Page 16 of The Alpha's Fake Mate
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The next day, I avoided Harly and did not sit in the dining hall with our usual group. He kept giving me sidelong glances, which I pretended not to notice.
Everyone was talking about the questionnaire, which they’d all taken turns on the school computers filling out and emailing to the new Alpha owner.
They all seemed to feel special, being asked their opinions by an Alpha of such high regard.
Only I knew the truth. That this Alpha knew nothing about chattel farms, or Omegas as a rule. He didn’t even know himself. He was big and pretty. So what? He had money. He held himself in a superior stance. We were all supposed to be impressed? All my friends were stupid and I didn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore.
I’d seen that questionnaire. It had statements on it like:
What is your favorite hobby on the farm?
Do you enjoy school? If not, what could be handled better about school? If so, what is your favorite subject?
Is there a subject you would like to see taught that is not available on your school curriculum?
Is there an area of the farm that you can think of that might need improvement?
Are your teachers and house-dads fair to you?
Do you have needs that are not being met? If yes, use space below to give a brief description of such needs.
Do you feel confident you can meet your future Alpha mate from prospective clients of Zillys?
That last question was a doozy! A year ago, it might never have concerned me. But now?
And that question about needs being met: All the young kids talked about answering with stupid stuff like more cake for desserts, faster delivery of current vid games, or better hair products. I didn’t read their emails. I only knew what they wrote because I heard them talking about it all day at every meal and in the commons rooms.
Orion. Orion.That’s all I heard.
In the afternoon, Warden Chirl met me in the hall as I was making my way to the patio and pool again, my favorite place for quiet and relaxation. He’d been lax with me because of my injuries. Letting me get away with doing nothing but sleeping in, taking naps, watching movies. The Alpha doctors had said I needed lots of sleep to gain my normal, healthy strength.
“Holland.” He reached out as if to touch my shoulder but stopped an inch away from the cloth of my shirt.
“Yes, sir.” I kept my voice low.
“You didn’t fill out a questionnaire.”
“No, sir.”
“May I ask why? They are confidential. You can say whatever you wish. Orion will be discreet.”
“I just didn’t do it.” My eyes focused on a small spot of floor past Chirl’s left side about six feet away. The floor wax had worn away and it wasn’t as shiny as the rest. The smear looked like a devil face, complete with horns and pointy ears.
“Well, please do. Every voice counts. This is a good thing. Omegas don’t always get a voice in Alpha affairs, you know.”
“I don’t want to answer those questions, sir.”
“Why ever not?”
I scratched at the back of my head, digging my fingernails in hard until I felt pain. “They’re stupid.”
“What? Well.” He paused.
“If every opinion counts, sir, then that’s my opinion.”
“There is a place at the end of the document where you can write your thoughts, anything not covered in the list. Perhaps you can make suggestions of better questions to ask.”
