Thirteen Posessive Alpha Mates and the Nerd

Chapter Two: Dress Shopping

As I walk home, the happiness from having three separate meet-cutes in one ten-minute span begins to wear off. I live alone in a tiny house, almost as tiny as me, on the outskirts of the pack. It's not even a whole house, it's only the attic held up by cement support beams. The rest of the house burned down in the same fire that killed my parents.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad," I say, stepping over their charred remains and flinging my backpack across what was once our kitchen table. "Man I'm hungry, what's for dinner?" I ask, stretching my back. My mom and dad stay quiet, probably disappointed in me for being so skinny. They're always like this, completely silent whenever I'm around. Maybe if my mate is a Beta and I can move our family up a rank, they won't be so upset with me.

My eyes begin to water, and I turn away from my parent's skeletons so they can't see me crying. Hot tears stream down my cheeks, but I stay silent and place an XL stuffed crust pepperoni pizza into the barely functional oven. I might be skinnier than a twig, but I can eat an insane amount of food that it's actually scary. One time, I ate an entire child. What can I say? I guess I'm just quirky and different from other girls.

The stairs to my room collapsed during the fire, so I have to shimmy up one of the support beams and crawl into my room through a hole in the floor. I place my pizza on the ground and lean over it on my hands and knees. I tear into that helpless pizza like a starving dog, chomping down on the crispy, golden crust and ripping it to shreds. What doesn't go into my stomach ends up on my clothes or the walls as I fling the last slice around pretending I'm killing a baby bunny.

My room is a mess. Mostly because of all the ash and broken glass, but the walls are smeared with my old leftovers in various stages of decomposition. I blame my stupid, dead parents. They just haven't been the same since they were killed in that fire.

After I'm finished eating, I decide to get dressed for the party. The only clothing that didn't get destroyed in the fire is the outfit I'm wearing right now, and a sexy black dress that once belonged to my grandma. Thank goodness I haven't worn it before, because our washing machine also burned down in the fire. Just once, I'd like to walk into a room without everyone covering their noses in disgust.

I slip the silky black dress over my head and tug it down. My grandma must have been Eugenia Cooney or something because the dress fits my tiny frame snugly. I don't put on any makeup because makeup is for whores.

I spin around in the dress, feeling the silky fabric settle back down onto my legs as I step in front of the mirror. My emerald green eyes widen in astonishment; do I actually look kind of pretty? My hair is long and thick, completely frizz free and soft despite also not owning a shower or shampoo (my shampoo burned down in the fire). Even though I have the waist size of a newborn baby, my boobs are gigantic. But no, I can't possibly be hot, I wear glasses and I like to read books. Hot girls don't do those things!

I take a step back from the mirror and look away from my reflection before I start crying again. My mother says nothing to me as I shimmy back down the support beam and twirl for her. She used to compliment me every day, but ever since I left the oven on overnight and burned dinner (and the house) she never talks to me anymore.

I run out of the house and bump into someone on the way to the party.

"Watch where you're going, stinky!" Jizzabell, the pack slut, screams at me. "Oh, it's you." She groans, flipping her wavy blond tresses over her shoulder. Jizzabell is a senior at my high school, which isn't concerning at all considering she's well known as the pack slut. I applied for the position too, but I guess I just wasn't slutty enough. Ever since she beat me and got the job, successfully moving her family up to the rank between Omega and Beta (the Slut rank), I've hated her guts.