand, blocking them from public view. Like they had never happened. And yet, they were there.

But that was before I'd met Casey my eight grade year. When I'd met her, I finally had someone's shoulder to sob on, someone to talk to, and someone to just be there. My feelings weren't always so closed up, so depressed anymore. I hadn't cut myself in a whole two years, thanks to her.  

It was a little scary to remember the thoughts that would go through my mind when I had been depressed; I had been a whole other person. Casey was always there to talk to listen, and inevitably make me laugh. Of course, Casey herself had gone through her own fair share of bullying, but nothing really got to her. It was actually quite hard to get under Casey's skin, a predictable effect of having five older brothers—who were all in college now.

But that was why I'd been drawn to Casey in the first place. She was exactly what I'd needed—someone who was strong enough for the both of us. And plus, who a better friend than a fellow outcast?

But I, unlike Casey, never fought back. I never stood up for myself, never retaliated, never argued, never had the last word. It wasn't like I could help it—whenever someone insulted me, bullied me, or hurt me in any way, the words went straight to my heart. My tongue and brain would stop functioning, just as my tear ducts started to function instead. It's funny, really, how small, simple words can disarm you and break down your walls faster than any physical weapon.

I was weak, a pushover, and an easy target.

But when the weak rise, they're stronger than ever before.