Two Bullies, Two Mates

I’m walking into school, trailing behind my brother and Ethan—one of his closest friends. They barely notice I’m there, only letting me tag along because Lila insists they do.

The morning chill bites at my skin, making me wish I’d brought a thicker jacket. The chatter of students fills the air—loud, excited voices mixed with the occasional slam of locker doors and the shuffle of hurried feet.

But despite all that noise, I feel invisible—as if I’m just a shadow, a ghost slipping through the halls behind them.

Lila’s my nanny. She’s been with me for as long as I can remember, like a quiet guardian who watches over me when my dad can’t.

Sometimes, when I’m sitting in the backseat of the car or waiting for school to start, I wonder what life would be like without her—if I’d be even more alone than I already am. But Lila never lets me forget I’m not completely on my own.

My dad is the Beta of the pack. That means he’s second in command—a powerful role, but one that keeps him tied up in meetings, pack politics, and training sessions that seem to last forever.

Because of that, Lila was brought in to teach me how to behave like a proper lady. That basically means keeping quiet unless someone speaks to me, staying out of the way, and never drawing attention.

But Lila doesn’t really do any of that. She’s not the strict type, and honestly, she’s more of a friend than a teacher. She lets me be myself, even if that means I mess up sometimes.

Luckily, my dad doesn’t know this. As long as I put on a good show when he’s around, he doesn’t ask questions.

My brother spends most of his time with the future Alphas, Max and Jade, the future Delta Leo, and Ethan, who’s going to be the Gamma.

They’re a tight group, always together, like a pack within the pack, and sometimes they’re worse than some of the girls here. Their confidence, their easy way of moving through the halls—it’s like they own the place. And in a way, they do.

After I came home last week with a bruise under my eye and scrapes on my arm, Lila made sure my brother was responsible for getting me to and from school safely.

I tried telling her it was just an accident—that I tripped—but she didn’t believe me. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. I’ve learned that here, it’s safer to stay quiet.

She knows I’ve been having trouble with some kids at school. We live in a werewolf pack where hierarchy and dominance rule everything, so naturally, the middle schoolers are always trying to prove themselves.

It’s a constant game of who’s stronger, who’s faster, who’s the most respected—and sometimes, that game turns ugly.

What I’ve noticed is that it’s mostly the kids without ranks who try to show off to the ranked ones, desperate to get noticed.

They push and shove, throw insults, and try to make a name for themselves by being mean or loud. It’s like they think if they can just get the attention of the Alphas and Betas, their own status will rise.

It’s kind of ironic how some kids are popular just because of the rank they were born into—not because of anything they’ve earned. They don’t have to try; their status is already decided by their family or their pack position.

Everyone wants to be friends with the Alpha’s kids—that’s the peak of popularity. My brother, Leo, and Ethan aren’t far behind since they’re all rank-born too.

Me? I don’t even matter. Even though I’m the Beta’s daughter and have Beta blood, I’m the reason my mom is dead, and that’s enough for everyone to shun me lower than even the Omegas.

That’s why Lila’s so worried about me. She’s seen how openly kids treat me, and no adult does anything to stop it—not even my dad.

“Move it, fatty. You’re taking up the whole hallway and walking slower than a turtle. Are you even a wolf?” Raven sneers from behind me.

I step aside, trying to get out of her way. But she sticks her foot out, tripping me sideways. I crash headfirst into a locker, unable to catch myself with the arms full of books I’m carrying.

The noise stops everyone in the hallway. All eyes are on me, but the only ones I care about are my brother’s.

He turns around at the sound, makes eye contact, then just shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and walks away.

Ethan and Raven follow him. The rest of the kids scatter—some laughing quietly, others not so quietly—but no one helps me up.

I sit there for a moment, breath catching, my cheek stinging where I hit the metal locker. I glance around, hoping someone, anyone, will step in, but the crowd has already moved on. It’s as if I don’t exist.

Slowly, I pick myself up, clutching my books tighter. My heart is pounding—not just from the fall, but from the weight of being so alone.

---

7th Grade:

“Don’t you ever question my authority in front of other students again!” Raven shoves me into a door that leads out to the courtyard in the middle of the hallway.

“I wasn’t questioning your authority,” I snap back, “I told you that hitting kids just because they’re in your way isn’t right. If you were late, it’s not their fault.”

I shouldn’t argue with her; it only makes her angrier. But she’s starting to get on my nerves.

She was late because she skipped second period to get coffee with her friends and came back late for third period—the class of a teacher who’ll report her to her dad. Though nothing ever happens when she gets reported.

I steady myself against the door and start to walk away, eyes fixed down the hall. But before I can take two steps, Ivy—one of Raven’s minions—steps out, trips me, then dumps her iced latte all over my head.

The laughter around us grows louder as more kids join in.

I glance up to see my brother and his friends laughing with them.

Raven leans in close and sneers, “Maybe if you trained harder and lost some of that baby fat, you wouldn’t be so clumsy.”

Then, turning to my brother and his friends, she calls out, “Hey boys, are we hanging out at the fire pit tonight?”

The question hangs in the air, like an invitation that means everything and nothing all at once. My brother and his friends exchange glances, their smirks widening.

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from the bitter sting of betrayal.

I’ve always known my brother would side with them, with the popular kids, with whoever keeps the power. But hearing it, seeing it, hurts more than I thought it would.

I stand there, dripping iced coffee and humiliation, surrounded by laughter that feels like it’s echoing inside my head.

The fire pit. The place where they’ll gather tonight, away from me, away from everything I’m not allowed to be part of.

I turn away and swallow the lump in my throat. The pack rules don’t just govern strength and status—they shape how I live, how I survive. And sometimes, it feels like survival means becoming invisible.