“I’m not burning my bloody textbooks. They’re expensive, so I’m donating them to the school at least.”
“Ughhh, stop being so fucking practical and just come run amok with us tonight,” Haze said with a growl, but that slowly transformed into a smile. “This is the end of something and that needs to be marked in the customary tradition.”
“Shitty pizza and goon bag wine?” Ryan asked.
“Shitty pizza and goon bag wine,” Haze confirmed.
“Areyou sure this is a good idea?”
Mum stood in the doorway of my bedroom as the guys ransacked it, grabbing loose-leaf paper and notebooks before stuffing them into a garbage bag.
“Is what a good idea?” I asked her.
“Going to the point with the Vanguard boys.” Her eyes darted from the chaos in my room to me, then back again. “Riley, you’re not an omega.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“There’s no future—”
“There’s no future.” I repeated her words back to her in a much more matter-of-fact tone. “Results come through in January. I’m going to be working in Aunty Rose’s café most days to make as much money as I can before I go. My use by date is rapidly approaching.” I looked back at the guys, wincing at the mess they’d made of my room, knowing I’d have to sort that out.
Later, my brain whispered seductively, because right now, checking out for a few hours was incredibly appealing. My results were in the lap of the gods now. I’d done everything I possibly could to ensure I’d aced the exams, but… For just this night, I could live in the moment, not thinking about past or future, just now.
And shitty goon bag wine would help that eminently. I’d message Nikki, see if she and her boyfriend, Paul, wanted to join us, and then just celebrate having met a crucial milestone.
School was out for summer. I was done. I was no longer a year-anything student. I was eighteen, legally an adult, and I was about to take my first step into adulthood by getting heinously drunk, then vomiting in the bushes as my best friend held my hair back. Then the two of us could whine some stupidly maudlin shit about never forgetting each other before passing out in the back of someone’s car. It was an Australian rite of passage. I said something of the effect to Mum, minus some of the more sordid details.
“We’ll make sure Riley comes back in one piece,” Colt said, taking up position by my side. “I’m not drinking tonight.” Keys came flying through the air, and he caught them without even looking. “So no harm will come to her.”
This was, of course, the point where she weakened. Typical beta, but also typical of this household. Dad had loved the Vanguard boys like they were his own sons, and he would’ve moved heaven or earth to look after them and me, so that became the deciding factor.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Scout’s honour,” Colt said, doing a salute. Not the Scout one, but no one cared. Mum nodded then and stepped away from the door, just in time for the guys to walk out with bags of my crap in tow.
“I just need to get changed,” I said.
“Why? You look awesome in what you’re wearing,” Fen said, letting his eyes rake down my body. And there was Mum’s frown back.
“I need something comfortable if we’re gonna hang out at the point,” I said. “And anyway, these have exam germs on them.”
“Wanna toss them in the bag to be burned as well?” Haze asked with a wide grin.
“Just go out to the car. I’ll be ready in five,” I said.
I shut the door on Mum, knowing she had more to say, and rushed to my drawers to pull out a loose cotton singlet and a pair of cut off denim shorts—cool, comfortable, and most importantly, not school clothes. I slipped on my checked Vans and then I stopped before the mirror, consulting my reflection.
In some ways, I was glad I was a beta. While I was wearing a bra, I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to. I could get away with loose clothes like these or short shorts, because really, I was just all long legs and arms like a spider monkey. The only thing I could take any pride in was my hair.
Long, deep scarlet red and just like Dad’s, without the requisite freckled skin. I knew girls who worked damn hard to dye their hair my colour, and I didn’t need to. I pulled the thick mane back, then wove it into a quick French braid, using a hair tie on the end. Then I was on my phone, sending a text to Nik.
R: Coming to the point?
N: Y! You?
R: Guys got my shit, ready to burn.
N: Damn, girl, omegas gonna get hissy! Meet me at the top carpark.