Megan Pov

 

     Hey! Breaking me out of my trance, the Gamma exclaims, "Earth to the world's worst waitress!" "Do you not hear? My son preferred a soy strawberry milkshake, sweet potato fries, and a vegetarian burger.

     "I'm not deaf," I reply. "I'm astonished that someone is ordering anything other than an enormous piece of steak," I exclaim. "Seeing someone in your group receptive to new ideas is encouraging."

     I hope Kael is wise enough to see through this second statement that I'm making. Just be honest. Kindly accept me. Don't hate me simply because I'm a rebel, please.

     I can't help it, even if it's pitiful.

     "Any other thoughts?" I query.

     Indeed, one of the combatants replies. "You're a bad employee."

     A little part of me wants my partner to come to my aid, but when I look at him, he continues to look past me rather than at me, as if I'm unimportant and unworthy of his attention. 

     Thank you so much for being able to read my mind.

     Superb. Regards. I force myself to keep my cherry waitress grin on, even though I want to snarl at the warrior. "Your critique is very appreciated," I replied.

     I'm in agony as I leave the table, but fortunately, I've spent my whole life learning how to hide my anguish, so I keep smiling, assuming that the little tip they always leave me will not exist today, and I don't care.

     In the few minutes I spent at the packers' table, the restaurant had become even louder, and the noise was so thick that it was challenging to hear genuine conversations. That is if it were for a person. However, a wolf shifter's keen senses allow them to distinguish between sounds quickly, and as I make my way to the kitchen, I hear one of the pack's warriors murmur. She is the worst. Why does she even work here?”

     I let the remark go off my back and head to the hostess to put their menus away. I hear a fresh, unidentified voice say, "Shut up, Tyler," as I lean down. Give up being such a bastard.

     I gasped so loudly that the person at the adjacent table turned to stare at me worriedly. Although I am self-aware enough to justify my outburst with a "sorry, I thought I'd forgotten to add extra bacon to that previous order," my heart and mind are racing.

     He defended my rights. Perhaps it indicates that he is concerned and that my interpretation of his rejection was incorrect.

     I wait on table after table for the next hour, delivering plates of the meatloaf special, and that little flicker of optimism keeps me going.

     "Meg, I need your assistance with Table 1. As I close a table, Sharon says, "I'm utterly overloaded."

     With a happy grin, I approach Table 1, located at the front of the restaurant, holding my order pad and pen. I'm about to write down their order when I see the pack exiting the restaurant. It's the scent of the Gamma behind me. My partner continues to avoid eye contact, but he offers me a nod toward the rear of the eatery. Glancing back at his table, I see the typical mess the group leaves behind after eating here: ketchup spills, milkshake remnants, shattered napkins, and straw wrappers.

     Now that the lunch rush is past, there aren't many diners remaining, but even so, I want to dash to the table to see what Kael was pointing at. Instead, I bus the pack's table and have an excellent excuse to take my time reviewing every little detail by placing the new order and then grabbing a bin.

     I quickly locate the object Kael was indicating; a folded piece of paper lies nestled under his plate. "Meet me at the edge of the woods at 6 pm," it says. We must speak. Although he hasn't signed it, it smells like him—that recognizable blend of smoke and musk I sensed just before I kicked him in the shin.

     When Clyde approaches me from behind, I'm still gazing at the message, so I quickly tuck it into my apron and begin stacking dishes in the trash can and cleaning the solidified milkshake on the Formica. 

     "How was yesterday night's drop?" He asks, leaning on the booth beside and folding his arms over his broad chest.

     Alright. No problem, I replied to him. In theory, it's not a lie. I did indeed give the pack the money. I had recently been assaulted and happened to run into my friend.

     Alright. I thought you could run into some problems. I was so enthused about the game that I neglected to warn you.

     "What's wrong?"

     The pack just announced a new Beta, which has everyone on edge. There has been a lot of tension since most of the group wanted a different individual to be nominated.

     "Why?"

     "The Beta they selected wasn't a well-liked option. He used to reside around fifty miles south of here; he is a recent addition to the pack. When I arrived here a few months ago, everyone assumed the Alpha would choose a more seasoned individual to serve as his second in command.

     I should be upset with Clyde for not informing me earlier; after all, things might have  worsened last night. I may have suffered a fatal injury, but I chose to ignore that and focus only on what he said about Kael.

     He's fresh. Since he is not a devoted follower, he may not share all of their viewpoints. Their preconceptions.

     Perhaps there is hope for us. When I see him tonight, I suppose I'll find out.

     "Please, just use caution while driving. If at all possible, avoid walking alone near the woods, advises Clyde.

     When I finish wiping the table, I murmur, "Yeah, okay, of course," but my thoughts have switched back to Kale instead of Clyde. Maybe with him at my side after tonight, I won't have to worry about being alone.

     A rebel has dreams.