The Alpha Girl and Her Rogue Mate

Snacks and Sports

We watch House Hunters, joking about the things we should add to the packhouse.

“A tennis court!” says Rosa. She swings her arm wildly in what I assume is what she thinks is a tennis swing.

“Do any wolves even know how to play tennis? Seems like a human thing." Most wolves go for a run or a training session if they want to work out. Sparring is our sport, as is racing. Several wolves are on the track team at school.

“How could we?” she retorts with a little chuckle, “when we don’t have a court!”

“So if I build a tennis court you’ll become a world class tennis-er?”

“Well, no. But someone might!”

“We don’t have any Olympic swimmers despite the pool.”

“You’re the best swimmer in the pack so I think that’s just you slacking off.”

Tulip has been mostly quiet, but she has made a few jokes and comments throughout the afternoon. She speaks up now, with, “I actually know how to play tennis.”

I turn to look at her. She’s a little sheepish, but she meets my eyes.

“Are you any good?” I ask. I’ve never known a wolf who had any particular interest in human sports, other than running and sometimes martial arts or boxing.

“I was, yeah. I played for the high school I went to in Hawaii. It was an integrated species school, like here, and they had a really good team.”

“That’s pretty cool, actually.”

“It was fun. I joined because I had a crush on a human boy. We were about 13. I didn’t know how to talk to him.”

“Did you get to talk to him after you joined?”

Tulip suddenly cracks up, that lovely light laugh of hers filling the room. “I did,” she gasps between peals of laughter. “My first day on the team we were practicing in mixed doubles and I sent a ball straight into his face!”

Rosa throws a Cheez-it at her. “Like that?” she says innocently.

Tulip laughs. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but just a moment, and then she throws a Cheez-it back at Rosa, who catches it in her mouth. “Thanks,” Rosa says with a wink, chewing louder than necessary on the Cheez-it.

“It was kind of like that, but tennis balls are much harder than a Cheez-it,” says Tulip. “And I hit him in the eye.”

“Love is blind?” I say, causing Tulip to erupt into laughter again. 

“No, it wasn’t,” she says, “and thankfully he wasn’t either.”

“Ah, well,” says Rosa, “Just FYI in our pack, blinding your prospective partner is not a mating ritual.”

“In fact, I think I speak for the entire Crescent family when I say it’s frowned upon,” I hesitate for dramatic effect, “perhaps I would even go as far as to say prohibited.”

“Damn,” Tulip shakes her head in mock sadness.

“A golf court!” Rosa shouts, pointing at the screen.

“I think it's called a golf ‘course’” I say. laughing.

There’s a sudden knock at the door.

“Come in,” I shout. Greta opens the door.

Tulip is already sitting up straighter, her eyes lowered to the floor.

“There you are, what have you been doing for the last three hours?”

“I technically got off work at 4 o’clock,” Tulip mumbles without raising her eyes. 

“And that was two hours ago, so where were you for the last hour of your time at work?” Greta demands. She’s not as scary as she seems, or at least I’ve never thought she is. But I remember that Tulip isn’t used to the informality we practice in this pack. Greta is an Omega, but she’s a fierce one. She could probably have been a Warrior in her youth, but she’s always loved kids. She was a teacher at the school for a while, but she decided she preferred to work with the younger pups. She’s the oldest Omega in the pack, and she’s repeatedly declined my father’s requests that she sit on the Elders’ Board, the 10 oldest women and men in the pack who advise the Alpha. She says she’s content taking care of the pack by taking care of the packhouse, the pack young, and the pack workers. My father gives her run of the machinations of the pack, and de facto authority over the younger Omegas.

“Greta, I asked Tulip to sit with us.” I look at Greta and give her a winning smile. My father may not insist on formality, but as the eldest daughter of a respected Alpha, an Omega could not and would not challenge me. I would never pull rank in a way that was rude or unnecessarily demeaning, but my rank couldn’t be ignored.

“Oh. I see.” Greta looks unconvinced.

“I don’t know if you heard, Greta, but I’m starting to feel the heat. And unfortunately, I’ve had it a bit intensely. Rosa and I wanted to talk to someone who has gone through their first shift kind of recently. Tulip came up to tell us about the meeting, and we asked her to stay.” Again, I smile at her. I can see Greta softening a little bit, not because as an Omega she has to, but because she is secretly a big softie. 

“That’s very exciting, my little Skylar growing up.” 

“I am starting to feel the heat too, Greta,” says Rosa with a sly grin. Greta loves everyone, in her way, but Rosa has Greta wrapped up around her finger. Greta is a sucker for a sad story and when little ten year old Rosa showed up on our doorstep with a torn blue dress and her dark hair rather mussed up, clutching a small stuffed husky doll, Greta immediately took to her. My father always jokes that, although he’s the Alpha, he never had any choice at all on letting the Piedra family join the pack. Greta and my mother would have gone to war for them.

“Oh, my darling Rosie, I am so happy to hear that! Get over here and give your grandmother a hug, now, my love.” 

I suppress a chuckle as Rosa stands and throws her arms around Greta. Rosa exclusively refers to Greta as Grandma, abuela, or second mom. But Greta likes Grandma best. Greta had two daughters who moved across the country for their mates years and years ago. She sees her grandkids once every few years. Her maternal instinct went into overdrive until Rosa came along, and we were all better for it when she wasn’t clucking around my father and mother, like a helicopter parent gone wrong.

All of Greta’s displeasure at Tulip has clearly dissipated between learning that she was keeping the Alpha’s daughter company and learning that her beloved Rosa would be coming of age soon. 

“Well, my beautiful flowers, and the Sky that shines the sun down on them,” she throws a little wink my way, “I am just so pleased to hear this all. I came to get you because the meeting is starting soon, though.” I glance at the clock on the wall, which I had been ignoring. Somehow, it was already nearly seven o’clock! 

“Shoot,” I mutter under my breath. 

“Skylar, language!” Greta chides me.

“I actually said shoot, this time!” I protest. It was fair of her to assume I was swearing, something I know pushes her buttons. I’ve been known to use it to push her buttons.

Greta gives me a look, then a small, “hmmmph” sound. That’s the closest I’ll get to acknowledgement. I smile.

She ushers Rosa out of the room, and I hear her asking what kind of cake she wants tomorrow. I smile at Tulip and jerk my head in the direction of the door. She stands up, and as she crosses the room to the door, she pauses, turns back to me, and says with a confidence that I am surprised and impressed by, “this was fun, thanks for inviting me to come in.”

I just nod, and we walk out of the room in silence.